“Sweet” Memories

 During the last days of World War II in Berlin my mother kept a diary and the following is an excerpt of her entry for Wednesday 25 April 1945:

“Early in the morning out off bed at once. There will be an extra ration of Schnaps: 1/2 a bottle of Korn ( Vodka) plus 1 kg of sugar per head. The bombardment is becoming shorter and louder. A sign that the enemy is coming closer. Everyone is getting more restless……..”

Restless we might have been, but not enough not to get the sugar, “Go and get the sugar”, said my Mum and gave me instructions how to find the shop. I did not question her. I was used to go on errands and wait in queues for hours. The day before the front line was only 2 km away on this day it could be in the next street. But for sugar there is no tomorrow. The sugar was not available at a local shop but I had to walk about 1.5 km over a very long railway bridge (Monumenten Brücke). My Mum had no idea about the strategic value of such a bridge – and neither had I.

Spring in 1945 was especially beautiful as if nature wanted to compensate for the folly of men. Maybe nature wanted to tell us, “STOP all this nonsense and enjoy ME!” The weather was mild and flowers and blossoms everywhere. I had to walk through the Victoria Park (named in honour of Vicky, our former Empress and daughter of Queen Victoria of England). I was not in a hurry and looked around in the park, as I liked the trees and everything green.

Coming out of the park and back onto the streets I noticed it was very quiet and hardly any person to be seen. Everyone was probably queuing somewhere or sitting in their shelter reciting “Our Father…..”.

After about 250 meters I approached the bridge which is very long, spanning a very wide railway corridor with many tracks leading south, from two railway stations, out of the city. I was always proud of the bridges across the railway as my father had told me, his father, my grandfather, had built them all. Dad liked to exaggerate in those matters. He meant, granddad took part in building them. Perhaps Dad was showing his pride.

So, I walked over the bridge, no soul was to be seen. I know now that in those times all bridges were wired for demolition in case the enemy wanted to use them. But then, I was oblivious of that fact. When I reached the middle I looked to the north were the Anhalter Bahnhof was. I heard machine gun fire and saw puffs of smoke where artillery shells hit buildings. All the while grenades were whistling over my head as they headed for the inner city. So, that was where the enemy was and the battle raged.

Coming off the bridge I had maybe another 100 to 150 meters to walk. I arrived at the grocery store without any trouble. Not many people were in there and no queue outside. Soon the lady behind the counter asked me my wishes….. Than it happened ! A whistling sound and a mighty explosion followed. The whole apartment building was shaking in its foundations. We thought the whole building was going to collapse. Everything was instantly covered by a big white cloud of dust. The woman behind the counter came out and grabbed me and we rushed into the air raid shelter in case more shells would hit the building. Momentarily there was pandemonium. People expected the worst.

But that was it. The dust settled, the people quietened down and we left the shelter. There was debris everywhere. Everything inside the apartment building and outside on the street was covered in dust. We went back into the shop and the kind lady handed me the sugar with the words,” Here, you earned it!”

I left the shop and went on my way home. Once again I went over the bridge. But this time I noticed high in the sky a Russian fighter plane. It just circled around in the blue sky. He had no worries as the German Luftwaffe did not exist any more. But he probably had the order to keep an eye on the bridge, in case one of those fanatical Hitler Youth attempted to blow it up. That was his mission and by jolly, I fitted the bill and he was coming down on me.

The plane dipped down and I could hear the howling sound as it headed towards me. I started to run as I did not have the other option, to fight. I was running as fast as I could towards the end of the bridge where there were buildings providing cover.

I think, I was lucky that the plane came from a very great height as he must have watched a second bridge (Langenscheidtbrücke) a further 500 meters to the West – made famous later in Wim Wender’s film “Wings of Desire” – plus he did not want to be in the firing line of the artillery shells that were hurdling towards the city centre.

I ran and I ran, clutching my sugar. Coming towards the end of the bridge I spotted a woman heading for the same passageway to a warehouse. All the while that howling noise was increasing as the plane came closer and closer. The woman and I just reached the building, with its passageway for shelter, when the pilot started firing his machine gun and the bullets hit the cobble stones. He pulled his plane up again or he would have crashed into the pavement himself.

When the plane was gone we continued our own ways, and I don’t think anything was said by both of us. I was soon home and handed over the sugar to my Mum. I told my story but no one made a fuss and soon it was forgotten – it was just one of those things. There was a war on, what did I expect? My mother finished her day’s entry ….

“….Around lunchtime a piece of shrapnel went into the pharmacy at Manfred-von-Richthofen Strasse and killed the pharmacist out right We knew him quite well.”

..without mentioning my little adventure.


6 thoughts on ““Sweet” Memories

  1. I cannot even begin to imagine what it was like living in this hell and trying not to go mad nevertheless. Focusing on everyday things, like getting some sugar, cooking and taking care of the household, might have been one of the few things that gave one the feeling of security.
    And I can perfectly understand your Mum not wanting to write about your “adventure”. If it were one of my boys, I would not record it either, I think. It´s not something you want to remember – you want it gone, you want it “never-happened”. It must have been so much easier to think about the poor pharmacist´s actual death as about her son being so close to it himself.

    Thank you for sharing this.

    • This is very intuitive what you are thinking of my mother’s thinking at the time. I have not thought about it that way. Thank you for pointing this out. It is a possibility.

  2. Reblogged this on KREUZBERG´D and commented:
    Here is a blog that is going to give you a very vivid image of what it was like to be a child in Berlin-Kreuzberg during the last war.
    For myself I can only say, I am immensely grateful for the opportunity to get to know the past of the Kiez first hand and so well written. Enjoy!

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