By Sally Robyn

Jul 09 2020

Where Were You When…? 1972

I am sure you, like me, have been asked that question. Perhaps the first thing that comes to mind is where you were on the morning of 9/11. That was a date that marked us all, the memory of that day’s activities indelibly imprinted as news of the terror attacks flashed across TV screens. But for those of us fortunate enough to have lived at various places around the world and at key points of history (thanks to frequent Army moves) there are other intersections of place and events that stay crystal clear in the memory. Here is one of my “where were you when” moments.

Eric and I were living in Germany in 1972, an exciting time as Munich prepared to host the Summer Olympics. Thirty-six years after Hitler’s showcase summer games in Berlin, Germany was set to show off its vibrant and prosperous new post-war image.

Deutschemark Coins Commemorating the 1972 Olympics

Welcoming more than 7,000 athletes representing 121 countries, Munich opened the Games on 26 August.

American swimmer Mark Spitz’s seven gold medals and Soviet teen sensation Olga Korbut’s two Gymnastic gold medals became memorable highlights of the Games. Unfortunately, these accomplishments would be eclipsed by other news. Early on the morning of 5 September, the peaceful international atmosphere of the Olympic Village was horribly shattered. Palestinian terrorists known as Black September broke into the rooms of the Israeli Wrestling Team, killing 2 and taking 9 hostages. By early morning 6 September, all 9 hostages and 1 German police officer had been murdered.

American Newspaper Announcing the Tragedy in Munich

Eric was assigned at Herzo Base, a former Luftwaffe base outside the small Bavarian village of Herzogenaurach (115 miles north of Munich). Serving with him was a dear friend, fellow field artilleryman and classmate, Bill Rice, (https://thedaysforward.com/bill-rice/ and another look at the Olympics 1972 https://thedaysforward.com/life-in-germany-1972/) and also Joel Pigott, USMA ‘68 grad and friend from Cadet Company A-2.

Joel’s wife was German and had access to much coveted Olympic tickets as the Executive Secretary to Rudolph Dassler, owner of Puma, an international sporting goods company headquartered in this small village.

Film about Family Ties in Herzogenaurach

Also headquartered in the town was its highly competitive rival Adidas, owned by Rudolph’s estranged brother Adolf (Adi). Family animosity often created friction and division within the town; however, these two billion-dollar giants today maintain a much friendlier rivalry. In fact, a film of this famous rivalry, Adidas vs Puma, was released in 2016. Herzo Base has long since disappeared, its location now upscale housing for Herzogenaurach’s international industries.

Back to our “where were you when” story. Months before the Olympics opened, with tickets all but impossible to get, Joel offered us the ultimate jackpot prize, two tickets for the morning of 7 September, compliments of Puma. We were now among the fortunate few! However, I could never have imagined how marked by tragedy that date would be, following the terrorist attack and a memorial service for the 11 murdered Israelis.

Eric and I had looked forward to the upcoming track and field events, but now a dark shroud hung over Munich and the Olympics. Arriving that morning, we found the Olympic Village and venues somber, only light traffic, and sparse attendance in the stadium. We watched several qualifying races, and various field events but not the one runner we were hoping to see, Jim Ryun, the world record holder in the 1,500-meter (3 minutes, 33.1 seconds). We were to miss him by a day.

Jim Ryun During the Olympics and Afterwards

Jim Ryun’s now ill-fated run occurred on 8 September, when he tripped, fell, and was knocked unconscious for several seconds in the qualifying heat of the 1,500-meter race and failed to qualify. Although he was obviously fouled, Olympic officials verbally shrugged, “It’s unfortunate what happened to you. Why don’t you come back in four years and try again?” ** By his own admission, he was angry and bitter, but years later wrote, “I can say that Munich really was the beginning of our lives. We had become Christians that spring, and the challenge of Munich forced us to grow up very fast. We developed a whole new understanding of forgiveness.” ** I might add from a vantage point of hindsight; his best run was yet to be. In 1996 he ran successfully for the US Congress and served five terms as a Representative from Kansas. Jim Ryun was awarded the Medal of Freedom on July 24, 2020 by President Trump.

The events of that Olympics not only altered Jim Ryun but they altered in part how Munich and Israel would come to view terrorism and security. Fast forward 14 years to 1986. Eric and I, along with sons Paul and Jed, once again were living in Germany, in the beautiful Bavarian town of Augsburg. We arrived in 1985 during their 2,000^th year anniversary celebration! Talk about encountering history!

1985 Stamp Commemorating the 2000th Anniversary of the Founding of Augsburg

During that assignment we took a week-long trip to Israel in November 1986. Preparing to board the El Al flight from Munich to Tel Aviv, we experienced the most comprehensive and thorough security checks we have ever witnessed, long before the all-too-familiar protocols instituted following 9/11. We, along with all the other passengers in our tour group, were individually interrogated, luggage was randomly searched, then we were bussed out to our plane located on an isolated section of runway. As we at last began to taxi for take-off Eric looked out the windows on either side of the plane. Two German Polizei armored vehicles with mounted machine guns tracked close by the wingtips and accompanied us all the way down the runway. All access roads to the runway were simultaneously blocked by armored vehicles; the airport virtually shut down to see the flight become airborne! I felt a moment of panic at all the security precautions but my calm husband assured me that it was because of the security measures that I should sit back and relax. Fourteen years after the Munich massacre, it was very obvious Munich had not forgotten the summer of 1972, nor had we. I doubt that the exact same security measures for El Al flights are practiced today but “where we were when” in 1972 dictated our departure experience in 1986. We had slipped in and out of Munich’s tumultuous and tragic summer Olympic games of 1972 and “where we were when” in 1986 brought back a deja vu moment and a reminder how events change people and even nations.

** Quotations from an article in Vox as told to Eleanor Barkhorn

Oct 24 2019

Two Tales of a City, 2015 – Part 2

Fast forward to 2015. Not only were Sally and I looking forward to a nostalgic trip back to Germany and a visit with friends in Augsburg and Ansbach, but we also had the pleasure of sharing this journey with our sixteen-year-old grandson Gavin. Forty-two years from our first visit, we landed in Berlin on December 7, excited to see how the city had changed. We could never have imagined how great that change would be.

Our new Marriott hotel was located near Potsdamer Platz, a section of the city that was once behind the Wall in the former East Berlin. As we walked about the area we were stuck by the vibrancy, prosperity, new development, and excitement of locals and visitors. Busy stores, restaurants, and businesses abounded. As we crisscrossed the city the brick trace of the Wall, laid out in brass, could be seen meandering along the pavements and streets. Except for chunks here and there the Wall was gone but its history not forgotten.

Checkpoint Charlie now existed only as a tourist stop, the guard house remaining but actors in quasi military dress now playing the crossing guards. Museums to recall the Nazi era, the Holocaust, Cold War, East German gadgets and lifestyle were all available to the public to visit and to remember, with sobering clarity and sometimes with humor. We’ll never forget walking past Trabi World Tours.

Sally by a Trabant tourist rental Dec 2015

The old Trabant had made a comeback! An enterprising and apparently successful Berliner provided rentals for tourists. Who could resist travelling the city and experiencing a ride in this unforgettable “classic”!? It was another great example of entrepreneurial capitalism popping up in unexpected places.

Perhaps our most enduring memory came at the start of our trip. When we landed in Berlin it was late afternoon, and as our taxi sped into the city the early December night had fallen. The lights along the streets showed a city alive with activity and the Christmas season beginning. Straight ahead we could see in the distance the Brandenburg Gate brightly lit. Through its arches were clearly visible an enormous Christmas tree, a large Menorah and Star of David. All three were brightly shining and spoke in such a powerful way of reconciliation in a city once torn by hatred and oppression. We will always be grateful for the blessing of this gracious memory, a beautiful benediction to our Berlin experiences. Indeed, “… it was the best of times.”

Inside the Brandenburg Gate in former East Berlin

P.S. From co-authors, Eric and Sally: for excellent reference, we recommend the book

The Collapse, The Accidental Opening of the Berlin Wall, by Mary Elise Sarotte.

Oct 24 2019

Two Tales of a City, 1973 – Part 1

INTRODUCTION:

November 9, 2019, marks the 30th Anniversary of the Fall of the Berlin Wall.

In 1961 when most of the West Point Class of 1969 were enjoying their first heady experiences of high school, construction began on a wall that would split Berlin into two distinct and isolated sectors. This event, emblematic of the greater divide between Communist Europe and the free West, was probably little noticed by those teenagers, but it had huge implications in the way they would come to see the world and serve their country over the next thirty plus years.

Part I

With apologies to Charles Dickens for playing on the title of his classic novel, “A Tale of Two Cities,” our story is two tales of a city divided and ultimately reunified. Dickens began his tale with the memorable line, “It was the best of times. it was the worst of times…”. Our story begins, “It was the worst of times…”

SIDEBAR: The Wall

By 1961, more than 3.5 million East Germans (about 20% of their population) had fled communist occupation for freedom in the West, frequently exiting through Berlin. The Soviets and East Germany, fearing the exodus would only get worse, began a second blockade of the city, dividing Berlin into two cities. This time they succeeded.

Construction of a barrier began on 13 August 1961, sealing off West Berlin into a virtual island within Soviet controlled East Germany. Consisting of concrete walls, barbed wire, guard dogs, bunkers, guard towers with machine guns and a death strip or no-mans-land of anti-vehicle trenches, this impenetrable Wall dramatically symbolized the “Iron Curtain” that separated East Germany and other Soviet bloc countries from the West.

Over the next 28 years, approximately 5,000 citizens of East Berlin managed to escape and at least 140 were killed attempting to gain freedom. Then, on 9 November 1989, when East German authorities, through an extraordinary confluence of events, announced that it would allow limited visits to West Berlin, masses descended on the Wall, breaching the barrier. On 22 December 1989, the Brandenburg Gate was opened. Official demolition of the Wall began on 13 June 1990 and finally ended on 3 October 1992.

“It was the worst of times.” Vietnam was winding down and the Army in Europe was suffering morale and serious drug problems when I arrived fresh from a combat tour in Vietnam for a three-year assignment at Herzo Base, Headquarters of 210^th Field Artillery Group, outside the town of Herzogenaurach, West Germany. In 1973, while commanding C Battery, 1^st Battalion, 33d Field Artillery (a nuclear-capable Honest John Rocket firing battery) I decided to give my troops a hands-on lesson to explain why we were in Germany and to see the face of our adversary, up close and personal. I knew there was no better place for troops to learn that lesson than Berlin, the epicenter of the Cold War. Having gained command approval for this “adventure training” and receiving official transportation orders, I gathered a group of soldiers and wives for a memorable trip … and my first view of Berlin.

During that time in order for active duty soldiers to travel to Berlin, special military travel authorization had to be issued by the US Army Europe Headquarters, translated in Russian and French. These “Flag Orders” (so called by the US flag header atop the orders – see inset, below) remained in our personal possession throughout our visit and were carefully checked by East German guards. With these orders in hand, we boarded the “Duty Train” at the Frankfurt Bahnhof (main train station) on 5 October 1973 late in the evening and traveled in darkness (as required by Communist authorities) through East Germany to West Berlin, arriving early morning on 6 October. We travelled with shades drawn at all windows and as we crossed into East Germany, the train stopped for our orders and ID cards to be checked. Although we each were assigned old-fashioned, private couchettes with bunk beds, no one fully relaxed, or, in my wife Sally’s case, changed out of street clothes.

On arrival in West Berlin, we checked into military lodging and began touring a vibrant city, whose citizens hustled energetically along busy streets to offices, restaurants, and homes brightly lit at night in stark contrast to her surrounding neighbors in East Berlin shrouded in darkness. Our first view of the famous Brandenburg Gate, blocked by the ugly Wall, was one I never forgot. For me, it embodied the hatred and fear of malignant Communist tyranny determined to oppress its people and to spread its cancer across the globe. I was proud then, as now, to be an American soldier dedicated to preserving the freedoms of the West and protecting those in need.

One highlight of the trip for all was a visit to Checkpoint Charlie, the best-known official crossing point between West and East Berlin. From the wooden observation platform, my troops and I looked directly across the Wall and the “death strip” into the eyes of East German guards in a gun tower with orders to shoot anyone attempting to flee East Berlin. It was a sobering experience.

Checkpoint Charlie Berlin Wall 1973 — Sally at Checkpoint Charlie – October 1973

Death Strip Berlin Wall — Looking across the Death Strip

American side warning Berlin Wall — Achtung! Warning at the border of the American Sector

One evening, Sally and I traveled from the American Sector to the French Sector for a special dinner at the French Officers’ Club. After a wonderful meal with the time now past 11 pm, we walked to the nearest UBahn (subway) station and hopped aboard the first train heading back to the American sector and our temporary lodging. Little did we know that we would find ourselves traveling through the bowels of East Berlin making 2 underground stops, where Grenztruppen (East German Border Guards) stood watch armed with the East German version of the AK-47. Darkened, littered and unwelcoming, the East German stations allowed passengers to leave the train, but no one got on. With a Top-Secret clearance, nuclear duty assignment, and my GI haircut, Sally sat holding her breath and I sat slumping in the seat hoping not to draw undue attention! Fortunately, our brief and unauthorized excursion into communist territory ended without drama and we once again entered the brightly lit, clean, and vibrant West Berlin station in the American sector.

UBahn map of West & East Berlin lines 1973

Although tourists could and did visit East Berlin, American military personnel with security clearances were not authorized to do so.

Interestingly, in 1984 on a second assignment to Europe, I did once again visit East Berlin while Aide to the SACEUR (Supreme Allied Commander of Europe) General Bernard Rogers (USMA Class of June 1943) – this time in an official status. General Rogers, along with a group of distinguished visitors and wives, was being given a VIP tour. Our guide proudly drove us through the city, many areas still in ruins from WWII bombing, and pointed out their officer housing area, reminiscent of inner-city subsidized housing with over-grown grass, trash, and windows partially covered with sheets or blankets. We were escorted into a Zeiss Optics store, where “shopping” consisted of standing at a counter and asking a clerk to retrieve the item you wanted. She would retrieve it for you to see, but not handle.

As we crossed a major city street, I will never forget the discordant racket and dense exhaust smoke of traffic, consisting mainly of Trabants, the flimsy East German car with a 2-cycle engine, once described by a well-known automotive journalist as “loud, slow, poorly designed, and badly built.” This automotive gem, I learned, was available to East-Bloc customers after waiting only 13 years to buy their own car.

When in West Berlin with General Rogers, we stayed at the beautiful “Wannseehaus” which had been the site of the infamous Wannsee Conference held in January 1942 (where Nazi high officials met to decide and coordinate plans for Hitler’s “Final Solution”). After the war its reputation was somewhat redeemed as an Allied war reparation asset, and later as a museum to the Holocaust.

One evening while there, the SACEUR hosted a dinner party for various dignitaries, which included the Swedish Ambassador to East Berlin. The ambassador obviously enjoyed his posting and regaled us with stories of the lifestyle of Communist party officials entertaining him and other dignitaries. It was quite busy, he said, with frequent lavish dinner parties, featuring the choicest foods and finest wines, cruises, and social events. When asked how these luxuries were available in East Germany, he laughed and said the Communist officials sent a truck daily to West Berlin to stock up at the KaDeWe, the city’s enormous department/grocery store, second only to Harrods in London. For all of the deprivations of the average East German citizen, Communist officials lived the life of luxury, all enabled by the bounty of the West. As the old saying goes, some Communist comrades were “more equal than others!”

Apr 19 2019

What West Point Means To Me – Sally Robyn

My connection to West Point began the summer of 1965. My high school boyfriend left, as summer began, to enter USMA Class of ‘69. I looked forward to his letters that trickled in bearing a West Point postmark and designation, New Cadet Eric Robyn. He wrote of hazing and a regimen known as “Beast Barracks” but for me his pictures belied words of misery – I was enthralled by the gray granite buildings and his uniform of gray. I had heard of West Point, of course, but it existed merely as a picture postcard of cadets on parade, a legendary football tradition and the high ideals of Duty, Honor, Country. No doubt this mystique was aided by Hollywood and a popular TV series made in 1959-60. Seeing it firsthand was not even on my radar until Eric and his parents invited me to Plebe Parent Weekend, pretty heady stuff for a high school senior. There began my lifelong love affair with the place and my special cadet. To excuse missing several days of classes, I argued that Plebe Parent Weekend would be my only time EVER to visit the Academy. My parents agreed it was an opportunity not to be missed. However, yearly trips to New York soon became a pattern. Post June Week 1969, my newly minted lieutenant traded cadet gray for fatigues and a wife. When we returned in 1976 for an assignment in the Tactical Department, I saw through his eyes those same mythical cadets in gray as malleable future officers in need of daily discipline and guidance. Their pranks, ever new to them, were rarely new to the “Tac” who once stood in their shoes. When our son Jed was born in the Old Cadet Hospital my room overlooked Eric’s Plebe barracks, a coming full circle. In 1988 cadet gray became the familiar dress of our son Paul, Class of 1992, a ‘69 Class son.
When Paul and family later returned to a teaching assignment in the Social Science Department my vantage point again changed. I was now mother of an instructor. I have been blessed by West Point through key experiences of life – courtship, marriage, parenting and a host of friends. Once asked if I distilled Eric’s 26-year career to only one assignment which would I choose. The answer was and will always be West Point.

Aug 26 2014

Missing Out – 1987

By Sally Robyn, wife of Colonel (Ret) Eric Robyn

“You’ve never taken us to Disney World. Why do we miss out on all the fun?”
These complaints came as a chorus from our two sons on arrival back in the States in 1987 from a five-year tour in Belgium and Germany. The boys, Paul at sixteen and Jed at ten, were disappointed that summer plans did not leave time for a trip to Florida from Oklahoma while we waited on housing at Ft. Sill and Eric began preparation for battalion command. They wanted to lay a guilt trip on us, their parents, and they felt very sorry for themselves with this perceived notion of missing out. Military brats do give up a lot, but they (and we) do often forget the many benefits that come our way.

Typical ornate home in Oberammergau, West Germany, site of the Passion Play — **Typical Ornate Home in Oberammergau, West Germany, Site of the Passion Play**

No question that life in the military is often busy just doing the next thing, packing for a new assignment, seemingly on the heels of unpacking the last box at the current one. It is full of adjustments: new schools, new friends, new foods, new experiences, while at the same time full of sad realities: leaving extended family, friends, sports teams and familiar places behind.

While much of this turbulence and change is viewed by the civilian culture as a “negative” we chose to view it as a “positive” influence in our lives and in the boys’ formative years. We and they became much more flexible and adaptable to new situations, learned to extend ourselves in making friends, and grew from the cultural diversity of living in many different places in the US and Europe. Often asked if changing schools so often was a hindrance to the boys’ education, I would enthusiastically say no, it was an opportunity to expand their horizons. They learned first-hand about local customs, countries and history others only read about.

Now back to the boys’ sad lament about not getting to go to Disney. Yes, they missed it

Streets of Oberammergau, West Germany, site of the Passion Play — **Streets of Oberammergau, West Germany, Site of the Passion Play**

and a few other opportunities along the way. But, hey, Paul and Jed saw the real Cinderella’s castle, Neuschwanstein, and much of what is at Epcot for real! They skied in the Alps, toured the Tower of London, lived in a 2000-year-old city, Augsburg, that began as a Roman outpost, and visited the battlefields of both World Wars. They attended the Passion Play in Oberammergau, a centuries-old retelling of the life of Christ dating to the Middle Ages, and visited the Holocaust museum in Jerusalem as well as the concentration camp at Dachau. These sobering experiences, by being seen up close and personal, taught as no book ever could. So during that summer the boys hopes were thwarted, I reminded them of their unique experiences and Paul, in particular, of his exceptional opportunity of going with his Boy Scout troop to Berlin and his Model UN class to The Hague, Netherlands.

Since that summer of 1987 both Paul and Jed have taken their families to the Disney theme parks. As grandparents we, too, at last enjoyed the trip to Orlando. As with all vacations and travel adventure, it is now a fond memory recalled by pictures in photo albums. What endures is the benefit of our 13 Army moves, the many friends who shared the journey, and the positive way our experiences molded and challenged each one of us.

On balance, I don’t think any one of us would say we missed out.