Roger Waters asked me to shoot a film to be inserted into the live global broadcast of the huge concert event, staged on a dusty Potsdamer Platz, which was previously a ‘no-man’s land’ dividing East and West Germany. I shot the film with an unlikely mixture of drunken German TV crew and stoned British roadies, in a weirdly deserted East Berlin. Buildings had been abandoned overnight. In the hospital in which we filmed, we didn’t need permission since the staff and the patients had done a runner. The sheets on the beds were thrown back and medical equipment was lying around. I projected the Marching Hammers onto the Berlin Wall from a giant projector mounted on a flatbed truck. We were escorted by East German police, who stared blankly at the Nazi hammers pounding across what remained of the Berlin Wall.