Cold Peace

At 9:00 pm sharp, the RAF Regiment closed the doors, and the Station Commander mounted the steps to the stage. His subordinates got respectfully to their feet and the rustling and murmurs died away. From the podium, Priestman looked out at a room full of men and women standing still and attentive, though not rigid as at a parade.

“Thank you. You may be seated.” He pulled his notes from inside his tunic and put them in front of him on the podium. He had worked on them most of the afternoon and knew them almost by heart. He did not want to read from them but having his text before him made him less nervous. 

He looked out at the expectant faces and began. “Ladies and gentlemen, I have called you together because I think it imperative that you understand the situation we are in and what will be expected of you in the days to come. I’m sure you’ve been following the news and many of you may already know what I am about to tell you. Still, I think it best that you hear it from me and not second-hand.

“Last Thursday, the Soviets interdicted access to Berlin by road, rail and canal. They also stopped all natural gas and electricity deliveries to the city. This means that in addition to the Allied garrisons, the civilian population living in the Western Sectors of Berlin has been deprived of virtually all necessities needed to live a normal life from fresh milk to scotch.” As intended, they laughed.

“The ostensible purpose of this blockade is to force us and our American and French allies to withdraw our garrisons from Berlin. This would mean that the civilians living in the Western Sectors of Berlin would come under Soviet domination and the entire city would be absorbed into the Soviet Zone.” 

Priestman paused and looked out across the room. “I am sure that many of you don’t see anything wrong with that. Why should His Majesty’s armed forces be stationed in the middle of the Soviet Zone? Why shouldn’t Berlin, which lies deep inside the Soviet Zone, be an integral part of it?” He scanned the faces in front of him and was surprised that only a minority of them seemed to express agreement with his words.

“For those of you who think like that, let me remind you that much the same was said just under ten years ago at Munich. Then people asked: Why shouldn’t the ethnically German population of the Sudetenland be part of Germany? What could be more reasonable than to allow the Sudeten Germans to be absorbed into the Greater German Reich?”

“The situation now is similar. The absorption of the Western Sectors of Berlin into the Soviet Zone is not a logical adjustment of a geopolitical anomaly, but rather a crass violation of international agreements and understandings. It represents not a ‘reasonable’ solution to an earlier mistake. It is most certainly not a case of self-determination.” He saw heads start to nod solemnly across the room.

“On the contrary, the blockade is a cold-blooded and transparent attempt to expand Soviet power at the expense of the West in the face of fierce opposition from the affected population. I cannot overstate the similarities between this crisis and that which Hitler manufactured in September 1938.” Priestman could sense that the mention of Munich had struck a nerve. Many more in the audience were now nodding solemnly.

“Let me also remind you that the Western Powers surrendered territory already occupied by our troops in exchange for our presence here in Berlin. The Soviets are not offering to reverse that exchange. They want it all. 

“Our reason for being in Berlin was to ensure that we had a say in the reconstruction of Germany. This being the German capital, it was believed that any future German state would be ruled from here. Allied oversight of new German institutions was deemed vital to ensure the complete denazification and democratization of the former Nazi state.

“Yet for months, even years, the Soviet Union has been eating away at the very basis of Four-Power rule in Germany. The Soviets have systematically broken the instruments necessary for implementing joint policies. They long prevented the introduction of a sound currency essential to a viable economy and equally critical to ending the wholesale corruption and criminal activities endemic in a collapsed state. 

“His Majesty’s government has had enough. The Foreign Secretary declared unequivocally before the House of Commons yesterday that we would not withdraw from Berlin. His words were greeted with cheers from both sides of the chamber. Mr Bevin noted soberly that our decision to remain in Berlin may have grave consequences. It could, conceivably, lead to war between Great Britain and the Soviet Union.” Priestman paused to let that sink in. His audience was very sober and very still. 

Priestman resumed, “The Conservative Spokesman Harold Macmillan, responded bluntly by asserting that grave as the risk of war is, the alternative — to shirk from the issue, as he put it — involves not merely the risk, but the certainty of war.” Priestman knew that many would have already read this exchange in the morning newspapers.

“Although I am merely a relatively junior RAF officer,” the Wing Commander noted in a more relaxed tone, “I beg to differ with the honourable Mr Macmillan.” This brought a titter of surprised amusement from some and uncomfortable wriggling from others. Priestman waited until everyone was again still before resuming.  

“From the vantage point of Westminster, war may appear a distant — if distinct — possibility. In contrast, from here at Gatow, ladies and gentlemen, I submit that we are already at war with the Soviet Union. 

“No, this is not a shooting war — at least not yet — but it is a war nevertheless. It is a war of nerves that will be won, hopefully, not with bloodshed, but with intelligence, innovation, improvisation and ingenuity. It will be won by determination, diligence, and discipline — mixed, I hope, with a sense of humour.

“I’m not an expert on the Russian character, but from what I’ve seen thus far, there is nothing the Russians hate quite so much as us not taking them as seriously as they take themselves. They most certainly don’t like to see us smiling, joking and laughing at them.” To his relief, many in the audience laughed, and Priestman risked a smile himself before becoming serious again.

“The job we have set ourselves is unprecedented. No one has ever supplied a city of two million entirely by air. We are all going to be experimenting with the limits of our abilities — and imagination. We will make mistakes. We will sometimes fall short. But we will not simply surrender. At least I won’t.”

Someone at the back of the room shouted. “We will never surrender, sir!” This was met with cheers from most of the other occupants in the room. Some men even jumped up to cheer while most confined themselves to enthusiastic clapping.  

Priestman waited until things had calmed down before he concluded simply with, “Thank you, Ladies and Gentlemen. That’s all for tonight.”

As he descended from the podium, Priestman was acutely aware that he had come to Berlin reluctantly and with thoughts only of saving his career. Now his concerns were for everyone in this room — and, indeed, the fate of the entire city.