ENIGMA 2000 Newsletter - Issue 33

March 2006
Articles, newsreports and Items of interest :enigma2000-owner@yahoogroups.com

ENIGMA 2000 Article - If it had not been for 15 minutes (2/6)

We continue with Thomas Wagner’s most interesting true story, with his full permission. Thanks Thomas,

If it had not been for 15 minutes (2/6)

The Home Team

Continuing the explanation of the participants in our extraordinary story, here is a short summary of the good guys.

Ursula Michnowski (my Mother)

Ursula Michnowski- my Mother My mother. At the time of our defection she was working as a waitress in the best hotel in Oberhof. Just as a little bit of background, waiters and waitresses in East-Germany were real professions. People went to school and had to pass certain examinations. It was all very official. As a result you have some extremely professional service personnel in the better restaurants and hotels. Aside from the fact that this job did not have the same stigma as it's equivalent in the US, the tips that a waiter in our hotel earned put his income on par with a doctor. In the words of my mother "I was earning more than the General Manager who ran the hotel". To make things even more interesting, frequently these tips were in hard currency (Dollars, West-German Marks), which is impossible to get and allows a citizen of East-Germany to purchase Western goods in specially designated shops. Suffice it to say this was a good job.

Lt. Werner Stiller (aka Peter Fischer)

Lt. Werner Stiller (aka Peter Fischer) Werner is the key person in our defection scenario. A professional agent with the East-German Intelligence Service (STASI) he was a case officer directly in charge of 7 agents located across West-Germany, as well as Supervisor of approximately 35 employees. The mission of the department Lt. Stiller worked for was high-technology espionage. Similar to industrial espionage but sponsored at the state level. Stillers recruits were primarily employed in the nuclear industry and supplied nuclear technology secrets to the East. Having graduated with a degree in Physics he was identified as a recruitment candidate by the Stasi and joined their ranks after the mandatory military service. At the time of this story, Stiller was approximately 5'10 and weighed roughly 180 pounds with a muscular build. On a personal level he was very charming when it suited him, and possessed an extremely good memory which helped him both professionally and on a personal level. He is one of those guys that could sell ice cubes to the eskimos.

Michael Michnowski (yours truly)

Actually that was my name back in those days. In 1981 we were resettled by the CIA (on request of the West-German Intelligence Service BND). Part of that resettlement included new identities. At the time of our defection I was a 16 year old teenager who knew just about everything, as most 16 year olds do.

Herbert Kross

My uncle who had the wherewithal to jump the wall in Berlin before it became an official wall. My mother was supposed to join him, however, pregnancy put a crimp in her plans. Herbert lives in a small village outside of Nuernberg.

Unknown Courier

I wish I knew his name. I'd like to thank him. All I know is that Mr. Horst H. or Heinz H., as an agent/courier for the BND, was one of those small wheels in a big operation that make all the difference in the success or failure of an undertaking. I will explain more about this person later in the story. His courage to go against the bureaucratic grain of the BND saved our lives.

The Staff of the West German Embassy in Warsaw, Poland

I am told that our defection was the first time since WWII that the diplomatic branche of the West-German government was involved in a under-cover operation. There were three men in particular to whom we owe a debt of gratitude. The diplomatic staff of the Embassy was put into quite an impossible position but came through for us.

The journey to freedom begins.

1977 / 1978. Disco was getting ready to die in the cultural hot-points of Western civilization. In Great Britain strange new bands like these guys started to come on the scene. In East Germany life always seemed about 5-10 years "behind the times". We were still enthrolled with Donna Summer and Heart, while in NYC Blondie was getting to be very popular. Interestingly, for the first time there was a palatable sense of dissatisfaction that could be noticed at concerts in some of the larger cities like Berlin, Leipzig and Erfurt. Kids wanted western stuff. I had a rather lucrative sideline in the trade of records and Levis jeans. 16 years old and already a budding entrepreneur. I suppose the official term is not quite as flattering - I was a "black marketeer". But I couldn't help it. There was a huge demand for British and US music. In retrospect, with twenty-some years of US living under my belt, it is easy to appreciate the musical accomplishments of the East-German groups of that time. Bands like "Elektra" or "City". Most of the members of Elektra had advanced university degrees in music, and their style was quite progressive for the times. But to my 16 year old ears in1978/79 Deep Purple and Led Zeppelin sounded so much better.

MZ 150cc motorcycle Unlike teenagers in the US, the kids In Germany, both West and East, were not able to drive a car until the age of 18. However, starting at 15, an East German teenager could drive a moped, followed by a 150cc motorcycle at age 16 and a 250cc at age 18. (Thats the largest bike built in East Germany). Thanks to my mother I was the proud owner of a 150cc MZ TS150.

It had a hefty 21 horsepower and reached the awe inspiring speed of 50mp/h (105km/h). All fun aside, my high school class had close to 40 students. About half were male. Out of the 20 guys, there were only three of us who could afford a bike like this. With transportation in short supply among my classmates, we occasionally managed to ride with 3 people on this bike (of course we were pretty skinny in those days). And to its credit the bike held up well over time.

Kamien Zimmer Bar - the place where Stiller met my mother After graduating High School, through the diligent efforts of my mother, I was offered one of only seven open apprenticeship positions at the Hotel Panorama. Mind you that there were well over 100 applicants for each of these positions. But my mom was well liked and had a bit of inluence with the decision makers. To make a long story short, I became an apprentice waiter. Yes you've read correctly. As I mentioned before, the profession of waiter was just like many other jobs in East Germany. You went to school for it. And when you finished the apprenticeship you were a darn good waiter.

Our education consisted of actual work in the restaurants of the hotel as well as two days of schooling. Looking at this ratio of theoretical and practicum it becomes obvious that apprentices represented a cheap source of labor for the government, since they were generally paid less than a full-fledged worker.

Between school/apprenticeship and ever farther ranging excursions on the bike, life after high school had settled into a routine. What about the possibility of an East-German high-school graduate attending the University? Unlike a US student who has several different ways of attaining a college degree, in East-Germany the State offered a free University degree only to certain students who were hand picked by age 14. I wasn't one of them. I didn't have the discipline necessary to make the cut at that age.

My stepfather had passed away a two years earlier. He was the sort of person that is best not discussed in a polite web site. Suffice it to say that the sudden release from the oppressive presence of my step father caused a bit of rebellion to bubble to the surface.

In small towns of East Germany during those days it was the custom for a widow to wear black for an entire year. Once this traditional period of mourning had passed my Mother was for all intend and purpose single again and in due time began to date. That is how she met Werner Stiller, who happened to be staying at our hotel.

In those days it wasn't completely unheard of that the folks who worked in the hotel would also stick around for the Happy Hour offered by the various bars in this facility. Like I said, it was a small town, and we really didn't have that many places to go to let off some steam.

Some months ago my mother applied for a travel visa to leave the country and visit her brother in West-Germany. Only the most hard-core communists were able to travel to the West in this manner. It seemed to me, even as a teenager, that we were certainly too much of a "westerly oriented element" to be able to rate a visa like this. After all, I'm sure that in some government file somewhere there had to be a list of all the ant-State activities we had engaged in over the years. By anti-State I'm talking about instances like the local Communist Party elections in 1966 where I, as a strapping 4 year old, approached the party bosses at the polling place and asked if they knew who had the longest way to the bathroom. When they indicated that they did not, I gleefully explained that it had to be Walter Ulbricht - the Secretary of the Communist Party (the top dog) - who for every little sh... had to go to Moscow! You can imagine that this sort of behavior didn't go over too well with the Party bosses.

Many people applied for travel visa's, and I'm sure many did so as a means of attempting defection. Most all applications were denied. Of those that had been denied the ability to legally visit the West, several people attempted to cross the border illegally. One of our collegues had attempted to get from Chechoslovakia into Austria, only to be caught and sentenced to 5 years in prison. In another case, a teenager was taken in and given a temporary home by our local priest while his parents were incarcerated. Interestingly this teenager, Gernot Weller, and his family were able to leave the country very legally after the sentence was completed. I could never quite figure out how they accomplished that.

To make matters worse, East-German was full of Informants. The government, and especially the STASI, had thousands upon thousands of part-time people on their payroll. The primary reason for someone to inform on their neighbors activities was economic gain. Some actually did it out of conviction, but most were simply greedy. In this manner an average East German citizen was sourrounded by the watchful eyes and ears of the State at all times. It helped to reinforce the sense of futility that most of us lived with. After the fall of the Wall, and after many of the archives and individual files were opened for public inspection there was a period of constant reports in the media explaining how people found out their "best" friends had informed on them. With the typical German efficiency, every little iota of information was filed and categorized. Husbands found that their wifes were informants, member of families found that relatives had informed on them. All in all the entire "virus" of people enriching themselves at the cost of some of their closest neighbors really struck me in a morbid and fascinating way as extremely similar to the way the German People acted during WW2. Having the benefit of the perspective that comes from living in another country, I'm almost convinced that there is something built into the Volks-Psyche ( the psyche of the population) that drives this behavior. Almost as though Germans make some of the best "followers" in the world. I'm sure the reason for this odd behavior can be found in the generally autocratic structure of the entire country.

Our small town of 3000 (+ 15,000 tourists ) had its own share of informants. And the funny thing is that we knew quite a few of them by sight. One man comes to mind, who would like to sit at a bar and very ostentatiously open his wallet to show off stacks of West German currency as sort of a lure to try to entice people into thinking that he was a West German, which could then lead to some indiscrete conversations. He didn't try that with the locals anymore of course, because he was well known by us. As a matter of fact we had an appropriate nickname for him: Schweinebacke.

Translated that means "pigs-cheek" - and trust me we weren't talking about facial features here. The name fit him especially well since he was an overweight, semi-balding beer lover who from the looks of him would indeed remind a person of a "sweaty" pig.

It was in this atmosphere of "big brother" is watching, that my mother encountered Werner Stiller after her shift at the hotel was finished. Stiller had used the Hotel Panorama as a meeting locale for his intelligence activities. Agents would come from the West and meet with him, or he would stay overnight at the Hotel in transit to an agent rendevous. Stiller recognized my mother as one of the waitresses that served him frequently, and the two began to talk. In his own words, he was taken aback by the frustration that mom vented in regards to the travel visa. He was surprised and stunned because "... he could have been an informer and here was this lady pouring her heart out to him , explaining how frustrated she was with the government...."

One thing led to another and the two of them began to date. Stiller would come from Berlin to visit us in Oberhof, or on frequent occassions my mother would travel up to Berlin to see him. It was not until several weeks into this relationship that Stiller confessed to her that he was a member of the dreaded STASI. Mother was understandably upset. In an effort to smooth things over he explained that his job had nothing to do with internal security, but rather was focused on espionage in West Germany and Western Europe. When asked later about this deceptve beginning of their relationship mom would explain that Stiller (like many con-men) had a singular quality of being so charming that "he could sell you pieces of coal and make you believe they were as valuable as gold".

And much like other con-men, Stiller led several different lives.

Stiller's wife Erzebet,a hungarian model. Stiller with his newborn son Andreas While wooing my mother he was actually married and to make matters worse his wife was very pregnant. Erzebet, his wife, was a Hungarian national who had come to East Germany a few years earlier. As an attractive young woman, she was able to obtain work as a model. A few weeks into the relationship between my mother and Stiller, his wife underwent an extremely difficult labor and delivery. For a while it looked as though either she, or the about to be born son Andreas weren't going to make it. Later that night when Werner Stiller drove his wife and newborn son home from the hospital he told her "I have a girlfriend and can't live without her. I am going to leave you". Erzebet is furious and threatened to contact Stiller's boss. He sweet-talked her into relenting and accepting his proposal that he will try to break it off with my mother.

Marienburger Str. 5 The Stasi safe apartment codenamed. Marienburger Strasse 5 - 3rd floor - location of His "other" life proceeded as well as could be imagined. Somewhere in this heady romance with my mother, Werner Stiller, suggested that they should defect. He reasoned that since they were truly in love, the only place were they could live together without fear of interference by the STASI was the West. He suggested that he was being pressured by his bosses about his relationship. Maybe someone had spotted them together. Perhaps at one of their rendevouz's in Berlin, which ironically would take place in a STASI safehouse (actually an apartment) in the working class neighborhood of Prenzlauer Berg. ("The Castle", as the safehouse was identified in STASI papers, was located on the third floor of an older apartment building at Marienburger Strasse 5. It was a small place with very few amenities. Of course who needs amenities when your in love!)

A plan is hatched

The question "Why don't we try to defect?" hung heavily in the air. So much risk and so many possibilities of failure. Stiller was a little bit of an adrenalin-junky of sorts. Running West-German agents was risky business. He relished the idea of taking on considerable risk for an equally considerable payoff. Years later, while finishing his Masters Degree in Business in the US, he invested his entire savings in a speculative stock portfolio and almost lose it all.

My mother's first thought when hearing the question was equally typical of her disposition. "Oh my wonderful apartment. Just when I got it right".

She was very proud of our little apartment at Waldstrasse 26 in Oberhof. Years of making connections and striking up aquaintances with her customers had provided her with a good amount of what we called the "very important vitamin C" - as in "C" for "connections". Knowing people who knew people who could provide you with hard to find items. There is a saying in the US "It's not what you know - it's who you know". Our Vitamin C was exactly the same concept, only at a much more day to day level. If you needed spare parts for your car, you had to know someone. If you wanted jeans, you needed to know someone. And of course a lot of the underground commerce was done on the basis of bartering. I remember my stepfather trading a rather expensive cement drill (valued at over 300.00 East-Marks) for the very first pocket calculator in our town. A Texas Instruments calculator about the size of a check book with a red LED display. Amazing what you could get done when you knew the right people!

The question "should we defect" was posed and a decision needed to be made. Do we stay together and try to defect or do we count the days that we can spend together, always knowing that it will end soon? In a way Stiller played my mother's affection like a good control-agent plays his assets. I'm very certain that the ficticious impending order by his superiors to discontinue the relationship was merely a device used by Stiller to create a situation in which mother would be properly "motivated" to act. You see, for the first time in many years the circumstances presented themselves in such a manner that Stiller had to take advantage of them and have a reasonable expectation of success. As you might guess, a control agent in his position can defect very easily, but Stiller made other plans.

He reasoned to himself that his value to the BND increases dramatically if he is able to deliver some information along the way. As a professional agent his monthly salary was approximately 1000 Mark, but as a defector with a laundry list of "goods" he would be set for life. So the undercurrent of his plan was to utilize my mothers love as a springboard to assure his financial success in a post-defection life.

It was a very complex scenario one might say. On the one hand he could write his own ticket and just simply not return from an agent rendesvouz in the West. However, the STASI was very capable of reaching across most of Western Europe to terminate any such defector. In order to cross the border, live to tell the story, and do so in reasonable comfort, Stiller needed the muscle and protection of the West-German government on his side. Only one small problem. Even if he made across and dissappeared, Stiller possessed an inutitive feeling that the West German Intelligence service was compromised by the STASI on several levels, which meant his risk did not vanish entirely and completely once he was in the West.

After my mother agreed to the idea that defection was the only way to go, Stiller asked her to set up a meeting with my uncle.

The official relation between East and West Germany had been one of Love/Hate on the part of the East-German politbureau for many years. On the one hand West Germany was the official enemy. According to the SED propaganda machine, it was a capitalist society bent on the destruction of East Germany, filled with the remnants of the Third Reich, who had fled there to escape capture by the Soviet Union. On the other hand East-Germany sorely needed the hard currency brought in by Western tourists, most of whom were required to exchange 20 West Marks into East Marks during every visit.

That economic reality translated itself into my uncle being able to visit us from time to time.

Coburg Mother called and asked him to come visit at his earliest convenience. Back then things took time so after the proper visa was obtained, on April 29, 1978 uncle Herbert packed up his little Renault, just like this one, and drove , together with his wife, the relatively short distance from Coburg to Oberhof.

When he arrived at our apartment he was surprised to find a strange man sitting in our living room. Mom made the introductions, being careful not to reveal Stiller's true name, and while my mother and my aunt went about preparationd for lunch Werner Stiller proceeded to ask my uncles help in a defection scheme. Uncle Herbert was more than reluctant. He was downright mistrustful. Werner, smooth as ever, pulled a an ace out of his sleeve: "Please understand" he said "this is not just for my benefit. Its mainly for Helga. She really wants to get out and I really want to help". A few minutes later mom corrobated that she wanted to leave as well. Very hesistantly my uncle agreed to help. As they parted ways, Werner gave Herbert a small leather wallet. He asked Herbert to give this wallet to the West German Border Guards, once he was back on the other side of the border. Werner was certain the guards would forward the package to the West German intelligence service (BND).

Herbert took some time to digest this request. There was more to his sister's male friend than met the eye. As odd the entire situation seemed, there was no question about Herbert's love for his younger sister and so he proceeded to do drop the wallet off with the border patrol.

BND And here the situation becomes a bit more complex. The BND team thought this entire situation was one elaborate set up for disinformation. What better way to plant some confusion than to have a supposed defector bring information that is just a hair incorrect. Nothing obvious, but enough obfuscation to steer the BND in the wrong direction. There are other ways as well. News media are given misinformation, known agents are given incorrect files. Anything goes - so long as the enemy believes the data is valid. Coincidentally, during the Cold War that was one of the downfalls of Soviet agents in the US. Unless the information had been gathered in some clandestine fashion, the KGB wouldn't believe it. That in spite of tons of data available at any public library of the US. In some cases agents were given incorrect information that they could have checked out in any library. But the KGB mentality being what it is, the agents couldn't fathom a country with so much freedom that classified data could be found in a public library.

Disinformation or not, the care with which the BND people in Pullach approached the situation was applaudable, yet should be noted that according to US Government reports West-Germany was practically overrun by Marcus Wolf and the STASI at that point in time. Maybe the fellows in Pullach ought to have checked their own backyard first.

Perhaps as a result of some snobbish idea of superiority, the BND never fully realized the threat coming from the East. As late as 1990, almost ten years after the German Unification, reports were still coming to light showing how deeply the STASI had penetrated West Germany's government. Presently at least 19 former West German Intelligence officers are serving prison sentences for providing information to East Germany. Even the former chief of East German counter-intelligence operations of the BND as well as the deputy head of military counter intelligency were long term HVA (STASI) moles. Think about it. Can you imagine the chief of counter intelligence of the CIA turning out to work for another country? Unthinkable right? Yet that is what happened in Germany. The amazing part of this story is not so much how utterly corrupt people can become, especially these particular government bureaucrats, but rather the fact that we were never caught and made it to safety with all the odds stacked against us.

Time passed and the BND folks in Pullach weighed their options. They sent a team to visit my uncle's home and "debriefed" him about his encounter in East-Germany. Finally a decision was made to test the capabilities of this so-called defector from the East. It had been decided that the best way to handle this initial contact was via a dead-drop. (A dead drop is a prearranged hidden location used for secret exchanges of packages, messages and payments. A dead drop prevents the intelligence officer and the agent from being present at the same time in the same place and therefore limits the risk of exposure.)

Stasi files show that on July 6 1978 the West German agent Dietrich Niestroj entered East Berlin.

Back in Coburg, West-Germany, on the day before the 6th, my uncle was approached by a Mr. "Ritter" who identied himself a member of the BND. This gentleman helped my uncle to memorize certain instructions which where to be passed along to my mother on July 8th. Herbert once again made the trek across the border. A trip that under normal circumstances took 2 hours could often take 4 or more because of the thorough inspections given to all cars by East German border patrols.