Dispirited, An Army Ends Era As The Last Russian Troops Head Home, Germans View Them With Pity.

August 31, 1994|By Barbara Demick, INQUIRER STAFF WRITER

BERLIN — A Russian army cap lies in a vacant lot behind the apartment house where the officers used to live, weeds curling over the hammer-and-sickle insignia.

It is one of the few things the Russians are leaving behind in Berlin, other than the stray cats foraging for food. Anything that could possibly be sold back in Russia - sinks, toilets, doorknobs, hinges and window panes - is already packed.

After 49 years, the Russians are finally going home. Today, following a military parade presided over by Russian President Boris N. Yeltsin and German Chancellor Helmut Kohl, the last of the 338,000 soldiers who were stationed in the former East Germany will depart German soil.

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Russian troops, and before them, Soviet troops, have been a continuous presence here since Germany's World War II surrender on May 7, 1945. They arrived as a conquering army, but came to be regarded by many East Germans as the liberators who rescued Germany from the clutches of Nazism. Later, after the construction of the Berlin Wall in 1961, it became increasingly clear they were an occupying army.

But today, the members of the former Soviet army are viewed not as conquerors, liberators or occupiers, but rather as poor cousins from abroad. They are more objects of pity than scorn as they head home to an uncertain future.

In the Karlshorst neighborhood of Berlin, just a few blocks from the military headquarters where Germany's unconditional surrender was signed, the once-proud Red Army has been reduced to just a few hundred apprehensive young men.

Typical is Nikolai Balditsch, a handsome 30-year-old sergeant, young in years but resigned and defeatist like an elderly man. Balditsch is about to embark on an 800-mile drive in an army truck back to Kiev, having little clue what awaits him when he arrives.

"Who knows what I'll do next - become a bandit?" said Balditsch. "I suppose I should start a business, but you need money for that, and about all I have is the trousers I'm wearing."

Balditsch was milling about near a pay telephone, where a group of Ukrainian men smoked and paced the sidewalks as they waited to call their

families back home with news about their travel schedules.

The conversation paused occasionally as they watched one of their inebriated comrades being tossed out of a nearby cafe.

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