The 1979 Hot Air Balloon Escape from East Germany
- Daniel Holland
- Feb 4, 2025
- 13 min read
Updated: 2 days ago
It began, as so many Cold War escape stories did, with waiting. Waiting for darkness. Waiting for the right weather. Waiting for a moment when the machinery of the state might briefly look the other way. On the night of 16th of September, 1979, deep in a wooded clearing in southern East Germany, two families stood beside something that should never have existed. Looming above them was a vast homemade hot air balloon, stitched together in secrecy, smelling faintly of fabric glue, propane and anxiety.
For the Strelzyk and Wetzel families, this was not a reckless adventure, it was a final calculation. They had already failed once. The East German secret police were actively searching for whoever had built the abandoned balloon discovered near the border earlier that summer. If the Stasi reached them first, prison would be inevitable and their children would pay the price alongside them. Standing in the darkness, they understood that there was no going back.
If they were going to leave East Germany, they would have to fly.
East Germany in 1979
By the late 1970s, the German Democratic Republic had become one of the most closely monitored societies in modern Europe. Officially, it presented itself as a stable socialist state, committed to equality and order. In everyday life, it functioned through fear, surveillance and quiet coercion.
The Ministry for State Security, known universally as the Stasi, operated a surveillance system that reached into every corner of society. More than 90,000 full time officers were supported by an estimated 200,000 informal collaborators. These informants were not only officials or party loyalists.
They were neighbours, co workers, friends and sometimes even close family members. A careless remark or a misplaced expression of dissatisfaction could be recorded and quietly stored away for future use.
Travel to the West was almost entirely forbidden. Defection was treated as a criminal offence, and punishment extended well beyond the individual. Relatives of escapees could lose their jobs, their homes and in some cases custody of their children. The inner German border was designed to enforce this reality. Stretching roughly 1,400 kilometres, it was a layered system of barbed wire fences, signal wires, patrol roads, watchtowers, dogs, armed guards and landmines. The Berlin Wall may have drawn the world’s attention, but the rural borderlands were just as lethal.
For Peter Strelzyk and Günter Wetzel, this was not an abstract political situation. It was the environment in which they were raising children and planning futures that felt increasingly constrained.
Two Families and One Shared Problem
Peter Strelzyk was an electrician by trade and had previously served as a mechanic in the East German Air Force. He was technically minded, methodical and used to working quietly. Günter Wetzel, a bricklayer, was practical and inventive, known among friends for his ability to fix or build almost anything. Both men were married and both had young sons. Both had spent years discussing the same question in private conversations that never lasted too long.
How do you leave a country designed to stop you leaving?
They considered walking across the border, then rejected it. They considered hiding in vehicles or trains, then dismissed those ideas as unrealistic. They even discussed building a small aeroplane, but the complexity and noise involved made that plan impossible.
The idea of a hot air balloon seemed, at first, absurd. Then it refused to go away.
Accounts differ as to where the inspiration came from. Some recall a television programme about ballooning. Others point to a magazine article about the Albuquerque balloon festival. What mattered was the realisation that airspace was not guarded in the same way as the ground. If they could climb high enough and drift far enough, they might cross the border without ever encountering a fence or patrol.
It was a gamble based on physics, weather and hope.
Building a Balloon Without Being Seen
The practical problems were immense. To lift eight people, plus fuel and equipment, the balloon would require roughly 800 square metres of fabric. In a country where unusual purchases attracted attention, buying that amount of material in one place would have been reckless.
Instead, the men travelled widely, visiting shops in different towns and cities, buying modest quantities of cloth each time. They offered plausible explanations. The material was for tents. It was for a sailing club. It was for hobby projects. No single purchase looked suspicious on its own.
The first balloon was made from cotton. It took months to assemble and test, only for them to discover that cotton was too porous. Hot air escaped faster than it could be replaced. The balloon would never generate enough lift.
Starting again was demoralising, but unavoidable.
They realised they needed synthetic fabric. To obtain it, they drove around 160 kilometres to Leipzig, claiming to be members of a sailing club in need of sailcloth. Despite their nerves, no one questioned the purchase. In hindsight, this ordinary transaction was one of the quiet miracles that made the escape possible.
Back at home, the sewing fell largely to Günter Wetzel’s wife Petra. Using a foot powered sewing machine that was more than 40 years old, she stitched hundreds of fabric panels together, working in secrecy with the curtains drawn. The work was slow and physically demanding. Eventually, they adapted the machine with an electric motor, dramatically reducing the time needed. Every improvement mattered.
The balloon slowly took shape in pieces, hidden whenever visitors appeared.
Fire, Fuel and Calculation
While the fabric was being assembled, Strelzyk focused on the mechanics. The burner had to be powerful, reliable and quiet enough to avoid detection. He built it from household propane gas bottles, salvaged hoses, pipes from old appliances, a modified nozzle and sections of stovepipe. It was an improvised solution, but one grounded in careful testing.
The gondola was equally pragmatic. A lightweight frame, a sheet metal floor and sides made from clothesline. It was just strong enough to carry eight people and several heavy gas tanks, and no heavier than necessary.
Testing took place in a secluded forest clearing near the border. The first attempts were discouraging. Either the balloon failed to inflate properly or the burner could not maintain the required temperature. Each failure was dangerous, not only because of the technical risks but because repeated trips to the forest increased the chance of being noticed.
Gradually, the system began to work.
The First Attempt
In the early hours of the 3rd of July, 1979, the Strelzyk family attempted their escape alone. Peter, his wife Doris and their two sons lifted off at around 01:30. Initially, everything went according to plan. The balloon climbed to around 2,000 metres and drifted steadily towards the border.
Then the weather intervened. Moisture condensed on the balloon’s surface, adding weight. The descent came sooner than expected. They landed just 180 metres short of the border, dangerously close to minefields and patrol routes.
For nine hours, the family crawled through restricted territory, moving slowly and avoiding detection before eventually making it home. They were shaken, exhausted and painfully aware of how close they had come to disaster.
The abandoned balloon was discovered soon after. The Stasi launched an immediate investigation.
Time was no longer on their side.
Preparing for the Last Chance
The families understood that another failure would almost certainly lead to arrest. The Stasi analysed everything. Fabric, stitching techniques, metal components, even thread. Informants were questioned. Sketches of the recovered equipment were circulated with requests for tips.
Despite the pressure, they decided to try again. A third balloon was built, larger and more robust than the last. Fabric was bought in small quantities across the country. Work continued day and night. Every decision was made with the understanding that this was the final attempt.
On the night of the 15th of September, 1979, a violent thunderstorm provided cover. Both families gathered at the launch site. Eight people climbed into the gondola.
At around 02:00, the balloon lifted off.
Almost immediately, a tether failed to release cleanly, tilting the balloon and sending flames licking up the fabric. A fire extinguisher, carried for exactly this reason, put the flames out. Later, at roughly 2,500 metres, a tear developed. Wetzel relit the burner repeatedly with a match, fighting gravity with dwindling fuel.
At 03:00, the propane ran out. The balloon came down hard in an open field.
Then they saw a police car approaching.
“Are we in the West?”
“Yes, you are.”
Life After the Border
The families landed near Naila in Bavaria and were received by West German authorities. Unlike many refugees, they were not placed in long term camps. They were granted citizenship, given financial support and helped into housing.
In East Germany, the reaction was swift and punitive. Border security was tightened. Sales of large quantities of synthetic fabric were restricted. Propane tanks became registered items. Small airfields near the border were closed or heavily monitored.
The Stasi turned its attention to relatives left behind. Peter Strelzyk’s brother Erich was arrested within hours. His sister Maria and her husband were also detained. None of them had known about the escape, but all were charged with aiding and abetting. Maria and her husband received sentences of two and a half years. International pressure, particularly from Amnesty International, eventually secured their release.
Immediate Reactions: Shock, Celebration, and Crackdown
News of the balloon escape spread with remarkable speed. Within hours, West German radio stations were reporting that two families had crossed the inner German border by air, landing safely in Bavaria after a night flight in a homemade balloon. By the following morning, newspapers across West Germany carried photographs of the scorched fabric, the improvised gondola, and the exhausted but smiling escapees. For many readers, the story felt almost unreal.
In the West, the reaction was a mixture of astonishment and admiration. The escape was framed not simply as a clever feat of engineering, but as a deeply human act of defiance. Commentators described it as proof that even the most tightly controlled borders could be overcome through ingenuity and persistence. At a time when the Cold War often felt static and immovable, the image of eight people drifting quietly over fences and minefields offered a rare sense of possibility.
West German politicians were more measured but no less aware of the symbolism. Privately, officials understood that the escape would infuriate East German authorities and potentially provoke retaliation. Publicly, however, the tone was one of cautious pride. The families were treated as victims of an oppressive system rather than provocateurs, and the emphasis was placed on humanitarian responsibility rather than political triumphalism.
In East Germany, the mood could not have been more different. The escape was a profound embarrassment. The GDR had spent decades presenting itself as a state with total control over its borders and population. Its security services were widely regarded, even within the Eastern Bloc, as among the most efficient and intrusive in the world. The idea that two families had quietly sewn a balloon, assembled a burner from household materials, and floated out of the country struck at the heart of that carefully maintained image.
Internally, the incident was treated not as an isolated failure but as a systemic threat. If one group of ordinary citizens could do this, others might follow. The authorities moved quickly to ensure that the story did not inspire imitation.
Stasi’s Response: A Ruthless Investigation
The discovery of the abandoned balloon after the first failed attempt had already triggered alarm within the Ministry for State Security. After the successful escape, that alarm turned into urgency. Within hours, a full scale investigation was underway, coordinated at a national level.
A special task force was assembled, drawing on multiple departments within the Stasi. Its purpose was not only to identify who had built the balloon, but to understand how such an escape had been possible at all. Investigators treated the balloon as forensic evidence. Every component was catalogued, photographed and analysed.
They worked backwards, attempting to reconstruct the supply chain and skill set required to build it. The questions were methodical and relentless. Where had the fabric been purchased, and in what quantities. Which shops had sold synthetic cloth in recent months. Who had access to propane tanks and metalworking tools. Who possessed the technical knowledge to design a functioning burner and calculate lift.
Sketches of the recovered burner, gondola and fabric panels were circulated internally and, in some cases, shown to shop owners, mechanics and tailors. Citizens were encouraged to report anyone who might have made unusual purchases or asked unusual questions. The stitching itself became an object of scrutiny. Sewing techniques were examined in the hope that they might be traced to a particular machine, workshop or individual.
The investigation was exhaustive, but it was also hampered by the very secrecy that had protected the families. Purchases had been spread across multiple towns. Cover stories had been consistent and unremarkable. No single informant had enough information to piece together the full picture.
By the time the Stasi realised what had happened, the balloon builders were already beyond their reach.
Relatives Targeted and Imprisoned
Unable to punish the escapees themselves, the East German authorities turned their attention to those who remained. This was a well established tactic. By targeting relatives, the state could reassert control and send a clear warning to anyone else contemplating defection.
Peter Strelzyk’s brother Erich was arrested just three hours after the successful landing in Bavaria. His detention was swift and uncompromising. He was interrogated repeatedly, questioned about his movements, his contacts and his knowledge of the escape. Despite his insistence that he had known nothing about the balloon, he was held in Stasi custody for months.
Peter’s sister Maria and her husband were also arrested. Like Erich, they were charged with aiding and abetting escape, a broad legal category that required little concrete evidence. The fact that they were family was deemed sufficient.
Maria and her husband were sentenced to two and a half years in prison under the GDR’s strict anti defection laws. Their imprisonment was intended not only as punishment but as a deterrent. It reinforced the message that escape carried consequences far beyond the individual.
Their eventual release came only after sustained international pressure. Organisations such as Amnesty International raised the cases as examples of political imprisonment, drawing attention to the practice of collective punishment within the GDR. While the authorities never acknowledged wrongdoing, the sentences were quietly curtailed.
Border Security Tightened
The balloon escape prompted immediate changes along the border. Although the GDR leadership avoided public discussion of the incident, internal directives made it clear that vulnerabilities had been identified and needed to be addressed.
Border patrols were increased, particularly in rural areas where surveillance had been lighter. Guards were instructed to pay closer attention to unusual activity, especially at night. The emphasis shifted from purely ground based threats to the possibility of aerial escapes.
Retail controls were tightened. Shops were instructed to limit the sale of large quantities of lightweight synthetic fabrics such as nylon and taffeta. Purchases that might once have gone unnoticed were now logged and, in some cases, reported.
Propane gas tanks were brought under stricter regulation. Canisters were registered and tracked, and discrepancies had to be explained. This created additional administrative burdens for ordinary citizens, but the state regarded the inconvenience as a necessary price.
Small local airfields near the border were closed or placed under heavy surveillance. The authorities feared that the balloon escape might inspire attempts involving light aircraft or gliders. Even activities with no connection to escape were viewed through the lens of risk.
These measures did not make escape impossible, but they narrowed the margins and reinforced the sense of constant observation.
Media Frenzy: Their Story Goes Global
In the West, the families quickly became media figures. Their story was compelling, accessible and rich in detail. It combined technical ingenuity with emotional stakes, and journalists were eager to tell it.
Stern magazine secured exclusive rights to their account, providing the families with a financial foundation at a critical moment. The money helped them secure housing and begin rebuilding their lives without immediate economic pressure.
Interviews followed with broadcasters across Europe and beyond. The families were careful in their public statements, often emphasising that they had acted out of concern for their children rather than political ambition. This framing resonated with audiences and reinforced the image of the escape as a personal rather than ideological act.
Film producers soon expressed interest. The story was adapted into the Disney film Night Crossing, released in 1982. While the film took dramatic liberties, it introduced the escape to a global audience and cemented its place in popular memory.
Careers and Adjusting to Freedom
Freedom brought opportunities, but it also brought unfamiliar challenges. Peter Strelzyk opened a television and radio repair shop in Bad Kissingen, drawing on skills he had honed for years in East Germany. Günter Wetzel found work as a vehicle mechanic, specialising in truck repairs.
Adapting to a capitalist economy required a shift in mindset. Decisions about pricing, competition and self promotion were new. So too was the sheer abundance of consumer choice. For people who had spent their lives navigating shortages and restrictions, this abundance could feel overwhelming.
Cultural adjustment took time. Decades of state propaganda did not disappear overnight. Trust, particularly in institutions, had to be rebuilt. The families were grateful for their freedom, but they were also aware of what had been lost.
Media attention, initially welcome, became intrusive. In 1985, the Strelzyks moved to Switzerland in search of privacy and stability. The Wetzels chose to remain in West Germany, gradually settling into a quieter life.
Reunification and the Fall of the Berlin Wall (1989 to 1990)
When the Berlin Wall fell in 1989, the escape took on new meaning. What had once seemed like an extraordinary exception now appeared as part of a broader collapse of the system the families had fled.
In 1990, Peter and Doris Strelzyk returned to Pößneck for the first time since their escape. Walking through familiar streets without fear of arrest was a deeply emotional experience. They were able to visit relatives openly and speak freely about their past.
The Wetzels, having built their lives in the West, chose not to return permanently, but the possibility itself marked a profound change.
After reunification, Stasi files were opened to public scrutiny. Peter Strelzyk requested his file and discovered just how close the authorities had been. Informants had been watching them. Reports had been filed. Plans for arrest were already in motion. The escape had succeeded by a narrow margin.
Legacy
Today, the balloon escape is remembered as one of the most inventive and quietly determined acts of the Cold War. In 2017, the original balloon was placed on permanent display at the Haus der Bayerischen Geschichte, its stitched panels and improvised components preserved as historical artefacts.
The story was revisited in Balloon, a German language production that both families supported for its attention to detail and historical accuracy.
Peter Strelzyk died after a long illness in 2017 at the age of 74. He had once risked everything on a fragile construction of fabric, flame and calculation. It carried him, his family and their friends into a life that the state could no longer control.
