Army Security

The recent attack on the U.S. consulate in Benghazi provoked raucous protests by Republicans about the lack of security to protect our diplomats at that post in Lybia.  The uproar reminded me of the total LACK of security on the U.S. Army base where my son Karl was stationed in Frankfurt, Germany. 

The front gate was always open.  An MP would step out of a little kiosk and wave my German rental car through without a challenge.  I drove in and out many times.   

The day David and I were to leave Frankfurt we drove to the base in the morning to say goodbye to Karl.  My biggest problem was finding a parking place.  The only empty spaces were the ones reserved for generals in front of the main building, the art nouveau “sky scraper”.which before World War II had been international headquarters of a German arms manufacturer.  When I finally found a parking space at the far end of a lot full of hundreds of cars, David and I had quite a hike to get to the front door.

We jumped on the crazy elevator with constantly moving platforms which took us up to the ninth floor offices of Army Intelligence.  Here was where Karl spied on the Russians.  David and I walked right in and asked, “Where’s Karl?”

The sergeant behind the desk looked up, only slightly surprised to see us there.  He said, “He isn’t here today.”

A man standing beside him that said, “He is out in the trailers this morning.”
“The trailers?” I asked.
“There are a bunch of trailers behind the building,” the unidentified man said. 

David and I rode down those nine floors on another of those terrifying platforms.  Sure enough, behind the main building were a long row of white trailers without any identifying markings.  They were strung together like boxcars on a train, only there were no railroad tracks. 

David and I walked through trailers on a narrow aisle between hundreds of desks with electronic equipment.  I assumed this was apparatus for surveillance on the Russians.  There was no one to confirm or deny this assumption. 

After going through six or eight trailers, we met a young serviceman – I think he was a corporal – coming the opposite direction.  He said, “What are you doing here?”

“We’re looking for Karl.”
“He isn’t on base today.”

David and I gave up.  We went to the PX where I had a cup of tea for five cents.  At that time, a cup of tea or coffee off-base was a dollar.  I understood why Karl and other servicemen stayed on base and saw very little of the surrounding German city.  After drinking a second cup, David and I got in the car and drove to the airport. 

Even at the time the whole incident seemed bizarre.  It had been over 30 years since the U.S. Air Force bombed German cities into rubble and our Army invaded the country.  In the long arc of history, that was a short time to turn enemies into friends.  Yet I was never afraid to take my young son any place in Germany.  David and I met wonderfully friendly people throughout the land. 

Remembering that gives me hope that the U.S. can emerge from this whole rotten situation in North Africa and the Middle East and become friends with Muslims throughout the World.  I wish I could live to see it.