Letters From Berlin: A Story of War, Survival, and the Redeeming Power of Love and Friendship

by Kerstin Lieff

  There are five nurses and one head nurse. There is much to do, and we are constantly running around. This morning, my job was to bathe all the patients once again. They are all coming directly from the front. Some of them never even came through the HVP,38 because they simply couldn’t find it, and just walked through the city until they saw the first S-Bahn. We used to joke, saying, “Do you know when the war will be over? When you can take the S-Bahn to the front.” Back then we laughed about it. Today it is a horrible reality.

  All through the night we hear bomb sirens. At eight, Ivan shows up and then retreats toward eastern Berlin or into the eastern suburbs; then he is replaced by Tomy in the west.39 As soon as Tomy flies off, Ivan returns. So until about three or four in the morning they hold us hostage. At six I need to get up again. One could just as easily fall over from fatigue. What’s more, we have no electricity. At first, the lights were only turned off for one to two hours each day. But yesterday we had only one hour with lights because we were supposed to make “thick air,” as bomber formations were approaching. At night, during the bomb alarms, we sat in the dark. It’s difficult, you know, when you have to run in such a hurry into the basement with all your luggage and then try to do so in the dark. We must run extra fast now because the front is so near that, by the time we hear the sirens, the bombers are already right on top of us.

  How will all this end? How will the war finally turn out? How is life to be for all of us Berliners? Himmler is to become the city commander of Berlin.40 Berlin is supposed to be protected until the very end. There are so many women and children still here. We can’t get out. But then, where would we go? The enemy has surrounded us. Who will arrive here first? Will there be more destruction and more ruin? Tomorrow, the 20th of April, when the enemy wants to occupy Berlin, another huge burden will fall upon us. If only it were finally over!

  One can only ride the train with a special permit, but soon even those will become hard to come by. Businesses are closing because they cannot get work papers for their employees. Besides, without exception, there are no materials with which to carry on any sort of business. Furthermore, with all these power outages, many businesses and factories fail anyway. What is astonishing, though, is the human will, which, regardless of the fight, continues to hold its head high.

  Our Lazarett is about to burst at the seams. There is a constant stream of men arriving. Either they walk in alone or are in a group transported by truck. Every bed is full. They have ghastly wounds.

  Often they bring us disturbing news. Except from my beloved Dieter there is no news. We have not heard a thing from him since February. A patient who fought in Gross-Born told me that the military school there was full, and that the military training had been moved to Neustettin and Kolberg. Maybe he was transferred for his training. He wrote us that he was returning to Pilsen to continue his studies, but, in any case, we should have heard from him by now. Oh, my dear little brother—nothing shall have happened to you! I cannot bear the thought, that he may not be alive anymore. He is so much younger than I, and should his life already be extinguished?! No!

  For today, dear Peter, I send you all my most loving thoughts and oh, so much Soldier’s Luck! I think about you so very often, and I am looking forward to the time that I will be able to give this book to you as proof. That will be such a beautiful day! On that day the brightest, warmest sun will shine in my heart. That is when my sweetest dreams will come true.

  With love,

  Your Grete

  20 April 1945

  My dearest Peter,

  The dearest man in the whole world!

  Only you hold me close enough that I have the strength to believe that if I play the game right, I will survive the fight and will come out of this alive.

  The Russians are gaining ground with tremendous force. In Erkner, one can already see the gun barrels of their tanks and the same is happening in Lichtenrade. The wife of one of our patients from Lichtenrade called us today in hysterics. She intends to flee the city immediately. This afternoon there was a huge bomb attack right at the city limits of Berlin. Is the American still supposed to arrive before the Russian does? I hardly believe it anymore.

  I have a lot to do now.

  In my thoughts I’ll kiss you with all I have,

  Your Grete

  21 April 1945

  My dearest Peter!

  Once again twelve hours have passed. Yesterday, yet again there were great advances in the northern and southern perimeters of Berlin. The Russian is supposedly already in Bernau. Last night bombs fell even before the alarms sounded. I was in our apartment trying to repack my suitcase by the light of a streetlamp. Out of a sheer panic, I buried my head inside the suitcase, between my clothes.

  We have no lights anymore. The S-Bahn is operating on steam. You can only ride it with special identification papers. It leaves every hour. But hardly anyone is able to acquire these papers, so we simply walk. All of us nurses are, for the most part, sequestered. I am still living at home, though. Papa is leaving us soon. He is probably going to be ordered to a command post elsewhere.

  Now the only thing we have to believe in is a lucky star. Yesterday I prayed to the dear lord with such ardent fervor to please take me to you. Whether dead or alive, he shall reunite us!

  I send you my love and my sweetest kisses,

  Your Grete

  10 May 1945

  My dearest man!

  Today, first a deep breath. You poor, poor man, you’ll likely be so worried when you learn what has happened to us, although we really have managed to survive rather well. No Russian has caused any of us any harm—so far!—even though so many have suffered such evil, unthinkable horrors. The women are all being handled in unspeakable ways, and Russians are looting everywhere. Supposedly they were issued orders making it against the law, and they would be punished if they were caught. But they’ve been celebrating victory and peace for a week now, and they are always drunk. And still our Lazarett has been—knock on wood—left alone. We are also nearly the only Lazarett without lights. None of the nurses have been harmed. In fact, there has hardly been a Russian here at all.

  The civilians, on the other hand, are faring rather poorly. They are all desperately hungry. The food rations are very small—so small, in fact, they are like those that our previous regime used to give the Jews.

  We are allowed to be in the streets from two a.m. to ten p.m.

  These Russians have a few loose marbles rolling around in their heads. As a woman, one must try to behave as inconspicuously as possible in order to avoid being taken by one of them. Last night we constantly heard the terrified screams for help from women as they were being raped. But one cannot help them. The Russians are all drunk. What can one do?

  Even so, we are all breathing easier—we have peace. No bombs, no more fighting! We have survived the worst. We have our “beloved” SS to thank for the way the enemy is now treating us. We, of course, knew nothing of all this. Our Landser keep telling us the SS did the same thing to them. Oh well, that’s how it is.

  It’s summer; it’s May. It’s warm outside—we have peace. Soon you will be home and we will be able to decide how it shall go from here. Will you take me with you to a place that is better than here?

  Perhaps you will write soon. The troops supposedly have been organized for the march home from Denmark. You should be home soon. I really don’t feel afraid for you, because I have such a strong sense that things went well for you. Oh, my dear Peter! There will be so much to talk about! But then, when you return, we will belong to each other forever and we will never again part. Do you know that this hope, this belief, is the only thing that holds me and keeps me going? Soon, dear Peter, soon! Then too, I will be your wife, and I will never leave you. And you will never have to go to war again. We will begin to rebuild our lives. We will be happy and from our love we will draw the strength to exist and to overcome the difficulty and severity of all the fighting. That will be so lovely, Franzel! Tonigh
t I will, once again, think about you for a long time. And you will surely think of me just before you fall asleep. Do you know that I am alive and that I am well? I’ll tell you all about it in the night tonight!

  My darling Peter, the next time I’ll tell you about all that we have survived. It was a lot. Difficult, extremely difficult.

  Recently we were renamed the Reserve Lazarett, then the War and Field Lazarett, and finally we became the HVP. We have many soldiers here who have severe wounds. There are so many dead ones, so many who are bleeding to death. But the rest of us have survived—physically, morally, and spiritually.

  Now I will kiss you deeply and with all my love,

  Your Grete

  12 May 1945

  My dearest Peter!

  I think of you so very often! If only that first letter from you would arrive already! I have the feeling that you’re still alive and that, soon, we’ll be together. I can hardly wait for you to be with me, and we will never leave each other, ever again.

  Everything is so sad and so difficult. If only that man were with me now—the one who is my friend, my companion (and more)—to help me, because just that is what helps the most—companionship. I wait for you with such hope in my heart. You are the only one I love this dearly. Only you can help me. So often, at night, I dream that you are with me. I wish that I could lock myself within your arms and cry, cry, cry—until everything has been washed away, and then you’ll lead me off to that place where we can begin to rebuild our lives once more.

  I do realize that we women, although we can certainly be tough, are really quite helpless in this world when we are left alone. God planned it this way—that a man and a woman are meant to complement one another so that each of us will be the half that completes the whole.

  Oh, how sweet it would be if you were only with me now! Sometime soon, before my birthday, surely I’ll receive some news from you. On the 25th of May,41 I will be thinking about you so much that nothing would please me more than knowing you are alive and that you will come home to me soon. If only the mail would run again so that I could write to you!

  25 May 1945

  My sweet man!

  Today, surely you are thinking of me, just as I am thinking of you so very much. My dear Peter, how are you? Will you survive this day? I believe so. I have the feeling that all will work out. Of course you’ll survive today. But where are you? Are you on your way home? Did you end up in a prison camp? Are you already home? My love, how I long for you! Soon it will get to the point that nothing will interest me anymore. One day, surely you will come home, stand before me, look into my eyes and give me a tender kiss. Oh how wonderful that will be! Then you will have to say to me: Now you’ll stay with me forever.

  I want only one thing and that is to be with you, even if we are to end up in the poorest dilapidated old hut. I dream of having a family one day. I dream of having many children.

  Well, in that regard, my patients in the Lazarett are mere children. We have to handle them as if they are small infants, especially when they have such horrible wounds. But I must tell you: they all love me very much and always ask for me. It is me they ask for to change their dressings because they say I have the gentlest hands. That always makes me so happy.

  30 May 1945

  Dearest Peter!

  The last few weeks have been almost too much to bear. There is tremendous physical and emotional stress. Our bad food is cooked with the water from the pit in the yard that could easily be the very water in which a woman has taken her life. At first we only had one bowl of soup and two pieces of bread every day. It is a bit better now, because now we receive 500 grams of bread each day. The bread is fresh but we are missing something to put on it. Canned goods are sometimes available but only enough to put on one slice of bread. As of two days ago, we started to receive rations of lard.

  There is a constant draft in the hallways, because all the walls and windows are broken. With this and the poor nutrition, nearly everyone is sick. Almost everyone has stomach problems. Others have sore throats and many have angina. For four weeks now, I have had stomach problems myself until I was finally not even able to get out of bed, running a fever of 102 degrees. I ran this high fever for nearly three days. Today, for the first time, it’s down to 98.6 degrees once again. I’ve decided to stay in bed one more day in order to rest thoroughly.

  These times are so dreadful for us. We live from one fear to the next. And we hear nothing positive. There is still no mail service. There are several organizations that do stop by from time to time. But I must say, people have become so vulgar and despicable, really. I don’t know if it’s only the scum of mankind that survives a war, or if it is that everyone suddenly believes they must degrade themselves to their lowest level. Women sit around squabbling and gossiping about the most vulgar things.

  Our Lazarett has become the Civilian Hospital (the hospital on Heerstrasse). Every Wednesday and Saturday night we put on a variety show. But you can no longer say that things have “double entendres,” rather they are, at best, a “single entendre.” Mutti says the sort of behavior is so typical of postwar psychosis. At every corner and in every bar you can see women hanging around with Russian soldiers.

  There is also all the cleanup work to do. All the piles of rubble that have been lying in the streets from the bombings need to be hauled off and then dumped into the craters of bombed-out houses. Every civilian is required to do this work. The PGs42 are required to work even harder—all day long, from early in the morning until late at night. For everyone else, the work hours are only from two p.m. until four p.m. It happens too that you could simply be pulled aside and forced to do the work until you are told that you are finished.

  Cars and Sankas43 were of course taken away from us immediately. Fire trucks are being used to transport the patients to us. The PGs have been ordered to vacate their homes. They are to be made available for the returning Jews. All the larger factories such as Borsig and AEG are being dismantled and all their machines, tools, and miscellaneous materials are being sent off to Russia. All engineers and all those with vocational skills are being sent to Russia to work for three years (without their wives or families, of course). It’s compulsory. They are being used to rebuild that country. Berlin is to become a dead city.

  The U-Bahn, buses, and streetcars are slowly coming back into service. Only the S-Bahn is to be taken out of commission altogether. None of this really matters anymore! We lost the war and gave an unconditional surrender. They should have decided to do this a year ago. It would have spared the loss of so much blood and so much of our will to live. Maybe, too, it would not have been such a humiliating end.

  But I refuse to agonize over the past. Today, all you hear is how everyone is suddenly the greatest Nazi-hater there ever was.

  To tell the truth, the Nazis left us in such a disgrace. They always spoke so grandiosely of their new weapons and our eventual history-making turnaround. From the very beginning, we always said, if one has the audacity to start a war, one must know when the moment has come that one must give up and have the courage to surrender, and to know when one has been defeated.

  And to think that, only days before the Russians arrived in Berlin, we were still hearing such stupid lectures from our NS officers: That we, the civilians, would be to blame if Berlin were to fall, because we did not do our duty well enough in our cleanup work. That we have the fat, lazy bourgeois to thank for the fact that the American has penetrated so deeply into Germany. And they, out of fear of losing their laughable little houses, were the first to wave their little white flags in surrender.

  The army was thoroughly screened by hard-core National Socialists to find those who never yielded at the front, but they also screened for those who showed any sort of cowardice, and they would be shot. The same would happen to any soldier who even attempted to spread bad news. And so it went, on and on. It’s shameful how offensive these insults are. The idea that not one soldier ever just once stood up and tore t
he skin off one their faces! All of our Landser have already sacrificed their own lives, but these Nazi nationalists haven’t suffered a thing yet. And then—something I could not even have imagined possible—only days before the Russians arrived, our own NS commanding officer simply disappeared. He was the first one to flee. So this is how our entire regime fell. We were happy of course that he was gone. He was such a nasty fellow.

  Now I want to tell you exactly how it happened:

  The enemy kept advancing on Berlin. From the north and from the east, they had already penetrated the city. From the tower of the Lazarett we were able to see where the battles were taking place. The government, of course, always dismissed us civilians as being stupid, so they never told us, and we never knew, where the enemy was. They were still talking about a victory, even right up until the very end. Rumors were going around that the Russians had been driven back in the north, and so on. High-ranking NS officers spread the news that the Russians and the Americans were at odds with one another, and that the Americans were going to join the Germans in an attack against the Russians, and, if that were the case, they would stay at the Elbe River in order to free our army from the Russians. “We just have to hold out a bit longer,” they said. “The end of war on the western front is near.” But no end came—only Nazi slogans.

  We already had battles going on in Zehlendorf, Lichterfelde, and Dahlem. Russians had arrived in Spandau and Siemensstadt. That was on the 24th of April. That morning I couldn’t get to the Lazarett until quite late because of the constant artillery fire and the danger of strafing from low-flying aircraft. I had to take the East-West Axis, which was fully jammed with trucks bringing in the troops. I had to be careful and at times even run for cover.

  Our patients who were not quite as severely wounded and those who were ambulatory hid either in the trenches in the garden or in the cellar, to protect themselves from the constant deluge of low-flying bombers. The station supervisors and the Sanis also hid in the garden trenches. Only we nurses couldn’t afford such luxury because the work still needed to be done. We had hundreds of new admissions. In some cases, the beds were doubled up, while their former occupants were hiding in the cellar.