The Berlin Airlift: The Partitioning of Berlin

The Soviets were dissatisfied with this arrangement. Twice in recent memory, they had been invaded by Germany, and they had no interest in promoting that country’s reunification--yet it seemed that was exactly what the U.S. , Great Britain and France had in mind. For example, in 1946 the Americans and the British combined their two sectors into a single “Bizonia,” and the French were preparing to join as well. In 1948, the three western Allies created a single new currency (the Deutsche Mark) for all of their occupation zones—a move that the Soviets feared would fatally devalue the already hyperinflated Reichsmarks that they used in the east. For the Soviets, it was the last straw.

The Berlin Airlift: The Berlin Blockade

As far as the western Allies were concerned, withdrawal from the city was not an option. “If we withdraw,” said the American military commander, “our position in Europe is threatened, and Communism will run rampant.” President Trumanechoed this sentiment: “We shall stay,” he declared, “period.” Using military force to strike back against the Soviet blockade seemed equally unwise: The risk of turning the Cold War into an actual war—even worse, a nuclear war—was just too great. Finding another way to re-provision the city seemed to the Allies to be the only reasonable response.

The Berlin Airlift: "Operation VITTLES" Begins

Life in West Berlin during the blockade was not easy. Fuel and electricity were rationed, and the black market was the only place to obtain many goods. Still, most West Berliners supported the airlift and their western allies. “It’s cold in Berlin,” one airlift-era saying went, “but colder in Siberia.”

The Berlin Airlift: The End of the Blockade

Most historians agree that the blockade was a failure in other ways, too. It amped up Cold War tensions and made the USSR look to the rest of the world like a cruel and capricious enemy. It hastened the creation of West Germany, and, by demonstrating that the U.S. and Western European nations had common interests (and a common foe), it motivated the creation of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), an alliance that still exists today.

Growing up with "my face down in the dirt all the time" on a Utah farm, Halvorsen would watch planes fly overhead and wish he could be "up there with them." After getting his private pilot's license, Halvorsen joined the Army Air Corps in 1942. He received flight training with the Royal Air Force before returning to the Army Air Corps and spent World War II ferrying transport planes in England, Italy, and North Africa.

Halvorsen stayed in the military after the war, continuing to fly transports. At the end of June 1948 he was stationed at an Air Force base in Mobile, Alabama, when the call came for pilots to participate in the airlift. Halvorsen was given less than an hour's notice. He stuffed a bag full of handkerchiefs to help fight a nasty cold and left his new Chevy under a tree near the base. Halvorsen thought he'd be back soon; he figured the airlift would only last a couple of weeks. But Halvorsen never saw his car again.

From the beginning, the Allies lacked enough aircraft for round-the-clock operations, so when Halvorsen arrived in Germany in early July, he flew three round-trips daily and had about seven hours off to sleep. During one of his down times in the middle of the month, Halvorsen decided to do some sightseeing in Berlin.

After hitching a ride on a flight to Tempelhof airport in the American sector, Halvorsen noticed a group of children watching through barbed wire as the airplanes landed. Halvorsen loved children, and during his transport days, he had often been followed by packs of them, begging for candy. But these Berliners were quieter and more polite; all they asked was that the Americans not abandon the airlift when the weather turned bad. They could go without enough food for a bit, the children told Halvorsen, but "if we lose our freedom we may never get it back." Touched, Halvorsen dug in his pocket for a couple sticks of gum and distributed them, promising to return the next day with more candy. The children wondered how they would recognize his plane. Don't worry; as I approach, I'll wiggle my wings, the pilot replied. Back at his base, Halvorsen improvised parachutes by tying strings to the corners of handkerchiefs and then attaching those strings to candy bars. The next day he released the handkerchiefs on approach to Tempelhof and saw the kids joyously clutching their candy. Soon large crowds had gathered and Halvorsen was receiving mail addressed to "Uncle Wiggly Wings" and the "Chocolate Flier."

Halvorsen knew what he had been doing violated Air Force regulations, and when his colonel found out, the young pilot got an earful. But Berlin newspapers had already gotten wind of Halvorsen's candy drops, and airlift commander General William Tunner approved the continuation of “Operation Little Vittles." What began with a pilot's spare handkerchiefs and candy his crew bought at the local commissary soon spread throughout the airlift, with 25 participants in his squadron alone.