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Two Roses for West Berlin

Military Fiction

A Nonymous

“FUCK, IT STINKS DOWN HERE!”

“Yeah, but it’s a wet stink.”

“Alright you two KNOCK THAT SHIT OFF!” came the low hiss of Mr. Bill Smith.

William Tecumseh Smith was actually a Sergeant First Class of the 21^st Special Forces Group, but because of his current duty assignment, which in fact didn’t exist – Mr. Smith was a “consultant” of the West Berlin Special Security Services.  He had been in the divided city for over 6 years and knew every back alley piss hole and sewer drainage canal in the area.  Back in the early 1970’s the Soviet Union made an official complaint to the Quad Partite Command of Berlin and was granted the privilege of seeing the American 21^st Special Forces Group officially kicked out of the city.  Unofficially, though, the United States had been infiltrating operators under many guises to act as “consultants” to the Special Security Services for the past 15 years.  The amount of intelligence gathered and stories of mayhem inflicted on the Reds in East Berlin could fill half the halls in the Library of Congress.  “Mr.” Smith was proud to have contributed freely to that voluminous collection of stories.  The Soviets knew that the Security Services were in fact Special Forces, but in this crazy Cold War World what you didn’t say but knew could get you a quick ticket to Siberia.

Staff Sergeant Kevin Peters’ slender body moved effortlessly thru the cramped space of the sewer canal.  “Mr.” Peters was ideally suited for this tunnel rat game of cat and mouse with the local Soviet Spetsnaz troopers.  His lithe frame and quick reflexes gave him the ability to go where a lesser mortal would fear to tread.  “Mr.” Peters was also known for his easy sense of humor and wicked sarcasm.  You could always count on him to provide a light moment in the face of the most difficult situations.  Peters had just under 7 years’ service in Berlin, although there was a 1 year gap about mid-way thru which Kevin called "his tour with the ‘dark side of the Force'”.

The last of tonight’s trio of consultants was one Staff Sergeant Terrence Sumner a very intense individual whose total concentration to mission accomplishment was unbreakable.  “Mr.” Terry Sumner was built like a fireplug and for what he may have lacked in height, he more than made up for in corded muscles and steely nerves.  Sumner was in his fifth year of service in West Berlin. 

It had been 3 hours since their pager notification from headquarters and about an hour into their current patrol.  One of East Berlin’s Spetsnaz teams had been detected in the U-Bahn and sewer systems.  This in and of itself wasn’t very significant.  Berlin’s subterranean world was riddled with all manners of American and Soviet detection and warning devices and both sides constantly practiced the high stakes covert game of cat and mouse.  What made this particular patrol a mission priority was the fact that a large amount of low-level plutonium was detected as being moved with the Spetsnaz team.  It seemed for tonight at least, that the Cold War was going to get hot. 

Colonel “Wild” Marvin Harris’ briefing was concise, detailed and specific:  Find the plutonium, neutralize the Spetsnaz team and get back quickly, if possible bring back a “detainee”.  Soviet detainees were particularly prized, if you could prevent their ingesting sodium cyanide caplets imbedded in a false tooth!  “Wild” Marvin had received a flash directive from the NCA (National Command Authority – The President of the United States) stating that a live detainee would be highly valued, but the first priority was to the neutralization of the plutonium team.  Why the Soviets were trying to move plutonium thru the sewers of Berlin was a question that might go unanswered.

SFC Smith’s Triple S Team was especially favored for this mission.  The Team was very well suited together.  The psychological diversity and personality makeup of the Team provided for a uniquely balanced unit that thought, moved and functioned as one.  They had been together constantly for the past 2 plus years and trusted one another implicitly.  Smith and his men took the briefing in stride outwardly, inwardly each man recognized the importance of what the mission entailed.  Should the plutonium make it to its destination, the devil would only know what havoc would be wrought. 

The Team moved swiftly and individually to their assembly area and infiltration point:  Big Sexy Land on the world famous KuDamm (short for Kurfurstendamm Allee).  Nightlife on the KuDamm rivaled the most raucous and debaucherous in the world.  Big Sexy Land was a leading contributor to this decadent revelry 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.  This living sexual fantasyland was the brainchild of one Wolfgang von Mannheim, a lecherous 60-year-old ex-Soviet POW.  Wolfie survived a brutal internment at the hands of the Russians and spent a total of 14 years in a camp east of the Ural Mountains.  Conditions were less than primitive and of the original 12,000+ prisoners, roughly 1500 were shown the gate in 1957 and told they were “free” to return to their homes.  Wolfie swore an oath on the rotting corpses of his prison comrades that if he survived the trek to Germany he would open a business in honor of their memory and sacrifice – thus Big Sexy Land was born!  Wolfgang also vowed that he would find a way to avenge each prisoner’s death and his torment at the hands of the Soviets; and so when he offered his meager services to the American Occupation Forces, his contribution was readily accepted.  Big Sexy Land offered the type of cover that made young recruits’ balls blue and provided the most extensive, covert assembly area in West Berlin.  Smith’s Team assembled in the east bar and began their infiltration from one of many “privacy” rooms that connected to the U-Bahn and sewer systems.

Now into their forth hour of movement, the Team was nearing its objective area:  a large, tiered filtration area with a slime covered access stairway on either side.  The Spetsnaz team was taking an especially difficult route into West Berlin and had to know that this area would provide their American counterparts the best kill zone for an ambush.  Smith placed his team across from one another, providing a rough crossfire for the ambush.  The Spetsnaz teams were typically made up of 3 to 5 man units, were dedicated in the extreme and viciously trained, creating a fanatical opponent.  Both American and Soviet Special Ops forces had suffered casualties throughout the Cold War.  The “Killing Caverns” of Berlin accounted for a large number of the dead and wounded. 

Smith checked his equipment and weapons:

         AN/PVS-5a2 with Head harness & IR Light Source – OK    

            Portable Radio Unit – Individual, with Headset – OK

            Load Bearing Equipment, Suspenders with Pistol Belt – OK

            Miniature Detector, Radiation, Passive – OK

            Flashlight, OD with batteries – OK

            Pressure Bandage & Medical Kit, Field Expedient – OK

            1 x 1 Quart Canteen with OD Cover – OK

            Fairbairn Commando Knife, subdued, 6” blade with sheath – OK

            Browning Highpower 9mm semi-automatic pistol, Silenced, with holster – OK

            7 x 15 round 9mm magazines with magazine pouches – OK

“All OK Jumpmaster!” Smith whispered to himself.  He then conducted a communications check with Sumner and Peters and received their OK status.  With all the preliminaries done, Smith changed frequencies and tapped out a brief code to Colonel Marvin that the team was in place and observing radio silence.  Smith then settled down to wait for the ambush to develop.

39 minutes in position:  The Spetsnaz team seemed to be moving slower than anticipated.

43 minutes in position:  Still no contact and the fishing line Peters had deployed into the sewage had not yielded a catch.

48 minutes in position:  The unexpected happened!  Peters’ fishing line was wriggling like crazy!?  Peters signaled Smith and Sumner.  Whatever was making the fishing line dance was big…

49 and a half minutes in position:  A masked head popped out of the lowest tier of the filtration system!  This was not good… The filtration area had only 2 entry/exit points.  The bottom tier was a new one and Peters’ position was very untenable.  All 3 operators had no choice but to will themselves into the walls they were already hugging. 

50 minutes in position:  A second head popped up, followed closely by a third.  The Spetsnaz team set up security on either side of the filtration tier and the third man began to assist an unseen operative with a package of some kind.  As this retrieval was going on, the 2 Spetsnaz troopers on security began to move upward…  Suddenly the Spetsnaz closest to Peters froze then lifted his Tokarev 9mm pistol to fire.  The shot never went off, Peters reacted quickly and took down the Spetsnaz with a well placed round to the head while simultaneously trying to move forward on the enemy team.  Peters’ quick reaction and combat training prevented him from being killed instantly; but couldn’t keep him from being hit.  The second security man had recovered from the initial shock of the firing and hit Peters in the upper right quadrant of his chest.  Peters instantly double tapped the Spetsnaz security man with his Browning, sending him to an early reunion with Comrade Lenin.  Peters then slowly crumpled back onto the stairway. 

Sumner and Smith witnessed this lightning exchange of gunfire and moved to take down the remaining Spetsnaz men.  Sumner caught the Spetsnaz man closest to him with a well-placed shot to the back of his head.  The Spetsnaz trooper was trying to get back in the lowest filtration tier.  Smith got 2 shots off on the other Spetsnaz and prevented him from doing the same.  The fifth Spetsnaz man never surfaced and apparently had a dummy cord attached to the package for it slid quickly into the filtration tier and disappeared.  Smith and Sumner secured the area and began a quick search of the Spetsnaz bodies. 

“The 2 on my side are dead meat,” reported Sumner.

“Check on Kevin, Terry.  It looks like we may have a survivor down here,” called out Smith.

SFC Smith was working desperately on the Spetsnaz trooper he had hit.  Amazingly, the Spetsnaz was still breathing even with 2 bullet holes in his abdomen; but without true medical attention he was a goner.  Smith jammed his field dressings into the wounded Spetsnaz, then administered a high dose of morphine.  It would be at least an hour to an emergency extraction point.  With the Spetsnaz man taken care of, Smith moved quickly up to Sumner.  Terry Sumner was working equally hard on Peters.  Apparently, Peters had a sucking chest wound, made all the worse by the hollow-point rounds the Soviets had been using.

“Can we move him, Terry?” Smith asked.

“I’ll drag him with my teeth if I have to!” Sumner replied.

“That would be an amazing feat of daring-do,” came a gurgling croak from Peters.  “You guys have to leave me.”

“No fucking way, Kev!” was Sumner’s response.

“Yes fucking way, Terry.  You’ve got a prisoner that has to make it back…” 

“FUCK HIM, KEVIN,” came Sumner’s reply.

“Terry, I’m not gonna make it…  Tell him Billy Boy.”  Peters was visibly deteriorating.  Smith placed a hand on Sumner’s back.

“We can’t just leave him to the rats and the roaches in this God Damned place.”  Sumner’s statement was more a plea than anything else.

“Terry, Bill!... I’m already gone…  Please tell my Dad: ‘the lake is calm and the bird has flown souutthh…”  Staff Sergeant Kevin Peters, 21^st Special Forces Group was KIA  0308 hours, 29 August 1989 in the underworld of Berlin, Germany.

EPILOGUE: 

The simple wooden boxes faced each other on the Glienicke Bridge in West Berlin.  Two teams of a single officer and detail of 4 soldiers, one American the other Soviet, escorted each box.  At the given signal, each box as moved to the center of the bridge.  The officers of the escorts saluted one another and the teams of soldiers moved silently past each other to take charge of the opposite wooden box.  With quiet dignity the boxes were moved to the opposite side from which they started.  Then each box was ceremoniously draped in the sovereign flag of the country they had given their last breath to.  The boxes were then loaded into military vehicles and moved swiftly away.

The American escort accompanied the flag draped coffin to Templehof Airport.  Once there it was unloaded and taken to a secure holding area.  Smith, Sumner and COL Harris came into the room, followed by an erect figure in a civilian suit.  The civilian clad individual was John Peters, father of the late SSG Kevin Peters.  Smith, Sumner and Harris were immaculate in their Class “A” uniforms, although the logistics of getting the uniforms and “consultants” to Templehof had been a feat of rectal acrobatics.  Smith and Sumner removed the cover of the simple wood coffin and allowed John Peters the opportunity to view the remains of his son.  It was not a pretty chore. 

Kevin had remained in the filtration area for 3 ½ hours with the dead Spetsnaz men.  By the time an American recovery team could make it to the ambush site, it was too late.  The area had been cleaned out by the Soviets.  The rats of Berlin’s sewer system ravaged SSG Peters’ body.  The Russians had cleaned the body and sewn up the empty eye sockets and mouth of Kevin Peters, then placed him into the wooden box.  With the strictest of protocol in the Divided City, the Soviets made an official request for the return of a Russian “deserter” known to be in American custody.  The wounded Spetsnaz trooper and all the weapons and equipment from the ambush had been brought out of the subterranean world, although the Spetsnaz had the bad taste to die not 10 minutes out of the sewers!

Sumner turned and said, “Mr. Peters, Kevin never complained, never asked for anything, never let us down.  His only request was to tell you: ‘the lake is calm and the bird has flown south’.  He didn’t tell us anything else.”

John Peters body racked with the silent sobbing of his loss, made worse by the use of this phrase.  After a brief moment of consolation, Mr. Peters regained control of his emotions and thanked the trio of Special Forces operators.  Just then a slight Air Force Captain interrupted, “General Peters?  I apologize sir, but the funeral detail and crew chief will be here shortly to retrieve your son and place you on the C-130.”  “Thank you, Captain.”

Smith, Sumner and Harris stood dumbfounded by this inopportune revelation.  Smith was the first to recover, “Sir, we didn’t realize.  SSG Peters never mentioned your status to us.”

“No apologies necessary, son.  I’m just a One-Star and a retired one at that.”  Brigadier General Peters came fully erect, “Kevin didn’t have any reason to talk about me.  At one time I was an OSS operator in the 2^nd World War.  I was one of a 3 man team that jumped into fields about 10 miles west of this very spot and helped setup the network of German Collaborators for when the war was over.  That phrase Kevin used was one I had to radio in to headquarters.  It meant ‘mission accomplished, 1 man killed in the line of duty.’  I never had a more proud moment than the one when my son donned the Green Beret.  Kevin looked at all of you as brothers in arms.  What a crazy war in a crazy world.”  With that, BG Peters marched with the funeral detail out to the waiting aircraft.

The West Berlin Special Security Services never learned exactly what was being transported that night, why it was being sent or where it was intended.  Two weeks later Soviet Premier Mikhail Gorbachev announced that the borders between East and West were now “open”.  Berliners cheered and celebrated their newfound freedom.  Within six months the Berlin Wall was torn down.  On the anniversary of his son’s retrieval from East Berlin, John Peters returned to the Glienicke Bridge.  There were no monuments, no placards, no indication of the sacrifices made or endured by the innumerable ranks of Special Ops Warriors to insure the liberty enjoyed by this ignorant mass of humanity.  Peters walked to the edge of the bridge, threw out 2 white roses on the lazy rolling Spree River, turned and walked quietly away.

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