Escaping the Iron Curtain

My family's adventures in trying to help an East German engineer escape to West Germany during the cold war in the 1960s

Communist luminaries luminating on the East German side of the Brandenburg Gate. The Roman standard of the angel on top is stripped of cross and eagle.

In 1966, my dad was in Germany working on a PhD in biology. My mom and I were with him. I was six. To take a break from work on his dissertation, the three of us drove in a VW bug to what was then Yugoslavia—specifically, to Dubrovnik and Split. Yugoslavia at the time was ruled by the communist strongman Tito, who maintained a determined independence from the other communist countries behind the Iron Curtain, which tended to slavishly obey the Soviet Union.

While vacationing there, we met a group of East German young professionals, who were under the watchful eye of an older woman, who was their minder. One of these East Germans, Helmut, an engineer, befriended us. He confided in us that he had lobbied to vacation in Yugoslavia because it was easier to escape to the West from Yugoslavia than from most Eastern European nations. He then asked our help to do so. 

I give my parents credit, but they were up for helping him. Helmut proposed that when we were ready to leave, he drive with us inconspicuously to the Yugoslav-Austrian border. We would let him off, and he would try to hoof it across the border into freedom. Even though the distance from where we were to the border was not much in absolute terms (500 miles), the roads were terrible back then and we had to spend at least one night lodging with people approved by the state (it was in the home of a large family rather than a hotel). Helmut slept in our VW Bug. 

There was a risk here for Helmut as well as for my parents. If the police found him driving with us or sleeping in our car, he as well as my parents would have some explaining to do. Certainly, it would not go well for Helmut, and probably not for my parents either. Also, as soon as he left his group of fellow East Germans, he would be missed, and alerts would be put out for his apprehension. 

Finally, we got close to the border, so now Helmut could try on foot to traverse the ten miles or so to freedom. We kept our fingers crossed. Once we were back in West Germany, we learned that Helmut had been caught. He spent over a year in East German jails. Fortunately, he had a wealthy relative in West Germany. I remember what was probably his uncle (an older distinguished looking gentleman) who was driving an impressive Mercedes (which back then truly was a status symbol).

As my dad explained to me, the East Germans justified keeping Helmut and extracting a ransom for him on account of all that they had invested in him and his education. Even as a six-year old boy, I got it. Can the state really do so much for you that they own you? After that, communism never appealed to me. In the end, the ransom was paid and East Germany let him go. 

Helmut made it to Munich, where he had to do another year or so of studies to be certified as an engineer in West Germany. We visited him in 1970 in Munich, talking with him at a park. He seemed happy. For a number of years after that, we would exchange Christmas greetings. He married, had at least one child, and made a good life. I give him credit for his courage to leave East Germany, and I give my parents credit for trying to help him get away from that oppressive regime.