Ghostwriting Example

Copyright material Do not duplicate or distribute.

Donald L. Hughes This is an example of my writing and editing skills. Part 1 is a portion of the 11 hours of interviews I used to ghost-write the entire biography. Part 2, below, shows how I transformed this portion of the interview, and how it appeared as a chapter in the published book. Part 1 – Raw Interview Don-Tell me your most dramatic ministry experience. Jeff-In the early days of going behind the Iron Curtain I was caught once. This particular experience was pretty scary. It was probably the most dramatic ministry experience I have had. Also in Kosovo things have been very profound there as well. The year was 1982, in January. I was taking books and Bibles for the new year to pastors in East Germany. It was cold, gray, rainy, kind of snowy a little. One of those bleak Berlin winter days that just goes on and on and on. I was driving a van and had that van loaded up. I was just going in overnight. Just for one night. I was alone. I was going from West Berlin to East Germany, not to East Berlin. There was another border crossing to get into the country in East Germany. Don- so this wasn’t check-point Charlie? Jeff- This particular experience was not check-point Charlie. I guess you want the full story. Don- I want as much detail as possible. Jeff – I don’t know how much to tell about the hiding places that we used. Don- Oh, tell me all about it. Jeff – I was driving a fire engine red Toyota van. It was only sold in Europe. In the van we had a tank, it looks like a large propane tank, that would fit about two people. So this was like a cargo van. The back was empty, just a shell. This tank was bolted down in the bed of the van. It went from the back door of the van to the driver’s seat. You could take the end of it off, again that tank was so big that you could fit about two people inside. There was a little tank, like a liter canister, on the inside of that big tank. This little canister had propane in it. It was attached to the inside. On the outside of the tank, there was meter, or a gauge, and you could see how

much propane was left. It appeared that the entire tank was full of propane, where the truth was only that little canister on the inside was. The van would run on propane as well. That natural gas. So, it was plumbed to run either on benzine, gasoline, or natural gas. What we would do is remove the end of that tank. It was quite heavy. It probably weighed about 50-60 lbs. We would load at the apartment the tank full of books and Bibles. Whatever the request was from the pastors I was going to visit. I got it all loaded up it and put the end of that tank on there, and ratcheted that closed. I was only going overnight and didn’t need much clothing, so I had a little suitcase in the back with a blanket in it and just a change of clothes. I came to the border about 4:00 in the afternoon and the border guard began to do his search. He looked at my paperwork, passport, visa, and so forth. He said “Where are you going?” I said I was going to Mogdoberg. “What are you doing there?” “Well I ….(I don’t remember what I said. I’ll have to remember that). I said I am just going to visit and we might like to go there on vacation in the future. Mogdoberg was an industrial city in East Germany maybe the equivalent of say a Barstow, California. It’s not really a vacation destination, neither was Mogdoberg. He began to ask questions and then he saw that tank in the back of the van and he was very curious about it, wondering why it was there. He began to ask questions and he hit it with a crowbar and called some guards, a couple of other guards over to have a look at it, to consult with them and see what they thought. One guard didn’t think anything about it. Said “Oh, just leave it.” So he asked me to show him the gauge and how it works. I opened the gauge a little bit, open the valve, and a little propane came out. You could smell it. He said Okay. He said, “Why do you have this suitcase and this blanket in it?” I said, “Well, it’s just who was back here.” I needed a suitcase because to carry the Bibles, to unload and then carry them to the pastor’s home. He was very suspicious but eventually let me go. So, I drove in and got my hotel. Then I went out that night. Left the hotel around 9:00 at night and found the Elk River. This is actually the place where the American troops had been told to wait, World War II. We didn’t take Berlin, the capital, but we let the Russians come in and take the capital at the end of WWII in Germany and this is the location there at the Elk River. So I was out there and that night, parked by the side of the river in the sand and ratcheted open that tank and began to unload. It was pitch black, I had a flashlight with me. It was quite cold out there. I was all by myself, and I began unloading. That’s the nervous time. You are exposed. All the books are opened. This was tank opened and you can’t get it shut quickly, if there is an emergency, if the police come, another car comes, you don’t want to be seen out there by yourself, 9:00, 10:00 at night next to this river where nobody goes. It wasn’t a camping spot or anything. I just followed some dirt road that went off into the countryside and that was next to the river. I got it unloaded and did my best to get that heavy tank back on, the cap back on the end of the tank. Evidently I didn’t get it hooked on there quite correctly. I closed it. I thought everything was okay. I had books opened so I covered them with a blanket, I filled up the one suitcase. It weighed about 80 lbs full of books, now 80 lbs is very heavy. I drove to the pastor’s home and he wasn’t home. I parked about a mile and a half away and walked. He wasn’t home so I went to next pastor. He was home. He lived on the 5th floor. I was about a half a mile or so from his house and I had six big suitcases full of books and Bibles for him and the other pastors. I started making that trek back and forth with that heavy suitcase, sweating like a dog, you’re just a courier at that point. You are doing this for the Lord, and for the church, and for the believers,

so they can reach their country, reach their neighbors. You’re equipping them. These are tools they did not have, Bibles and books. I made that delivery that night. Got done about midnight, 12:30 am. We prayed. They fed me a little bit. I got back to the hotel after 1:00-1:30 in the morning feeling good. I made the delivery. The next morning, I got in the van and drove back to the border, getting there about noontime. Now, I am back on the same border. It is noontime the next day. I pull up and they waved me on to a spot. A guard comes out to begin the search. Who was it, but the exact same guy that I had seen the day before. He was supposed to have been off duty. But, he was still there. His replacement hadn’t arrived yet. So I pulled up and he says, “I remember you from yesterday.” I said, “Yeah.” He said, “Where did you go again? Wasn’t it Mogdoberg?” I said, “Yes.” He said, “How did you like it?” I said, “Oh, it was fine.” He said, “This blanket isn’t in this suitcase.” I said, “No. It’s not.” He says, “Why not? It was yesterday?” I said, “Oh. It was cold and I pulled it out.” He says, “Oh. Well, you came back so soon. You didn’t have a good time?” And he just began asking me curious questions. Now, my heart is beating fast, you know. Every time you cross the border you always pray, and pull over and pray before crossing the border, asking God to blind their eyes and confound their understanding. I had done that. Being by yourself sometimes it is difficult. You don’t have anyone to talk to or share with. He began asking questions and called a couple of his buddies over. He said, “This tank is not original equipment. This tank is not supposed to be here. There is something wrong with this tank and I want to find out what it is. What is happening with this tank.” They began to take crowbars and tried to pull that tank up out of the back of the van to unscrew the bolts that were bolting it in. He was in the back of the van and he gave it a big kick with his black boot. When he did, the end cap of that tank unlatched. It would latch on and it unlatched. It moved. When he saw that move and heard it unlatch, he started yelling for more guards to come. He took me and pushed me up against the van. He said, “Okay, what’s in that tank? What’s wrong with that tank? That’s not original equipment.” I said, “I don’t what you are talking about.” The other guards came over and they began kicking it and it began to nudge off a little bit. It was just hanging off now. It was obvious that this tank was coming open, that the end cap was falling off, just being nudged off. He took my arm and said, “Get in the back of the van!” So I was there on my knees there next to the back of the van. He said, “Take that cap and pull it off.” It was just kind of hanging there so I picked it up and set it down. Don- Could I ask you to stop for a moment? Because you are speaking in German here. Right? With this guard? Jeff – Yes. Don- Say in German, “Pull the cap off.” Whatever he said, can you say it in German? Jeff – Yeah. I don’t know if he said Z or not. Nama zeedoss has su ralf. Take it off. Don – When that is typed it will be typed in German for me. Jeff – Yeah. Okay. By this time he had sounded an alarm. Others were coming, were running over. When I pulled that off and set it down there on the back of the van, there were two books inside. I died. Oh, no!

So they pulled me out of the van and again had me, like a criminal, leaning up against the van, spread eagle, my legs apart, my hands apart and they began to frisk me, and search me. Then, he put my hands behind my back and held them together. Another guard came and they escorted me into a little interrogation room. They said, “Wait here.” Well, an hour went by and I was waiting in that room and they had a guard with me in that room and just watching me the whole time. I didn’t have anywhere to sit so I was just standing. My knees were knocking uncontrollably. You know, you have seen that on TV or heard stories about that, I never really understood how that happens. But I was leaning against the heater, the radiator type of heater, heating element there, leaning against that and trying to look cool and nonchalant. My knees were knocking, shaking uncontrollably, and I had to hold them to stop them. I realized that I was out of control here, not knowing what was going to happen. After an hour, an hour and a half, they took me to another room. Two guards walked in and sat down. One guard motioned to me to sit. He said in German “Mr. Thompson, we have to fill out a protocol, you’re a criminal in the East German Republic, and we need you to sign some paperwork.” So he began to giving me some paperwork in German to sign. I refused. He said, “Well, you will sign.” He began questioning me. As he did, he began to question me in German. I spoke to him in German and said, “I am an American. My mother tongue is English. I have an American passport. I am not going to answer you in German. You must ask me in German. I am not going to speak German to you. I am done speaking to you.” He pounded on the table and looked at me and yelled. He said, “I know you speak German. You will answer me in German.” I was just silent. I didn’t say anything.

He starts to cuss under his breadth. He gets on the phone. He says, “Get me a translator in here right away.” So, I am waiting there and he is made. An officer walks in. He is not an accomplished translator, but he knows some English. He doesn’t know why he is being called in. He comes in and they talk, and he says okay. So the interrogator begins. He says, “Mr. Thompson, why have you come to the East German Republic?” I understood exactly what he said. So I turned to the translator and waited for him to translate. The interrogator yelled his questions, the translator wasn’t mad and he didn’t yell. He looked at me and he would say, “Well”, he would search for the right words because his English wasn’t that great. “Um, Mr. Thompson, he wants to know why you visited our East German Republic.” This time it took him to translate, gave me time to think about what I was going to answer. So, I would say, “Tell him that I think it is a beautiful country.” He said, “He thinks it is a beautiful country.” The interrogator would get mad again. So that’s how it began.

We went for about 31/2 hours and he would yell his questions and the translator would translate. I would give answers. He finally said, “Mr. Thompson, are you a Christian?” I said, “Yes.” He says, “Do you read the Bible?” I said, “Yes.” He said, “Do you lie?” I said, “No.” He said, “What does the Bible say about lying?” I said, “The Bible says you are not supposed to lie.” He says, “So, tell me, why are you lying to me? Christians aren’t supposed to lie. Why are you lying to me?” “I don’t know what you are talking about.” Then he said, “You do know what I am talking about.” Well, they had found an address in my sock. This pastor from the night before had said I am going to be visiting East Berlin in a few weeks and contact me when I am there. In my sock was the address of the place where he was going to stay. It was a hostel, kind of a church run hostel, like a youth hostel kind of place, in East Berlin. When they found the address I did not know what the piece of paper was. I blanked. I was nervous. I was

stripped searched with about four guards there. They took me in this room and removed all of my clothes and searched every place possible for anything they could find and that is when they found the note. He had asked me about the note during the interrogation and I couldn’t remember. So I said “Well that note is just an address of a friend of mine from West Berlin.” They said, “Why was it in your sock?” I said, “Well, I just put it there. I forgot.”

He kept coming back to that address and that note. I heard him say under his breadth, in German, to the translator, he said in German, “I know he is lying about this address because I have had lunch there before.” He was East German Intelligence and they would spy on the Christians. This was a church run hostel and he had been there, spying and listening to conversations, to see who goes to the place. When I heard him say that to the translator in German, it reminded me of what was written on the piece of paper. That this was an address of a hostel and that he had been there before.

I said, “You’re right. I was lying about that address. That note you found in my sock was the address of a hostel in East Berlin.” He said, “Well, why did you lie about it?” I said, “I couldn’t remember what it was.” He said, “Why did you have it in your sock?” I said, “Because I planned on going there in the future.” He said, “Why?” I said, “Because I am a Christian.” I said, “Christians are from all over the world. There are Christians in every country of the world. Christianity isn’t just some thing, small and some strange friend’s religion.” I said, “I don’t know if you believe in Christianity or not, but I look for every opportunity to meet with Christians wherever I go. I thought perhaps I could meet with Christians in this country.” He said, “Where did you get this address?” I said, “From a friend.” He said, “Where does this friend live?” I said, “Well, I can’t say.” It just went on and on and on like that. Don – For how long again? Jeff – The first round of interrogation was 3-1/2 hours. Then I signed a protocol that said I had broken the law, East German law, that I had brought in illegal contraband, which were Bibles and books and that I wouldn’t do this again. I signed this protocol. Don – You couldn’t talk them into the idea that you were exporting those books, could you? Jeff – Well, about two hours into the interrogation when they weren’t getting very far, he said, “Mr. Thompson”, he said, “we know that you are smuggling cocaine. He says you are going to get eight years in prison for cocaine smuggling. So there is no reason to hide your information any longer. You can tell us exactly who you visited.” He says, “We are going to find out.” He says, “So please tell us where you were and who you had contact with last night.” At that point, I thought to myself, well if they wanted to plant a little bag of cocaine in that tank or in that vehicle, they are going to whether I say yes or no, whether I answer the question or not, it doesn’t matter. If they want to keep me they will. If they don’t want to keep me they won’t. And I couldn’t imagine why they would want to keep me. But, if there was some greater political issue, then maybe they would want to keep me. Who knows? But our commitment was always to protect the identity of the believers, of the pastors, and those we were going to visit. That’s the responsibility you are taking on yourself in going. A second time, about an hour later, he threatened me with the cocaine thing again. But again, I knew my life was in the Lord’s hands and it didn’t matter what he said. It was really in the Lord’s hands.

They wanted to run down minute by minute when I left the border the day before, where I went, they called the hotel to find out when I had left, and they gave them a time about 9:00 that night when I had left the hotel. They said to themselves, that’s when he was out working and the hotel knew when I got up for breakfast and they knew when I had checked out. They knew just about everything. They input this together and finally they came to a set of questions about how many times I had been to East Berlin or East Germany. They didn’t call it East Berlin. They called it the Captial, East German Capital. A very important distinction for them. They didn’t look at East Germany as just being the eastern sector or the Russian sector. They looked at it as just the country of the German Democratic Republic. The GDR, the official term. The German Democratic Republic. “How many times have you been to the Capital of the GDR?” I said, “Well, I don’t know.” “Well, approximately, how many times have you been here?” “Well, really, I don’t know.” “Well, just give us a number. How many times have you been here? How many times have you been here in the last week?” “Oh, I don’t think I was there in the last week.” “How many times have you been here in the last year? How many times have you been to our Capital?” Jeff-“It’s really hard for me to say. I can’t give you an exact number.” Them-“We don’t want an exact number. How many times have you been here approximately?” I said, “Oh, maybe five times.” They take their notes, write it all down. Them-“Are you sure only five times?” Jeff-“Well, you know, about five times perhaps.” They take their notes and finally they get finished with the interrogation. They said, “Mr. Thompson, you’ve signed the protocol. You have promised not to do this again. You have admitted to your crime of bringing in propaganda, so we are going to give you your vehicle back. As long as you don’t do this again and pay the fine, everything will be okay.” He says, “So, let’s go.” They take me out of the room. By this time it is around, about 5:00, its grown dark. They take me to the van where it has been parked in the garage this whole time. They have had it up on a platform and have gotten underneath it and all around, checked everything out. They put me in the van and opened the doors to the garage and said “Just pull out and go park over there and someone will bring you your passport.” Jeff-“Okay.” So I pull out and I sit there for about an hour, until about 6:00 or so. It is quite cold, it is snowing, I am shivering because I am nervous. I am thinking “Oh, Lord. Thank you I am really getting off pretty easily here.” Things are looking up. I am about to …I can see the border. I can see the lights. I can see the guard towers. The guards walking back and forth with their machine guns. Just on the other side, I was yards from the other side. So close. I thought about how East Germans felt so were separated from their family overnight by a wall, by barbed wire, by guards, and machine guns. They lived with that every day, of just a few yards over there, there’s freedom. They could see freedom, see the sky of freedom every single day. Here I was just for few hours, longing for it. A guard walks out of the office building, after about an hour of me sitting out there. He walks over to the van. It’s again lightly snowing. I rolled the window down. It’s quite windy. He is all bundled up. He has my passport in his hands. He says, “Now, Mr. Thompson, you are not going to do this again are you?” I said, “No, I am not.” He said, “Okay, well, be sure to drive careful and here is your passport.” Right when he puts in the window and I go to get it, another guard comes out of the building and says, “Halt, Halt!” He pulls the passport back and says, “Oh, I am sorry, I’ll be right back. Just a moment.” He starts walking away and I roll the window up. I had been letting down, relaxing a little bit, thinking this is it, this is over now, I can get back home. He walks in the building and I am still thinking, Okay, he’ll be back in just a minute. Then, within a few

minutes, I see the doors, the double doors of the garage, open. The lights are still on in there. The guard walks out and he is waving at me. Waving me back into the garage. I drive the van back into that garage. They slammed the doors behind me. They started yelling, “Get out of the car! Get out of the car!” I get out and he said, “Get in there! Get in the room, the interrogation room!” They accompanied me into the interrogation room. I sit down. It is empty. No one is there. I am wondering what is happening now, a little disillusioned and thinking I was going to get to go home.

Then two men in plain clothes walk in. One is an excellent????? translator, and one is the guy in charge. They are doing a tag team, they are about to begin a tag team approach. The good guy, bad guy approach. They sit down and then they start the tape recorder. They say, “Mr. Thompson, you are a liar aren’t you?” Now I am bewildered. I don’t know what to say, so I don’t say anything.

The second round of interrogation (I’ll try to keep it on one tape). They begin asking me the same questions that the previous team had asked me. Who are your parents? Where does your father work? What does your mother do? What do they earn? What is their salary? How many brothers and sisters do you have? How long have you been in Berlin? Where do you live exactly? What is your address? What is your bank account? Who are you working for? What is your wife’s name? What are your kids’ names? Why are you here and for how long? Who does this vehicle belong to? Where did you get it? Where did you buy it? How long have you had it? Why are you driving it?

Then, “What did you say your father’s name was?” “Where was he born?” “How about your mother?” “But, what did you say about your sisters?” “Your sister wasn’t born there, was she?” “Well, where was your father born?” You are into hour seven by this time. You spent a whole day gone by and your head is spinning. Just these rapid fire questions.

Finally, he says, “How many times have you been to our country, our Capital?” I said, “Well, I am sure it is in your protocol. They must have typed up protocol from the previous time, session.” He says, “Well, just tell me. How many times have you been to our country?” I said, “I don’t know exactly.” “He says, “Well just approximately.” We do the same thing over again. I said, “I don’t know. Five times or so.” He says, “Oh, you mean five times last week, don’t you?” He pulled out a handwritten list, they didn’t have computers yet back then, he pulled out a handwritten legal note pad list of three pages of every date that I had visited East Berlin and East Germany on one day visas or otherwise in the last year and a half. I had been there about 60 times. He says, “Now, who do you work for?” Meaning what spy organization has hired you, you know. We continue on to the next round of questioning. I share my faith with him. I tell them that I am a Christian and that I wasn’t a missionary but I was a Christian there on business and this was a company car. Which is true. What I found is that if you try to tell the truth as much as possible until it would compromise the believers in East Germany. You can remember the truth. If you tell a lie, you have to remember that lie seven or eight hours later. We as Christians don’t want to tell a lie, but we are willing to put those Bibles in the hiding place. That is already lying to somebody, but we are obeying a higher authority. When it comes time. So I told the truth as much as I possibly could by sticking by the truth it really helped a lot.

The end of this interrogation was another 3-1/2 hours and by this time it was around 9:30 at night, 9 or 10, maybe 10. I was really getting tired. The one guy was mad, the other guy was nice. He would yell a question, then the nice guy would say to him in German, “Well don’t say it like that. Don’t act like that.” He would say to me English, “Listen, we are not really mad at

you, but just tell us what, who you are visiting because you are not going to get out of here, you’re not going anywhere, make it easier on yourself. You’ll get a lighter sentence.” Kind of that nice approach and trying to reason with logic. Then the next guy would yell a question and he would say, he would yell, the guy that was nice to me would yell at me. It went back and forth like this. So finally about 10:00 I said, “You know what, I have been here since 12:00 noon and you guys haven’t given me anything to drink or eat. I am not going to talk to you anymore until you give me something to eat and drink. I am done talking to you.”

The interrogator said, “Oh, we are so sorry. We’ll get right on that.” They brought me a really terrible hot dog and a cup of coffee. East German coffee. They fed me. That was the end. They felt like they had gotten everything they could. They let me go. I got in the van. Now, I am wondering if they are going to pull the same kind of trick again. I came to realize that it was a trick. Don – Well, I was going to ask you. That was a trick? Jeff – Yes it was. Don- It was designed to get you cold, and relaxed, not particularly but they had to call those two plain clothesmen in from some different area or anything. Jeff – Well they wanted to bring in the pros.

19

It was a cold, rainy day in January, 1982. My assignmentwas to take a van loaded with Christian books and Bibles onan overnight trip from West Berlin into East Germany. I wastraveling alone.

Our team had a yellow Toyota van that had been modi-fied to run on gasoline or propane, and we had installed alarge cylindrical tank in the back. It looked like any propanetank that commercial vehicles used in those days, but it wasspecially rigged to conceal Bibles and Christian books.

The tank looked normal from the outside, but you couldtake the heavy cap off the end and there was a large spaceto conceal things—big enough for a person, and definitelyhundreds of books.

Inside the big tank was a small canister that was con-nected to a gauge on the outside of the tank. If curious bor-der guards wanted to check the contents of the tank theycould look at the pressure gauge, even open the valve a bitand smell the propane, though, unknown to them, it camefrom the small canister, not the larger tank. It was cleverlydesigned to look like the entire tank was filled with propane.

1

Caught At The Border

That afternoon in Berlin, I loaded the tank with Biblesand Christian books requested by East German pastors,ratcheted the heavy end-cap of the tank onto the body of thetank, and prepared for my trip across the border. I had a lit-tle suitcase in the back with a blanket in it, items I wouldneed later to deliver the books.

"Lord," I prayed, "I know you have called me to this min-istry, and your people need your Word, so please calm mynerves and protect this load of Bibles going over the bordertomorrow." After a night of restless sleep, Paula and I spentsome quiet time praying together while our 6-month-olddaughter slept. I threw my suitcase with one change ofclothes inside into the back of the van, donned my jacketand gloves and left for the border.

I arrived to the border crossing Dreilinden about 1:00p.m. The border area was well lit with extra searchlightsplaced all around the restricted border area. The mistymonochrome afternoon was now punctuated by guard tow-ers and machine gun-carrying soldiers keeping watch on thehandful of vehicles desiring to enter the GDR (GermanDemocratic Republic). They eyed travelers suspiciously,making them feel like criminals for entering their country. Iwaited, quietly praying, watching the vehicle in front of mebeing taken apart by suspicious guards searching for illegalcontraband such as a German newspaper, a music cassette,or any type of printed matter.

A stone-faced guard in his drab, green uniformapproached the van and examined my passport and visa.The tension was palpable, and the knowledge that I wascrossing over into enemy territory, both figuratively andspiritually, was reinforced by a heaviness of spirit. Travelinto East Germany and other communist bloc countries wasnot easy or joyful, it was tense and oppressive. Trying tolook calm, my pulse rate quickened. There was no turningback and I had a tank full of almost 1000 books destined forbelievers in a prison called the GDR.

"Where are you going?" the border guard said in German.

Leaving The American Sector

20

"Magdeburg," I replied."What are you doing there?""I am just going to visit—I might like to go there on vacation

in the future." Magdeburg was an industrial city in EastGermany, not really a vacation destination, but such exchangeswere a part of the ritual of border crossings.

The guard was asking more of the usual questions, whenI saw that his attention was attracted by the tank in theback of the van. He became very curious about it, wonder-ing why it was there. He began asking questions about itand had me open the rear door. He hit the tank with a crow-bar and called over a couple of other guards to have a lookat it.

One of them said such tanks were normal in vans con-verted to run on propane. "Just leave it," he said, much tothe disdain of the original guard. I breathed a prayer ofthanksgiving and hoped the search would end. But the orig-inal guard remained curious. He asked me to show him howthe gauge worked, so I opened it and the pungent odor ofpropane seemed to bring his suspicions to an end.

k

I reached the outskirts of Magdeburg about 6 p.m. andchecked into my hotel. The East German travel agency hadto prearrange all travel details and they knew what time toexpect you based on what time you departed from the bor-der. There was no freedom of movement in East Germanyand the Volks Polizei (People's Police) thoroughly patrolledthe highways and exits.

I did not have much time. It had been dark for two hoursand I was anxious to deliver my cargo. I strolled nonchalant-ly from the hotel and then walked briskly in order to discov-er if I was being followed. I doubled back to get the van anddrove to a small country road parallel to the Elbe River. Theplace was symbolic to me. It was at this historic location

21


that American troops under the command of GeneralEisenhower were ordered to wait while Russian troopsarrived from the east to take Berlin and bring an end toWorld War II.

I had been trained to find a desolate spot to avoid beingseen. I had to be sure I was not followed and that no onewould notice me if they happened to drive by. I left the roadand parked amidst the long reeds by the river, turning theengine and lights off. I got out and looked around, but didnot hear any people or see any cigarettes glowing in thedarkness. I heard only the quiet flow of the river. The nightwas pitch black and moonless. I knew I must work quickly.

I climbed into the side door of the van and closed it qui-etly behind me. It was dark and cold. Alone and vulnerable,I missed having someone to keep lookout for me while Iunloaded the tank.

I removed the heavy end-cap of the tank, and began tounload the books onto the floor of the van. This was theriskiest step in the process, when the books were in theopen. Although I might be able to throw a blanket overthem, the end was off the tank and that could not bereplaced quickly. I was in a desolate spot, but my mindraced and I began to wonder what I would say if a car, orGod forbid, a police patrol came by.

With the tank now empty, I did my best to get the heavycap back on the end of it, though it was difficult to do in thedark. I gave it a quick inspection by flashlight and every-thing appeared okay. I got out of the van, looked aroundone more time and checked my watch. 9:30 p.m. Time to getmoving.

I drove to within 100 yards of the boxy, gray, nondescriptapartment building. The suitcases weighed about 75pounds apiece and I hoped the pastor lived on the groundfloor. I found the apartment on the third floor and quietlyknocked on the door. No response. I put my ear to the door.Nothing. I knocked again. No one answered. I was afraid toawaken or alert neighbors. I didn't want anyone to stick


22

their head out of a door, hear my accented German, andimmediately know an American had visited the pastor.

"Lord, what happens now?" I asked. I had the address ofanother pastor who lived a few miles away. It was now 10:30and I had never met this other man.

"Lord, please may he be home," I prayed as I knocked onthe door of the fifth-floor apartment.

"Ja," answered a tentative voice, cracking the door slight-ly.

I introduced myself in German using my fictitious nameBob, and our identity password, and asked if I could comein.

After allowing me inside, he led me to his small office. Hewas wearing his pajamas. His family was already in bed.

"Young man, how did you get my address?" he asked.I explained that I worked for a mission group and that I

had a load of Bibles and literature. "Okay, let us pray together. Will you pray, please?" he

asked.While I formulated the words to pray in German, he was

asking God if I was the real deal or not. He had to be cau-tious. Receiving and distributing literature could result in aprison sentence.

After prayer, he agreed to receive the books and askedwhere I was parked.

"Unfortunately, I must explain that most of the books areactually for another pastor in town. He was not home andyours was the only address I had."

"Don't worry. I promise that he will get the books."I excused myself and returned with a load of books, huff-

ing and puffing, unloading the suitcases while the pastorhid them behind a cabinet. He offered me a cup of tea,thinking that I was done. But I had to make three more suchtrips up and down the stairs before the van was empty.There was no time to waste. I worried that hotel securitywould notify the police that I had left and not returned. Ialso worried for this pastor. I was an unexpected visitor in

23


the middle of the night with enough Bibles and books to puthim in prison for several years. He was not accustomed tosmuggling large amounts of literature.

"There are more Bibles here than I have seen in my life-time," the pastor marveled. "I have never received so manybooks."

"Bob,” he said, "here is an address. I will be staying therea few days next week in East Berlin. Can you come over tomeet me?"

"Sure," I said, sticking the piece of paper in my pocket."Let's pray for God's protection before I leave."

He prayed for my safe arrival back to Berlin and askedGod to have us meet again. I prayed for his safety as well.As I turned for the door, we hugged, but we never met again.

k

I arrived back at the same border crossing I had passedthrough the previous day. A guard came out to begin thesearch. It was about noontime, and I was surprised to seethe same suspicious guard from the day before. Normally hewould have been off-duty, but his replacement was late.

The guard eyed me distrustfully. "I remember you fromyesterday," he said.

"Yes," I replied."Where did you go again? Wasn't it Magdeburg?""Yes.""How did you like it?" he said smiling. Magdeburg was an

industrial city, not the sort of place that normally attractedtourists, so the thought that someone would check it out asa vacation destination had probably brought a question tohis mind when he heard it the day before, and now thethought amused him.

"Oh, it was fine," I replied."Well, you came back so soon. You didn't have a good

time?" After he said that he unleashed a torrent of intimidat-ing questions.


24

As the questions came, my heart began beating faster.Every time you cross a border you always pray and ask Godto blind the eyes of the guards and to confound their under-standing. I had done that, but it seemed this guard wasgoing to be relentless in his questioning and inspection.Perhaps he just didn't like the way his fellow guards haddismissed him when he questioned the purpose of the tankthe previous day, and wanted to make a point with them.Perhaps he was tired from his long shift and just felt can-tankerous.

Whatever the reason, he motioned to a nearby guard,pointed to the tank and said, "This tank is not originalequipment. This tank is not supposed to be here. There issomething wrong with this tank and I want to find out whatit is."

The guard climbed in the back of the van and gave it asolid kick with his black boot. When he did, the end-cap ofthe tank unlatched. When he saw it move, he started yellingfor more guards to come.

He climbed quickly out of the back of the van, grabbedme and pushed me up against the vehicle. "Okay, what's inthat tank?" he demanded.

"I don't know what you are talking about," I replied.The other guards came and began kicking the tank and

the end cap began separating from the cylinder. It was obvi-ous at this point that the tank was not really for propane, sothe guard took my arm and pushed me into the back of thevan. "Take that cap and pull it off," he screamed.

It was just hanging there, so I lifted it off and set it downon the floor of the van. At that point I wished I had securedit better the night before, but all had seemed well in thedarkness.

The guards examined the interior of the tank with theirflashlights. In the darkness of the previous night I had inad-vertently left two books inside, and I nearly died when theguards retrieved them.

The persistent guard hauled me from the van and had

25


me stand spread-eagled against it and frisked me. Anotherguard came and together they escorted me into an interro-gation room where I was strip-searched. They removed all ofmy clothes and searched every place possible for anythingthey could find, though at the time I was unaware that I hadanything that would arouse suspicion.

After the body search, they kept me waiting for an hour,the posted guard eying me intently. There was no place tosit, so I stood near the heating radiator. I was trying to benonchalant, but as time went by the gravity of my situationbegan to sink in. My knees began knocking uncontrollably.You hear stories about the level of fear that causes a per-son's knees to knock, or have seen it on TV, usually forcomedic effect, but I never really understood the phenome-non. At that moment, however, my body began to shake andI had to grip my legs to keep my knees from knocking. I real-ized my emotions were out of control and I prayed that theLord would calm me.

Finally, I was taken to another room. Two guards walkedin and sat down. One guard motioned for me to sit down. Hesaid in German, "Mr. Thompson, we have to fill out a proto-col. You are a criminal in the East German Republic, and weneed you to sign the paperwork."

I refused to sign the documents, fearing it would end myministry behind the Iron Curtain. The guard who hadoffered me the pen and the documents gave me a sinisterlook when I rejected them. He said, "Sooner or later you willsign."

The guard began questioning me in German. I am fluentin German, but I felt like I needed to stall, to collect mythoughts, and to give the Lord an opportunity to intervenein the situation. Gaining some boldness, I spoke to him inGerman and said, "I am an American. My mother tongue isEnglish. You must ask me your questions in English. I amnot going to answer you in German. I am done speaking toyou."

The guard pounded on the table and looked at me and


26

yelled, "I know you speak German. You will answer me inGerman." I remained silent.

He started to swear under his breath, but got on thephone and said, "Get me a translator in here right away."After a short wait an officer walked into the interrogationroom. He was not an accomplished translator, but he knewsome English.

The interrogator said, "Mr. Thompson, why have youcome to the East German Republic?" Of course I understoodexactly what he said, but I turned to the translator and wait-ed for him to translate. The interrogator yelled his ques-tions, but the translator wasn't mad about anything andconveyed the message in rather mild tones. He looked at me,searching for the right words, and said, "Well... Urr, Mr.Thompson, he wants to know why you visited our EastGerman Republic." In the time it took him to translate, I hadtime to think about how I was going to answer.

"Tell him that I think it is a beautiful country."He turned to his comrade and said, "He thinks it is a

beautiful country."The interrogator got angry again. This went on for near-

ly four hours.At one point, the interrogator put his face inches from

mine and said dramatically, "Mr. Thompson, we know youare smuggling cocaine. You are going to get eight years inprison for cocaine smuggling. So there is no reason to hideyour information any longer. You must tell us exactly whoyou visited. We are going to find out, so tell us where youwere and who you had contact with last night."

At that point, I thought to myself, if they wanted to planta little bag of cocaine in the tank, it wouldn't matter what Isaid. If they wanted to imprison me they would. But ourteam of Bible smugglers had a commitment to always pro-tect the identity of the believers in communist lands. That'sa responsibility we assumed as part of our ministry.

A second time, about an hour later, he threatened mewith being a cocaine dealer. But again, I knew my life was in

27


the Lord's hands and it didn't matter what he said.Finally, the interrogator said, "Mr. Thompson, are you a

Christian?""Yes," I replied."Do you read the Bible?""Yes.""Do you lie?""No.""What does the Bible say about lying?""The Bible says you are not supposed to lie.""So, tell me, why are you lying to me?"I don't know what you are talking about," I replied."You do know what I am talking about."The fact was, during the interrogation I could never be

sure what he was getting at. I didn't want to lie, but it didn'tbother my conscience to be evasive. I didn't want to incrimi-nate myself by offering information too freely, and I certainlycould not allow myself to be put in the position of incriminat-ing my Christian brothers and sisters in the East.

It turned out that what really interested them was anaddress on a scrap of paper that they had found among mybelongings during the strip search. The pastor who receivedthe books said he was going to be visiting East Berlin in afew weeks and would like me to contact him while he wasthere. I had forgotten about the scrap of paper with hisaddress on it, and didn't make a connection when the inter-rogator asked about it.

The interrogator asked about many different things, buthe kept coming back to that address and that note. At onepoint I heard him say under his breath in German to thetranslator, "I know he is lying about this address because Ihave had lunch there before." He was a member of the EastGerman Secret Police (Stasi) and they would spy on theChristians who gathered there. When I heard him say thatto the translator in German, it dawned on me that they hadfound the piece of paper in my sock, and suddenly thingsbecame clear.


28

"The note you found was the address of a hostel in EastBerlin," I said.

"Well, why did you lie about it?" he asked"I couldn't remember what it was.""Why did you have it?""Because I planned on going there in the future.""Why?""Because I'm a Christian. I don't know if you believe in

Christianity or not, but I look for opportunities to meet withChristians wherever I go. I thought perhaps I could meetwith Christians at that place."

k

The interrogator turned out to be right—after hours ofanswering questions I finally signed the protocol that said Ihad broken the East German law, that I had imported con-traband, Bibles and Christian books, and that I would notdo so again.

They finally finished with the interrogation. The gruffofficer said, "Mr. Thompson, you've signed the protocol. Youhave promised not to do this again. You have admitted toyour crime of bringing in propaganda, so we are going togive you your vehicle back. As long as you pay the fine anddon't do this again, everything will be okay."

A guard led me out of the room. By this time it was darkand he took me to the nearby impound garage where my vanhad been thoroughly inspected while I was being ques-tioned.

The guard opened the doors of the garage and said, "Justpull out and park and someone will bring your passport."

I pulled the van to a parking space within the impoundyard and I sat there for another hour. It was cold and snow-ing, and I was shivering because of the weather and becauseof the experience I had just undergone. I looked into thedark sky and said, "Lord, thank you for helping me throughthat ordeal."

29


I could see the bright klieg lights illuminating the guardtowers, and could see the guards walking back and forthholding their machine guns close to their chests. Freedomwas on the other side; I was just yards from it. I thoughtabout how East Germans felt, those who were trapped per-manently behind the wall, separated from family and friendsby barbed wire, and by guards with machine guns. Theylived with that every day, knowing that freedom was justacross the fence. They could see the sky over freedom everysingle day, but were powerless to cross over and enjoy it.

I was looking across the fence, longing for that freedommyself when a guard walked out of the office building withmy passport in his hand. As he approached my van, hemotioned for me to roll my window down. "Now, Mr.Thompson, you are not going to do this again, are you?" hesaid.

"No, I won't," I replied."Okay, be sure to drive carefully," he said as he handed

me my passport."Before I could reach up and put my hand on the pass-

port, another guard suddenly rushed from the building andshouted, "Halt! Halt!"

The guard pulled the passport back and said, "Oh, I amsorry, I'll be right back. Just a moment."

He started walking away and I rolled the window backup. I had been relaxing a little bit, thinking the ordeal wasover, but it looked like there might be another twist in theplot.

There was a rumbling and the double doors of theimpound garage opened. Someone inside flipped a switchand the building was flooded with light. A guard, casting along shadow, walked out and motioned for me to drive backinto the garage. I did, and the doors rumbled closed behindme.

Two guards then suddenly rushed my van and startedyelling, "Get out of the car! Get out of the car!" They grabbedme by my coat and took me back to the interrogation room.


30

I sat down in the empty room, wondering what new evilmight have befallen me.

Two plainclothes Stasi officers walked in. The tall onewas clearly in charge. His sidekick was the translator, andit turned out he was an excellent one. They began question-ing me in the classic, "good cop, bad cop" method I had seenon television. The bad cop started by turning on the taperecorder and saying, "Mr. Thompson, you are a liar, aren'tyou?"

At that point, I didn't know what to say, so I said noth-ing. I was exhausted after the previous seven hours of ques-tioning, bewildered by the new barrage of questions fromthis fresh team of inquisitors, and angry at myself for beingduped by the guards into believing I was free. Still the tor-rent of questions came. Who are your parents? Where doesyour father work? What does your mother do? What do theyearn? How many brothers and sisters do you have? Howlong have you been in Berlin? What is your address? Whatis your wife's name? What are your kids' names? Why areyou here and for how long? Who does this vehicle belong to?Where did you buy it? How long have you had it? Why areyou driving it?

The two men alternated in their questioning. One wasangry, the other was nice. The bad cop would yell a ques-tion, the good cop would say to him in German, "Don't talklike that. Don't act that way." The good cop then turned tome and said in English, "Listen, we are not really mad atyou, but just tell us who you were visiting because you'renot going to get out of here. Make it easier on yourself, andthat way you'll get a lighter sentence." Then the other fellowwould yell a question again. It went back and forth like thatfor hours.

Finally, the bad cop said, "How many times have youcrossed the border into East Germany?"

Was this the issue all along? Just the way the bad copstated the question made me stop and think. That questionhad been asked before, but it seemed the man was actually


31

waiting for a reply from me this time instead of drowning mein a cascading waterfall of questions. I was exhausted fromthe hours of badgering, and I thought maybe we had finallyreached a crossroads. I tried to remember who asked thequestion the last time, but I was emotionally and physicallydrained, and had lost all track of time. Finally I said, "I'msure it is in your protocol from the previous session."

"Well, just tell me. How many times have you been to ourcountry," he said.

"I don't know exactly.""Well, just approximately.""I don't know. Five times or so.""Oh, you mean five times last week, don't you?" the bad

cop screamed, an expression of vindictive triumph on hisface. He pulled out a three-page list and shook it in my face.It documented every date I had visited this side of the bor-der in the last year and a half. The pages revealed I had beenacross the border over 60 times.

"Now tell me, Mr. Thompson, who do you work for?" thebad cop sneered. The insinuation was that I was a spy work-ing for a foreign government. He was sure he had a big fishon the hook, and any hopes I had of making it across theborder to freedom anytime soon were vanquished.

The interrogation lasted four additional hours, but itended with a whimper rather than a bang. At about 10 p.m,I said, "You know, I have been here since noon and youhaven't given me anything to eat or drink. I'm not going totalk to you anymore until you feed me."

The good cop said, "Oh, we are so sorry. We'll get right onthat." A guard brought me a really terrible hot dog and asteaming cup of dense East German coffee. And that wasthe end of it. After I ate, they let me go. They felt like theyhad gotten everything they could, I suppose, and there wasnothing to gain by holding me further.

As I pulled out of the impound yard I was apprehensivethat this might be yet another trick, and that the guardswould stop me and drag me back for more hours of interro-


32

gation. Two guards opened the gates of the chain link fencefor me to exit, and as I passed through them I had a feelingof exhilaration, like the Children of Israel passing throughthe Red Sea to the freedom of the Promised Land.

Little did I know that this incident would start a cat-and-mouse game to trap and perhaps imprison me. I thought thegame was over, but for the East German Secret Police, it wasjust beginning.

33


Ghostwriting Example

Documents

Transcript of Ghostwriting Example