I am stunned by the brutal actions of the security forces of the GDR on the evening of October 7, 1989, and in the period that followed, in the area around the International Restaurant on Prager Straße in Dresden.
I am stunned by the brute force that members of the riot police felt they had to use against citizens who had gathered absolutely peacefully and whose only offense was violating the prohibition against so called riotous assemblies, as defined by state legislation.
I am stunned by the harrowing lack of conception of this police operation.
Originally, the operation might well have been geared toward observing and removing violent citizens, but in the utter absence thereof, peaceful citizens were arbitrarily seized and “transported.” My own actions were initially motivated by pure curiosity about what was happening on the aforementioned square, but after entering the open space between the police and the citizens I quickly recognized the escalating danger in which both sides found themselves.
I picked up a discarded candle lying on the pavement and lit it, sat down on a bench and prayed for nonviolence.
When a voice resounded from the loudspeakers, calling for people to leave the square immediately – since they would start clearing it in a minute – I also got up and started walking slowly.
If I had only had slightest inkling of what was to come, I probably would have run.
Apparently I was being watched. Before the minute was up, two plainclothes security officers with rubber nightsticks grabbed me, twisted my arms, and ran with me behind the police line.
There, I was handed over to riot police on standby; they struck me on the shoulder and back with nightsticks, commenting to their colleagues that I was one of the bastards they had caught.
Holding me by the arms and beard, they brought me to a truck parked nearby.
While striking my head, shoulder, back, and buttocks, they threw me into the back of the truck, which was already filled with others. After I had withstood continued blows and a minor dog bite, they shouted at me, ordering me to lower my head, put my hands behind my neck, and stay still.
The truck was totally full in no time; when it left, two or three layers of people had been loaded for transport.
When one of us “transportees” felt the need to express pain, one or two police officers made an immediate move toward the pack of bodies, found whoever was moaning and struck that person until silence or unconsciousness set in.
No distinction was made between men and women.