"We Want to Liberate Ourselves"

By Jay D. Palmer

Tensions rise between peace activists and U.S. troops

The knock on the front door was not threatening, nor was the visitor's message. "We are from the peace initiative," the voice said. "We want to talk to you about the missiles." But the U.S. soldier's young wife living in Mutlangen, West Germany, near a major U.S. Army depot, refused even to reply until her unexpected caller had departed. Moments later, when she hesitantly opened the door, she found an anti-Pershing-missile leaflet on her doorstep. "I didn't answer because I was scared," she said. "I don't know what they have against us."

To the dismay of West German and U.S. officials, the young wife's attitude is becoming commonplace. Weeks before the start of an expected "hot autumn" of major demonstrations against NATO's plan to begin deploying Pershing II and cruise missiles in Western Europe by December, tensions are rising between peace activists and the 249,000 U.S. troops based in the country. Only last week West German police dismantled a "peace camp" outside the Mutlangen depot.

So far there have been few serious confrontations, but the fear lingers that at some point emotions could boil over. Two years ago, Red Army Faction terrorists fired an antitank grenade at a car carrying General Frederick Kroesen, then Commander of U.S. Army forces in Europe. "Some of these people will do anything," says a Frankfurt-based soldier. "It takes only one bomb attack for you and your wife to be afraid for months."

West Germans opposed to the projected U.S. missile deployment consider the Reagan Administration to be unnecessarily aggressive in the realm of East-West relations. In the eyes of some resident U.S. citizens, that criticism has undertones of a more generalized anti-Americanism. On the whole, protest has so far been peaceful: demonstrations in front of the American consulate in Frankfurt, or the display in a Luebeck storefront of quotes designed to portray the U.S. as a warmonger. (Example: "We don't want war, but. . ." attributed to former NATO Commander and Secretary of State Alexander Haig.) Occasionally the mood has turned ugly. When U.S. Vice President George Bush visited the city of Krefeld last June, his car was stoned by so-called chaotics, militant rabblerousers who have attached themselves to the peace movement. In Wiesbaden last month, a member of the Green Party poured a jar of his blood over U.S. Lieut. General Paul Williams. Later, a bomb exploded in a U.S. officers' club near Hahn, and on the same day, antimissile activists tried to disrupt the annual air show at the U.S. Air Force Base at Ramstein.

With large peace demonstrations expected to gain momentum next month, West German and U.S. officials fear that such violence could intensify. Some of the protests will focus on possible missile sites, such as Bitburg and Neu-Ulm, where relations between local residents and U.S. soldiers have generally been good. But confrontations might occur even in those places, especially if demonstrators block access to the bases. The West German Interior Ministry has warned, moreover, that terrorist attacks cannot be ruled out. U.S. and West German authorities have formed a joint committee to discuss preventive measures. "The thing we fear most," says an Interior Ministry official, "is that some young German will get into a U.S. military installation, and an American will shoot him. That would be a tragedy and the worst thing for either side."

Much of the current tension stems from differences between G.I.s and West German peace activists that cannot be easily bridged. "When 100,000 people come out to protest against what you are doing, it does not exactly make you feel wanted or good about yourself," says a young U.S. infantryman. Observes Ed Reavis, a former soldier who now reports for the U.S. armed forces' newspaper Stars and Stripes: "The [U.S.] military are by and large conservative. They see the peace activists as their enemies, as Communists and troublemakers."

At the same time, wide cultural and social gaps persist. Few G.I.s speak German, and many lack a high school education. On the other side of the fence, racial discrimination against black U.S. soldiers by West German bar, restaurant and store owners crops up all too often. The military's attempt to isolate U.S. troops as much as possible from West Germans to avoid direct confrontation has in part been counterproductive. "There is a strong feeling that Americans in general don't know much about Germany and don't care much about it," says Peter Bielke, who helped blockade the Mutlangen depot earlier this month. Asserts Reavis: "The Germans are now posing significant questions about their own country and the world around them, and many of the U.S. soldiers are not prepared to engage in that kind of discussion." In recognition of the problem, the U.S. command in West Germany reportedly has begun to issue troops wallet-size cue cards that provide answers to questions that West German protesters might ask about such things as the need for new missiles.

For all the tension, many in the peace movement insist that they are not anti-American. "The U.S. soldiers here don't understand that we are not against them personally," insists one activist. "We are against their missiles. We are against the militarization they represent. But we mean none of this as a personal attack." Says Jo Leinen, head of Federal Citizens' Initiatives Association, a nationwide umbrella group involved in the protests: "[Our movement] is part of a German emancipation. There was a war, we were occupied, and we want to liberate ourselves. Now our campaign is against missiles. There is a strong sense that the American nuclear missiles should go home. That does not necessarily mean that the troops should also go, at least for now." But then he adds: "Over time we will ask, 'If the missiles are not necessary, why are the troops?' " --By Jay D. Palmer. Reported by Gary Lee/Bonn

With reporting by Gary Lee This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so viewer discretion is required.