Airlift heroes back in Berlin with a V-sign for the Russians

ON Wednesday at dusk, a handsome, virile President of the United States will bow to the people of Germany's biggest city, and, with misty eyes, proclaim himself a Berliner, like Jack Kennedy before him. When the applause abates, the air will fill with the whirr of Dakotas and the whooshing sound of Sunderlands landing on the Wannsee. Thus will begin this special journey back in time: a celebration of a defining moment in Cold War history.

Tuesday, 12 May, marks the official 50th anniversary of the Berlin Airlift, but Bill Clinton could not quite make it then. Actually, the Berlin blockade ended on 12 May 1949, but it had begun in 1948, and real Berliners did not have the heart to spoil the occasion by quibbling over numbers.

The local government has invested great effort and vast sums into the commemorations that are set to last a whole year. But rather than serving as a bridge - linking past and present, East and West - the festival of peace is set to accentuate the chasm still dividing Berlin's two tribes. And an invitation to all those former protagonists to become masters of the skies again for just one fleeting day has torn up old wounds.

The British and the Americans are flying in, and, less explicably, are the French, who did not contribute any planes to the airlift. The German Luftwaffe will also take part in the fly-past: it is their city now, after all. But must the Russians, Berliners ask, take their brand new Mig-29s, Sukhoi-37s and Antonov-60s for a spin above Tempelhof?

"I'd like to shoot every one of the Russian planes down," says Capt Jack Bennett, an American who claims the highest number of sorties - more than 1,000 - during the airlift. Captain Bennett, now 85 and still flying, has lived in Berlin ever since, and will be a guest of honour at this week's festivities.

The city authorities paying for the airshow are unperturbed by his protests, and by criticism from within the governing Christian Democrat Party. But the row over the Migs, and the "more the merrier" response from the ex- communists of East Berlin, has highlighted fundamental differences on the two sides of the mental Wall. While West Berliners have genuine cause to celebrate - Migs permitting - the Ossis deprived of Hershey bars all those years ago do not understand what the fuss is about.

"Some East Berliners have no way of relating to the airlift," complains Eberhard Diepgen, the mayor. But he is certain that even Ossis are "too curious to stay away" from the jamboree, especially as the best parts of the programme will be at Schonefeld airport in the east.

The highlight of the show is the arrival from the US of a DC4-Skymaster, the "raisin-bomber", flown by the legendary "Candy Pilot", Col Gail Halversen. Like Santa Claus, Col Halversen is the composite face of hundreds of men who flew over the chimneys dispensing gifts for the children.

Mercedes Wild, now 57, made his acquaintance after filing a letter of complaint. From her house less than two miles from Tempelhof airport, she could make out the faces of the pilots as they came in to land, narrowly missing the rooftops. "I was terrified when the planes flew over the house," Ms Wild recalls. "For us children it was very scary. But I never forget the worry of parents who couldn't give us food.

"She did not know the pilots' names, but when their little parachutes attached to sweets kept missing her home, she took pen and paper and wrote down precise directions for the drop, addressed to "Uncle Chocolate". Eventually, a reply came from Frankfurt with a bubble gum and two sweets attached, but she did not meet the mysterious uncle until 1971.

They have been friends ever since, and Col Halversen and his family stay with the Wilds every time they are in town. The guests are in no danger of going hungry. "Up to this day, I keep a full larder and never throw any food away," Ms Wild says.

Like their larders, the gratitude of west Berliners to Britain and the US is inexhaustible. An estimated 78 Allied pilots and crew died delivering vital supplies to the city after the Soviets abruptly severed its land links to West Germany on 1 April 1948.

Instead of starving Berliners into submission, the Soviets drove them into the arms of their enemy who, to everyone's amazement, came to their aid. Captain Bennett is convinced that the Russians could have kept up the blockade for ever, but their image could no longer sustain the battering.

"I tell you, the only reason those bastards gave up was because they were too embarrassed," he says. In the coming days he will be out there, saluting the Migs - with two fingers.