Tour Reports

Berlin or Bust Tour 2010 – by Richard Starr, Marc Open & Chris Aldous

It was one of those cold and wet days sitting in a farmhouse in Normandy 2009 that the question came up about what we would be doing in 2010. In 2008 we had been on the Double Dutch Tour hosted by our great Dutch friends Peter Beukema and Jacco van Snippenberg but something further and more challenging was in the wind and after much discussion it was decided that Berlin would make an ideal “target” and a few minutes later we had extended the tour to include Poland.

A bit of background to our little group is probably appropriate here.  We are mostly members of IMPS but being WW2 jeep owners we all met on the website hosted by Ron Fitzpatrick in the States, www.g503.com. We try and meet at least every six weeks or so, if not on a jeep run, then at least for dinner or to help each other out with our jeeps.

Anyway, after much discussion and planning it was decided to attempt the c.3000km run with three jeeps from England and while we were out in Germany we would be hosted and joined by our good friend Lars Rudek, and a friend of his Volker Arle, in his jeep from north of Hamburg.  So there would be Richard Starr, Robin Cecil, Chris Aldous, David Aro from California (MVPA member) Leon Webb and Marc Open.

The tour took place from 3 to 13 June 2010, going out via Harwich to the Hook of Holland on the night ferry.

Come the Thursday afternoon Marc’s first job was to pick up Robin Cecil along with David Aro to drive to Richard Starr’s house where Robin could join Richard in his jeep.  Oddly, Robin complained of not feeling well, just a little under the weather, but with no further thought we mounted up and started to drive towards our 23:45 ferry at Harwich.

The journey out to the ferry went fairly smoothly, although Chris’s jeep developed a little over heating problem within a few miles.  It was decided this was due to an oily fan belt slipping and after a quick clean up and a new belt we were on the road again. Robin still did not feel very well and we encouraged him to maybe take a “seat” once we were on the ferry.

As luck would have it we ended up on a brand new boat, it was like a floating hotel and the cabins were all very comfortable, bless you Stena Line!

In the night Robin was still poorly and the boat had no doctor on board, so at 08:00 as Stena Line announced “man your disembarkation stations” (well, OK they didn’t really) it was decided that we had to seek medical help.  Unfortunately Robin was not helped by our sat nav taking us to a now-demolished hospital, but on asking one of the locals where the hospital had gone he insisted on leading us there in his car.  So, there we were, not 15 minutes on foreign soil and we had taken our first casualty!

So, 8 hours later than planned, we set off for Munster in Germany on the first stage of our journey, we had about 250 miles to do on the first day and it was looking doubtful if we could catch up on our schedule after being so far behind. 

We jumped straight on the motorway, but Friday afternoon in Holland has the same traffic problems that we have in the UK, and five hours later we crossed the German border at Nordhorn and kept on pushing eastwards until we ran out of daylight.  A quick McDonalds and a drive up a small lane and a shady track, and our first camp of the trip being a small clearing in a very pretty forest near Fürstenau.

It was time to get back on schedule, as our first stop was the Munster Tank Museum; it was there we were to meet up with Lars and Volker, our German mates.

On the way we visited the memorial at Bergen-Belsen, a camp which was liberated by the British in mid April 1945.  You may be used to memorials being small-scale stone structures; well, Belsen is different – it is a memorial the size of a golf course.  Contrary to the stories, the birds were singing, but nevertheless it is a sombre, almost oppressive place.  There are no buildings apart from the museum, but the mass graves are marked “Here lie 1000 dead” or “Here lie 5000 dead”.  You cannot express on paper how you feel when at such a place, and remember this was not a death camp, but a concentration camp.  There may not be much difference between the two, because many were starved or worked to death or died from disease at Belsen.

On to the Tank Museum and our rendezvous with Lars & Volker.  The museum is not to Bovington standards but it has a very impressive display of German and Allied tanks on display; admission is very reasonable at about 5 or 6 Euros and the displays include a King Tiger, WW2 Panzers of various Mk’s and a lot of post-war equipment - well worth the visit. [

We also took the opportunity to look around Munster, this was where Chris Aldous was stationed for 4 years driving a tank for a living and the old British barracks have now been turned into a very tidy housing estate.  He turned very wistful as we drove around, no doubt reflecting on the cultural evenings spent in Germany.

Then it was onto our first proper campsite, shared with a bunch of German Girl Guides on the edge of a lake, Greek food that night and an early shower ready for a trip over to Fallingbostel.  This is still a British army base where we were to form part of a display celebrating D-Day on 6 June. We were made very welcome by the army and this again was down to Lars and his network of mates scattered up and down the route.  We also had a tour of the museum at Fallingbostel which was a great experience, and they have plenty to interest even the most hardened military enthusiast.  We also took the time to recreate – well, take a picture - in the same spot as the Norwegian SS when they were being trained there in WW2 (and who played a part in the defence of Berlin right at the end of the war).

Moving on, we visited Luneberg Heath, and the memorial stone pictured marks the spot where the German army in the west surrendered on 4 May 1945.  It is not signposted, and surprisingly difficult to find.  Note the date – not VE day, but four days before; the German High Command still believed (for a very short period) that they could persuade the Allies to assist them in holding back the Russian forces in the east.

 
A few hours later we crossed the Elbe at Domitz into the former East Germany.  You get a real sense of the barrier this great river presented to the Allies during spring 1945.  The river itself is about ½ mile wide, but there is another ½ mile of floodplain either side, and in April 1945 it was flooded.  Despite 20 years having passed since reunification, the countryside is markedly different in the former East.  It is much less populated, and the towns and villages are 10 or 20 miles apart, with nothing but scenic farmland, heathland, forests and lakes in between.  The driving was fantastic - country roads, where we did not see another car for half an hour at a time.  We were able to drive the jeeps side by side for miles at a time, taking photos of each other or passing sweets across.  Here and there were hidden German villages, clean and tidy but often with an abandoned house in the middle.  Why they were abandoned we never could work out but our German friends explained that some of them were of unknown ownership and made buying them difficult, if not impossible.

At Röbel in the Müritz National Park we came across a steam engine graveyard and could not resist pulling over and climbing up in the cabs; they were of Soviet design and as you can see in the picture some even had red stars on the front of the boiler.

That night we were due to camp at pretty campsite on the edge of Lake Müritz, so after a very filling Italian pizza and accompanying beers we set off back to the site to set up camp, only to find we had been locked out.  Here we spent the night in a disused car park opposite the campsite.  Let’s just say we called it “Poo Field” and leave it at that, more mosquitoes than 633 Squadron and other fine souvenirs left by previous folk either too late or too tight to pay for the campsite.

At Poo Field, we had our second mechanical challenge in that Chris’s jeep had decided not to charge and as a result he had a flat battery.  After much discussion it was decided that the oil that had made the fan belt slip may have worked its way into the generator, perhaps glazing the armature, so a rebuild, and a good clean of the armature was felt to be the solution. As you can guess from the name of the field no-one wanted to drop any components onto the ground and luckily for us after an hour’s work the generator behaved perfectly and Chris had a good solid charge.  We had enough spares to almost build another jeep, but all we really needed for this occasion was a piece of wet and dry and the forethought to make sure we had some on board. The satisfaction a field repair brings is hard to beat!

Pushing further east, we crossed into Poland at Hohenwutzen.  This was like going back in time – from a clean and tidy Germany the old border crossing opens out into a shanty town of makeshift stores selling whatever it is that is cheaper in Poland – doubtless the usual alcohol and cigarettes.  Fuel certainly is about €0.20 cheaper per litre.  Polish TV must be rubbish, because every house - without exception - bore a satellite dish.  We headed south to the strange “mini-walled” town of Moryn and then into Kostrzyn on the Oder, scene of fierce German resistance in April 1945 in the face of the overwhelming might of the Red Army.  We had now, figuratively, switched sides, and were heading west towards Berlin, following the footsteps and tank tracks of the Red Army.  We ended up eating Turkish that night at the one and only restaurant/bar open in the village; a kebab and beer going down very well after a day on the road.

At Seelow we stayed in a lovely hotel with great food, and visited the nearby Seelow Heights.  The high ground here is of great historical interest, as its loss would “open the door” to Berlin.  Marc had researched the spring 1945 Russian offensive on Berlin and was very keen to see the battlefield.

Then we had the most amazing piece of luck.

We were in the small town of Dolgelin, looking for a local narrow gauge railway station to find the correct entry point to the top of the Heights to orientate ourselves on the battlefield.  Marc asked directions of an old boy who was about to do some gardening - and to say his eyes lit up would be an understatement.  It turned out he had been in the town during the German preparation for the Russian offensive, and his family had lived in the same house since 1876.  He told us of the troops giving the children rides on the armoured vehicles and how he had seen the placing of the Tiger tanks to try to stop the Russians getting to Berlin.  In his garden shed he had the propeller of a FW190 long nose, which crashed in his back garden and a piece of the armoured belly of a Russian bomber, we are not sure what it was but were told it was a biplane.

He also painted and we were invited into his house where he had painted scenes of the battle.  Some were before and after pictures of his own town; what it looked like prior to the Russians coming and what it looked like after him and his mother were told to leave during the battle, when it became obvious that the Heights were not going to be held.

Just as we were bidding our goodbyes an older gentleman approached us and it turned out he was a Fallschirmjäger who was captured by the English in the Western Desert.  He spent 8 years away from home in POW camps in both England and America.  He told us of how he was captured by a troop of Shermans and a British Lieutenant had a pair of revolvers which he had waved at him; he did smile when telling us that story, the pair of little revolvers made him laugh as he recounted the event.  

We headed south through Reichenwalde and Furstenwalde, along forest tracks which were neither metalled nor unmetalled, but formed of compacted sand and concrete.  These were once secret routes to be used by the Soviets to bring up vehicles, equipment, troops and supplies quickly in the event of the Cold War “going hot”.

We even fitted in some mild off-roading in the woods.

We had a memorable night in a campsite at Klein Koris next to a lake, when much beer was consumed in the company of some friendly “Ossies” who were from Chemnitz (formerly Karlmarxstadt).  Despite reunification, the German media still distinguishes between West and East by referring to the inhabitants of former West Germany as “Wessies” and Easterners as “Ossies” (Ost = East in German).

The next day we visited Halbe, site of another fierce pocket of German resistance, and move on to Zossen.  This bunker complex was the communications centre for all German forces during the war (Army, Navy and Air Force).  Although it was meant to have been destroyed at the end of the war (and indeed some fortified buildings were blown up) the Soviets upgraded some of the bunkers with nuclear blast-proof doors and used some of the complex for their own purposes.  When the Berlin Wall came down in 1989, the bunker was abandoned in what looks like a rather disorderly manner, with equipment, tools and paperwork left behind.  It is all preserved exactly as it was left 20 years ago.

On to Berlin, the “target” for this trip, and we crossed into what was West Berlin at the Glienicke Bridge  This bridge was never open during the Cold War, but was used as a handover point for exchange of spies etc.

Earlier, Lars had searched for any military vehicle clubs in the Berlin area and arranged to meet re-enactors of the Berlin Brigade of the US Army during the 1950s & 1960s.  Mike Notbohm, Frank and Ralph made us very welcome, coming out to meet us at the “western” side of the Glienicke Bridge, kitted out in full military uniform and with a pair of M38A1 jeeps.  Mike even handed out replica papers entitled “Movement Orders”, allowing us free passage into the Russian Sector, and perhaps more importantly, out again.  We were happy to stay in Mike’s back garden, but in the end – despite the house being a bit crowded - we all slept in the rear extension/breakfast room.  This was massively appreciated, particularly as Mike has a wife and young kids, and had not met any of us before – historic military vehicles do seem to bring out the best in people!

We opted to take the U-bahn into Central Berlin from Mike’s local station, Onkel Toms Hütte, meeting up with Lars’ wife Susan at the main train station, and toured the sights in hop-on/hop-off tour buses.  The preserved section of wall in the photo is protected by a wire cage to prevent “erosion” by souvenir hunters.

Checkpoint Charlie was something of a disappointment, turned into a tourist trap - you even have to pay to take a photo (which as you can see we did).

The Brandenburg Gate, Reichstag, Tiergarten Park and Holocaust memorial followed.  So symbolic of Berlin’s history, the Brandenberg Gate was once isolated in “no man’s land” between East and West Berlin, but co-operation between the West Berlin and Soviet authorities saw it fully renovated after the war, having been left with one horse’s leg intact following the 1945 battle.  While there has been much post-war reconstruction in West Berlin, the old East is very well preserved, with many buildings showing signs of bomb and battle damage.

We said our goodbyes to Mike and his family, and headed to the Cecilienhof Hotel in Potsdam.  This was a former Royal hunting lodge, but of course is better known as the hotel in which the Potsdam Conference took place in July 1945.  Much of the hotel is preserved as it was in 1945 and you can see where each leader sat at the negotiating table.  You can also sense how both the USA and Britain were somewhat on the back foot, as Roosevelt had died and been replaced by Truman in April, and Churchill suffered the surprise defeat in the election which took place part-way through the conference itself.  Both Attlee and Truman were thus inexperienced at dealing with Stalin, and of course had not been present at the earlier conferences in Tehran and Yalta.

Funnily enough, the only time we were made to feel at all unwelcome was during our stay at the Cecilienhof, when an old lady came out and complained that the jeep smelt nasty.  We told her “That is the smell of freedom!”  We later found she was a bit of a mad old stick who complains about everything, but has to be tolerated as a regular guest.

The next day we visited the very interesting (and free entry) Luftwaffe Museum at Gatow, which is crammed full of exhibits, both in hangars and outside.  We really did not have time to do it justice, but it is well worth a visit if you are in the area.

600 miles from the Hook of Holland, we set out on our return journey, saying farewell to Lars, Susan and Volker as we crossed the Elbe again and headed northwest towards Emden and back into Holland.  We collected the now-repaired Robin from Peter’s house at Harlingen, then crossed the Afsluitdijk – at 20 miles in length the longest dam in the world, an enormous project undertaken between 1927 & 1933 and which turned what used to be known as the Zuiderzee into a freshwater lake.

We made it to the overnight ferry and a few miles into England had our first breakdown.  Marc’s jeep lost drive and we had to tow it to Chris’s house which was only about 2 miles away.  The problem was later diagnosed as a fault in the transfer case.  On Richard’s way home to Bromley, the windscreen frame sheered part-way through so he had to drive the last 25 miles of this 1700 mile trip with one hand on the screen and one on the steering wheel.  This turned out to be failure of a previous repair, not helped by constant buffeting from the wind across the plains of northern Germany and Holland during the drive home westwards.

This trip neatly encompassed a slice of history from spring 1945 to 1989, starting with the Allied advance eastwards, the defence of Berlin by the Germans in the face of the Red Army’s westward progress, the battle for Berlin, the division of the city by the wall in 1961 and its ultimate fall in the autumn of 1989.  Having read this far, you can tell we all had a good time (Robin excepted), and it was great to do the trip in wartime jeeps.