By Kerstin Gehmlich
BERLIN (Reuters) - Sixty years after Allied planes streamedinto Berlin with vital supplies during the Soviet blockade, anew exhibition tells the story of the people behind theairlift.
"Berliners only saw the pilots, but we want to show all theother people involved in making the airlift work," said HelmutTrotnow, the director of Berlin's Allied Museum, where theexhibition opens this week, featuring photos and film extracts.
Many Berliners vividly recall the 15-month airlift, andsome Berlin bakeries are offering special "candy bomber breads"this week to commemorate the 60th anniversary.
Ted Mohr, an 84-year old who in 1948 worked as a clerk forLucius Clay, the military governor for the U.S. zone inGermany, said he remembered the tension in his office when helearned the Soviets had blocked rail and road access to WestBerlin.
"It was a time of great anxiety," Mohr said. "Clay told hisstaff to call (pilot) Jack Bennett and ask him whether he'dhave the courage to fly. Bennett took a deep breath...and flewin."
Bennett, who died in his adopted hometown of Berlin in2001, is credited with making the first flight of the airliftin a DC-4 loaded with potatoes 60 years ago this week.
His widow Marianne told Reuters her late husband had feltvery worried before making what would turn out to be the firstof nearly 278,000 flights by the western allies to deliver atotal of 2.3 million tonnes of food and supplies.
"He felt a bit like a guinea pig. He didn't know how theSoviets would react," the 74-year old Bennett told Reuters.
The airlift was a turning point of the Cold War, pittingthe United States against the Soviet Union over the fate of thetwo million people living in West Berlin, a western enclave inthe Soviet-controlled zone that became East Germany.
In the months after Bennett's initial delivery, thousandsof planes landed in intervals of just 90 seconds at Berlin'sinner-city Tempelhof airport.
"It was quite a sight to watch those planes come in," saidMohr. "My wife and I brought our chairs up to the roof of ourbuilding and watched. That was our evening entertainment."
"CANDY BOMBER"
The new exhibition is also set to feature information aboutthe many Berliners like Mercedes Wild, who was seven years oldwhen she stood among chickens in her family's Berlin garden,waving up at the planes bringing in supplies.
"I thought the pilots would also be able to see me," saidthe 67-year old, wearing gold-rimmed glasses, adding she hadbeen disappointed none of the goods had landed in her garden.
Wild wrote a letter to Gail Halvorsen, a U.S. pilot whocame to be known as "candy bomber" or "chocolate uncle" toBerlin's children after he had the idea to drop mini-parachuteswith sweets attached over the skies of Berlin.
Halvorsen sent Wild peppermint-flavoured chewing gum in aletter, which the pensioner still carries in her handbag.
Soviet dictator Josef Stalin called off the blockade in1949 when he realised it would only succeed if he was to attackthe airlift and thereby risk war with the United States.
Memories of the airlift still spark vivid emotions withmany West Berliners, a phenomenon highlighted earlier this yearwhen Wild and others campaigned against the closure of theNazi-built Tempelhof airport that became the symbol of theairlift.
A referendum to keep Tempelhof open failed and Berlin isbuilding a new airport south of the city to replace the giantsite -- which is almost the size of New York's Central Park --and two other airports.
Clay's grandson Charles said the Berlin airlift had a majoremotional impact on his late grandfather, a man he described asa workaholic who insisted on discipline and rules.
"He was profoundly changed when (then Berlin Mayor) ErnstReuter told him Berliners would rather starve than give upBerlin. My grandfather would never say it, but you could alwayssee love and respect in his eyes when he talked about Berlin."
