Excerpts from the "Diary of the guard Spandau"
17 August 1987, exactly 30 years ago, the last prisoner of the Spandau inter-union prison in West Berlin - prisoner No.7, who is also a former Führer deputy Rudolf Hess, committed suicide by hanging himself on an electric cable in a garden house in a prison yard. Shortly thereafter, the prison of Spandau was destroyed. Ended the longest execution of the sentence of the famous Nuremberg Tribunal.
In the first years after the prison was completed, books and publications were published in various countries around the world on the Spandau Inter-Union Prison, or simply ITS. On the death of prisoner number XXUMX many myths were told. But time flies. Today, not all readers even know what West Berlin is and what ITS is. Over time, I want to share my memories of working in this unusual institution.
Winter 1986 years
On the long corridor I go to the prisoner's cell. This is the furthest cell in the prison block, rebuilt from two adjacent cells. In the chamber there are two doors, in the doors there are observation windows. They are glazed. In the corridor opposite the camera is the warden - "post in the block." Through the observation windows, the warden can constantly monitor the behavior of the prisoner without entering the cell. I look out the window in the door. In the cell, an old man, sitting on a medical bed, eats porridge with a spoon. A napkin is tucked behind the collar of a shirt. Judging by the movements of the jaws, the old man has a good appetite. This is the last prisoner of the Spandau prison - "prisoner number seven".
I go to the camera, I greet. No.7 stops chewing, greets in response. The prisoner is 91 year, and I note that for his age, he looks pretty good. Thick eyebrows and deep-set eyes create the look of a sullen, alert person.
- My surname is Plotnikov, I am a new Soviet overseer.
No.7 is looking at me carefully, it seems that his eyes are pricking.
- Are You from Moscow?
I explain that I am not from Moscow, but from Krasnodar. The prisoner asks to clarify where it is. I tell you that the city is located in the south of the Soviet Union, that it is the center of a large region, stretching from the Don River to the Black Sea. Apparently, №7 is trying to imagine where Krasnodar is still located, but it is clear that he does not remember such a city.
- The river Don is near? He suddenly asks.
I confirm that not far. Seeing with the memory of the interlocutor, as well as with appetite, is also not bad.
The internal guard of the ITSh, that is, the direct guard of the prisoner No. XXUMX, is carried out by the guards of four states: Great Britain, France, the USSR and the USA. From each country, there are five guards, a total of 7 people to the whole world. Now I enter into their composition. The duty is conducted around the clock at three posts: at the entrance to the chamber block (senior guard on duty), directly at the prisoner's cell (post in the block) and at the entrance gate. The duty schedule is designed in such a way that representatives of the three countries are simultaneously on a shift. In the fourth country - a break, here it is called a "pause". Wardens are changed three times a day: in 20, 0.00 and 8.00. The senior duty officer will take over his post at all 16.00 hours of duty. And the guards in the block and at the gate change places in 8 hours, that is, in 4, 4.00 and 12.00. Thus, the possibility of taking any unilateral measures against a prisoner is excluded, and all guards during their shift have the opportunity to directly see their ward.
General scheme of the Inter-Union Prison Spandau
Came out with a prisoner for a walk. I unlock the door of the garden house, skip #7, I go by myself. The prisoner sits in the chair by the window, I'm on the chair. There is a T-shaped handle on the window, which No. XXUMX uses as a support, sitting down in a chair and getting up. Very comfortably. Today, the weather is warm outside, the sun is shining, and, despite the winter on the calendar, it smells in spring. In my homeland, this is called the "February window." The prisoner rises from the chair and asks me to move the chair closer to the glass wall. I bear the chair, the #7 sits down again. He pulls out of his pocket a small alarm clock in a case, sets a hand bell, puts the clock on the table. Behind a glass wall there is a magnificent picture of a winter garden: pristine virgin snow, trees and bushes covered with snow sparkling in the sun. Occasionally a hat of snow falls from tree branches. Around silence. No.7 settles down, closes eyes. The February sun heats warmly and comfortably through thick glass.
After 15 minutes, the alarm bell interrupted the prisoner's nap. He stretched, sat for a while, turned off the alarm, got up and went outside. The traditional two laps on the main path, and we return to the block.
With 8.00 on duty at the gate. There is the usual daily fuss. Secretaries came to work, the city postman brought mail, a French officer checked the guard. Around 10 a stranger man rang at the door. I opened the viewing window in the gate, the stranger introduced himself:
- Pastor Gabel. - And he handed over the duly issued pass to the ITS. After checking the pass, I opened the door, the pastor went to the main prison building. Religious services for prisoners are provided for in the ITS Charter. The clergyman is appointed by the Prison Directorate. Since 1977, the prison pastor is Charles Gabel - captain of the French army, military confessor of the French garrison in West Berlin. Most often the pastor comes to the prisoner on Wednesdays in the morning.
Spring 1986 years
Stayed on the night shift block. The prisoner sleeps well. I go to the senior warden's room to have some coffee. The senior shift today is an American overseer Fowler. He sits at the table, reading some book. We exchange a couple of phrases, I pour coffee and settle on the couch.
Fowler is the legend of Spandau. He has been a prison warden since its inception. In the evening of 18 on July 1947, it was Harvey Fowler who, along with other warders, met prisoners. They were taken by plane from Nuremberg to Berlin-Gatov Airport and brought to the ITS by bus.
Baldur von Schirach was the first to leave the bus - an 40-year-old slender man, Hitler’s Führer and Gauleiter of Vienna. The International Military Tribunal sentenced him to 20 years in prison.
Fowler loudly called:
- Prisoner number one.
The second came 55-year-old Karl Doenitz, commander-in-chief of the naval forces of Germany. He was sentenced to 10 years of imprisonment. In prison, he became prisoner number two.
The last of the bus was Rudolf Hess, 53, the former deputy führer for the party, Reich Minister and Hitler's successor after Goring. In Shpandau, he became number seven, sentenced to life imprisonment.
Prisoner No.7 traditionally walks along the path of the prison garden, I walk nearby. Suddenly the prisoner stops and shows with his eyes to the cloudy sky:
- Clouds from Chernobyl, dangerous.
I am not a big specialist in nuclear issues. On Soviet television they say that there is no particular danger. In the western press, they write a lot about the periodically approaching clouds in Europe, which can bring radioactive contamination from an exploded nuclear power plant. I tell number seven my own vision of the situation: from Chernobyl to Berlin is far, the clouds will not reach; on May Day in Kiev there was a big demonstration in honor of the holiday, if it were dangerous, they would not have held a demonstration; therefore, there is nothing to fear.
- Especially a lot of radiation in green salad and fresh milk, - notes number XXUMX. It is evident that my story did not convince him. And where did he get such knowledge about radiation?
Our "Rafik" is approaching the Stataken checkpoint. GDR border guards know our car and open the "green line". With our approach, the barrier rises in advance, and we enter the border zone without stopping. We pass about 50 meters and through the warning open another barrier we get to the neutral strip. About another 50 meters, and we are met by the West Berlin police post. As in the GDR, the barrier opens tentatively. We are in the British sector of West Berlin. ITS remains minutes 10-15 drive.
The wall built in 1961 physically divided Berlin into two parts. Many residents of Berlin lost their job or apartment one day, many families were separated. Along with the construction of the wall, the main city communications were cut off: water pipes, sewage systems, gas pipelines, power grids. The Berlin subway was divided into two independently operating transport systems. Some of the formerly single lines turned out to be broken. Two lines of the West Berlin metro run from the western part of the city to the western part through the eastern part. Therefore, a total of 15 stations located in the eastern sector are closed on these two lines. These are the so-called ghost stations. Similarly arranged subway lines, which are mainly in the GDR and partially passing underground through West Berlin.
Summer 1986 years
I took up the evening duty, but my colleague Oleg, who completed the shift in the block, was in no hurry to go home. All four prison directors are also in the ITS, a meeting is in progress. Today the prisoner was visited by pastor Gabel. A seemingly normal visit. But after the pastor’s conversation with the prisoner was completed, Oleg suggested that the pastor show the contents of a small pastoral briefcase. It turned out that Pastor Gabel, having forgotten God's commandment "Do not fool" and despite the captain's shoulder straps of the allied French army under the robe, is a liaison with the outside world. In the pastor's portfolio, in addition to the Bible, there were a number of letters and notes written by prisoner No. XXUMX for people outside the prison walls. In addition, the pastor tried to put up with several sheets of prisoner records, apparently, specifically for transmission to the outside world. All records, of course, confiscated, the pastor was sent home, the directors now decide what to do in such a situation.
As is clear from the notes taken from Gabel, prisoner No.7 had good contact with the outside world through the pastor. Messages behind the prison walls and back were transmitted more than once.
Today is Sunday and I have an evening shift as a senior watchman on duty. This is usually quiet, calm duty. But today is an unusual day. Today the World Cup finishes, and in the distant city of Mexico City, the national teams of the FRG and Argentina converge for the cup. The interest of the Germans in this match is huge, and in both the western and eastern parts. German Chancellor Helmut Kohl went to Mexico as an honored guest of the final match. Diesel Maradona, forward of Argentine national team, adds fuel to the fire of the passions of the fans. A few days ago, Argentina beat Britain, and in that game Maradona scored a goal with his hand. The judge did not notice the error and scored a goal.
In Mexico City, it is exactly noon, and in Berlin it's already evening. We settled in a television room for three. No.7 took a seat in the middle of the chair. On the right, an Englishman Bosworth is sitting on a chair, he began a shift as an overseer in the unit. To the left of prisoner # 7 I am sitting. I am the senior of the shift and should control the TV viewing of prisoners. If someone had looked from the outside, he would probably have taken us for ordinary football fans.
Today, the Berliner Zeitung newspaper is in the center of attention of all ITS staff. A significant part of the issue is dedicated to prisoner number XXUMX. Impressive is the large number of prisoner photos taken in the prison. And judging by the situation, they are made quite recently.
On the very first page of the newspaper a color photo of the prisoner in his cell. He stands by the bed and looks straight into the camera. So he knew that he was being shot. But who could do this? Under the photo there is a caption stating that at the request of the Soviets, the pastor is not allowed into the prisoner for weeks by the pastor, in connection with which his condition inspires fear. Most likely, someone from the wardens photographed, one of those with whom you greet every day, communicate, work nearby. I wonder if anyone will somehow investigate this event?
Photo from the newspaper "BZ"
Autumn 1986 years
Today I work as a senior night shift. American Jordan, on duty in the block, comes to my room, pours coffee. Jordan is a good chess player, and we have already met him at the chessboard. Therefore, the American offers bluntly:
- Chess?
We set the shapes. In our international battles, it is not the result of the game that is important, although winning, of course, consoles self-esteem, but the possibility of quiet communication with smart people. I comprehend more deeply the western world unknown to me, the partners, I hope, will learn something useful about life in the USSR. But as soon as it comes to politics or ideology, great contradictions in views and different visions of the same events and facts are immediately revealed. Some foreigners are generally afraid of the news that I am a communist. But today we do not argue about politics, we play chess. In what other situation, besides a chess game over a cup of coffee during the joint night duty, can an American and a Russian calmly talk about life?
Jordan is the only black guard in Spandau. And among the allied personnel of the ITS, it is well known about his difficult relationship with the prisoner, who still remains a racist by conviction. Or maybe Jordan’s direction to work at the ITSH was one of the ways for the American side to “annoy” the former Deputy Fuhrer as much as possible?
I came in the morning to shift and got ready, as usual, to go to breakfast in the dining room. However, the building of the dining room was fenced with red police tape. It is clear that the entrance is prohibited. Several people in uniform and in civilian clothes walk inside the fence, look at something, measure it, discuss it. The French warden Dedenon, the assistant to the French director and responsible for the nutrition of the ITS staff in the month of October, saw me, approached and told about what was happening. It turns out that at night, unknown persons detonated a bomb in the building of our canteen, at number XXUMX. Now experts inspect the building and the surrounding area, check if there are any other bombs. There is no damage on the building from the prison. But from the side of the road windows are broken and a large crack goes in a corner of the building across the wall, from the foundation to the roof. According to Dedenon, the police found a note in which terrorists demanded the release of the prisoner. Otherwise, threaten new explosions. Yeah, dashing plot. Blew up the place where we are every day!
Today, prisoner No. XXUMX will have to undergo a medical examination. It is performed every month by all four allied doctors. Consilium begins with a question to the prisoner about his state of health. First, #7 complains of slight pain in the stomach. Then he talks about problems with urination. Judging by the faces of the doctors and clarifying questions, all these problems are already familiar to them. But suddenly the prisoner declares:
- Recently, I had difficulties with the work of the heart. I feel that my heart beats unevenly, then slowing down, then speeding up. Please install my pacemaker.
Honestly, I heard about such a thing, but I don’t know what it is. A # 7 speaks confidently and competently. When did he prepare so? A senior American doctor is trying to explain that a pacemaker requires surgery, and at his age any operation can be dangerous. Therefore, it will be possible to recommend or not recommend the operation only after a thorough examination and long-term observation. But the prisoner is adamant:
- I know, the operation goes without general anesthesia. Therefore, I think that it is not dangerous.
Inspection is over. Doctors declare to the prisoner that his state of health has not significantly changed in the past month and corresponds to his age. The orderly is tasked to continue taking the drugs prescribed by the Allied doctors. All diverge in their places.
Winter 1987 years
I have a night shift at the gate. Around silence. Outside the window and on the monitors complete peace. At such a time it is good to read something interesting. At hand is the latest issue of the magazine "Stern", and in it is an article about the restructuring in the Soviet Union. The bell at the gate. This American officer came to check the guard. I open the gate, say hello. All the time at the entrance stands still at attention. I know that the night check of the guard does not happen every night, but sometimes it happens. On that she and military service, they can not relax.
Twenty minutes later there is a knock at the door, the officer asks him to let him out to the outside world. Short "Bai!" goodbye, turn the key in the lock. Now you can continue reading. But after a while, a loud voice is heard outside the door of my duty room. Night silence vanished in a flash. It is clear that someone from the guard speaks loudly in the courtyard. Five minutes pass, then ten, and the voice continues to speak loudly about something. Words through the door can not be disassembled, but the monotonous speech of one person is well audible. Is the sentry near the guardhouse talking to himself loudly and for a long time?
Curiosity takes over, I open the door. The guard with the rifle, as it should be, is located at the entrance to the guardroom and is silent. And says an American sergeant. Three soldiers stand tall before him weapons. The sergeant speaks loudly and very convincingly. In this case, the sergeant is located very close to one of the soldiers, and their faces are literally centimeters apart. The sergeant opens his mouth wide and gestures coolly with his lips. It is clear that he really wants to convey something very important to his subordinates. The sergeant pays no attention to me. He retreats a half step back and now his index finger almost rests on the chest of the young fighter. It seems he is going to pierce a soldier by him. But he stands still without stirring, looking straight ahead with his eyes wide open. The sergeant continues his speech in a very loud monotonous voice, not breaking into a scream, but also not giving himself a break. From my humble knowledge of American military slang, it’s only clear that the sergeant is very unhappy with the soldier himself and his mom, and his dad, and grandmother and grandfather, and even his ass.
I close the door and return to reading the magazine.
Today I work night shift senior. The first half of the shift in the block was an American Novak on duty. During this time, I twice approached the cell, checked both the prisoner and the warder. Everything is good.
At night, it is good to read a smart book. Peace and tranquility contribute to the work of thoughts. Well, if you want to sleep, you can cheer up a cup of strong coffee. A kettle and a can of instant coffee are always in the room of the senior guard on duty.
At four o'clock in the morning, the Frenchman Paramon replaced the American in the block. The prison corridor is long and dark, and only at the far end near the person on duty is a table lamp. I saw Paramon examine the prisoner through the door window, take out a newspaper and sit in the chair. Quiet watch! I also went to my room.
About six in the morning I go to the block. After half an hour-hour, the prisoner should wake up, the orderly will come, it is necessary to check how the night passed. Stepping softly down a dark corridor. Even from a distance I see that Paramon is asleep in a chair. Suddenly the cell door opens, and a prisoner enters the corridor. He looks at Paramon and, trying not to make any noise, goes to the toilet. I stop, not wanting to frighten him with my sudden appearance. No.7 is in the light and does not see me in a dark corridor. He goes to the toilet, after some time goes out into the corridor and returns back to his cell as quietly as possible in order not to wake the French guard. Where else would you see this? You can make a movie about such a prison! I wake Paramon.
On the elevator straight from the block, we went downstairs, passed through a small courtyard, enclosed by a metal fence, and found ourselves in a prison garden. It is sunny outside, there is a light frost. It was snowing at night, but the paths in the garden were already cleared. The workers from the non-union staff — the Pole Melnitsky and the Greek Hotidis — worked in the morning. The prisoner went out onto the central path of the garden, 50 meters long, and began walking on it back and forth. He moves slowly, leaning on a stick and shuffling with his feet, sometimes stopping. Therefore, each circle takes approximately 7 — 10 minutes. I stand in the center and watch him. On the second lap, he stopped beside me and asked:
- Is it cold in Moscow now?
“It's not very cold in Moscow now, about minus 15 — 20,” I replied.
According to the prisoner's expression, it was clear that such a temperature and the concept of “not very cold” are not identical for him. He silently continued moving.
Spring 1987 years
On March 1 on Sunday prisoner No.7 was placed in a British military hospital. But, unlike last year's stay here, which was held as a preventive measure, this time everything is serious. The prisoner identified bronchitis and inflammation of the left lung. Therefore, changes are visible in the hospital. The prisoner is in the same ward No. XXUMX with a separate heavily guarded access. But there are no previous frequent excursions of the hospital staff "to look at the prisoner." Several droppers and apparatus for monitoring cardiac activity and pressure are connected to the patient. But the most important thing is that at №204 an oxygen mask is constantly worn, the air to which through a flexible corrugated tube comes from a special connector in the wall. In the ward almost all the time there is a nurse: changes the dropper, monitors the devices, checks the catheters, just sits next to the patient. The attending physician periodically enters the ward. His face is focused and does not have any conversations.
Otherwise, everything is as it was last time: armed patrols on the porch and at the entrance to the hospital, a separate elevator to a special unit for the prisoner, a lot of people in uniform and in civilian clothes with weapons on our floor, an army canteen for personnel and warders total distribution.
The recovery of the prisoner after the disease takes its course. He returned to prison. He was already allowed to walk in the garden again and now he is going to the exit with the help of a nurse. I am on duty in the block and accompany No.7 for a walk. I inform the senior officer, Englishman Thimson, of readiness to exit and take my radio station. The radio station can be hung on a trouser belt with a special clip or put in a pocket. However, this device weighs quite a few and the pocket is noticeably delayed.
On the elevator we go down with the prisoner and slowly go to the garden. I go ahead, stop at the intersection of the paths and wait until #7 reaches me. The past disease left its mark. The prisoner moves very slowly, stopping through each step, nevertheless stubbornly moving towards the goal. Today, he did not walk along the path, but immediately went to the garden house. I unlocked the door with the key, let the prisoner through. While he was sitting in his chair, I told Timson on the radio that we were in the house. In response, he heard: "Okay!" I entered the house and settled on the bench.
17 August 1987 year
In 14.10, prisoner No.7 is taken out for a walk in the garden. In the shift: from France - Oduan (senior), from the USA - Jordan (block), from Great Britain - Miller (gate). USSR - pause.
At 14.35, American warder Jordan looked into the garden house and found that #7 was lying on the floor, with an electric cable tied to the window handle on his neck. Called the orderly and doctors from the British Military Hospital. Prisoner No.7 was taken to a British military hospital. Attempts to restore cardiac activity in resuscitation. In 16.10, doctors state: total clinical death. A note on suicide was found in the prisoner's pants pocket. The corpse №7 placed in the refrigerator.
In the first years after the prison was completed, books and publications were published in various countries around the world on the Spandau Inter-Union Prison, or simply ITS. On the death of prisoner number XXUMX many myths were told. But time flies. Today, not all readers even know what West Berlin is and what ITS is. Over time, I want to share my memories of working in this unusual institution.
Winter 1986 years
On the long corridor I go to the prisoner's cell. This is the furthest cell in the prison block, rebuilt from two adjacent cells. In the chamber there are two doors, in the doors there are observation windows. They are glazed. In the corridor opposite the camera is the warden - "post in the block." Through the observation windows, the warden can constantly monitor the behavior of the prisoner without entering the cell. I look out the window in the door. In the cell, an old man, sitting on a medical bed, eats porridge with a spoon. A napkin is tucked behind the collar of a shirt. Judging by the movements of the jaws, the old man has a good appetite. This is the last prisoner of the Spandau prison - "prisoner number seven".
I go to the camera, I greet. No.7 stops chewing, greets in response. The prisoner is 91 year, and I note that for his age, he looks pretty good. Thick eyebrows and deep-set eyes create the look of a sullen, alert person.
- My surname is Plotnikov, I am a new Soviet overseer.
No.7 is looking at me carefully, it seems that his eyes are pricking.
- Are You from Moscow?
I explain that I am not from Moscow, but from Krasnodar. The prisoner asks to clarify where it is. I tell you that the city is located in the south of the Soviet Union, that it is the center of a large region, stretching from the Don River to the Black Sea. Apparently, №7 is trying to imagine where Krasnodar is still located, but it is clear that he does not remember such a city.
- The river Don is near? He suddenly asks.
I confirm that not far. Seeing with the memory of the interlocutor, as well as with appetite, is also not bad.
*****
The internal guard of the ITSh, that is, the direct guard of the prisoner No. XXUMX, is carried out by the guards of four states: Great Britain, France, the USSR and the USA. From each country, there are five guards, a total of 7 people to the whole world. Now I enter into their composition. The duty is conducted around the clock at three posts: at the entrance to the chamber block (senior guard on duty), directly at the prisoner's cell (post in the block) and at the entrance gate. The duty schedule is designed in such a way that representatives of the three countries are simultaneously on a shift. In the fourth country - a break, here it is called a "pause". Wardens are changed three times a day: in 20, 0.00 and 8.00. The senior duty officer will take over his post at all 16.00 hours of duty. And the guards in the block and at the gate change places in 8 hours, that is, in 4, 4.00 and 12.00. Thus, the possibility of taking any unilateral measures against a prisoner is excluded, and all guards during their shift have the opportunity to directly see their ward.
*****
General scheme of the Inter-Union Prison Spandau
*****
Came out with a prisoner for a walk. I unlock the door of the garden house, skip #7, I go by myself. The prisoner sits in the chair by the window, I'm on the chair. There is a T-shaped handle on the window, which No. XXUMX uses as a support, sitting down in a chair and getting up. Very comfortably. Today, the weather is warm outside, the sun is shining, and, despite the winter on the calendar, it smells in spring. In my homeland, this is called the "February window." The prisoner rises from the chair and asks me to move the chair closer to the glass wall. I bear the chair, the #7 sits down again. He pulls out of his pocket a small alarm clock in a case, sets a hand bell, puts the clock on the table. Behind a glass wall there is a magnificent picture of a winter garden: pristine virgin snow, trees and bushes covered with snow sparkling in the sun. Occasionally a hat of snow falls from tree branches. Around silence. No.7 settles down, closes eyes. The February sun heats warmly and comfortably through thick glass.
After 15 minutes, the alarm bell interrupted the prisoner's nap. He stretched, sat for a while, turned off the alarm, got up and went outside. The traditional two laps on the main path, and we return to the block.
*****
With 8.00 on duty at the gate. There is the usual daily fuss. Secretaries came to work, the city postman brought mail, a French officer checked the guard. Around 10 a stranger man rang at the door. I opened the viewing window in the gate, the stranger introduced himself:
- Pastor Gabel. - And he handed over the duly issued pass to the ITS. After checking the pass, I opened the door, the pastor went to the main prison building. Religious services for prisoners are provided for in the ITS Charter. The clergyman is appointed by the Prison Directorate. Since 1977, the prison pastor is Charles Gabel - captain of the French army, military confessor of the French garrison in West Berlin. Most often the pastor comes to the prisoner on Wednesdays in the morning.
*****
Spring 1986 years
Stayed on the night shift block. The prisoner sleeps well. I go to the senior warden's room to have some coffee. The senior shift today is an American overseer Fowler. He sits at the table, reading some book. We exchange a couple of phrases, I pour coffee and settle on the couch.
Fowler is the legend of Spandau. He has been a prison warden since its inception. In the evening of 18 on July 1947, it was Harvey Fowler who, along with other warders, met prisoners. They were taken by plane from Nuremberg to Berlin-Gatov Airport and brought to the ITS by bus.
Baldur von Schirach was the first to leave the bus - an 40-year-old slender man, Hitler’s Führer and Gauleiter of Vienna. The International Military Tribunal sentenced him to 20 years in prison.
Fowler loudly called:
- Prisoner number one.
The second came 55-year-old Karl Doenitz, commander-in-chief of the naval forces of Germany. He was sentenced to 10 years of imprisonment. In prison, he became prisoner number two.
The last of the bus was Rudolf Hess, 53, the former deputy führer for the party, Reich Minister and Hitler's successor after Goring. In Shpandau, he became number seven, sentenced to life imprisonment.
*****
Prisoner No.7 traditionally walks along the path of the prison garden, I walk nearby. Suddenly the prisoner stops and shows with his eyes to the cloudy sky:
- Clouds from Chernobyl, dangerous.
I am not a big specialist in nuclear issues. On Soviet television they say that there is no particular danger. In the western press, they write a lot about the periodically approaching clouds in Europe, which can bring radioactive contamination from an exploded nuclear power plant. I tell number seven my own vision of the situation: from Chernobyl to Berlin is far, the clouds will not reach; on May Day in Kiev there was a big demonstration in honor of the holiday, if it were dangerous, they would not have held a demonstration; therefore, there is nothing to fear.
- Especially a lot of radiation in green salad and fresh milk, - notes number XXUMX. It is evident that my story did not convince him. And where did he get such knowledge about radiation?
*****
Our "Rafik" is approaching the Stataken checkpoint. GDR border guards know our car and open the "green line". With our approach, the barrier rises in advance, and we enter the border zone without stopping. We pass about 50 meters and through the warning open another barrier we get to the neutral strip. About another 50 meters, and we are met by the West Berlin police post. As in the GDR, the barrier opens tentatively. We are in the British sector of West Berlin. ITS remains minutes 10-15 drive.
The wall built in 1961 physically divided Berlin into two parts. Many residents of Berlin lost their job or apartment one day, many families were separated. Along with the construction of the wall, the main city communications were cut off: water pipes, sewage systems, gas pipelines, power grids. The Berlin subway was divided into two independently operating transport systems. Some of the formerly single lines turned out to be broken. Two lines of the West Berlin metro run from the western part of the city to the western part through the eastern part. Therefore, a total of 15 stations located in the eastern sector are closed on these two lines. These are the so-called ghost stations. Similarly arranged subway lines, which are mainly in the GDR and partially passing underground through West Berlin.
*****
Summer 1986 years
I took up the evening duty, but my colleague Oleg, who completed the shift in the block, was in no hurry to go home. All four prison directors are also in the ITS, a meeting is in progress. Today the prisoner was visited by pastor Gabel. A seemingly normal visit. But after the pastor’s conversation with the prisoner was completed, Oleg suggested that the pastor show the contents of a small pastoral briefcase. It turned out that Pastor Gabel, having forgotten God's commandment "Do not fool" and despite the captain's shoulder straps of the allied French army under the robe, is a liaison with the outside world. In the pastor's portfolio, in addition to the Bible, there were a number of letters and notes written by prisoner No. XXUMX for people outside the prison walls. In addition, the pastor tried to put up with several sheets of prisoner records, apparently, specifically for transmission to the outside world. All records, of course, confiscated, the pastor was sent home, the directors now decide what to do in such a situation.
As is clear from the notes taken from Gabel, prisoner No.7 had good contact with the outside world through the pastor. Messages behind the prison walls and back were transmitted more than once.
*****
Today is Sunday and I have an evening shift as a senior watchman on duty. This is usually quiet, calm duty. But today is an unusual day. Today the World Cup finishes, and in the distant city of Mexico City, the national teams of the FRG and Argentina converge for the cup. The interest of the Germans in this match is huge, and in both the western and eastern parts. German Chancellor Helmut Kohl went to Mexico as an honored guest of the final match. Diesel Maradona, forward of Argentine national team, adds fuel to the fire of the passions of the fans. A few days ago, Argentina beat Britain, and in that game Maradona scored a goal with his hand. The judge did not notice the error and scored a goal.
In Mexico City, it is exactly noon, and in Berlin it's already evening. We settled in a television room for three. No.7 took a seat in the middle of the chair. On the right, an Englishman Bosworth is sitting on a chair, he began a shift as an overseer in the unit. To the left of prisoner # 7 I am sitting. I am the senior of the shift and should control the TV viewing of prisoners. If someone had looked from the outside, he would probably have taken us for ordinary football fans.
*****
Today, the Berliner Zeitung newspaper is in the center of attention of all ITS staff. A significant part of the issue is dedicated to prisoner number XXUMX. Impressive is the large number of prisoner photos taken in the prison. And judging by the situation, they are made quite recently.
On the very first page of the newspaper a color photo of the prisoner in his cell. He stands by the bed and looks straight into the camera. So he knew that he was being shot. But who could do this? Under the photo there is a caption stating that at the request of the Soviets, the pastor is not allowed into the prisoner for weeks by the pastor, in connection with which his condition inspires fear. Most likely, someone from the wardens photographed, one of those with whom you greet every day, communicate, work nearby. I wonder if anyone will somehow investigate this event?
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Photo from the newspaper "BZ"
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Autumn 1986 years
Today I work as a senior night shift. American Jordan, on duty in the block, comes to my room, pours coffee. Jordan is a good chess player, and we have already met him at the chessboard. Therefore, the American offers bluntly:
- Chess?
We set the shapes. In our international battles, it is not the result of the game that is important, although winning, of course, consoles self-esteem, but the possibility of quiet communication with smart people. I comprehend more deeply the western world unknown to me, the partners, I hope, will learn something useful about life in the USSR. But as soon as it comes to politics or ideology, great contradictions in views and different visions of the same events and facts are immediately revealed. Some foreigners are generally afraid of the news that I am a communist. But today we do not argue about politics, we play chess. In what other situation, besides a chess game over a cup of coffee during the joint night duty, can an American and a Russian calmly talk about life?
Jordan is the only black guard in Spandau. And among the allied personnel of the ITS, it is well known about his difficult relationship with the prisoner, who still remains a racist by conviction. Or maybe Jordan’s direction to work at the ITSH was one of the ways for the American side to “annoy” the former Deputy Fuhrer as much as possible?
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I came in the morning to shift and got ready, as usual, to go to breakfast in the dining room. However, the building of the dining room was fenced with red police tape. It is clear that the entrance is prohibited. Several people in uniform and in civilian clothes walk inside the fence, look at something, measure it, discuss it. The French warden Dedenon, the assistant to the French director and responsible for the nutrition of the ITS staff in the month of October, saw me, approached and told about what was happening. It turns out that at night, unknown persons detonated a bomb in the building of our canteen, at number XXUMX. Now experts inspect the building and the surrounding area, check if there are any other bombs. There is no damage on the building from the prison. But from the side of the road windows are broken and a large crack goes in a corner of the building across the wall, from the foundation to the roof. According to Dedenon, the police found a note in which terrorists demanded the release of the prisoner. Otherwise, threaten new explosions. Yeah, dashing plot. Blew up the place where we are every day!
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Today, prisoner No. XXUMX will have to undergo a medical examination. It is performed every month by all four allied doctors. Consilium begins with a question to the prisoner about his state of health. First, #7 complains of slight pain in the stomach. Then he talks about problems with urination. Judging by the faces of the doctors and clarifying questions, all these problems are already familiar to them. But suddenly the prisoner declares:
- Recently, I had difficulties with the work of the heart. I feel that my heart beats unevenly, then slowing down, then speeding up. Please install my pacemaker.
Honestly, I heard about such a thing, but I don’t know what it is. A # 7 speaks confidently and competently. When did he prepare so? A senior American doctor is trying to explain that a pacemaker requires surgery, and at his age any operation can be dangerous. Therefore, it will be possible to recommend or not recommend the operation only after a thorough examination and long-term observation. But the prisoner is adamant:
- I know, the operation goes without general anesthesia. Therefore, I think that it is not dangerous.
Inspection is over. Doctors declare to the prisoner that his state of health has not significantly changed in the past month and corresponds to his age. The orderly is tasked to continue taking the drugs prescribed by the Allied doctors. All diverge in their places.
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Winter 1987 years
I have a night shift at the gate. Around silence. Outside the window and on the monitors complete peace. At such a time it is good to read something interesting. At hand is the latest issue of the magazine "Stern", and in it is an article about the restructuring in the Soviet Union. The bell at the gate. This American officer came to check the guard. I open the gate, say hello. All the time at the entrance stands still at attention. I know that the night check of the guard does not happen every night, but sometimes it happens. On that she and military service, they can not relax.
Twenty minutes later there is a knock at the door, the officer asks him to let him out to the outside world. Short "Bai!" goodbye, turn the key in the lock. Now you can continue reading. But after a while, a loud voice is heard outside the door of my duty room. Night silence vanished in a flash. It is clear that someone from the guard speaks loudly in the courtyard. Five minutes pass, then ten, and the voice continues to speak loudly about something. Words through the door can not be disassembled, but the monotonous speech of one person is well audible. Is the sentry near the guardhouse talking to himself loudly and for a long time?
Curiosity takes over, I open the door. The guard with the rifle, as it should be, is located at the entrance to the guardroom and is silent. And says an American sergeant. Three soldiers stand tall before him weapons. The sergeant speaks loudly and very convincingly. In this case, the sergeant is located very close to one of the soldiers, and their faces are literally centimeters apart. The sergeant opens his mouth wide and gestures coolly with his lips. It is clear that he really wants to convey something very important to his subordinates. The sergeant pays no attention to me. He retreats a half step back and now his index finger almost rests on the chest of the young fighter. It seems he is going to pierce a soldier by him. But he stands still without stirring, looking straight ahead with his eyes wide open. The sergeant continues his speech in a very loud monotonous voice, not breaking into a scream, but also not giving himself a break. From my humble knowledge of American military slang, it’s only clear that the sergeant is very unhappy with the soldier himself and his mom, and his dad, and grandmother and grandfather, and even his ass.
I close the door and return to reading the magazine.
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Today I work night shift senior. The first half of the shift in the block was an American Novak on duty. During this time, I twice approached the cell, checked both the prisoner and the warder. Everything is good.
At night, it is good to read a smart book. Peace and tranquility contribute to the work of thoughts. Well, if you want to sleep, you can cheer up a cup of strong coffee. A kettle and a can of instant coffee are always in the room of the senior guard on duty.
At four o'clock in the morning, the Frenchman Paramon replaced the American in the block. The prison corridor is long and dark, and only at the far end near the person on duty is a table lamp. I saw Paramon examine the prisoner through the door window, take out a newspaper and sit in the chair. Quiet watch! I also went to my room.
About six in the morning I go to the block. After half an hour-hour, the prisoner should wake up, the orderly will come, it is necessary to check how the night passed. Stepping softly down a dark corridor. Even from a distance I see that Paramon is asleep in a chair. Suddenly the cell door opens, and a prisoner enters the corridor. He looks at Paramon and, trying not to make any noise, goes to the toilet. I stop, not wanting to frighten him with my sudden appearance. No.7 is in the light and does not see me in a dark corridor. He goes to the toilet, after some time goes out into the corridor and returns back to his cell as quietly as possible in order not to wake the French guard. Where else would you see this? You can make a movie about such a prison! I wake Paramon.
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On the elevator straight from the block, we went downstairs, passed through a small courtyard, enclosed by a metal fence, and found ourselves in a prison garden. It is sunny outside, there is a light frost. It was snowing at night, but the paths in the garden were already cleared. The workers from the non-union staff — the Pole Melnitsky and the Greek Hotidis — worked in the morning. The prisoner went out onto the central path of the garden, 50 meters long, and began walking on it back and forth. He moves slowly, leaning on a stick and shuffling with his feet, sometimes stopping. Therefore, each circle takes approximately 7 — 10 minutes. I stand in the center and watch him. On the second lap, he stopped beside me and asked:
- Is it cold in Moscow now?
“It's not very cold in Moscow now, about minus 15 — 20,” I replied.
According to the prisoner's expression, it was clear that such a temperature and the concept of “not very cold” are not identical for him. He silently continued moving.
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Spring 1987 years
On March 1 on Sunday prisoner No.7 was placed in a British military hospital. But, unlike last year's stay here, which was held as a preventive measure, this time everything is serious. The prisoner identified bronchitis and inflammation of the left lung. Therefore, changes are visible in the hospital. The prisoner is in the same ward No. XXUMX with a separate heavily guarded access. But there are no previous frequent excursions of the hospital staff "to look at the prisoner." Several droppers and apparatus for monitoring cardiac activity and pressure are connected to the patient. But the most important thing is that at №204 an oxygen mask is constantly worn, the air to which through a flexible corrugated tube comes from a special connector in the wall. In the ward almost all the time there is a nurse: changes the dropper, monitors the devices, checks the catheters, just sits next to the patient. The attending physician periodically enters the ward. His face is focused and does not have any conversations.
Otherwise, everything is as it was last time: armed patrols on the porch and at the entrance to the hospital, a separate elevator to a special unit for the prisoner, a lot of people in uniform and in civilian clothes with weapons on our floor, an army canteen for personnel and warders total distribution.
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The recovery of the prisoner after the disease takes its course. He returned to prison. He was already allowed to walk in the garden again and now he is going to the exit with the help of a nurse. I am on duty in the block and accompany No.7 for a walk. I inform the senior officer, Englishman Thimson, of readiness to exit and take my radio station. The radio station can be hung on a trouser belt with a special clip or put in a pocket. However, this device weighs quite a few and the pocket is noticeably delayed.
On the elevator we go down with the prisoner and slowly go to the garden. I go ahead, stop at the intersection of the paths and wait until #7 reaches me. The past disease left its mark. The prisoner moves very slowly, stopping through each step, nevertheless stubbornly moving towards the goal. Today, he did not walk along the path, but immediately went to the garden house. I unlocked the door with the key, let the prisoner through. While he was sitting in his chair, I told Timson on the radio that we were in the house. In response, he heard: "Okay!" I entered the house and settled on the bench.
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17 August 1987 year
In 14.10, prisoner No.7 is taken out for a walk in the garden. In the shift: from France - Oduan (senior), from the USA - Jordan (block), from Great Britain - Miller (gate). USSR - pause.
At 14.35, American warder Jordan looked into the garden house and found that #7 was lying on the floor, with an electric cable tied to the window handle on his neck. Called the orderly and doctors from the British Military Hospital. Prisoner No.7 was taken to a British military hospital. Attempts to restore cardiac activity in resuscitation. In 16.10, doctors state: total clinical death. A note on suicide was found in the prisoner's pants pocket. The corpse №7 placed in the refrigerator.
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