The Chairman of the Council of Ministers stood at the head of the room and loudly rapped his knuckles on the u-shaped table, calling the meeting to order. As the chatter quieted, Hans quickly moved toward a seat by the wall behind the Minister of Defense.
The Chairman cleared his throat. “Comrades, I call this meeting of the State Council to order. I will conduct these proceedings as General Secretary Honecker is currently traveling in Czechoslovakia.” The Chairman cleared his throat again as he settled into his chair. He adjusted his glasses and glanced at an agenda. “We will begin with the economic report.”
The meeting progressed in a prearranged, stiff recitation of facts and analysis. Most of the information was already known to the ministers through written reports, but the meeting ensured information was distributed universally. With Honecker out of the country, the meeting ran mechanically as minister after minister gave their reports with little commentary.
It was finally forty minutes into the meeting when the Chairman asked the Minister of Defense to report. The Minister stood and spoke with energy, looking at each of the semi-comatose ministers around him. His brusque military voice reverberated off the wood-paneled walls, immediately bringing the room to life. “Comrades, next year will mark the twenty-fifth anniversary of the building of our Anti-Fascist Protection Wall. While the Wall has been a considerable success, we know it is necessary to constantly see to the improvement of our security measures in order to prevent border breakthroughs.” These were the political euphemisms which the East Germans used in referring to the Berlin Wall. To escape was considered “treason against the State.”
The Defense Minister continued, “Therefore, I have seen to it that we consider a major technological upgrade of the border defenses. I am establishing a commission to develop these technological upgrades. But first, we will undertake a complete study of the border defenses. This in-depth study will help us honestly assess our strengths and weaknesses. Then we will be able to appropriately upgrade our borders, so that we may remain secure for another twenty-five years.” He now gestured toward Hans. “I have appointed Comrade Lieutenant Colonel Hans Brandt for this duty. He will be Special Liaison to the State Council on Defense Matters.” Hans stood ramrod at attention as all eyes fell upon him. The Defense Minister concluded, “He will report directly to myself and this council.”
In a matter of minutes, the meeting was adjourned. Müller came over to congratulate Hans on the promotion. They had first met ten years before, when Brandt was assigned to Müller’s security detail at a party function. Their brief conversation that night had turned to many in the following years. Müller saw the potential in Brandt. Hans had the makings of a great officer, but knew nothing of the political world. Müller would give him that education, developing a mentor-protégé friendship of sorts. He was genuinely pleased to see Hans progress to a political post. It would be good to have another ally in the den of wolves.
Müller shook Hans’ hand and smiled. “Congratulations. I believe they chose the right man for the job.”
“Thank you, Comrade Müller,” Hans said.
Yet Müller added with a wink, “Don’t prove me wrong.” Hans couldn’t help but smirk at Müller’s ribbing.
A minister in a dark suit approached Müller. Wolfgang acknowledged him with a nod, then turned back to Hans. “Would you join us now? We have a subcommittee meeting, more of an informal affair.” Hans agreed and followed Müller into an adjoining smaller room.
A circular wood table dominated the space. Around it, a dozen of the ministers and officers from the council meeting took seats. Hans quickly realized he had been invited to an exclusive club. While none of the men were top officials, they all had positions just below the highest authorities. Here were the men who actually implemented the orders. Convention suggested these men did not make policy, but Hans saw their ability to influence it. These were the men who carried out Honecker’s orders, and they had enough authority to put their own spin on them.
Müller leaned over and whispered to Hans, “These are technically unofficial meetings. They give the ministers or their deputies a chance to speak openly, to discuss policy, and debate amongst themselves without the fear of reprisal or censorship by their superiors. But be careful what you say—these discussions can have consequences.”
Hans nodded solemnly and took a seat at the table.
Comrade Richter, a rotund, white-haired man, spoke first. He was an undersecretary in the Finance department. He weighed his words carefully, hesitating as he spoke. “The economic situation is… disastrous.”
Martin Junker, a forty-something Politburo member, spoke up. “How long can we hold out?”
“Honestly?” Richter paused. “Four, maybe five years at most. By then we’ll be crippled.”
A murmur erupted throughout the room. “What’ll we do then?” Junker asked.
Richter shrugged. “Well, then… the game is over. We fold up, give in to the West, or we face the likelihood of total societal collapse.”
“What exactly does that mean?” Herman Vogel, another Politburo member, barked sarcastically.
Richter leveled with him. “It means we’ll have total anarchy in the streets. Chaos and revolution, but this time we’ll be the Kaiserists.”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” Vogel retorted.
“You tell me how we’ll finance the Wall, the social programs, the police, the army, housing, or anything else when the money’s gone,” Richter answered, the panic in his voice rising. “We are losing billions of marks a year, and it will run out. You tell me what we should do then!”
A voice sounded from the other end of the table. “I have a radical suggestion.”
All eyes turned to a trim dark man in his mid-forties. He looked almost too debonair for a communist, yet a coarser dimension also pervaded through his appearance to make him a passable member of the proletariat. There was something serpentine in his demeanor and movements; behind his piercing black eyes lurked formidable danger, and yet his smile exuded charm, his form charisma, so that the overall effect was beguiling. Here was, perhaps, the offspring of the serpent that once corrupted man.
The man leaned back and grinned. “West Berlin has billions. Meanwhile, it has posed a security threat and a strategic menace to the heart of our country for thirty-five years. I suggest we take it.”
Some of the men sat silent, yet others audibly groaned at the suggestion. Richter was the first to address the man. “You’re talking about an invasion of West Berlin.”
The man shrugged, still grinning. “Yes, why not? We’ve had the military plans drawn up for years, updated over time.”
“Why not? It’s bad policy.” Werner Fass, a blondish thirty-eight year-old Politburo member, now took the man on. “Those plans are only to be enacted on the contingency that NATO carries out an act of prior aggression. We just can’t do something this major without consulting the Russians.”
Junker chimed in: “And the Americans won’t stand for it. They tolerated defensive measures when we built the Wall, but they won’t tolerate an act of aggression against the West.”
“And it’s not just bad politics,” Fass continued, “We haven’t even addressed the likelihood of such a mission’s colossal failure. How could we get in enough men to occupy West Berlin before the Allies see us coming and snuff us out? Do you expect to win by sheer numbers, bathe the streets in blood like Hitler did in 1945?”