“To Hell with them all!” said Dieter all of a sudden in his thick german accent.
I couldn’t help but smile remembering the first time I heard that odd accent. In the first days of our acquaintance it always made me cringe. But I got used to it quickly as I went on to know this crazy german guy with a flare for flamboyance and an all together short temper that made him explode once in a while, sometimes for the smallest of things. I believe enough time has already passed from World War II that allows me to make the comparison: he sometimes seemed like a Panzer division roaming and stomping through some European field not stopping at nothing. He, of course, as any other german, would hate this analogy. But, well, I made it, it’s done.
But nevertheless he was actually a quite likeable man, even sweet at times. Over confident (too much probably), bombastic, and self assured. Something that he would certainly saw as a result of 39 years of living on his toes, always moving, swift and quick as a….well, I won’t make that comparison again.
In fact even today I wonder how in the hell he and I hook up in that bar in East Berlin, before the tear down of the Wall, and remain friends until today.
Dieter always walked in a thin line, especially on those days of secrecy, secret police, repression and fear. With his “too americanized” look, jeans, black t-shirt and a worn leather jacket, he looked like some character of those American movies from the 50’s. Something that would be looked upon as a ‘cliché’ nowadays. The rebel, the outlaw. But, like I said, he always walked in a thin line, and knew where and when not to cross it.
However, in the rare occasions when he didn’t know, I was there. I was the cautious one, that annoying little guy in the back that weighs all the pros and cons, and sometimes even presents a written paper with them. Talk about annoying hey? Sometimes Dieter was a real pain in the neck, my neck! But I knew that I also had the ability of getting him mad sometimes, so we made it even.
Maybe that’s why we made such a good team back in those crazy, dangerous days when we organized one of the best routes of escape from East Berlin to the West. We worked great together. Even being so different.
He had a way with women…again, unlike me. They always fell for him, despite all my bewilderment. I never could understand what they saw in him. Sure, he had all of that “James Dean/Marlon Brando” thing going for him. He was kinda handsome and he definitely had the nerve to strike up a conversation out of the blue with any women. And he didn’t even acknowledge that ability. It was normal for him. In fact, when we met in that bar years ago he was engaged in that activity, flirting with some girl in the bar. He soon lost interest when he heard me ordering a double Jack Daniels. That was old Dieter, always fascinated with America, and by then, someone asking for a JD double could only be American, and he’d soon started to talk with me forgetting the poor old girl. He could always get another bird anytime, anywhere.
I was the opposite of course. Which gave me my big share of failures on that field. I always came across as that cute and funny side kick of the hero. With Dieter on my side I didn’t have a chance in that department.
I was afflicted with a unusual, rather pathological shyness, and the somewhat annoying sense of being a gentleman. I always thought that women would be more interested in that than in the rough edges Dieter showed. Of course he too was a romantic fool, but it really didn’t show in that hard armour of sarcasm, semi-arrogance, and general “Mr. Knows-it-all”.
But somehow women liked it. Back then, after we finished a “crossover”, Dieter was so pumped off by the adrenaline that we’d roam several bars on the western side up until the early hours of the dawn.
I didn’t feel that at ease, but I followed him not unwillingly.
I had a almost morbid interest to study his moves and catch phrases and try to understand what was so special about him. But, as it turned out I was always too considerate, too quiet, not exciting, and definitely NOT too keen on telling the dangers we had to overcome that night to get those Easterners safe to capitalist world. Dieter, on the other hand, was TOO keen on boasting and telling every detail of our little…cape and cloak tales.
That, in the end, was the main reason of our fall from grace one moonlit night when we almost got caught in Alexanderplatz. But that’s another story.
In the end we weren’t that different at all. We were both looking for something special, it just happened that we had different ways to look for it. Different methods. I would knock at doors, he simply put his foot through doors!
Linda was his only true love. They got married in 69. Besides me I guess she was the one who really knew him. She was the typical American, blue eyes, blonde and all the rest, and they were in love like in the movies Dieter saw when growing up.
Eventually I met Marie and I too found happiness, she was, and fortunately, still is, all I dreamed of, and I’m glad that my quietness and shyness finally were useful. I’m happy, and saying that is quite a lot.
Unfortunately things changed when Linda was killed by the police, Dieter never returned to his old self again. He seemed to be locked in constant mourning. Feeling sad for the loss, like if a freak accident had severed his arm. Part of his soul died then. And ever since I’ve seen the other part slowly fading away. You youngsters out there are probably rolling your eyes now and thinking “What is this poor old git babbling about?”. I don’t care, in time you too will discover that what you really need in life is quite simple. And when you got it, treasure it, hang on to it, because, you’ll miss it badly when and if it goes away.
Life isn’t as complex as the TV and movies, and magazines wants you to believe. No.
I’m just glad that both me and Dieter found that out in our lives eventually.
Gunther Dünn
