Normally, my husband and I would have taken the S-Bahn to Schlachtensee, as there is a station within 200 meters of our apartment and the train stops right above the lake, but we’re not using public transport at the moment, especially not with a fourth (!!!!) surge upon us. So we took the car and headed out of Schöneberg, into Willmersdorf, and then took Clayalle into Zehlendorf, where the lake is.
The U.S. Consulate, recently refurbished and minus the ugly concrete bollards out front, and the Alliierten Museum are sited in Clayalle, which is named after General Lucius D. Clay. The Consulate is where U.S. citizens go for passport renewals among other things, and the Alliierten (Allies) Museum is where you go if you want to see one of the Rosinenbomber (below), which is what the Germans called the planes (raisin or candy bombers) used in the Berlin Airlift.
The post-WWII military history of General Lucius D. Clay is the story of the Berlin Airlift. Since reading his obituary, my drives along Clayalle have never been the same. Talk about a lift! Here is an excerpt, but the full obituary is worth reading (italics added for emphasis):
Gen. Clay, who died at his home at Chatham, Mass., had been the American proconsul, the man on the spot, in the East-West confrontation over Germany that was dramatized by the Berlin Airlift. He was assigned there from the end of the war in 1945 until 1949, first as deputy military governor and then as governor of the U.S. zone of occupation.
Gen. Clay ordered the Berlin Airlift into operation in 1948. He was a key supporter of the West German "economic miracle," whose first stirrings generated the crisis of which the Airlift was a part. He emerged from these services as a hero both to the Americans and the Germans, who so recently had been enemies.
The
events with which his name is most closely associated came to a climax with the
Russian blockade of the western sectors of Berlin on June 24, 1948. All land
communications with the city, which was entirely surrounded by
Soviet-controlled territory, were blocked. Electricity was cut off. There was on hand for the two million
inhabitants of what was shortly to become West Berlin no more than a 36-day
supply of food and a 45-day supply of coal. [The situation was so desperate at the end of the war, that the trees in the Tiergarten were cut down for firewood.]
The Americans responded by provisioning the beleaguered city by air. The airlift was started on orders from Gen. Clay, who was commander of U.S. forces in Germany as well as military governor in Germany, on the day the blockade began. The effort was joined by the British and later by the French. The allies also set up a counter-blockade prohibiting the movement of goods from the West into the Soviet zone of Germany.
When the airlift reached full operation in the following months, a plane landed or took off from Templehof Airport in West Berlin [now decommissioned and currently repurposed as a mass vaccination center] every 90 seconds. Electronic equipment permitted operations to continue in foul weather and fair, night and day. By December 1948 the rate of supply had risen from 500 tons a day in June to 4,500 tons, or 500 tons a day more than the estimated minimum requirements. By May 1949, 8,000 tons were being delivered every day. The cargoes included coal and even a power plant, which was flown in piecemeal and assembled in West Berlin.
The Airlift thus ensured the survival of the city until, as the result of diplomatic negotiations, the blockade was lifted on May 23, 1949. The crisis having ended, Gen. Clay retired from the Army and began a successful career in business.
That’s the American “Can Do” attitude President Biden taps into when he says there is nothing, nothing we can’t do when we do it together.
So that’s one kind of airlift. But we were on our way to Schlachtensee for another, a physical one, borne on the breezes of warm spring air. It did not disappoint. Here are some photos of what we saw around the lake.
Being the first nice day of the year, it was pretty crowded and we had to park in lot we don’t normally use. Getting out of the car, I saw a small wood mouse scrambling over a log toward a pile of apples someone had provisioned. Perhaps a Rosinenbomber special delivery for Ms. Mouse?
As we entered the woods, I saw a lone clump of daffodils. They propagate via bulbs, so how the heck did this end up here?
Adding to the mystery of the woods was a still-standing, partly charred tree which appeared to have been struck by lightning. Someone(s) had completely covered the bared trunk with writing—Spanish, I think—treating two knots from whence branches had once protruded as eyes and adding a heart-shaped mouth.
From this angle you can see that the charred bark looks like a cascade of dark hair.
This isn’t the only “land art” to be found at Schlachtensee. A few years ago someone erected a copy of an 1895 landscape painting by Walter Leistikow called Abendstimmung am Schlachtensee (Evening Mood at Schlachtensee) (see the title photo for the original). The copy (below) stands in a protective Plexiglass stand at the precise location where Leistikow painted his twilight scene. I am happy to report that the copy has not been marred by graffiti.
Another example of land art was this teepee built from trees that had been felled by winter storms or the invisible park gardeners who must straighten up the woodland paths in the middle of the night, because you never see them, just evidence of their labors.
Schlachtensee is part of Berlin’s water management system. According to Wiki, the lake:
emerged some 15,000 years ago from the ice age as a glacial trough. With a surface area of around 42.1 hectares (104 acres), a circumference of 5.5 kilometres (3.4 mi) and a maximum depth of 8.5 metres (28 ft), it is one of the larger lakes in Berlin. The lake is popularly used for walking and for swimming, due to the good quality of the water.
Proof of the excellent water quality, here are some enthusiasts on paddle boats,
swimming (brrrrrr!),
and sharing blankets and conversation on the shore.
The lake is home to many types of waterfowl like this adorable Mandarin Duck (not originally thought to be native to Berlin, but I’ve seen mating pairs, so native now!),
and this classic mallard.
When we first walked down to the lake, I made a mental note of where our path cut into the shore, right by this beer tree, a new varietal for me. Given that it was now the cocktail hour, it seemed like a prophetic trail blaze.
Finished circumnavigating the lake, we walked back up the hill, away from the shimmering water, through the woods newly smudged with green, and back to the car, having experienced our very own Berlin air lift.
Keep it real! And wear your damn mask!
Marilyn
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