Cold Open

It’s June 26th, 1948, in the skies above Berlin, Germany. 

In the cockpit of a Douglas DC-4, American pilot Jack Bennett flips a pair of switches on the instrument panel and tightens his grip on the controls. Sweat beads on his forehead as he scans the sky for Soviet fighters and the ground below for anti-aircraft batteries. Jack may be a civilian pilot for American Overseas Airlines, but at this moment, he can’t shake the feeling that he’s flying into a war zone. 

Because only two days ago, the Soviet Union began blockading West Berlin, the sector of the German capital controlled by the United States, Britain, and France. In response, the Western Allies have decided to fly food and other supplies into this isolated enclave. But no one knows how the Soviets will respond when the first plane approaches the city. If they shoot down Jack’s DC-4, it could trigger World War III.

After what feels like an eternity, Jack spots a long strip of tarmac ahead—Tempelhof Airport. He banks his aircraft into position and begins final approach. 

But at any moment he expects the sky around him to erupt with gunfire. Down below, he can see people around the airport’s perimeter fence. They’ve come to watch him land, but if he’s hit now, they will be in real danger.

Still, there’s nothing he can do but murmur a silent prayer. He eases the plane lower, gliding down the last few feet.

It’s a hard landing. The plane shudders as Jack brakes sharply and steers off the runway. Glancing out of the window, he can see the crowd at the perimeter cheering his arrival. And now safely back on the ground, Jack is able to smile too. But he knows it will take far more than just a single planeload of supplies to save West Berlin.

Two million people have been stranded by the Soviet blockade, and mass starvation is a real possibility in West Berlin. But over the next 15 months, an unprecedented humanitarian operation will keep the city alive. On hundreds of thousands of flights, brave pilots from Britain, America and France will run the same gauntlet that Jack Bennett faced when he delivered the first shipment of the Berlin Airlift on June 26th, 1948.

Introduction

From Noiser and Airship, I’m Lindsay Graham and this is History Daily.

History is made every day. On this podcast—every day—we tell the true stories of the people and events that shaped our world.

Today is June 26th, 1948: The Berlin Airlift Begins.

Act One: The Marshall Plan

It's April 3rd, 1948, at the White House in Washington, D.C., nearly three months before Jack Bennett’s flight into West Berlin.

At his desk in the Oval Office, President Harry S. Truman takes a pen from his pocket as his chief of staff places a leather portfolio in front of him. Truman adjusts his glasses and opens the folder. Inside is the Economic Cooperation Act, better known as the Marshall Plan, which Congress passed only yesterday.

Truman moves to sign it—but just before the tip of his pen touches the paper, he pauses. His brow creases as his thoughts turn to America’s current threat—the Soviet Union. 

Only three years ago, the United States and the USSR fought side-by-side in World War II. But following the defeat of Nazi Germany, relations between the former allies soured. Across Eastern Europe, the Soviets began setting up puppet regimes loyal to Moscow, and they made little secret of their desire to spread communism across the rest of the continent.

That was unacceptable to the United States, and President Truman tasked his advisers to come up with a solution to prevent Soviet influence from expanding any further. They’ve concluded that countries are more likely to turn to communism during times of economic turmoil—and that’s exactly what Europe is facing right now. Vast areas lie in ruins following the war. A brutal winter has just devastated the harvest. And many now fear a complete economic collapse is just around the corner.

The Marshall Plan is designed to prevent that collapse. Its aim is to rebuild the nations of Europe. Factories will be modernized, infrastructure repaired, and cities reconstructed. It’ll be costly, and Truman knows it will provoke Soviet premier Joseph Stalin, who will see the aid as outside interference. But as far as the president is concerned, it’s necessary to stop communism from spreading further into Europe.

So Truman leans forward, puts his pen to paper, and signs the Marshall Plan into law. Then, he settles back in his chair as his chief of staff returns the document to its folder and takes it away. All Truman can do now is wait and see how the Soviets react.

Just as Truman predicted, Stalin is furious. He orders the communist regimes in Eastern Europe to reject any offers of American aid. There will be no money for the likes of Poland or Czechoslovakia. And only part of Germany will see any benefit.

Because after the war, the country was divided into four occupation zones—one administered by the Soviets, one by the Americans, one by the British, and one by the French. 

In the years since, the Soviet zone in the east has effectively become another communist state, while the Western Powers are beginning to consolidate their three zones into one entity too. This means Soviet eastern Germany will be cut off from the Marshall Plan, but the rest of Germany won’t.

And as aid begins to flow across the Atlantic, the United States, Britain, and France launch a new currency in their joint occupation zone. The Deutschmark is intended to stabilize the German economy and curb inflation. But to Stalin, it’s another unwanted intervention, another provocation—and this time, he reacts more forcefully.

The capital of Germany, Berlin, lies more than 100 miles inside the Soviet-controlled eastern zone. But it’s partitioned in the same way as the rest of the country, with each power controlling its own sector. 

But on June 24th, 1948, the Soviet authorities halt all rail, road, and river traffic bound for West Berlin. They claim that technical problems caused by the new currency make border controls impossible. But that is just an excuse. Stalin wants to squeeze Berlin until his former allies withdraw. And now more than two million people find themselves stranded inside an enclave surrounded by Soviet-controlled territory. The Western Allies face a stark choice—either they abandon the city or find another way to keep it supplied.

For Truman and his counterparts in Britain and France, withdrawing from Berlin is unthinkable. Surrendering the city would hand Stalin a major political and propaganda victory. It will also undermine Western credibility in the rest of Europe. So, the allies set in motion an unprecedented supply operation using the only route left open to them—the sky.

On June 26th, 1948, the first flight of the Berlin Airlift departs Wiesbaden in western Germany. A Douglas DC-4 piloted by Jack Bennett flies through a narrow air corridor over Soviet-controlled territory. Its crew is constantly on the lookout for hostile action—not that they’d be able to do much about it in a civilian cargo plane. But after a quiet, if not tense, flight, the plane lands at Tempelhof Airport. It has three tons of supplies on board, mostly potatoes. But that’s only the beginning. Over the course of the day, another 31 aircraft arrive in West Berlin carrying a total of 80 tons of food and medicine.

Military planners initially expect the operation to last no more than three weeks. But it will soon become clear that this estimate is far off the mark. Stalin won’t back down so easily. And if the Western Allies want to keep their foothold in Berlin, they will have to coordinate the largest and most sustained humanitarian operation the world has ever seen. 

Act Two: The Candy Bomber

It’s July 17th, 1948, at Tempelhof Airport in West Berlin, almost a month after the Soviet Union imposed its blockade on the city.

American pilot Gail Halvorsen raises his eight-millimeter movie camera and frames an approaching cargo plane in the viewfinder. 27-year-old Lieutenant Halvorsen is one of hundreds of pilots flying supplies into West Berlin as part of the Berlin Airlift. But today, he’s off duty, and he’s arranged for a tour of the city. While he’s waiting for his driver to arrive, he kills time by filming the planes swooping low over the rooftops as they come in to land.

Since the beginning of the Soviet blockade, the rescue airlift has grown rapidly. Originally, planners only had 160 planes at their disposal. But reinforcements have arrived, increasing the number of flights reaching West Berlin every day. Even so, the planes are still not transporting enough supplies to feed the city’s population, and many people are going hungry.

Lowering his camera, Lieutenant Halvorsen glances around the airfield. On the other side of the perimeter fence, there’s a group of children watching the planes land, just like he is. He decides to go over to them. And as Halvorsen approaches, they spot his pilot’s uniform and excitedly ask him questions in broken English.

Halvorsen talks to them for almost an hour, answering every question he can. But then his driver finally arrives, and it’s time for him to go. As he turns to leave, he realizes he should give the children something. So Halvorsen rifles through his pockets. But all he has are two sticks of gum. He hands them through the fence, telling the kids not to fight over them. To his surprise, they don’t. Instead, they split the candy into small sections, stretching it as far as it will go. But there are 30 kids by the fence, and some of them are inevitably left disappointed. Halvorsen turns away as those who didn’t get any gum desperately sniff and lick the wrappers. The sight of such hungry children moves Halvorsen—and makes him more determined than ever to help.

So before his next flight, Halvorsen fills three small boxes with candy collected at his base in West Germany and brings them aboard his plane. As he begins his descent into Tempelhof, he once again sees a group of children gathered around the airfield fence.

So when he’s directly overhead, Halvorsen gives a signal, and his crew chief pushes the boxes out of the plane through the emergency flare chute. Attached to rudimentary parachutes made from string and handkerchiefs, three packages drift down toward the children below. Halvorsen has to concentrate on landing. There are other aircraft right in front of him and right behind him, and there have already been fatal accidents on this operation. But even so, he can’t help imagining the smiles on the kids’ faces as the packages flutter down to the ground and they find the candy inside.

For the next several weeks, every time Halvorsen flies to Berlin, he takes his special packages of candy with him. And every time, the crowd of children waiting around the airfield grows bigger. To let them know it’s him, he wiggles his plane’s wings on final approach. And soon, piles of fan mail start arriving at Halvorsen’s base, addressed to “Uncle Wiggly Wings” and “The Chocolate Pilot.” All that mail catches the attention of Halvorsen’s superiors. But when they haul him in to ask what’s going on, they don’t punish him. Instead, his candy drops become official policy. 

Over the next few months, Halvorsen and the other so-called “candy bombers” drop 23 tons of chocolate, gum, and other sugary treats over West Berlin. And the timing couldn’t be better.

Although the number of daily flights has grown and the threat of starvation has eased, winter now grips Berlin, and the people of the capital face a new hardship. Amid plunging temperatures, fuel has to be rationed, and frequent power cuts leave homes cold and dark. But as West Berliners freeze, the candy bombers help keep up morale.

By the time the snow melts in the spring of 1949, the airlift has proved it can sustain West Berlin indefinitely. The volume of supplies arriving in the city continues to increase. And on some days, the amount of goods brought in by air even exceeds what had previously arrived by road, water, and rail.

And as it becomes clear that the Western Allies can maintain the airlift for as long as necessary, Moscow’s resolve will weaken. Negotiations over an end to the crisis will begin. And finally, the Berlin Airlift will come to an end.

Act Three: The Blockade Ends

It’s midnight on May 12th, 1949, on the border between western and eastern Germany, 322 days after the Berlin Airlift began.

A British soldier sits behind the wheel of a stationary transport truck. Behind him are dozens of other vehicles, each loaded with food, medicine, fuel, and other essential supplies. The soldier peers through the windshield at the road ahead. His headlights illuminate a Soviet barricade. It’s blocking the way—but hopefully, not for much longer.

Over the past two weeks, diplomats have been negotiating an end to the crisis in Berlin. Despite Soviet efforts, the airlift has succeeded in keeping the city supplied, and Moscow has failed to force the Western Allies out. Now, an agreement has been reached, and the Soviets have promised to restore land access to West Berlin. But this deal amounts to an embarrassing retreat for the Soviets, and no one yet knows whether Soviet Premier Joseph Stalin will honor it.

So the British soldier checks his watch. Midnight passes, and the seconds continue to tick by. But then, figures emerge from the darkness. The British soldier’s hand instinctively moves to his pistol, and he braces for a confrontation. But the Soviets ignore his idling truck and instead begin dismantling the barricade.

As soon as the path is clear, the soldier slowly rolls his truck forward. The Soviet guards avoid his gaze as he passes through the checkpoint. And behind him, the rest of the convoy follows.

Later that morning, after a 110-mile journey through the darkness, the convoy of trucks arrive at its destination. They drive through streets lined with cheering West Berliners until they reach the warehouses where their supplies will be unloaded and then distributed across the city. 

But although the blockade is over, the airlift is not. Supply flights will continue until planners decide that West Berlin has stockpiled enough rations to survive another blockade. It’s only on September 30th, 1949, that the final flight of the Berlin Airlift will land, ending a 15-month effort that delivered 2.3 million tons of supplies.

By then, the western occupation zones will have formally united to create West Germany. The Soviet Union will respond by officially forming a communist regime to govern its zone in the east, and Germany will remain divided in this way for another four decades. But the Western Allies will never abandon Berlin—a city they once only held thanks to one of the most ambitious humanitarian operations ever undertaken, one that began on June 26th, 1948.

Outro

Next on History Daily. June 29th, 1987. Hacker Markus Hess is arrested after accessing U.S. Defense networks in the first known case of cyber espionage.

From Noiser and Airship, this is History Daily, hosted, edited, and executive produced by me, Lindsay Graham.

Audio editing by Muhammad Shahzaib.

Sound design by Mollie Baack.

Music by Thrumm.

This episode is written and researched by Arjun Kumar.

Edited by Scott Reeves.

Managing producer Emily Burke.

Executive Producers are William Simpson for Airship, and Pascal Hughes for Noiser.