Divided We Fall

United We Stand

By raihaikyo

For lis3sh and maermary as a birthday present!

I can't thank you all enough for reading my story and leave reviews!

In this part I'm using again real historical events. If you interested in the scene with the tanks and want to see the photos just type in 'Berlin Crisis 1961 Checkpoint Charlie Standoff' in a search engine of your choice.

I've also put also several Prussian values, which are displayed by Gilbert and Ludwig. Some of them include Determination (Zielstrebigkeit), Frankness (Redlichkeit), Toughness (Härte: in the meaning of 'be even harder on yourself than others') and Duty. At the same time the brothers both fail in Self-restraint and other values.

And just as a side note: TODAY is Frederick the Great's or Old Fritz's 306th birthday! Sadly, I can't be in Sans Soucci to leave a fresh potato on his grave.

PART VI – Division and Duty

Berlin Crisis Part II

27 October 1961, 18:14

The buildings in the capital might not have changed but the atmosphere had certainly taken a turn for the worst. Especially among the government personnel. Everyone was tense and you could taste it in the air like smelling the upcoming rainstorm on a dry summer's day.

That was the feeling Gilbert Beilschmidt had as he got off the plane from Moscow in the German airport of the GDR in Berlin Schönefeld. (1) He was accompanied by representatives of the Soviet Party who all headed to the airport building. All of them wore neatly tailored suits while he was dressed in a German Democratic Republic decorated military general's uniform and trench coat. The business suit had to go because he was on an official military focused assignment. Personally, he preferred wearing the uniform. It was not his old Prussian uniform, which he did miss, but this was the closest thing he could get his hands on. He started his existence as a nation born out of conflict and he was not going to let go or abandon his origins. There was yet another conflict here in Berlin, in his city and he would fulfill his role. As he descended the stairs three men immediately approached him each shaking his hand. The one in the middle introduced himself as Erich Mielke, vice-president of the secret intelligence service.

"Welcome back, Herr Beilschmidt. It has been awhile since you've been in our GDR. It is a pleasure to finally meet you in person."

Gilbert nodded and exchanged the usual formal pleasantries that went with meeting politicians. Once the man invited him to join them at the official seat of power of the GDR at the Palast der Republiek, he politely accepted the invitation for a later date. "I'm afraid I have direct orders from Moscow to head for Checkpoint Charlie in the Friedrichstrasse. The conflict there has priority, gentlemen. This cannot wait."

"Yes, I will have to agree with you." Mielke's face grew serious and he nodded. "Follow me. There is a car waiting for you."

As the designated car drove to its destination Gilbert had put on the military cap on his head and pulled the visor down almost to his eyes. Both of his hands were clasped together all the way to the checkpoint and he appeared to be deadly calm. Part of him was excited for some action and he glanced now and then out of the window hoping to reach his destination soon. His mind, however was on edge and a bit afraid of what was about to happen. The last time he had taken responsibility in a war was not that of a diplomatic military personnel standing in-between to uphold peaceful relations. In the previous war he had been fighting along his brother, not against him. Gilbert sighed in an attempt to stop the conflicting emotions and closed his eyes.

In that moment the car came to a halt. "Sir, this is as far as I can go." The driver said with a slightly worried voice.

Gilbert looked up wanting to ask what he meant. The question quickly died in his throat. The government car had been stopped by a barricade of a dozen soldiers guarding it. Two men left the group approaching their car. That was not the important fact. Gilbert was speechless at what he was seeing behind them. Several platoons of T55 tanks with no clear national markings were positioned in different formation in the Friedrichstrasse. The soldiers who approached wore only a black uniform with no visible identification. Gilbert frowned at these two peculiar observations. They tried to obscure their identity although it was clear these people were from the Soviet Union. The heavy Russian accent gave them away and the fact that only the Soviet Red Army could even have tanks in Eastern Germany. The red eyes surveyed the set-up quickly and spotted more small groups of soldiers placed here and there. Their car had stopped at the back of the whole platoon which was placed in a right flank formation. This meant a lot more tanks were up ahead exactly where the border was between East and West Berlin. There had to be at least 20 of them here if not more, he thought to himself. Fuck.

"Thanks for the drive." Gilbert commented getting out of the car and prepared his identification papers for the soldiers to see.

One of them skimmed through the passport and quickly performed a salute that was followed by the other soldier. "Major General* Beilschmidt, sir. Major General Schulenberg has already been informed of your arrival."

The man in charge at the front line was already waiting for him and Gilbert asked to be taken to him immediately.

"Yes, sir! This way," the soldier acknowledged and let the way to the front line and the only official crossing between East and West Berlin. It was former Prussia's first time seeing the checkpoint. If it had not been for the ominous looking tanks then it would be like any other street in a city: clean, well-kept and structured. The tank formation continued in a vee, wedge and ended with a left flank formation. A meter ahead was a small house that was used as the border post and a 50 meters ahead was a thick white line on the pavement. The street continued on behind the line, but was also blocked by U.S. soldiers and M-48 tanks. Gilbert cursed lightly under his breath at the whole sight. The checkpoint was right in the middle of the city surrounded by simple civilian building like apartments, a pharmacy and the Underground. Should it come to a standoff it would result in mass murder of civilians. He straightened his posture and approached the commanding officer of the border guards.

"Herr Beilschmidt, welcome. I've been briefed about your arrival by Colonel General Branginski," the officer immediately greeted him as soon as he spotted the unusual looking man.

"Yes, thank you." Gilbert shook his hand as a greeting.

"I have also been instructed to give you this letter."

Gilbert took it and looked the envelope over. It had the official address and stamp of the Soviet Union government. The envelope itself had also a seal. Gilbert stepped aside to read. Just as expected the envelope was laid in with a special foil to protect it from being damaged by liquids. Once the paper was unfolded it revealed a curvy elegant handwriting. What was more surprising was the content. The three sentences were written in Old Prussian, an extinct Baltic language since the 18th century. Gilbert himself had spoken it, but that was roughly two centuries ago. For Ivan to use that language really meant he was extremely cautious to the point of paranoia. However, in times like these being paranoid was a healthy thing.

Gil,

If everything went to plan, you've received this letter from a trusted comrade. As soon as you've read this, please call the following number: 004-739-011-4.

Ivan

Gilbert memorized the number before pocketing the letter in his coat. "I need to use a phone with a secure line." He told the so-called trusted comrade.

The man nodded showing him to the patrol station on the GDR side. Once the door was closed he called the number and only two beeps later he heard Ivan's voice.

"Hello GDR."

"USSR," He acknowledged.

"Good to hear from you. What's the situation?"

Ivan's voice sounded normal, but Gilbert had to frown a bit at the slightly tense and tired undertone.

"I've just arrived at the checkpoint. Tanks on both sides. The line is secure for now." He kept the reporting of the situation short and clear on purpose. This was not the time for detailed explanations and Ivan was probably still on the plane to Washington with company. Gilbert had no idea if they were in on the plan or could be trusted.

"Good. I should arrive in Washington in an hour. The orders are for now: hold the line. Should the U.S. cross it, your orders are to open fire. Defend with whatever means necessary."

Gilbert had to swallow at these kind of orders. "Russia. There are civilian buildings on both sides… The border had been drawn right in the heart of the city." He could easily see a simple bakery still bustling with normal people.

There was a short pause on the other end then followed by a resigned tone. "I am aware of that." Ivan had accepted this decision even though he himself did not agree.

The Prussian was also left with no choice. "I understand." This was bad, but he would rely the orders to the border patrol nonetheless. "Is the line secure?" he asked after a moment of silence.

"Yes."

"Ivan…are you alright?" He had not forgotten the injured arm and the pained look on his face. The Russian had been trying to hide the pain, but Gilbert had seen enough physical misery and experienced it countless times to realise when someone was suffering.

There was another pause. "I…have to be. I hope, it will all be resolved in a couple of hours. Schulenberg will remain here and inform you of any changes."

"Alright," Gilbert sighed accepting the answer of 'I have to be' for now. "I will wait for your update." He was about to hang up, but then heard: "Thanks…Gil." Grinning lightly at that he decided to sound a bit encouraging before ending the call. Both of them needed courage. "Anytime. Now go and get it done."

"Schulenberg!" He called the soldier into the station after the phone call. A few seconds later the man hurried towards him. "Yes, what can I do for you?"

"Your orders are to stay here and rely any incoming calls to me. In the meantime, I'm taking command. Debrief the platoons."

"Understood." The man saluted and Gilbert returned the gesture before going outside again when all the tank formations were radioed of the change. Just as he was about to approach the first tank that stood just a mere 50 meters away from the white line he stopped abruptly.

"Bruder…."

The word had been said in a calm tone, but to Gilbert it echoed in his ears like a scream. For a second he even forgot how to breathe. He did not turn to the source of the voice,just stared at the tank. What he had feared the most and what the national spirit of Russia warned him about had come to pass. His younger brother was at the front line calling to him.

"Scheisse," he whispered to himself curling his hands into fists. What was he supposed to do now? Ignore his own brother? Alfred, you son of bitch, he thought angrily. Ivan had been right after all. That damn American was using Ludwig for his, but Gilbert started to get angry at his brother as well for taking the bait. There was no way Ludwig would not have seen through it. He was too smart not to notice.

He choose to ignore his younger sibling and continued approaching the tank.

"If you don't look at me, I will have to step over the line." Ludwig said again.

Gilbert did stop at the threat. Had the situation been different, he would have laughed at that lame sounding threat, but this was not a joke in this situation. Sighing lightly, he finally looked up.

Unlike him, Ludwig wore a tailored business suit. It was too sleek and too thigh fitting. Wrong. The blond hair was combed back in its usual style. At least that remained the same, Gilbert concluded a bit relieved. His younger brother was wearing a suit because the BRD was not allowed to have an army of its own anymore. Unlike the GDR.

Gilbert wanted to at least greet him, but tightened his jaw instead. This was an unofficial meeting of two different states. He was the German Democratic Republic protecting the border and he was not going to converse with the enemy unless it was necessary.

"I just want to talk." Ludwig said trying to catch his older brother's eyes. This was a rare opportunity. He just did not know when they would have the chance again. It was obvious he was being used by the U.S. Even though, Alfred was not around for this he would find out anyway. What he did was dangerous and irresponsible, but what choice was there? His brother was in pain, most of it emotional. Ludwig could feel it through the scar over his own heart. It often itched and nothing could ease the discomfort. Sometimes it bled and got so hot Ludwig needed to cool it with ice. Right now it was searing hot and he ended up wearing just a suit despite the chilly autumn weather in October. "I know, we shouldn't, but I don't even know if I'll have another chan-"

"I am the national spirit of the GDR and you are nearing the border of USSR territory." The fair haired man declared suddenly. "You have not been given permission to approach this border. Any actions of crossing this very line will be interpreted as an act of open aggression."

The tall blond man on the other side of the line listened to every word. Each one of them cut just as intended, but it was the other's face he paid attention to the most. It was déjà vu all over again. They were standing on opposite sides, representing two different countries and political systems. This time, however, they could not reach out and talk like family. This time they were trying to resolve a dangerous situation that would have an impact on world scale.

"Do you understand, Bundesrepublik Deutschland?" The GDR asked for clarification. He wanted to talk in a different way, like brothers. There was no East and West. They both were Germany! This conversation was too formal and not to mention aggressive. The conflict between two world powers was just using them both as pawns. It was between the U.S. and USSR: Alfred and Ivan. It had nothing to do with them. Gilbert was aware he had taken the bait the U.S. had set out for him. With this he had also broken his promise to Russia. Ivan had said to hold the line and he was. At the same time he let himself talk to the 'enemy', which he should not have. Even if it was his own brother. "We are both idiots, Ludwig. Do you realise that? Alfred had sent you out here to provoke me and I took the bait. And you thought it would be a good opportunity to talk to me, right?"

"I know. But I wanted to see you." The blond bit his lip and curled his hands into fists.

"And start a war? If you want to talk there are official meetings to discuss things. I'm sure you know that, right?" Gilbert asked softly.

"I want to talk to you, Gilbert. Just. You." Ludwig clarified. His brother knew what he meant, but refused to acknowledge it. Probably because of the setting. For this reason Ludwig did not mention that his older half was in pain.

"Are you still so naïve? Even after all this time..." His younger brother looked so miserable and he wanted nothing else but pull him into a thigh hug. He suppressed the urge and steeled himself for what he was about to say next. "Do not cross the line, BRD. I am the German Democratic Republic and have direct orders of the USSR. I advise you to stay in the territory of the American jurisdiction, your leaders." Gilbert cursed both the U.S. and USSR for making him do this, but as the GDR he reveled in the excitement of hurting his enemy. "I am here as neither your friend nor your brother. If your master fires, we will respond in kind." Every word cut and he tightened his jaw seeing the anguish on Ludwig's face.

As his brother started talking as the GDR and the tone got harsher Ludwig understood what he was doing. The realization did not make it hurt any less. He should have listened to reason and avoided approaching him. Just standing at the front line should have been enough. What he had done by listening to his heart made it only worse.

"Do not appear in front of me like this again." Gilbert felt a painful jab where the scar over his heart was and something wet was trickling down his chest to his stomach.

"Wait, Gilbert!" Ludwig called after him once his brother deemed the interaction to be over.

The other man ignored the call of his name and continued on walking. Gilbert looked down on the pavement. God he wanted to turn around, but this was not the place to react to his personal name.

He knew calling that name was inappropriate in this situation, but Ludwig wanted him to turn around. "Bruder!" he tried again. Calling on their family relation was even more out of place. Still, he needed to try. There were just too many biting words from his older brother and he was too dazed by this to react in a proper way. They had been forced to be on different sides and he understood that. Ludwig was also aware of being bait and a pawn in this insane game, but he finally had the chance of seeing his brother after three months. They could not or rather he would not end this opportunity with spiteful words not knowing if they would even meet each other again after this to rectify anything.

Gilbert's body stopped at that. Ignoring his name was within his power, but Ludwig called on their kinship. He was calling on a bond that had existed for centuries. The one which could not be broken unless one of them died. It was impossible to ignore this. He looked ahead at the Friedrichstraße and the row of tanks extending to the end of the street and probably beyond. In Berlin the Americans with their 30 tanks were outnumbered. The USSR had more than 70 ready to act. He hoped nothing would happen and both sides would retreat. Instead of turning around, Gilbert squeezed his eyes tightly shut for a second and then glanced back at his younger brother. "I'm…not your brother anymore," he declared in a loud voice and turned around walking toward the tanks of the USSR.

Ludwig was left behind standing alone in front of the white border line. He was just staring at his brother's retreating back as the final words slowly started to sink in.

I'm not your brother anymore.

In this setting you are not, he thought to himself bitterly and curled his hands into fists. "Here, as the GDR…you are my enemy." Ludwig was unsure if he was supposed to hate the Allies or not. If it concerned Russia, then he was actually thankful. Ivan Braginski had saved Gilbert by making him into a nation again and agreed to the final order of building the Wall to keep the population in the land. Had it not been done, his brother would have ceased to exist. As for America: he hated him. That guy acted as the hero of the world ridiculing other nations and provoking his former ally into another war. Alfred's bosses were holding the whole of Europe on a leash by handing out billions of loans to rebuild. That money had been earned in the last war and was blood money, but now it was made to look as if it were some kind of a holy grail. Alfred himself was an arrogant prick, who had absolutely no interest in respecting other nations' cultures, although he himself was in essence a European colony.

Ludwig had made up his mind to pay for what the former leader of his country did. National spirits had to, whatever they personally wanted to or not, but he was not going to change or forget about his origins.

"Forgive me…" The Prussian whispered under his breath curling his hands into fists until nails cut into his own flesh. He also thanked his common sense to wear the standard military peaked cap. It shielded his eyes from the world and hid the fact that he had tears in his eyes. He had officially renounced his title as the kingdom of Prussia, later as a Republic and now it was his own brother.

Gilbert thought he did not hear his last words, but Ludwig did and shook his head lightly watching him walk way stiffly. "There is nothing to forgive..." The scar over his heart was throbbing even more. He wondered what his older sibling felt. It was probably worse than his.

Reaching a corner of the first side street Gilbert immediately took it. "I'm so sorry! I'm sorry!" he whispered punching the wall a couple of times. He did not want to whisper! What he really wanted to do was scream until his lungs would have no breath left. Just now, he had in the presence of soldiers and observers from both sides renounced his only family member he had cared for the most. There was no other choice than do just that. Ludwig would have stepped over the line had Gilbert not talked. He was aware his baby brother would take risks if it was for him. Gilbert loved him for his guts, but that move would lead to war. That was something he vowed would never happen again. Not on his watch and not while he was still alive. "I'm….so very sorry, West," he said again leaning his forehead against the red brick. The GDR officials needed to see his determination that he was loyal to their system. If not they would have started to take measures and possibly provoke the Americans.

Don't cry. Just…don't, he thought to himself seeing the man in uniform disappear into a side street. The soldiers on the East side looked even tenser with their commander temporarily indisposed. Ludwig took a step back to the West of Berlin eyes still locked on the side street. It could not go on like this. Being on a constant alert, hanging in by a threat and hope they were not on a brink of war. He was prepared to sacrifice a lot of things and it was already happening by being a prisoner to the whims of the U.S. However, he would never fight against his own brother. No matter what. In the worst case scenario he much preferred to end his own existence. But before he actually would consider that option Ludwig started thinking how he could unite the two parts again. It needed to be done without the involvement of the U.S or any other country that was friendly with them. If it had been up to them Germany and its population should have been wiped off the map. He really needed to be grateful to have Russia on the council whose decision had been to let the country exist.

"I'll get you back," he whispered and took his place on the side walk next to the bustling bakery. Gilbert had to return at some point and he would not leave without seeing him one last time.

The man in question remained leaning against the wall for a couple of more minutes and let the tears fall freely. The wound on his chest was burning by now and it was difficult to take deep breaths. "Shit…" he growled seeing the uniform under the coat was stained with fresh blood. This was really not the time to bleed in a place full of military. Quickly he buttoned up the leather coat again making sure nothing could be seen what was underneath. Lowering his cap again he dried his face with a sleeve and went to the main street again. He could have a mental breakdown later. There was too much at stake now and he needed to be in command. There was at least one promise he could keep to himself and to Ivan. The border would not be crossed and a war would not break out.

The soldiers, who had been standing close to the line and had witnessed the exchange with his brother, nodded in acknowledgement to their newly appointed commander. As Gilbert took up his post at the front line again he glanced towards West Berlin. Ludwig was still there standing by the bakery with a paper bag in his hand now and watching his every move. Gilbert quickly looked away as the other caught his eye for a moment.

The grip on the paper bag tightened when Ludwig noticed the red-rimmed eyes hiding under the military cap. Gilbert had quickly turned away, but not fast enough. You did cry…, he thought sadly closing his eyes for a second to commit this moment to memory. Ludwig then nodded his head lightly towards Gilbert and made up his mind to find people who were willing to work on the reunification of Germany no matter how long it would take.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Another chapter that was hard to write and it is still not over!

Thanks again for reading! Let me know what you think. ^_^

See you all in Part VII – Never Back Down - Berlin Crisis III

Additional Information:

(1) Berlin Schönefeld Airport (German: Flughaven Berlin-Schönefeld) was the only major civil airport in Berlin during the GDR time.

*General Major (German: Generalmajor) was the highest rank the border troops could attain in the GDR .

* Bruder - brother

* Scheisse – shit

Reviews:

The 'Guest from Finland': Thank you so much for reading and telling me why you like my story. I love to hear what my readers like and what I might improve. I try to use as much historical facts as possible and there are also parts I simply have to invent to keep the flow of the story going. But I'm honestly very happy to hear you find the story realistic. That is actually my aim: to do all the characters justice historically (their good and bad sides), not fall into the stereotype fanfiction trap (evil Russia / America the hero/etc.) and keep it interesting at the same time.