'Deutschland, Deutschland': Reflections on the Wall

East Berliners crossed into West Germany as the world watched in disbelief

By Bettina Lüscher
CNN Berlin Anchor

BERLIN, Germany (CNN) -- It's easy to say you saw it coming, the fall of the Wall. But if you are honest, you'd have to admit you had no clue. None. The Wall coming down? German unification?

It seemed unthinkable.

Yes, we knew Gorbachev had warned his East German counterparts with an old verse: "Those who arrive late will be punished by life".

Yes, there was perestroika and glasnost in the former evil empire.

Yes, the East Germans were getting daring in their demands for change. But that ugly Wall, cutting through Berlin's neighbourhoods, seemed invincible.

Maybe in a few years, a few decades -- but not now.

On the late afternoon of Thursday, November 9, 1989, East German government official Guenter Schabowski read from a small piece of paper in a news conference and announced that travel documents were no longer necessary for East Germans wanting to travel West.

QUOTE On the late afternoon of Thursday, November 9, 1989, an East German official announced that travel documents were no longer necessary for East Germans wanting to travel West. We journalists looked at each other in disbelief. Is that what we think it is? Can everyone leave? Is the Wall open?

We journalists looked at each other in disbelief. Is that what we think it is? Can everyone leave? Is the Wall open?

One colleague from German television uttered, "They can't do that to me. ... There goes the rundown for my show."

And then we ran -- to telephones, to computer terminals, to the Wall. And there they came -- the East Berliners.

It didn't feel like a new phase of Ostpolitik. It didn't feel like a new phase of the Cold War. It was much more immediate. Much more intense. Joy. Laughter. Happiness. Curiosity. Confusion. Uncertainty. Fear.

During the previous weeks and months, a growing movement of discontent had become much more visible in East Germany. It started in small dissident groups, was nurtured by the churches, and exploded in that hot summer of '89 with the flight of hundreds of East Germans into West German embassies in the Eastern bloc.

'Stasi down, Stasi in the coal mines'

Once the unconquerable image of the Berlin Wall was shattered, Berliners from both sides of the divide began to tear it down

If the world had not realized that change was in the air in the East, it could now watch it on television.

Hof, a city on the Western side of the German-German border, would be remembered as one of the first stops we journalists made on our whistle-stop tour of crumbling socialist empires, of blossoming new democracies.

The trains full of East German refugees arrived in the drab train station in Hof -- tired faces peering out of the windows, wiping away tears, waving towards reporters, shouting "Deutschland, Deutschland."

It sounded awkward to many of us West Germans on that platform.

Deutschland, Deutschland? It was a new sound, an unusual chant, maybe sometimes heard at international soccer games, but not like this! We were not quite sure what it meant: Freedom? One country instead of two? Hope? Promise? Or a new nationalism? We wondered.

A few weeks later, Leipzig was the place that shook the East Berlin government to its core. First hundreds, then thousands, finally tens of thousands of East Germans marched for reform, for change.

Armed with hidden video cameras, the Western TV networks descended on that city every Monday, taping those moments of civil discontent. The protesters were amazing. They stood in front of those feared men in gray and blue windbreakers -- the uniform of the Stasi, the East German state security. The protesters stared them down, refused to be intimidated any more, shouted: "Stasi down, Stasi down ... Stasi into the coal mines."

QUOTE The protesters in Leipzig were amazing. They stood in front of those feared men in gray and blue windbreakers -- the uniform of the Stasi, the East German state security. The protesters stared them down, refused to be intimidated any more, shouted: "Stasi down, Stasi down ... Stasi into the coal mines."

It was daring, rebellious, inspiring.

It was great TV. We rushed back to Berlin and crossed the border checkpoints with our small videocassettes to feed the pictures via satellite to the world.

Man without a place

By early November we didn't worry about smuggling those tapes back to West Berlin. East German state TV broadcast those Leipzig "Monday demos" live. Erich Honecker had stepped down. East Berlin was a city full of rumour.

Thousands came to the Wall to watch in anticipation and disbelief

On the 4th, hundreds of thousands marched toward Alexanderplatz. They wanted a different government. They poked fun at the new man in charge. Egon Krenz, famous for his big toothed-grin, was depicted as the wolf from the fairy tale "Little Red Riding Hood." A banner asked, "Why is this man smiling?"

Dissidents spoke, authors spoke. And a spy, too. Markus Wolf addressed the masses. The infamous master spy -- once nicknamed "the Man Without a Face" by frustrated Western spy agencies -- wanted to see if there was a spot for him in this movement. But the people didn't want those men anymore. They wanted something new. But what? And how?

The atmosphere was different from that in Leipzig. Here it was sombre, more organized, more orderly. One could sense that people were worried about their future. It wasn't as joyful as in Leipzig. It was heavy with concern over whether the situation could get out of control -- along with an awareness that it was easier to oppose a regime than to try to change it. And change it to what?

There was no united movement. Different factions were demanding a variety of contradictory things: New socialism. Unification with the West. A separate East German state for now. No unification under any circumstance.

QUOTE The new man in charge, Egon Krenz, famous for his big toothed-grin, was depicted as the wolf from the fairy tale "Little Red Riding Hood." A banner asked, "Why is this man smiling?"

Five days later it was over. The Wall was open. Berliners were dancing on the Wall, hammering away at the Wall, kissing strangers on the Wall, driving their "Trabi" cars through the opened Wall. It was over.

The TV networks built platforms overlooking the Wall, showed the scenes live around the world around the clock, anchored special after special in languages from every corner of the world.

'A wonderful day'

It was the story of a lifetime. Having worked for 30 hours straight in front of the Brandenburg Gate, I sat on our TV platform at 5 in the morning, sorting through notes, cables and videotapes.

Germans uniting

A man in his mid-30s walked up to me.

"Hello," he said. He looked at all the expensive high-tech gear the modern media circus travels with. He looked at all the telephones we had organized within hours after the fall of the Wall.

"Hmm," he said, "we sometimes had to wait 10 years for a phone."

I looked at him with that West German expression full of guilt for having been wealthier, luckier, better off somehow.

He started smiling and said, "Have a wonderful day."

"Danke, you too!" I replied. He waved and walked away. Westward.

Lüscher, a native of Hamm in the former West Germany, is based in Berlin as CNN anchor. In 1989, she worked in CNN's Frankfurt bureau and covered the fall of the Berlin Wall and the collapse of the East German government.