The story I am about to relate is important not because it is so unusual, but precisely because for so many, it is so common; and should, in this era of a united Europe, not be forgotten.
Berlin in the post-War and Cold War era became a symbol, where Winston Churchill’s “Iron Curtain” came down darkening the eastern half of the continent in communist totalitarianism. The lesson of what happens to real people when war and destruction ravish a nation should never be lost in the telling of the greater geopolitical tides that have swept Europe and Asia since before the time of the Roman Empire.
Annemarie was born of a Czechoslovakian mother and a German father during the Second World War. They met while he was on duty as a German policeman in occupied Czechoslovakia. He spoke no Czechoslovakian, she very little German.
For the young woman there was severe peer ostracism in associating with a German policeman. For him there was overbearing official disapproval of any personal contact with local people; and, permission for marriage by the German government was most difficult to obtain. Love was much easier, and before many months passed, the need to get married became increasingly evident.
The young policeman took his bride-to-be to Berlin with the hope of finally obtaining official approval. What they received was the basest indignity. Both prospective husband and expectant bride were stripped, taunted and photographed from all sides. Finally, they were released and allowed to marry.
Annemarie, a pretty, small blond girl was born shortly thereafter in Berlin where her father was reassigned so he could be watched. But, the baby’s parents were extremely afraid for her life because of the intensified Allied bombing in Berlin. So, she was taken back to Czechoslovakia and given to the care of her grandfather and uncle.
The hostility in Czechoslovakia toward this “German” child was intense. When in 1945 the German empire collapsed, the pent-up hatred of the occupied toward the occupiers erupted into mass slaughter of all Germans. The three-year-old blonde Annemarie was no exception even though her mother had grown up in that village, and her family had lived there for generations.
When a mob came for her, Annemarie’s dwarf uncle stayed by the door defying his neighbors. The child and her grandfather hid in the vegetable cellar – he with axe in hand to protect the three-year-old child.
That night, under cover of darkness, Annemarie’s father arrived by train from Berlin. He smuggled the little girl out of danger in a gunnysack over his shoulder, and caught the last German train back to Berlin.
Once in Berlin, Annemarie was thrust into a world of chaos and ruin. Her father, along with all German men, was taken prisoner by Russian soldiers and shipped west to a camp. Homeless and without food, her mother took the child and they walked out of the Russian sector where, along with thousands like themselves, they wandered through the French, British and American sectors of a destroyed post-war Germany. Annemarie’s mother later recalled that the French soldiers were courteous, the British sympathetic, and Americans fresh.
One morning, Annemarie wandered off into an American troop area. Some soldiers with good hearts filled her inside and out with chocolate candy. She got so sticky they decided to wash her, so they drove her in their jeep to a nearby lake and playfully threw her in – again and again.
That’s where her mother found her. Immediately upon discovering her daughter missing, she had gone to the American camp to ask for help. Because she was Czechoslovakian, not German, greater sympathy and help were given her. And, when they finally found the soldiers, they also found a frightened and confused child who, because she spoke no English, didn’t understand what was happening.
Unfortunately, neither did the well-intentioned Americans. For, while they were having fun dunking the little girl, Annemarie’s small body was absorbing the punishment. The lack of food, severe travel, and irregular sleep caught up with her and combined with the cold water to give her a lung infection. She was not able to breathe normally without congestion or inflammation for eight years.
Meanwhile, the decision was made by the Russians to send Annemarie’s father and other German prisoners to Siberia. As soon as he heard this he devised an escape plan. When the guards were not looking, he crawled into a Russian troop train and hid inside an upturned barrel, which was being used for a table.
Once the troops were loaded, the train began its eastward journey. After a few hours in his cramped position, the German escapee tried to stretch, and in the process, fell over spilling out into the car filled with Russian soldiers.
They were so surprised that they started to shoot, but upon seeing a single unarmed man, they allowed him to live. They were impressed with his courage and, upon finding out he had been a Berlin policeman, they made a deal to allow him to remain with them if he would show them the stores in Berlin where they could loot watches and motor bicycles when the train stopped there. He agreed.
When they arrived in Berlin, however, all the buildings in the commercial areas were totally bombed out and destroyed. After some discussion on the part of the disappointed soldiers, they decided to simply let their should-have-been benefactor go home. He walked away a free man.
Free he was; at home he wasn’t. There was no home in Berlin. But, miraculously, he was reunited with his wife and his sick child who had returned to Berlin. Together, for the first time as a family, they walked out of Berlin into the country just to the east, to Annemarie’s father’s childhood home. (Shortly thereafter, this became communist East Germany.)
Annemarie grew up in this small communist-controlled German community. Again, she was the outsider because her mother was still seen as a Czechoslovakian. Annemarie was the only child in her class never to be called by her first name by her teachers. She was called by her family name to emphasize her paternal German heritage. Her behavior reflected her understanding of her position in the community.
In spite of all she had lived through, at 19 years of age, Annemarie was still a wonderfully innocent young girl. Under normal circumstances she would have remained at home under the protection of her family for some time. But times were not normal in Germany in 1961.
As she had done many times in the past, one summer Saturday, Annemarie’s mother sent her by train on the short ride to Berlin to visit her great-aunt, who was not well. When the young girl arrived an hour later, she discovered that her aunt was truly ill. Annemarie decided to spend the night.
The next morning, Sunday, August 13, 1961, Annemarie awoke and prepared to return home to her family. However, history intervened. Her aunt lived in West Berlin (controlled by the Allies), and during the night the greatest symbol of failure of the communist East German state had been driven through the heart of this great European city: the Berlin Wall. Never in history had a government shown so clearly its inability to freely attract the hearts and imaginations of the best of its society. The Berlin Wall was built to imprison an entire nation, and cut a nation in half.
Annemarie immediately phoned her parents before telephone lines to the east were cut. They all agreed that she should not return home. Now, she was faced with a world totally unfamiliar to her. She was virtually alone: without money, work, clothing, education or parental counsel. Most importantly, she had no idea of what she should do with her life.
She had no choice but to stay with her senile and vindictive aunt. Slowly, she began to construct a life of her own. She enrolled in nursing school. But, the situation with her aunt became intolerable, so late in the year she went to West Germany, where she had a distant cousin and his family.
This move proved far from successful. No sooner had she arrived in their home, than her cousin attempted to seduce her. Her refusal caused her to be thrown out of the house. She spent Germany’s most severe winter in memory living in his garage, which had one door missing. In March she decided to return to Berlin, her aunt, and her studies.
I was in Berlin as a 19-year-old LDS missionary during the height of the Berlin crisis. My companion and I met Annemarie late one evening at her aunt’s small apartment a few blocks from the Wall. As is the case with most missionaries at the time, we were tracting door-to-door when she let us in. She was baptized shortly thereafter.
It was only a few months later, on August 13, 1962 (the first “anniversary” of the Berlin Wall) that my companion and I accompanied Annemarie to the Wall as she saw her parents on the other side for the first time since they had been separated.
They would walk back and forth inside the apartment of a friend, trying not to let the guards on the border notice them as the passed before the window. Our friend had field glasses, and would try to get a glimpse of her parents, trying equally not to be obvious.
Between then and now, President Kennedy made his famous “Ich bin ein Berliner” speech; President Reagan challenged: “Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall”; and, the Berlin Wall has become simply a tragic memory. Berlin itself is now just a capital in central Europe, not the center of the struggle between superpowers. And, Annemarie lives quietly with her chemist husband in a peaceful home just two blocks from where the Wall once stood. Their two grown children live nearby.
There are so many lessons here: the terrible price people pay for war, their fight for survival even the peace can bring, and the indomitable human spirit not only to survive, but to breathe and live free. The fall of the Berlin Wall itself is a Gospel lesson that great and invisible movement in nations can alter the course of history in a blink of an eye, just like the period on the American continent in the years preceding the appearance of the Savior.
For those of us who believe in the Second Coming of the Savior, the speed with which events can unfold (as evidenced by the collapse of communism in Europe) should not be lost on us.
