For nearly 40 years, Bill Burhans has steadfastly maintained he wasn’t drunk when, as an Air Force lieutenant colonel driving fellow U.S. military liaisons home from a holiday party with their Soviet counterparts in East Germany, he lost control of the car, careened up an embankment and slammed into a bus. When the car came to a stop on Dec. 29, 1979, Air Force Lt. Col. James Tonge, his passenger, called to him to move the car to the shoulder. But Burhans sat frozen, except for his trembling hands. It was as if he’d been “hit in the head with an ax at the slaughterhouse,” Tonge would later tell U.S. investigators in a sworn statement. “He didn’t respond at all,” Tonge said of Burhans, who at the time was set to replace him as deputy of the U.S. Military Liaison Mission. Based in Potsdam, near Berlin, the USMLM’s official mission was to serve as a liaison between the U.S. military command and its Soviet counterpart in post-war Germany, but its personnel also gathered intelligence, monitored Soviet forces and reported on readiness throughout the Cold War era. French, British and Soviet liaison missions did similar work. After helping Burhans into the back seat, Tonge moved the car himself.

Retired U.S. Air Force Col. James Tonge, then a lieutenant colonel, far left, is seen here talking to his Soviet counterparts during a USMLM reception. Photo Courtesy of James Tonge

Police arrived in minutes. The two men would say the Soviet officers, including some they suspected of being members of the Soviet’s Main Intelligence Directorate, had drugged them — a story that has remained unchanged in interviews for almost four decades. But the U.S. government did not believe them, treating it as a drunken-driving incident. Tonge and Burhans were fired and sent packing in disgrace. Now, recently discovered documents from the archives of the former East German state security service — the Stasi — prove Burhans’ and Tonge’s version of events. According to 250 pages of Stasi files obtained by Stars and Stripes from the German government, the Soviets plotted to target and discredit the men, then considered “high-value targets,” culminating on the night of the crash. Documents reveal a cat-and-mouse game between the Cold War superpowers’ “military liaisons,” who were effectively spying on each other in the open. Both men, now in their 80s, and their supporters say they feel vindicated. “I was thunderstruck to see that Stasi report,” Burhans said after receiving a copy from Stars and Stripes. The incident “heavily impacted my marriage and returned me to civilian life.” The documents might not convince everyone of their innocence, he said, but he was glad the information was finally coming to light.

‘The friends’ For 40 years, from its founding in 1950 until months after the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989, the Stasi built an extensive network of 189,000 informants, or one in 20 members of the East German Communist Party, according to estimates in a 2008 study by historian Helmut Mueller-Enberg. After Germany was reunified in 1990, detailed Stasi records –- enough paperwork to stretch 69 miles end-to-end, according to a government website -- were made available to the public. Burhans and Tonge didn’t know about the release of the records at the time. The dossiers on the two men include mundane details of their daily lives, but also reveal the extent to which the two were monitored by code-named informants — likely including East German cooks, cleaning women and handymen who worked in the U.S. mission house in Potsdam. The informants eavesdropped on the Americans’ conversations, followed their movements and read their private mail. The Stasi started a dossier on Burhans when he first served as an MLM reconnaissance officer in July 1971, until June 1975. They painted him as a bold officer with a knack for shaking his East German minders or turning the tables on them. On one occasion, when he was on a reconnaissance tour — the term used for MLM missions — Burhans shook a tail between Cottbus and Hornow and managed to “not be under control for several hours,” one report states. Another time, he reportedly chased down the people tailing him and photographed them. “The only thing in our way was the crowd of soldiers,” Burhans later wrote of one incident involving an altercation with Soviet troops. The driver “simply plowed on through them in reverse” and the pair got away, escaping almost certain detention. The Soviets monitored Burhans even after he returned to the U.S. in 1975, intercepting his letters and learning that he hoped to return to the mission. At one point, an informant reported that he might soon be promoted to lieutenant colonel and brought back.

He did return in July 1979. By then, a Stasi plan was well underway to discredit Tonge, who had first served in Frankfurt in 1970 but didn’t join the USMLM until May 1976.

A veneer of goodwill The U.S. and Soviet military missions were founded in 1947 as a two-way channel between the military commands in determining the fate of post-war Germany. The 14 officers on each side were officially accredited as liaisons and often held social functions meant to build relationships and open dialogue. "...it was disclosed that toward the end of 1979 (on Dec. 29, 1979, precisely), the friends had successfully carried out a targeted measure to discredit Tonge as well as his intended successor, Lt. Col. Burhans." — Lt. Col. Klebow “We celebrated New Year’s, Christmas, Thanksgiving there was a big dinner and [we] invited people, there was a 4th of July,” said Stephen Hoyt, current president of the USMLM Association and an instructor at the University of Maryland University College in Germany. But as relations soured, the missions began focusing on gathering intelligence on their adversaries. “For the longest time the thought was the major function of the missions was to see whether or not there was going to be any kind of an invasion,” Hoyt said. “We would be able to see whether or not there were any indications of hostility.” They were essentially licensed spies, according to a 2013 U.S. Army history. Uniformed and unarmed, they roamed each other’s territory in pairs, driving vehicles with distinctive license plates. As the only legally sanctioned U.S. representatives in East Germany, the American liaisons specialized in identifying and photographing new Soviet military equipment, Hoyt said. But some areas, detailed on maps they carried, were specifically off-limits. Actions toward liaisons grew aggressive and continued that way well after Burhans and Tonge left. In 1984, the East Germans rammed a vehicle, killing French mission soldier Philippe Mariotti. A year later, the Soviets shot and killed U.S. Army Maj. Arthur Nicholson Jr., who was taking pictures of a remote Soviet tank shed.

The plot Tonge’s Stasi minders found that he consistently ignored signs marking restricted areas. GDR authorities were convinced he was a spy.

A copy of retired U.S. Air Force Col. James Tonge's USMLM credentials. Never-before-seen Stasi documents indicate that Tonge, then a lieutenant colonel, and another U.S. Air Force officer, Lt. Col. Bill Burhans, were subject to a "targeted measure to discredit" them in Germany on Dec. 29, 1979 by the Soviets. Photo Courtesy of James Tonge

The first known “action plan” against him is dated Jan. 10, 1979, nearly a year before the fateful holiday party. “What to do against Tonge,” it states, above a list of tasks, such as collecting damaging material to use against him. It also instructs agents to work Tonge’s contacts and use every opportunity to talk to him or his spouse for reconnaissance purposes. The ultimate goal: “Block his active spy activity and secure spy material and technology.” The measures were not good enough in their initial stages and the East Germans stepped up their drive to discredit the American, the Stasi files show. A document dated Oct. 20, 1980, notes that a “targeted measure” by the Soviets had, by the end of 1979, sidelined him and Burhans. “Action against him was planned and executed,” the document states in German. “During a consultation with the Soviet friends concerning high value targets among USMLM members, it was disclosed that toward the end of 1979 (on Dec. 29, 1979, precisely), the friends had successfully carried out a targeted measure to discredit Tonge as well as his intended successor, Lt. Col. Burhans.” The document was signed by “Lt. Col. Klebow.” No further information is included on the “action” taken in the files.

An unreal world For the American and Soviet liaisons, Dec. 29, 1979, had been a festive day, just days before the dawn of a new decade. Gifts were exchanged, food was eaten, several toasts were raised and vodka shots downed. After the merriment, Tonge and Army Maj. John Goff piled into a car with Burhans at the wheel and headed back toward West Berlin. After driving three blocks, Burhans “expertly” threaded the serpentine barriers of the Glienicke Bridge — dubbed the “bridge of spies” — connecting Potsdam and Berlin, pausing so guards could examine their credentials, Tonge told investigators after the crash. “The corners are quite tight and require perfect timing,” Tonge said in a sworn statement, after describing the border crossing’s slalom of thick tank barriers. “Lt. Col. Burhans navigated the course through the barriers with no problem.”

A photo of retired U.S. Air Force Lt. Col. Bill Burhans, right, and retired U.S. Army Col. Tom Spencer, next to a USMLM sign outside Burhans' Texas home in 2018. The men have remained close since they reported being drugged by the Soviets in 1979 and 1981 respectively. Photo Courtesy of Bill Burhans