Lawrence J.

Haas

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November 3, 2008

Tempelhof, a True Story for Our Time

In late October, in an event that received far too little attention, two airplanes took off just before midnight to mark the last flights from historic Tempelhof Airport in Berlin – the launching pad, literally, for what was perhaps America’s finest moment in defense of freedom.

It was from Tempelhof that, starting in June 1948, U.S. and allied pilots flew 280,000 flights over 11 months, airlifting more than two million tons of food, coal, medicine and other necessities to the two million people of West Berlin during the Soviet Union’s blockade of that contested city.

Tempelhof, among three airports that will be replaced by a new Berlin Brandenburg Airport, remains the subject of great controversy.  Investors have designs to convert the 900-acre site – which is protected from destruction as a historic landmark – to a museum, or zoo, or skating rink, condominiums or something else. Opponents vow to continue fighting to preserve it.

That Berlin Mayor Klaus Wowereit, who presides over a left-wing coalition that includes ex-communists, wants to close the money-losing airport is not surprising. Nor, though, is the push to keep it open by those, including German Chancellor Angela Merkel, who don’t want the memory of this 85-year-old structure, and its monumental role in history, diminished.

But the issue isn’t Tempelhof, at least not by itself. The real issue, and one that confronts all friends of freedom, is how to keep alive the spirit of the Berlin Airlift and, in turn, how to apply the lessons of that dramatic moment to the challenges that now confront the United States and the West.

To be sure, the airlift was not Tempelhof’s only moment in the sun. Though it officially opened as an airfield in 1923, it was already in use well before that. Orville Wright flew from there in 1909, as did French aviator Armand Zipfel.

More than two decades later, Adolf Hitler decided to dramatically expand the airport, making it a symbol of Nazi might. By the time he finished, Tempelhof had 49 buildings, seven hangars, and 9,000 offices, all laid out in the form of a Nazi eagle that was visible from the sky.

But, notwithstanding Wright or Zipfel, or even Hitler, it was in 1948 that Tempelhof secured its most exalted place in history. This was a true turning point in the age-old battle between freedom and tyranny, democracy and totalitarianism. It highlighted what was at stake in the Cold War.

When World War II ended, Germany was divided into quadrants, with the United States, Great Britain, France and the Soviet Union each presiding over one. Berlin was situated in the Soviet sphere but it, too, was cut into quadrants.

After much posturing, the Soviets finally did what America had feared, closing western access to Berlin in an effort to force the entire city into its embrace. Before long, the people of West Berlin ran short of food and fuel, and it seemed just a matter of time before they would take the Soviet offer to peacefully merge with their brethren in East Berlin.

President Truman had to choose whether to defend West Berlin or accept the reality of Soviet domination. He knew that his decision would speak volumes about whether the United States would defend not just its allies but freedom itself. A decision to sacrifice Berlin could have empowered the Soviets to advance militarily on the shaky democracies of Western Europe.

The president ordered the airlift, notwithstanding the extraordinary costs that it would impose, in dollars and in wear-and tear on America’s pilots and aircraft. At the height of “Operation Vittles,” a plane landed at Tempelhof every 90 seconds. Among the pilots were the famed “candy bombers” who dropped candy tied to little parachutes to the children of Berlin.

Suffering a public relations disaster as the horror of its totalitarian rule took center stage before the world, it was the Soviet Union that retreated by opening the city’s borders. West Berlin was saved, the western alliance was bolstered and fears of Soviet advancement receded. America had assumed the role of both military and moral leader, staring down the Soviets and bringing relief to a starving people with whom it was at war just a few years earlier.

The story has a special relevance for today – a time when threats to our national security are multiplying and our image abroad is suffering in the aftermath of Iraq and Abu Ghraib. We can once again assume the mantle of military and moral leader. Indeed, we must.

© 2008 North Star Writers Group. May not be republished without permission.

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