East Berlin. August 13, 1961. As the sun peeks over the horizon on this beautiful Sunday morning, most East Berliners sleep on, but some rise for work; a few thousand of them are Grenzgänger, who cross town—quite legally—to work in the “other” Berlin, mostly as hotel and restaurant employees and in other service jobs made lucrative by the uneven exchange rate. Each day they make the trip to West Berlin—by foot, by bicycle, by S-Bahn and U-Bahn, showing their DDR identity cards and special work permits to the bored Grepos (Grenzpolizei, border police) stationed at the gates. But this morning the Grepos are not bored; today, as the would-be commuters discover as they reach streets and subway stations along the East Berlin border, no Grenzgänger will cross. “Die Grenze ist geschlossen!” people scream to each other in the early-morning stillness. “The border is closed!” No subway cars are running westward; Grepos guard the U-Bahn tunnels to prevent subway commuters from fleeing to the West on foot; Vopos turn back Grenzgänger at every checkpoint. The SED has apparently found a way to secure its future and halt the flight of DDR and skilled labor—by walling them in. WHO HAS THE YOUTH, HAS THE FUTURE! As the Grenzgänger stumble home and the DDR capital—“die Hauptstadt der DDR”—awakens to the nightmare, it is as if a tremendous howl—the anguished wail of cornered, trapped, desperate animals—has gone up throughout East Berlin— as it soon will over the DDR. For almost a decade, East Germany’s 600-mile border has been sealed by barbed wire and 12-foot electrified fencing; just inside the fence is a strip of land about 50 yards wide that is cleared of brush, dotted with mines, and covered by machine guns in high watchtowers. And so, most aspiring refugees make their way to East Berlin, where many of the streets and subway stations along the city border are guarded casually, if at all.
An Examination of Subway Sex Offense Modus Operandi: A Case of Seoul, South Korea
