d-hitting units, were commandeered by Berlin in 1943 for the rescue of the imperial capital. This then, one year later, left residents of Leipzig bitterly infuriated.
Q: Once again the question, or perhaps then to put in more concrete terms, how can a child react to seeing these dead people lying there? Or was it simply a part of war which they recognized? They were of course aware that it was a war.
That these people were laid out side by side… they weren’t stacked up, and there were a few children as well… that was an extended topic of conversation in the following weeks, and personally, these images have always remained with me, how the children laid there and did not move.
Q: But did that fill you with panic?
No. I wouldn’t say panic. That provoked a certain respect and fear by all means, but not necessarily that it could have led to a catastrophe.
Q: Were there any explanations for it?
Yes. The explanations were more of the technical variety, shall we say: that it was due to the bombardment, and because of the explosions of these bombs. After this point, all of the occupants, even of the shelters in the residential buildings, were advised that they had to crouch down upon the impact of the first bombs, that the children had to hunker down and compress their chest cavity with their arms, and open their mouths wide. That was a reaction to the implementation of such super-bombs.
Q: When the door opened after the attack, how would you describe that? Apocalypse? Or what words are there to describe what one saw then, or how one perceived it as a child, when there were impacts in the area?
On the example of the events of November 1943, on November 18th, the first air attack more or less passed by Alexanderplatz, because due to its size all of Berlin could not be attacked by a bomber wing. It was attacked variably, precinct for precinct, according to the general staff. In this case, the momentum of the attack was divided amongst Reinigendorf, Kreuzberg and Lichtenberg.
As we could leave the complex, then naturally the first thing — one isn’t forewarned, one isn’t informed as to what awaits you outside — but as we exited and found Alexanderplatz in more or less the same condition as we had seen it when we ran down the steep slope into the depths of the shelter, the image was more or less a positive one. The second thing which was striking was always the glow of the fire. Particularly the fire over Lichtenberg and Kreuzberg. The sky was red and flickered with lavender tones. It is a play of color which one can never properly describe. It is terrifying. Bright, yet dark. Then one looks around to see if the path is clear, and one have only one wish practically, to come home quickly in order to see if everything is as one left it.
The second attack on the 22nd and 23rd saw the weight of the assault focused on the center, including Alexanderplatz. Streetcars were overturned. The contact wires of the streetcars lay in the street. One didn’t know at the time whether one could even cross the roadway. Is there still electricity in there or not? The people screamed, “Stop! Don’t go out! Be careful!” In other words it was chaos. The streets were full of debris. If the glass of the windowpanes had not already flown out, it lay on the street. Individual houses all around burned. That was an event where many people simply wandered in a certain direction without orientation, sometimes even towards a fire. They simply ran anywhere. My mother took hold of us and held on tight. We left a piece of luggage lying there. It was important to me that we not follow suit in fleeing in an arbitrary direction. Yes, that was a dire situation. Alexanderplatz was no longer recognizable.
Q: Describe that a bit more.
Bomb craters on the magnitude of 10 to 20 meters in diameter. Such deep holes were bored into the earth through the surface of the road. The facades of houses were literally shaved off by the shrapnel. Plaster, ornaments which were on the houses all around, all that lay on the ground below. Fire hoses which, for whatever reason, were still laid