People and politics

13 August 1961, the day on which the building of the 'Wall' was decreed, was a hot summer Sunday. Unable to spend their holidays outside the city, many of my fellow-citizens had been looking forward to a carefree swim in one of the lakes on the city's outskirts - perhaps to a few hours' reading. They were startled to hear the early morning news: Berlin had been divided and sealed off. 13 August became a day of horror, alarm and bewilderment.

News of the closure - the physical wall was not actually erected until three days later, under the supervision of armed contingents - reached me as I was travelling by train from Nuremberg to Kiel. I had addressed a big party gathering at Nuremberg the day before and planned to launch the election campaign proper at Kiel that Sunday. Just five weeks separated us from the Bundestag elections, in which my political associates had nominated me as their candidate for the Chancellorship.

It was dawn when a railway official knocked at the door of my compartment. He informed me that a complete closure of the Eastern Sector had begun, and that I was requested to return to Berlin by the fastest possible route. Accompanied by a small party of colleagues, I left the train at Hanover at about 5 a.m., caught the early morning flight to Berlin and drove at once from Tempelhof Airport to the sector boundary, first Potsdamer Platz and then the Brandenburg Gate. I surveyed the barriers that had been hauled into place in the past few hours and were now being reinforced with a truly German attention to detail. Concrete posts had been sunk in the streets and were being draped with barbed wire. I saw some of the strong military units - East German, not Russian whose instructions were to seal the border. I looked into the vacant eyes of uniformed compatriots doing their duty on the other side. Above all, I saw concern and despair written on the faces of my fellow-citizens of west Berlin.