How we almost started WWIII in 1989

I served my first enlistment in the US Army at Field Station West Berlin, 1988-1991. That’s a listening post on the highest point in the city, Teufelsberg, one of a pair of large hills made of war rubble. It’s still standing, more or less.

In the spring of 1989, Communism was tottering and preparing to either fall or cover Europe in blood. Nobody knew which way things would go, but everybody was tense.

Inside the Field Station, “the big dick on the hill”, there was a room called the Watch Office. That’s where all the messages between Berlin and the West were handled. Since the Field Station operated round-the-clock, we worked in shifts, plus a “day-ho” staff. The Watch Office usually had a staff of between four and six Soldiers, nominally lead by a Lieutenant, who was never there.

Once upon a time, a young, new Soldier showed up, and was assigned to work in the Watch Office. (No, it wasn’t me. I caused different trouble.) This young Soldier seemed intelligent and eager, so the shift leader, a Staff Sergeant, set him to copying out practice messages. These messages had different standard formats, and were printed out in a binder for reference. The young man diligently began copying out the message. When he would finish one, the NCO would review and critique it, then clear the screen and tell the Soldier to start working on the next one.

Lunchtime eventually rolled around. The young Soldier was busily copying a message, so the NCO and everybody else in the office went to eat. Major fuck-up number 1.

The young soldier eventually finished copying out the practice message, ensured it was correct, then cleared the screen and went to lunch. Leaving the Watch Office empty. Major fuck-up number 2.

This particular message stated that “the balloon had gone up”, the war was on, Group of Soviet Forces - Germany (GSFG) was advancing towards the West German border, and Berlin was under attack.

The “SEND” button was right next to the “CLEAR SCREEN” button. It also cleared the screen. Major fuck-up number 3.

About two minutes later, the phone rang. Nobody was there to answer it. Messages began arriving - and nobody sent receipt codes. And no new messages were being sent out. Field Station Berlin had sent a message stating that WWIII had begun, and then US Forces Berlin went off the air.

7th Army, AKA US Army Europe, activated their “no shit” plans and prepared to go to war. Every single unit activated, fueled up, and started drawing their war stocks of ammunition. 5th Corps requested permission to cross the 1KM DMZ. 7th Corps requested permission to counterattack into Czechoslovakia.

The Corps artillery units tried to pick up their nuclear rounds from the depots, and got into fist fights with the guards there, who had heard nothing at all about the war being on. These guards, you see, were on a completely separate communications system, and had a straight line back to the Pentagon. So they called, and were told that the situation was confused, but no nuclear release had been authorized.

Traffic everywhere was completely snarled up, as different units crossed each others’ paths trying to get to their ammunition stocks and planned positions. This eventually went to the good, as it revealed the flaws in the war plans.

And then everybody from the Watch Office returned form lunch and started transmitting messages again. After a few hours, things in the West calmed down. The Soviets, apparently, had no idea most of this ever happened.

Not too long later, the Staff Sergeant became a Private again.

This day was vividly recalled by everyone I have spoken to who was stationed in West Germany at the time, usually as “The day the First Sergeant looked scared.”

And that’s how, on the eve of peace, US Army Field Station Berlin nearly started World War III.