Purchase of Freedom

One morning this week the people of Melsungen, an old walled town in Hesse only 22 miles from the Soviet zone's border, were awakened by the croak of the town criers. "Come to the Schlosshof," their voices called through the narrow streets. "Come to the Schlosshof and give aid to our beleaguered countrymen!"

The people came. In the thronged square, Social Democratic Leader Ernst Spars climbed on to a platform. He pointed to the overcast skies which had for two weeks been filled with the roar of U.S. planes carrying food to besieged Berlin. "Up there," cried Spars, "the American people are showing their faith in the cause of our Berlin brothers every hour of every day. Yet we--their fellow countrymen--have done nothing. Now we must act! There is not much food for us here in Melsungen, but let us share with those brave Berliners what little we have!"

The square resounded with one mighty "Ja!" Then & there the town meeting agreed to contribute four freight cars of grain, dried fish and fresh vegetables to be flown to Berlin. All over Western Germany, much the same thing was happening. Russia's brutal siege of Berlin had shaken Western Germany out of a surly indifference. In Hamburg, Bremen and Lower Saxony, local governments passed resolutions pledging one full day's ration from each citizen. In the Ruhr, German authorities ordered 100,000 tons of coal, which had been earmarked for Ruhr homes, to be flown to Berlin instead. "We weren't at all sure before that you were determined to stay in Berlin," said a Frankfurt shopkeeper. "When you started these endless supply planes we knew you meant business."

Though it besieged 2 1/2 million Berliners and a handful of Western soldiers, by last week the Soviet Union was on the defensive. Morally, at least, it was the West which now laid siege to Russia.

Categoric Assertion. Notes of protest handed last week to Soviet ambassadors in Washington, London and Paris were about as strong as diplomatic notes can be. Said the U.S. note: "The U.S. Government categorically asserts that it is in occupation of its sector in Berlin with free access thereto as a matter of established right ... It will not be induced by threats, pressures or other actions to abandon these rights . . . The U.S. Government is therefore obliged to insist that . . . traffic between the Western zones and Berlin be fully restored. There can be no question of delay . . ."

The U.S. offered to sit down with the Russians and thresh out the differences on the occupation of Berlin--but not unless the Russians first lifted their blockade.

Moscow took its own time about sending an answer. What the Kremlin wanted was a Big Four conference preferably while the blockade was still on, not just about Berlin but about all of Germany--and maybe more. That would give the Russians a chance to swap Berlin for Western concessions elsewhere--e.g., scrapping plans for a Western German state (see below').

Get the Babies Down. Meanwhile, around Berlin, the Russians were making "Operation Vittles" * as difficult as they could. The Russians announced that their aircraft were about to begin instrument flying maneuvers in the area including the air corridor between Berlin and the Western zones. U.S. officers snapped back that the Russians would do so "at their own risk."

The weather was bad most of the time. The only serious accident to date came when a C-47 crashed and burned, killing three Americans. Once last week, 15 U.S. planes were "stacked up" over Tempelhof, circling blindly at different altitudes. "We've got to get those babies down somehow," snapped one of the G.I.s on duty in the control tower. They all got down.

To date, the U.S. and Britain had carried some 20,000 tons of supplies to Berlin. The R.A.F. threw ten Sunderland flying boats into the fray (they landed on a lake near Gatow Airport). Approximately 350 Western flights landed in Berlin each day. At the quadripartite air safety center (where all nations are supposed to register their flights), a U.S. officer said last week: "The only thing we're worried about is how soon we'll reach the saturation point." "And when will that be?" asked a nearby Russian hopefully. Snapped the American: "When we're flying 500 planes to Berlin every day!"

Last Sunday, the first sunny day in weeks, Berliners forgot about their usual meager pleasures and instead went out to Tempelhof Airport. Sitting amid the ruins surrounding the field, perched on trees and fences, they watched the steady, reassuring stream of planes roaring out of the skies.

Said U.S. Colonel Frank Howley in an appeal to the people of Berlin: "We only ask . . . that you cheerfully stand up to these privations and that you bear in mind that freedom and democracy have always been purchased only by struggle."

*The British called it Operation "Carter Paterson," the name of Britain's biggest parcel delivery service.

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