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Based on the fact that I have thrice been close to bombs set of by various disgruntled groups or individuals, I sometimes jokingly tell my friends that I'm the Forrest Gump of terrorism. Not that terror is a laughing matter — there's nothing at all funny about people being killed and maimed by bombs. But sometimes, being able to see life through a prism of humor can help keep things in perspective.
I've thought about this from time to time in the years since the 9-11 attacks, mainly because on, and just after that fateful day, I felt a little sheepish that I wasn't as “terrified” as I should be. I was horrified, to be sure, but at the same time, I was thinking to myself, “Here we go again.”
In 1972, I was living in Frankfurt, Germany. One night in May, I was at the Idle Hour Movie Theater. In the middle of the show, I heard a huge blast. The ground trembled and the images on the screen flickered for a moment. A few minutes later, the house lights came on and a handful of military policemen in full combat gear ordered us all to evacuate without telling us why.
As we went outside, we heard a commotion at the nearby Officers Club, and realized that the facility had been bombed. The Baader-Meinhof Gang, a leftist anarchist terrorist group, had stated its intent to open a “second front” of the Vietnam War by attacking U.S. military targets in addition to its campaign of kidnapping and murdering German industrialists and politicians. Before the MPs moved us away from the building, we saw the mayhem at the club's front entrance: Shattered glass, smoke, twisted metal, all within a half mile of our high school. One U.S. Army officer was killed by the blast.
After the bombing, our school buses were inspected before entering the post. Each bus was pulled over, and MPs searched the bottom of the vehicles with long-handled, angled mirrors, looking for bombs. We watched this through the windows while sitting on the bus. I didn't think that much of it. As part of an occupying army, it felt like a risk that came with the territory.
Fast forward to 1976. I'm standing in line at the American Express office in the Abrams Building, just a few hundred yards from the officer's club. Once again, a massive blast shakes the ground, plaster falls from the ceiling, windows shatter, smoke fills the room and people fall to the ground, yelling.
Another Baader-Meinhof bomb, this time triggered in a nearby laundry room. Luckily, nobody died in that attack, though my family and I worried about my dad for several hours, because he worked in that building. Once again, MPs rush into the room and guide us out of the building through the broken windows, helping us climb down a set of metal extension ladders.
A few years later (1980), I was at the Oktoberfest in Munich when a right-wing fanatic triggered a homemade bomb at the main entrance to the fairgrounds, killing 12 people in the name of some nebulous neo-fascist cause.
So what's the point of all this? For one thing, it's clear that no single ideological faction has a monopoly on terror. Let's not forget that, after 9-11, the second-most deadly terror attack on American soil was a home-grown deal (Oklahoma City). That's a fact that's often conveniently omitted by conservative pundits and politicians when they point at an external foreign threat and seek to justify a crackdown on civil liberties as part of the “war” on terror.
The Baader-Meinhof rampage triggered a similar reaction by German authorities, who combed through utility records and tapped thousands of telephone lines as they attempted to track gang members. Though not all the relevant documents have been declassified, it seems clear that, in the end, it was good, old-fashioned detective work that led to the apprehension of the terrorists, and not a disregard of the right to privacy.
Finally, what I decided is that you should just live your life. Don't be intimidated by terrorists. Even more importantly, don't let your own government scare you into believing that it has the right to look at your library records, for example.
Freedom can't be destroyed by a few bombs. An over-reaching and paranoid government is the far bigger threat.
Bob Berwyn has been reporting from Summit County since 1996. He lived in Germany from 1960 to 1981.
I've thought about this from time to time in the years since the 9-11 attacks, mainly because on, and just after that fateful day, I felt a little sheepish that I wasn't as “terrified” as I should be. I was horrified, to be sure, but at the same time, I was thinking to myself, “Here we go again.”
In 1972, I was living in Frankfurt, Germany. One night in May, I was at the Idle Hour Movie Theater. In the middle of the show, I heard a huge blast. The ground trembled and the images on the screen flickered for a moment. A few minutes later, the house lights came on and a handful of military policemen in full combat gear ordered us all to evacuate without telling us why.
As we went outside, we heard a commotion at the nearby Officers Club, and realized that the facility had been bombed. The Baader-Meinhof Gang, a leftist anarchist terrorist group, had stated its intent to open a “second front” of the Vietnam War by attacking U.S. military targets in addition to its campaign of kidnapping and murdering German industrialists and politicians. Before the MPs moved us away from the building, we saw the mayhem at the club's front entrance: Shattered glass, smoke, twisted metal, all within a half mile of our high school. One U.S. Army officer was killed by the blast.
After the bombing, our school buses were inspected before entering the post. Each bus was pulled over, and MPs searched the bottom of the vehicles with long-handled, angled mirrors, looking for bombs. We watched this through the windows while sitting on the bus. I didn't think that much of it. As part of an occupying army, it felt like a risk that came with the territory.
Fast forward to 1976. I'm standing in line at the American Express office in the Abrams Building, just a few hundred yards from the officer's club. Once again, a massive blast shakes the ground, plaster falls from the ceiling, windows shatter, smoke fills the room and people fall to the ground, yelling.
Another Baader-Meinhof bomb, this time triggered in a nearby laundry room. Luckily, nobody died in that attack, though my family and I worried about my dad for several hours, because he worked in that building. Once again, MPs rush into the room and guide us out of the building through the broken windows, helping us climb down a set of metal extension ladders.
A few years later (1980), I was at the Oktoberfest in Munich when a right-wing fanatic triggered a homemade bomb at the main entrance to the fairgrounds, killing 12 people in the name of some nebulous neo-fascist cause.
So what's the point of all this? For one thing, it's clear that no single ideological faction has a monopoly on terror. Let's not forget that, after 9-11, the second-most deadly terror attack on American soil was a home-grown deal (Oklahoma City). That's a fact that's often conveniently omitted by conservative pundits and politicians when they point at an external foreign threat and seek to justify a crackdown on civil liberties as part of the “war” on terror.
The Baader-Meinhof rampage triggered a similar reaction by German authorities, who combed through utility records and tapped thousands of telephone lines as they attempted to track gang members. Though not all the relevant documents have been declassified, it seems clear that, in the end, it was good, old-fashioned detective work that led to the apprehension of the terrorists, and not a disregard of the right to privacy.
Finally, what I decided is that you should just live your life. Don't be intimidated by terrorists. Even more importantly, don't let your own government scare you into believing that it has the right to look at your library records, for example.
Freedom can't be destroyed by a few bombs. An over-reaching and paranoid government is the far bigger threat.
Bob Berwyn has been reporting from Summit County since 1996. He lived in Germany from 1960 to 1981.
