After Hitler: The Last Ten Days of World War II in Europe (7 page)

In Berlin, the Red Army front line was now a mere 400 metres from the Führer Bunker. Yet early on the evening of 30 April Joseph Goebbels briefly rekindled the flame of National Socialism that had departed with his master. Lieutenant Franz Kuhlmann recalled:

I was with a group of my soldiers defending the northern flank of the Reich Chancellery. We were protecting the main shelter and the Führer Bunker, and the yard in front of it, when a sergeant relayed an order that I was to go immediately to the Green Hall of the Reich Chancellery. I followed him, and came across a farewell ceremony Goebbels had organized for the Hitler Youth defenders. Participating in it were Magda Goebbels and her children, the secretaries from the Führer Bunker and some civilian officials and young cadets. I was immediately invited to join a long table, a dish of pea soup was pushed towards me and I found myself opposite Goebbels himself, in animated conversation with some of the Hitler Youth.

My sergeant sat down next to Frau Goebbels, my cadets in between the Goebbels children. After eating, a naval cadet took to the piano and the Hitler Youth and Goebbels sang together the old National Socialist martial songs. Then Goebbels said some words, with the Hitler Youth drawn up in formation around him. As these boys had come directly from the Chancellery complex they were carrying their Panzerfausts [bazookas], which had already destroyed a number of Russian tanks. Iron Crosses were presented to these young defenders.

I was able to observe Goebbels closely and saw how completely immersed he was in the old rhetoric of defiant resistance. It had now completely taken on a life of its own, a life totally divorced from reality. In the present situation his words were nonsensical, yet they cast a spell from which none of the Hitler Youth seemed able to break free.

Outside, there was a strong, incessant bombardment, one that had left many dead with more soon to follow. Here, inside, was singing and a mass of young faces, all mesmerised by the power of Goebbels’ terrible oratory, the Goebbels children, innocently playing, creating an atmosphere that was utterly unreal.

I got the feeling that a whole world was sinking here, a world for which millions of Germans had fought and died – and their blood sacrifice had been utterly futile.

2

May Day in Berlin

1
May
1945

B
ERLIN WAS THE
focal point of the Russian war effort. Its capture would show its people and the wider world that Hitler’s regime was finished. And German resistance was now in its death throes.

Soviet lieutenant Alexei Kalinin wrote to his wife on May Day:

I greet you from Berlin! Yes, we have reached Berlin – we fought our way from the suburbs to the centre of the city, and the Fritzes have been vanquished. And here, for the first time, we are meeting German civilians face-to-face. All have the same gaunt appearance, thin and white-faced – many are clearly suffering from starvation.

When we first see them they are overwhelmed with terror, and try to hide, but after a few minutes – when they see we are not demons – they reappear, come up to us and ask for a little bread. Then they stand by the road, asking passing soldiers for food. As soon as we set up our field kitchens German civilians, old men, women, cluster round, with cups at the ready …

Marshal Georgi Zhukov had appointed one of his commanders, Colonel General Nikolai Berzarin, to take charge of the administration of Berlin and draw up plans to feed its population – even while the fighting was still going on. The opening up of field kitchens provided some immediate relief to the starving inhabitants of the city and this help was received with surprise and gratitude. But German civilians had differing experiences of the Red Army:

‘We huddled together in the central part of the basement, shaking with fear,’ Dorothea von Schwanenflügel wrote on 1 May.

The last days of savage house-to-house fighting and street battles had been a human slaughter, with no prisoners being taken on either side … We were a city in ruins; almost no house remained intact. There was no radio or newspaper, so vans with loudspeakers drove through the streets ordering us to cease all resistance. That night a horde of Soviet troops stormed into a nearby house. Then we heard what seemed to be a terrible orgy, with women screaming for help, many shrieking at the same time … Gripped by terror, we sat in stunned silence.

At the beginning of May, the chief military prosecutor of Marshal Zhukov’s 1st Belorussian Front, Major General Yachenin, drew up a report noting:

‘Positive changes are taking place in the attitude of Red Army personnel towards German civilians. Violent crime against the native population has fallen considerably. And yet, the amount of looting and rape still presents a real problem for us.’

The prosecutor cited a number of examples. A Lieutenant Enchivatov had been apprehended drunk, going from house to house in Berlin’s suburbs, raping women. The investigation was now complete and Enchivatov would be brought before a military tribunal. Two Russian soldiers – Ivanov and Manankov – had been caught raping a series of women. One of these – very ill – was recovering from attempting suicide after an earlier gang rape by Soviet troops. Again, the case was due before the tribunal. A Sergeant Dorohin used a pistol to threaten the parents of a fifteen-year-old girl, whom he raped in front of them. A Lieutenant Kursakov tried to rape a German woman in front of her husband and children. Yachenin admitted frankly: ‘There are many more such cases.’

Major General Yachenin acknowledged the confusion felt by many Russian soldiers. They had witnessed the terrible atrocities of the enemy and the suffering wrought on their country. They had advanced on Berlin with hatred in their hearts, determined to wreak vengeance on the Germans. But crimes against civilians were damaging the discipline and reputation of their army. Lieutenant Nikolai Inozemtsev wrote simply: ‘Each rape debases our army and every soldier in it.’ Some no longer cared; others struggled with their conscience. But military regulations were clear – harming the German population would no longer be tolerated. It remained to be seen how effectively they would be enforced.

Among the front-line troops, relief that the war was finally coming to an end was all-pervasive. Red Army soldier Petr Seveljov wrote to his parents:

We stumbled upon exhausted, bedraggled German troops, sitting by the roadside, weapons thrown down, waiting to be led into captivity by our troops. I saw two of their officers, without weapons, and carrying a white flag, go from the Tiergarten Park to the Brandenburg Gate. Alongside it more Germans were gathering, flinging their weapons into a huge pile. White flags are hanging from the surrounding houses.

Many of us have picked up a little German, and some of our opponents can manage a bit of Russian. All of this will seem quite incredible to you, but as I write this letter I can see through the window one of our men and a German soldier sharing a bottle of Schnapps, gesticulating and striking up a conversation. Amazing! It is hard to describe to you our triumph – the way it looks now in Berlin.

Near the Tiergarten, Lieutenant General Vasily Chuikov’s 8th Guards Army was setting up its HQ. Captain Anatoly Mereshko recalled:

We were like a band of gypsies during the battle for Berlin, constantly moving from place to place in a city shrouded in dust and smoke.

Chuikov’s last HQ was a five-story residential house at the east end of the Tiergarten Park – his office was on the first floor, up a big staircase. It had previously been a reception room – and it was an imposing place, with a heavy, dark oak ceiling.

At the beginning of 1 May I was on duty in the house next to it. The owners seemed to have left it hurriedly. I poured myself some cognac to celebrate our holiday. Then I heard a spluttering sound. I was alone – so I took my pistol and went to investigate. I found a German in a bath tub – filled up with water and blood. He had slit his wrists. His uniform had been neatly arranged next to the bath – he was a colonel. After that, my celebratory mood evaporated.

The 8th Guards Army occupied a special position within the Red Army. Re-formed in May 1943, it was originally the 62nd Army, the force that had bravely defended the centre of Stalingrad against the might of Hitler’s offensive a year earlier. Vasily Chuikov and his men had clung on to the Volga shoreline, beating off incessant enemy attacks. Their heroism bought time for the Russians to launch a massive counter-attack, trapping the Germans and their allies the Romanians and destroying them all within the city they had hoped to conquer.

The 62nd Army had been badly battered during that titanic encounter – then re-formed around a core of officers and soldiers who had survived the battle. It fought its way through the Ukraine and Poland – winning a string of battle honours – and its advance units were now less than 300 metres from the Reichstag. Chuikov was forty-five years old when he reached Berlin. He had been a professional soldier all his life. And yet it seemed hard to envisage a future beyond the collapse of Hitler’s Third Reich. ‘Maybe the end of Nazi Germany will put me out of a job!’ he confided to his wife Valentina.

Chuikov’s pride in the success at Stalingrad was tempered with frustration that after doing so much, his army did not receive the surrender of the German commander there, the recently promoted Field Marshal Paulus. Paulus was captured by the neighbouring 64th Army and this fact still rankled with Chuikov and his men more than two years later. As Chuikov and his fighters encamped in the centre of Berlin, there was a tacit agreement within the Red Army that if the Germans opened surrender negotiations the 8th Guards Army would be given the honour of hosting them.

At 3.30 a.m. on 1 May news came through that an emissary from the Führer Bunker, General Hans Krebs, wished to speak with the Russians. After some discussion it was decided that a young Soviet lieutenant, Andrei Eshpai, who was fluent in German, would escort Krebs to Chuikov’s HQ from an agreed rendezvous point. When the two met, they exchanged names and ranks. Krebs was polite, but appeared surprised to be escorted by a mere lieutenant. Eshpai was more concerned to guide them both safely through Berlin’s ruined streets. But before they began their journey Krebs paused and looked around at the mass of Soviet military equipment. ‘What incredible weaponry you have here,’ he said to no one in particular. Eshpai wanted to get moving, but sensed that etiquette demanded a compliment in return. ‘Your Panzerfausts are causing us a lot of trouble,’ he responded. Krebs appeared to be somewhere else. And then he suddenly snapped out of his reverie and looked directly at Eshpai, only too aware of the course the war had taken ‘This is not Moscow,’ the general said. ‘It is Berlin.’

Krebs arrived at Chuikov’s HQ accompanied by a lone German soldier with a white flag attached to his bayonet. The soldier stood to attention as General Krebs strode into the room. ‘We asked Krebs if he was frightened of us and wanted protection,’ Mereshko remembered. ‘A little flustered, our visitor then addressed Chuikov as Marshal rather than Lieutenant General, so we corrected him on that.’ Then Krebs announced that Hitler had committed suicide the day before.

The Russians were the first people outside the Führer Bunker to learn of this. The room went completely silent. Eventually Chuikov responded, ‘We know.’ ‘It was pretty obvious that we did not,’ Mark Slavin – editor of the 8th Guards newspaper – recalled, ‘because as Chuikov said this all non-essential personnel were promptly ordered out of the room.’ The Russians had not even been sure whether Hitler had remained in the capital. The news was a bombshell.

Chuikov left the room and phoned Zhukov – who in turn phoned Stalin. The Soviet leader was told Hitler was dead and Krebs had come on the authority of Goebbels to negotiate a ceasefire. Stalin’s reply was to the point: ‘There can be no negotiations – we will only accept unconditional surrender.’

The discussion quickly reached an impasse. Krebs insisted that a truce was essential to swear in the Dönitz government under the terms of Hitler’s will. Chuikov repeated that no truce could be considered – only the total capitulation of the Berlin garrison. A telephone cable was laid to the Reich Chancellery to allow direct communication with Goebbels. It yielded no result. At 1.00 p.m. Krebs was ordered to return to German lines. The general left the HQ and then returned again – claiming that he had mislaid his gloves. He looked around the room. ‘It was so obvious,’ Mereshko said, ‘that we could not help but laugh. We asked: “Are your gloves so important to you?” We could tell that Krebs did not want to return to the Führer Bunker. He was clinging to each moment of life.’

Then Chuikov drew Krebs to one side. Eshpai heard their brief conversation. The Soviet general spoke softly: ‘So what are you going to do now?’ Krebs looked at him. He had been a military attaché in Moscow before the war – and he now responded in Russian: ‘To fulfil my duty – to the end.’ It was clear that Krebs was intending to commit suicide. Chuikov paused, and then said simply, ‘Spoken like a true soldier.’ He offered his adversary his hand. Krebs clasped it – then left the building for good.

Zhukov submitted a report to Stalin. ‘I believe the main purpose of Krebs’ mission was to explore the possibility of negotiating a separate peace with us,’ he stated, ‘thereby splitting the Grand Alliance.’ The Soviet leader would not contemplate it. And as Chuikov and Krebs concluded their meeting, the fight for the Reichstag continued. By the end of 1 May the building was firmly in Russian hands. Red Army soldier Ilya Krichevsky wrote in his diary:

The battle for Berlin has come to an end. Our army has taken the Reichstag. The joy and exhilaration is extraordinary – everyone knows that the capture of this bastion of Fascism marks the final victory over Nazi Germany.