Ch8: The Refugee camp.

The refugee camp in Zirndorf used to be a pre-WW1 army barracks and it still had a military feel. Our arrival didn't raise any eyebrows; they were dealing with people like us all the time. We filled in some forms and were sent to the Czech section. Every nationality was assigned a couple of rooms, each with eight or ten beds. The women’s section was on different floor with smaller rooms.  Families stayed together in housekeeping quarters that used to be stables.

In our room were six other men. Two were old timers; they had been in the camp for four months and they gave us a lot of information and tips: “Tomorrow you will go to the administration. They register will you and check with Interpol to make sure you are not wanted by the police. Then you will get a card marked with the names of offices you have to visit for an interview. Don’t get fooled by their names. They are German, British, French and American spy agencies. You've heard of one, the CIA. They will chat with you to see if you have any important information about Czechoslovakia. If you do, they will ask you to come back. You will get twenty one marks for each day.” 
Twenty one marks! That was a fortune for us. “Don’t spill your beans the first day. The trick is to keep them interested. Don’t lie, just embellish your story. If you served in the army, you will probably come back for another day.” 

Then we got a warning “Some refugees in the camp could be Czech spies, so be careful and don’t talk too much about yourself. The Czech police already knows that you are in Zirndorf”
“You can eat in the camp. Meals are not bad but they are not free, you need a meal ticket. To get one you have to work a couple of hours in the camp, cleaning, mopping floors or picking up garbage.”

Our contact at the Radio Free Europe didn't really know how the refugee system worked and had scared us needlessly. The stay in the camp was temporary, usually three to five months. New refugees had to apply for refugee status. In the application, written in German, they explained why and how they were persecuted and reasons why they escaped from their country. A refugee commission then ruled whether or not the claimant was a genuine refugee. The majority of applicants were rejected and were given “Fremdenpass”, a temporary permit to stay in Germany. With the Fremdenpass in hand the refugee left the camp to look for a job and place to stay.

The next day we were sent into the administration building. There were already ten other refugees waiting. We filled in more forms, were registered and had a mug shot and finger-prints taken. It took almost a full day.  Then I was given dates for several interviews.                                                                                                   

The German and French spies were not interested in me. I talked longer to the British spy but they had a reputation of being stingy and I was done in one day. The CIA man was a Czech and he looked bored, listening day after day to a similar story. We talked about my army days and I mentioned that I worked on a SAM [Surface to Air Missile] base.

His ears perked up. “You have to come back tomorrow and tell me more.” The truth was that my army unit built houses for the SAM base’s officers. I had never been to the base and knew only roughly where it was. The only time I saw any missiles was in a movie theater showing the Russian May Day Parade. Still I managed to squeeze four more days from the CIA man. Sometimes we talked about topics that had nothing to do with the CIA, SAM missiles or Czechoslovakia. Was he gullible or did he know that I was pulling his leg? I was not sure.

There were about fifty people from Czechoslovakia in the camp, including four families. We were not a homogeneous group. Some were secretive and kept to themselves. Some had relatives in Canada or the United States that were sponsoring their emigration. They were waiting for their papers and looked down on everybody else. The largest group was made up of young people like me and Franta. Many came to Germany with a group of tourists or sports organization and managed to give them the slip. Our future was unclear, likely emigration.

Travelling into a capitalist country was very difficult and the Czech Government discouraged it. The applicant’s background was scrutinized, police vetted the application and only the “politically reliable” had any chance of going. If the applicant was married and had children, the spouse or a child had to stay behind as a hostage.  

Posing behind the Refugee camp. On the right side is the Vojak.

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One guy stood apart from everybody else. He had a nickname “Voják” or “A Soldier” in English. A couple weeks prior he had been a soldier in the Czech Army, serving with the border guards on the German border. He escaped by shooting another soldier who was on the guard duty with him. The Czech government accused him of being a cold blooded killer and demanded his extradition. In the German press he was glorified as a hero who shot his way to freedom. 

The dispute reached the highest levels of the Czech and German governments. Voják didn't look like a killer or a hero. He was a quiet guy, bewildered by the furor he had caused. One evening a couple of us went to a pub and Voják came along. After a few beers he told us what happened.

He was on a guard duty at a big ammunition depot. The door to one building had a big chain lock with a seal attached to it. “At home I could pick any lock” he told us, “I was alone and bored. I found a piece of stiff wire and played with the lock. It was easy to pick. I went inside the building to see what was there. It was full, loaded with boxes of ammunition. I closed the door, put the lock back and tried to slip the seal over it. It broke and I knew that I was in deep shit. The new guard coming on duty was supposed to check all the seals. I twisted the seal to make it look solid but somebody would notice that it was broken and report it. The military police would be called to investigate. They would have nailed me because my finger prints were all over the door. I was really scared that I would be court marshaled.”  

A few days later, Voják had guard duty on the watch tower overlooking the border and electrified fence. There are always two guards to keep an eye on each other. “My buddy was telling me that his girlfriend ditched him. He was very upset.”

“I would like to open the gate and skip to Germany and forget this flipping life here” he told me. “I could not believe my ears. This was my chance.” Voják continued I told him “OK, let’s go, let’s do it.”                                              

“The electrified fence had locked gate and the key was in the tower.  If you opened the gate you could walk into Germany. I took the key, climbed down the tower, went to the gate and unlocked it. Suddenly my buddy yelled at me to come back, he was just joking. I opened the gate. He yelled again ‘Come back or I will shoot!’”

“I don’t remember who fired first. When the firing stopped the magazine in my gun was empty. I dropped the gun and walked to Germany. Their police heard the shooting and came to pick me up.”  Vojak was neither a cold bloody killer nor a hero.  He just had bad luck. 

“What did you put on your application for the refugee commission?” I asked. “They gave me a lawyer and he did the application. I don’t remember what was in it but he assured me that I would get refugee status. I already applied for emigration to America. I will never be able to go home. It all happened because of the lock, such a trivial thing.”

I could sympathise with him, our journey also started as a trivia: 

Next chapter 9: What next?