My Memories of Berlin: A Young Boy's Amazing Survival Story

By Herbert R. Vogt

A vivid description of the authors first seventeen years of life encompassing Hitlers twelve-year regime. His Hitler Youth experience is typical for the average German boy of that time. His personal endurances are blended in with reports from the battlefield and the home front. Some of the Hitler Youth were chosen to be indoctrinated in the regimes elite schools and lived a privileged life of state-sponsored higher education. As war brings more hardships and the nation finds itself defeated and exposed to Soviet barbarism, the Hitler Youth force keeps on fighting with tenacious fanaticism to self destruction.
Those of them that survived the war felt utterly betrayed and disillusioned. Their fallen comrades being Hitlers Last Victims.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 8, 2008
• ISBN: 9781469183626

Herbert R. Vogt

In 1957 the author settled in San Diego where he met his wife and married in 1958. He worked in a major hospital’s pharmacy as an intern. He started raising a family and in 1962 entered the real estate business. When he achieved some financial independence, he returned to his love for learning and continued his education. In 1977 he received his master’s degree in psychology and in 1979 earned his doctorate in clinical psychology. He became the coordinator in a chemical dependency center of a hospital. Today, at seventy-seven and retired, he finds great satisfaction as a writer and, with his wife of forty-nine years, enjoys family life with his children and grandchildren.

Book preview

MY MEMORIES OF BERLIN

A YOUNG BOY’S AMAZING

SURVIVAL STORY

Herbert R. Vogt Ph.D

Copyright © 2008 by Herbert R. Vogt Ph.D.

Library of Congress Control Number:      2007906248

ISBN:                  Hardcover                  978-1-4691-8361-9

                           Softcover                    978-1-4691-8360-2

                           Ebook                         978-1-4691-8362-6

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Contents

PREFACE

CHAPTER I: LIFE AROUND KIELER STRASSE

                    Background and Early Upbringing

                  My First Political Experience

                  A Visit to the Red Baron

                  The Gang at Kieler Strasse

CHAPTER II: YEARS OF PREPARATION IN TEGEL

                  From Kieler Strasse to Tegel

                  A Girl Named Gisela

                  The Beginning of German and British Air Raids

CHAPTER III: INDOCTRINATION AND HIGHER EDUCATION

                  Moving Away from My Parents

                  My Return to LBA-Neisse

                  Operation Barbarossa

                  My First Major Air Raid

                  The Balance of the War in Russia

CHAPTER IV: BERLIN: BOMBS AND BODIES

                  Back to Brandenburg and Berlin

                  Tragedy in the Family

CHAPTER V: MORE DEATH AND STARVATION

                  To a New School and More Hardships

                  From the School Bench Into the Fire

                  Premilitary Combat Camp

CHAPTER VI: TO HELL OR SIBERIA

                  Getting Ready for the Inferno

                  Escape from an Air-raid Shelter

                  Capitulation Is No Option

CHAPTER VII: MORE HAPPENINGS OF 1944

                  A Strange Funeral at Midnight

                  Acquaintance with a Fighter Ace

                  A Visit at the Eckard Mansion

                  My Last Days with Gisela

                  Christmas of 1944

CHAPTER VIII: THE BATTLE OF ARMAGEDDON

                  1945 Summary of Disasters

                  Death in Cold Blood

                  Destruction of a Flak Battery

                  Inside a Werewolf Training Camp

CHAPTER IX: BERLIN: THE EYE OF THE HURRICANE

                  The End of War at Humboldthain Bunker

                  Cease-fire and Back on the Road

                  My First Encounter with theOpposite Sex

CHAPTER X: LIFE AFTER THE WAR

                  Drifting With the Wind

                  The Call of the Werewolf

                  Accident at the Last Mission

CHAPTER XI: THE AMERICAN CONNECTION

                  My Struggle as a Student

                  Getting a Job at the American Club

                  A Conflict in Political Ideology

CHAPTER XII: FINAL ESCAPE TO FREEDOM

                  Last Year in Berlin

                  Isolation and Civil Insurrection

                  My First Steps to Freedom

                  Storm Over the Atlantic

The supreme purpose of history is a better world. Yesterday’s records can keep us from repeating yesterday’s mistakes.

—Herbert Hoover

If you don’t know the past you can’t cope with the future.

—Golo Mann

Preface

Two reasons made me write this book at a later part of my life. For some time, because of being educated in an Adolf Hitler school, I was too biased to the events of the Hitler time and WW II. After living in America, I became more objective of the past. Secondly, for many years, the information published by the media did not always correspond with the truth. History eventually will report the past in a more realistic light. Since I have personally experienced and lived through the misery of WW II, I hope that my story will make a small contribution to what it really was like in those days. Even so that by now my mind has formed an opinion of its own, I must accept certain facts and figures; after all, statistics don’t lie. However, when I wrote this book, it was not my intention to rewrite history, but rather, to give the reader a background of events in politics, on the home front and at the battlefield parallel to my own story. Too many books have already been written about Hitler and WW II, but not enough individual stories came out from ordinary people giving testimony as to what it was like and how they survived.

After WW I, millions of Germans embraced, in order to escape starvation, a new worker’s party called Nazi Party (National Socialist German worker’s Party). Not only was it a new party, but it promised to deliver a better life and future for the lower class. No other party or form of government was able to reverse the injustice of the Versailles Treaty. The nation had no other option, and in good faith, the people voted for the Nazi Party. The unemployed men on the street had no intention to conquer the world, all they wanted was a job and food on the table. Without bread and butter, any nation will undergo the risk of revolution. We have learned that from history, but politicians have not learned their lesson. Among the Allies, only one topic was under discussion. How can we cut up Germany and collect more on reparation? An outrageous amount went to France alone. Germany rejected democracy because the Western nations were no longer interested in a free and prosperous Germany. The Weimar Republic could not survive without foreign assistance and turned into a republic without republicans. Whatever material things the German people still possessed were taken from them by the great depression and inflation of 1929, that year I was born into a world of little hope for a better life and greater future. Adolf Hitler was the man of the hour and came to power. Trusting a single man with all the decisions to be made that concerned the welfare of a nation with eighty million people required the utmost and greatest faith in that person by all citizens. Many nations in the past had experienced that any order coming from the mind of one man was far from infallible. In reality a critical opposition is needed to check the validity of rules and laws handed down by a one-man government. Then why would a civilized nation that is governed by the Weimar Republic revert to a dictatorship? The reasons are numerous, but above all, it was an act of desperation. Germany was a place of total chaos. Hitler’s speeches were promising and spiritually uplifting. Since the end of WW I, the German people had been demoralized and in fear of being shot crossing the street. Hitler seemed to have the only power to restore law and order; to most Germans, it was worth risking one’s life over. Their beloved president, Hindenburg, had no choice but to select Hitler in order to keep communism out of Germany. Not knowing what they were doing, they went directly from the frying pan into the fire. After Hitler’s Blitzkrieg victories faded away, so the people’s trust in him eroded, but by then it was too late. Even with all the failed assassination attempts against Hitler; Germany could not surrender. Its population, either soldiers or civilians, were condemned to be killed either by the Allies or by Hitler’s henchmen.

As the average German at one time or another would lose the trust to follow Hitler, there remained one population among them that would fanatically believe Hitler, fight and die for him to the last day of the war and beyond. If any other citizen joined the Nazi Party for personal gain or advancement, the Hitler Youth was purely motivated to fight for Führer and Vaterland. The Nazi hierarchy was aware of it. They took them away from their parents at the tender age of ten, put the children into camps to be indoctrinated, and trained the young boys to be overzealous fighters. Near the end of the war when all the manpower resources were depleted and all the hopes to win the war was gone, it was the Hitler Youth that defended Berlin. These boys, ten to eighteen years old, were slaughtered by the Russians from the Seelow Heights to downtown Berlin by the thousands, just to give Hitler an extra few days before he ended his miserable life in his underground bunker on April 30, 1945. Few survivors were left to testify to the needless sacrifice of the Hitler Youth.

Throughout the ages, the many events of history are told and written based on memories of survivors. For instance, nobody would ever know anything about the multitude of human tragedies if the sinking of the Titanic had no survivors. Every life has a story. Some are eventful, others are not too important, and a few of us have been challenged to live through situations where life and death hang in the balance. Not always do we have the choice to live our lives the way we want to. Time, place, and circumstances dictate our destinies. The environment we are born into is not voluntary but strictly by random. After we are born, we become a member of a certain culture or society that raises us; teaches us; and, according to our upbringing, expects us to believe in a certain way.

After we are old enough and have developed a mind of our own, we may or may not approve of what surrounds us. If we have the freedom to adapt our behavior to our own conviction, we may change to a different style of life and create our own philosophy.

However, if you are born into a system where the state is ruled by a dictator, you may not know anything else, and it becomes very difficult to differentiate between good and bad. Even if you have arrived at the conclusion that you live in an evil empire, you still don’t have the luxury to walk away from it. The regime owns you, and you must shut up and perform, or else become a statistical number in a concentration camp.

It is easy for an outsider to criticize the willingness of a misguided nation to follow their leader. We will never know how the individual reacts in his own mind to doing his duty. I want to believe that the majority of people, if they have the freedom of choice, would immediately turn around and live a life in peace and harmony. Instead, as prisoners in their own country, they must fight and die to the bitter end. It makes no difference if the dictator is a fascist, communist, or a ruler of a Chinese or Muslim state; the moment human rights are violated, brutality applied, and political opponents imprisoned, then such a dictator must be removed from the government. If not possible by the people of his own country, then it becomes the responsibility of the free world to act as a liberator. This must be viewed as a police action sanctioned by the United Nations before it escalates into a major war. One of the best examples in recent history is the outbreak of World War II. We can only guess how many millions of people would have not been killed, and endless tragedy would have been avoided among civilians if the leaders of the free world had made the right decision. The first time Hitler violated the Versailles Treaty, which had been freely signed by Germany, was reason enough for the Allies to march into Germany and remove the dictator from office. There was no risk involved as the German military, other than a few SS (Schutzstaffel) regiments, would not have resisted. Early in 1935, Hitler openly denounced the military restrictions of the peace treaty. In public he announced that Germany would have a peacetime conscript army of thirty-six divisions. England and France were also aware of the speedy buildup of a German air force and navy. A second violation of the peace treaty occurred a year later on March 7, 1936, when units of the new army were sent into the demilitarized zone of the Rhineland facing France on the western border of Germany. At this time, France could have easily stopped the invasion as they still had the strongest military force in Europe. Hitler admitted to his generals that, had the French marched, it would have been the end of him and of National Socialism. The military resources at Hitler’s disposal were wholly inadequate for even the slightest resistance. The fact that the great Western democracies did not call Hitler’s bluff and refused to go to war, they missed the last chance to keep the peace in Europe for a small cost to themselves. Instead they gave Hitler the green light to plunge the world into the bloodiest war in history. The handwriting was on the wall when Germany engaged in a feverish rearmament. For a false hope of peace, the Allies have gambled away the lives of millions of innocent people on both sides. May this be a lesson to future leaders of the free world not to make the same mistake and stop an evil maniac before he has a chance to destroy them. Unfortunately, history repeats itself, and people seem to forget or are blinded by an illusion that bad things could not happen to them. Not so with survivors of a disaster; they never forget, and they relive their sufferings over and over again. That is especially the case when your traumatic experiences occur in your childhood or the formative years of your youth. Memories don’t go away; they become your vade mecum, your shadow, and subsequently, they affect your consciousness and your behavior toward other people.

Eventually every survivor has to ventilate his feelings, that’s why I am writing this book at the end of my life, dedicating it in particular to my grandchildren and their generation. Since the end of World War II, so many changes have come along, giving the earth a completely different environment. Time is an ongoing process. It will not stop for anything and will not leave anything permanent behind it. Sooner or later the last eyewitness of a past event will not be alive anymore to describe what really happened in those days. At this point in time, history will rely on the written reports of survivors; anything else in history is more or less just speculation. One person’s life is only a small piece of history, but it comes closer to the truth of long-past events than any other interpretation of history. The story left behind, based on the memory of a survivor, must be seen as a building block of history. Many history books are written without any passion or feelings for the subject matter. They are just a summary report in the form of a textbook, stating previous events in chronological order. The information contained in these books are often obtained from other writings. In contrast, reading the story of a survivor is like bringing back a piece of the past to the present.

The reader is actually witnessing and reliving the joy, pain, and suffering of the survivor as every event of the past is described in detail. A good reported human story becomes a small window for future generations to look back and learn more about the past. We can learn from the disaster and misery of other people in order not to make the same mistakes by taking action or avoiding certain steps that can lead to catastrophe. Even if a story does not relate to the problems of present times, it is at least educational for someone who is interested to explore past events in history. The author hopes that this book, if nothing else, stays in the family as a meaningful inheritance.

CHAPTER I

LIFE AROUND

KIELER STRASSE

Background and Early Upbringing

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My Parents and I

The story of my life started insignificantly when I was born on a rainy day in Berlin on the nineteenth of July 1929. I was the only child, my mother was nineteen and my father twenty-five years old when I was born. Max and Margarete Vogt came from bourgeois families who had to struggle to make ends meet. Both of my grandfathers were killed in WW I, and the oldest boy in each family had to become the breadwinner and the head of the household at an early age. There was no time or money for them to get an education or learn a profession. Luckily my father got a job with the government, but in the beginning, he got paid less than an ordinary laborer. Fortunately my mother was very thrifty and knew how to handle the money. Every morning she would run up and down the market to find the cheapest soup bones or whatever food was on sale. Thanks to her, nobody went to bed hungry; and we managed to get us through the depression, hoping for better times to come. We lived in a very small apartment in a tenement on a third building in the rear with the toilet located one floor below where the sun never shined. Our domicile was located right in the heart of Kreuzberg in the old downtown Berlin. After World War II, all Turk immigrants chose that particular part of Berlin to settle down, and it later became known as Little Istanbul as it turned into a sanctuary for all Muslims living in Berlin. In the old days, the streets in Kreuzberg were clean, and there were beautiful parks and churches that no longer exist now. When I was a child, my mother many times would take me to play in the biggest and highest park in Kreuzberg that displayed a huge cross on top.

On Sundays my parents would take me out to a lake or forest, which Berlin has so many, for kaffee und kuchen coffee and cake in a restaurant or beer garden. As I got older, I became aware that my parents and I did not go to church regularly on Sundays like other folks did with their children. Of course, they had a reason, and my mother told me about it later when I attended school. My father was raised as a Catholic, and my mother came from a Lutheran family. The trouble started when my parents wanted to get married and my grandmother on my father’s side insisted that they get married in the Catholic Church. My mother had no objection but refused to change her faith and become a Catholic. The church in turn closed the door and told them to get married someplace else, but the old Lady Martha Vogt, my grandmother, did not want to hear about a marriage in the Lutheran Church, so the wedding was off. Time went by, and in the meanwhile, my mother was six months pregnant. My parents did not want me to be born illegitimate. My father got mad as hell and went to see the bishop. Finally, the church agreed to marry them under two conditions. The marriage could not be performed at the main altar in front of the tabernacle containing the Eucharist. My mother had to sign papers where she swore to raise all children as Catholics. My mother agreed, and they were married on a Monday evening in April 1929 in the empty church of St. Norbert, by a small altar next to the exit on the left side of the church. As only guests and mandatory witnesses appeared my father’s two brothers Rudolf and Herbert. The whole thing was an in-and-out affair. Thereafter everything went smoothly; my mother kept her promise, prayed with me, and took me to a Catholic church on Sundays. After my father’s mother died in 1937, my father became a nonpracticing Catholic, and the only time I remember seeing him in church was on my first Holy Communion. As I grew up, I also developed my father’s attitude, attending church became secondary for me. Even though, when I was a young cadet at the LBA Neisse and it was forbidden for us to go next door to church at the monastery, at the risk of being caught, I would climb a ten-foot wall to go to mass on Sundays.

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My parents

Working for the government was a long stony road. It guarantied a lifelong job security and a pension at the end. The servants of the state didn’t get paid for overtime and didn’t get rich, but promotions were given out periodically. Such an advancement occurred to my father at the end of 1932. Finally Dad was making more money, and he was moving his family to a bigger apartment in a new neighborhood. Mama was thrilled with her new kitchen, and there was even some money left to buy some extra furniture. We didn’t have to tighten our belts anymore, but the weekly ritual of counting out the money went on. In the old days, employees did not get a payroll check to take to the bank to cash it; everybody received a little sealed brown paper bag with their name on it. On Friday nights when my father came home from work, we would sit at the kitchen table and have supper. After my mother cleaned the table, my father would take out the little brown paper bag, tear it open, and dump the contents in the middle of the table. There you have it, he said, smiling and starting to count the money—a few big bills, some small bills, and a bunch of coins. The first thing they did was separate from the pile a portion for the monthly payment for the rent and utilities. Then my mother held her hand open to receive a weekly allowance to buy her groceries. She kept her hand stretched out and looked at him till he topped it with another shiny coin. Ultimately she folded the money very neatly and stashed it away in her apron pocket. Whatever was left, they put it in a cookie jar to pay miscellaneous bills or as reserves for a rainy day.

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My mother

To supplement her income, my mother was pretty handy in knitting all kinds of tablecloths in her spare time that people ordered to buy. The new apartment was really the first place in my life that I remembered vividly. It was the home of my first Christmas that I remembered and the real candles that would burn brightly on that festive, decorated tannenbaum (Christmas tree). My fascination of my new world I was now living in was endless. Every day I discovered something new, and slowly I began to explore my new environment. I felt the protection of my parents, giving me a sense of security. I proceeded to play and learn very innocently. I made new friends in my neighborhood. The house we lived in was on Kieler Strasse 2, still being an apartment in a tenement, but we had our own bathroom and one bedroom. The living room had large windows inviting the sun to shine in and warming up the place. As in most European cities, people did live in apartment houses. Usually, four-house buildings, several stories high, make a square complex with a rectangular courtyard in the center. These complexes were lined up side by side to fill up a whole city block with streets going all the way around. This arrangement provided more security, and each complex had access to a street. A huge ornamental door or iron gate would allow service or emergency vehicles to drive into the courtyard. Apartments facing the street had balconies; all others in the center of the complex had only a view from their windows to the courtyard. Some courtyards were landscaped; most of them had only a big square area of concrete, but all of them served as a playground for children. Adults did come out to relax, and women were gossiping when they had time, watching their children play. The end of the block was next door at Kieler Strasse 1. It was also the end of the west side of the street. On the same side of the street on the dead-end corner was a bakery and pastry shop, then suddenly you were facing the Nord Hafen Kanal flowing from the Humboldt Hafen north to the Nord Hafen Kanal terminating in the much bigger Hohenzollern Kanal.

Incidentally, Berlin has more lakes, rivers, and waterways than any other city in Europe. Going back east on Kieler Strasse, on our side of the street, we found a grocery store and the noisy neighborhood beer bar. Now we were already on the corner of Kieler Strasse and Scharnhorst Strasse. Making a right turn, we were going toward Invaliden Strasse. This street was a very big interesting street with large government buildings, beautiful parks with old gothic and Romanesque churches. There was the Invaliden Krankenhaus (veterans hospital) and the Invaliden Friedhof (veterans cemetery). As busy as this main street was, it was always attractive to me going there for a walk since our home was within walking distance. I am describing the surroundings of the place we were living in as our neighborhood became eventful to me in many ways.

The year 1932 was coming to an end. The streets were covered with snow and ice. Even though it was cold and windy, it did not dampen the spirit of the people to prepare for the holidays. It was the last Christmas we were celebrating in freedom and peace, and nobody really had an idea, that beginning the following year, life would change for us forever. It was a good thing that nobody knew; the great depression was almost over, and everyone was optimistic about the future. The stores were busy, and people were running around doing their last-days Christmas shopping. The biggest surprise for me on Christmas Eve was a train set going around in a circle under a beautiful decorated Christmas tree. My father was playing with it, and I was watching him make it go. Later on he got tired and let me play with the train. I was very excited, not been able to go to sleep that night. That was how I remembered my first Christmas.

The day after, my mother was taking me to Hertie, a big department store not far from where we lived. We were walking through knee-high piles of snow, I was cold and my hands were frozen. Finally we made it to the store, it was warm inside, my mother was taking me to a heater. I put my little hands on it, and pretty soon I was able to move my fingers again. On the second floor was a cafeteria where we found a cozy corner to sit down and rest for a while. My mother ordered a cup of coffee for her and a glass of hot chocolate with whipped cream on top for me. After we finished our drinks, I could hardly wait to go to the fifth floor. The entire fifth floor was the toys department, and the biggest attraction was the annual Christmas show. People from all over Berlin came with their children to see and admire the colorful and beautifully decorated exhibition. Lights were changing, and puppets were moving, making sounds that gave you the impression that they were alive. All together, the show was mechanically a well-coordinated play holding young and old in a firm grip of amazement. It was hard to believe that such an exhibition was possible to put together at a time long before the advent of computers. A last look at the rest of the toys, and then we must go home.

Hanging on to each other, stepping through ice and snow again, we took the shortest way back. Approaching the corner of Scharnhorst Strasse and Kieler Strasse, we noticed a bunch of people standing around. As we got closer, we found a horse lying at the intersection in front of an overloaded wagon, stopping the traffic in both directions. Next to the horse was a mad driver hitting the animal with a whip, demanding it to stand up again. The horse was trying desperately to get on its feet but was unable to do so. The accident occurred when the horse pulled the heavy wagon and slipped on the icy road. Falling down, the horse broke one of its legs and was lying helpless on the road. Somebody must have called the police to take care of the situation because shortly, a policeman arrived at the scene. The policeman was having an argument with the driver, but soon they reached an agreement. With the permission of the driver, the policeman stepped closer to the animal, who was screeching in pain. He pulled his revolver and fired a shot into the head of the horse to put it out of its misery. I got sick to my stomach witnessing the horrible death of the horse. My mother pulled me away from the dreadful event. I was not able to control myself. Uncomposed, I cried all the way home.

A few days later, I began to get the horrible episode out of my mind. It was still cold, but the sun was shining. Children were playing in the courtyard and in front of the house, showing each other the new toys they received for Christmas. There were shiny bicycles and all kinds of wagons and wooden sleds the kids were trying out in the snow. The little girls were pushing around tiny baby carriages, showing off their new dolls. For the bigger boys, it was firecrackers and ice skates. If you didn’t have any skates, you amused yourself on the schlitterbahn, which was a narrow frozen runway where you slid on it in full speed on top of the ice only with your shoes. The ice was so smooth and slippery that one must keep perfect balance. It took some coordination, and till you got the hang of it, you might as well be in the beginning sliding several times on your butt. Sylvester, that was New Year’s Eve, was just around the corner. The noise in the streets was getting louder, firecrackers starting to pop more often, and people everywhere were beginning to ring in the New Year. People were happy, celebrating the arrival of 1933, but very few of them knew what the future would bring.

My First Political Experience

At the termination of WW I in 1918, the German emperor (Kaiser) abdicated and fled to Holland. In 1919 the German assembly met in Weimar and adopted a constitution to form a government with Frederich Ebert as its first president. Upon his death, Field Marshal Paul von Hindenburg succeeded him. The Weimar Republic, as it was known, governed from 1919 to 1933. It was to be a socialistic and democratic government with the objective of establishing in Germany more equitable ownership of the land and the tools of production—a land where plenty should be the lot of all. The German people for the first time in their history, after they lived for centuries under the rule of a monarchy, tried to establish their own democracy. In the beginning it was successful under Ebert and Stresemann, but it did not last very long. Leaders of the free world had hoped that World War I would be the war to end all wars. But their hopes were in vain. In 1929 the world became involved in a great economic depression, especially Germany, the only country that had to pay for the damages of the war and suffered more than any other nation.

The Weimar Republic was a feeble attempt to achieve a government in which every man would be free and could earn a living. Democratic reforms were difficult, and the people were hungry, hoping that the burden of the Versailles Treaty would be lifted. Since the fourteen-point peace treaty proposal by the U.S. president Wilson was defeated and the economic chaos became unbearable, the majority of the Germans refused to live under a democratic system. The republic was destroyed, not in anger nor in battle, but by the results of starvation in Germany. The last chancellor at that time was Brüning, a man known for corruption and also responsible for Germany’s economic and financial chaos. Consequently, the people were seeking a strong leader who would restore law and order. The Nazi Party from 1924 to 1929 was rejected by most Germans. The Communist Party was also considered extreme and not suitable for an industrialized nation not willing to give up free enterprise.

As the democrats were no longer in favor of either the Nazi Party or the Communist Party, they were left fighting each other in the streets of Berlin in an attempt to come to power. Paul von Hindenburg, the hero of World War I, was the last president in 1932, and his decision to make Hitler the chancellor was respected by all Germans. He did not give up on the reestablishment of a new democratic government. Hitler, on the other hand, was pleased to see high unemployment, economic chaos, and civil insurrection, hoping that the government would collapse. He took advantage of the opportunity to come to power, it was now or never. In all his speeches, he promised the public exactly what they wanted to hear—from new jobs, social security, abolishment of the Versailles Treaty, and reunification of German territory to total prosperity of Germany. Out of frustration and desperation, the German people were beginning to see Hitler as their new leader for the salvation of Germany. The attitude in general was, We had so many governments, let’s give him a chance. Very few people, mostly the upper class, would fear a bigger disaster and rejected Hitler as their new chancellor. The president also refused as long as he could to make Hitler a part of the new government. He really had only two options, either the Communist Party or the Nazi Party. In the end, he chose what he believed to be the lesser evil. As the pressure on him increased, he compromised at the last last minute and made Hitler chancellor but insisted Franz von Papen, a democrat, to be the vice president. His reasoning was that the democrats by far had more seats in the cabinet and in the Reichstag (the headquarters of the legislature) and would be able to control Hitler and make all political decisions. By persuading the aging Hindenburg to give the chancellery to Hitler, the destruction of the republic was done. Thereafter, the entire propaganda of Adolf Hitler was built on a foundation of lies.

He advocated hate, murder, treachery, brutality, and revolution. Never in the history of government had propaganda been so vile, vulgar, and disgusting as it was during the reign of the Third Reich. The first attempt made by Hitler to obtain leadership of the German people by force in Münich in 1923 ended in the death of sixteen men and a five-year prison sentence for himself, a term of which he served six months. This defeat convinced him that there was a better way—that of propaganda and flattery, thereby gaining enough votes to get elected to the desired position. After his election, Hitler had his own dark plan to make himself a dictator and the absolute ruler of Germany.

On February 27, 1933, he committed another criminal act by burning down the Reichstag and blaming it on the communists. As soon as Hitler was made chancellor, the Reichstag passed an enabling act on March 5, 1933, giving Hitler absolute power and control over all activities in the country—political, economic, industrial, commercial, and cultural. The Nazi regime immediately passed emergency laws allowing them to arrest people suspected of being enemies of the Third Reich (without evidence) and to ban all other political parties. By eliminating the parliament of the German people, Hitler was one step closer to becoming a dictator. The next year, on August 2, 1934, President von Hindenburg suddenly died. He was buried with full military honors, organized by the new regime, in Neudeck, East Prussia. Under Hindenburg’s military leadership, the Russians were defeated in the battle at Tannenberg in WW I, so Hitler erected the biggest war memorial in his honor. The same day that Hindenburg died, Hitler merged the offices of the president and the chancellor, appointing himself as the sole leader of Germany and assuming all political power as the new Führer und Reichs Kanzler (leader and prime minister). From that day on, the Führer was now a dictator with no opposition. All German military had to swear an unconditional oath of obedience and loyalty to Hitler personally as the new and only leader of Germany.

It was then in August 1934 that Hitler finally controlled every aspect of the German societies. He had become a dictator. That same month, Hitler started his long line of territory annexations.

On August 26, Hitler, in an emotional address to a throng officially estimated at three hundred thousand people, asked the world, and especially France, to be prepared for the return of the Saar to Germany, when that rich region voted on the question next January. The Saar is the greatest problem now separating France from us, Hitler said. We shall not give up the conviction that the other side eventually will view this problem as it really is, and that France will not deny her assistance in solving it. There is no reason whatsoever why two great nations should remain forever hostile on this issue. The chancellor was greeted with frenzied Heils when he arrived from Cologne, where he had attended the inauguration of the huge Saar exposition. The throng, apparently almost to a man, seemed intensely Nazi in its sympathies. Hitler spoke from the topmost bastion of the historic Rhine fortress from which the Stars and Stripes flew in the period of the postwar occupation. The address was a strong appeal for understanding abroad, especially on the part of France, that the return of the Saar to the Reich on January 13, 1935, was inevitable. Ties of blood and race bind the Saar population indissolubly to the fatherland, he said.

However, the actual beginning of the Nazi cult and the twelve years of unbelievable terror and destruction started in Berlin when Hitler came to power on January 30, 1933, and ended with the capitulation of Germany in the ruins of Berlin on May 8, 1945.

Here was what I remembered and what I had seen with the eyes of a four-year-old boy on January 30, 1933. My uncle Rudolf, the oldest brother of my father, came to visit us many times. He was honest, hardworking, and a patriot who would do anything to serve his country. He did not drink or smoke, had a good job, and took good care of his family. As a young man, he attended one of Hitler’s meetings that put a spell on him. Being an idealist, he sincerely believed in the cause of the Hitler party. He became an early member, joined the SA (Sturmabteilung) as a storm trooper and was convinced to do the right thing to help Germany to recover. His men liked him, and he would bring many of the unemployed to his home for a meal. His idealism and leadership soon gained him the rank of Obersturmbannführer (the equivalent of an army colonel; a Sturmban was the size of a regiment). He talked to my father many times, trying to convince him that it was his duty to join the Nazi Party in order to get Germany going again. My father, a nonbeliever in politics, had mixed feelings and decided to stay clear of any party affiliation whatsoever.

At about noon on January 30, 1933, my uncle Rudolf came to us very happy and excited to bring us the good news. This morning Adolf Hitler was appointed by President Hindenburg as the new chancellor of Germany, a day that will live on in history and will change Germany forever, he exclaimed. My parents were not too thrilled about his good news but tried to share his enthusiasm. Get ready and come to join the victory celebration, he said. My father agreed to come and got his instruction how to get there. Be early and wait in front of the chancellery, the Führer will come and talk to us. In the evening will be a torchlight parade by the SA marching through the Brandenburg Gate.

It all sounded very good, and my parents promised to be there on time for the big event. He left to go home, and we were sitting down to have mittag essen (the meal of the day). After that we would rest for a short time, then my mother took out all our winter clothes, and we started dressing for the night. On the way out, my mother went back to the kitchen to grab in a hurry some cookies and candies, leftover from the holidays, for the long night to come.

Following my uncle Rudolf’s direction, we walked up Seller Street to get to the U-Bahnhof Reinickendorfer Strasse, catching the metro that goes to Stadtmitte. Here we switched trains and went one more station to Bahnhof Kaiserhof. When we arrived, practically everybody disembarked from the train, rushing up the stairs to get out of the metro. My parents and I were right in the middle of a tight stream of people going up the Wilhelm Strasse to the final destination, the chancellery. Slowly the flow of people came to a halt, and nothing was moving anymore. A big crowd was now gathered in front of the chancellery, looking up the big windows on the first floor of the building, waiting impatiently for the Führer to come and greet them. We managed to find a spot in the center of the street facing the main window. It was like a huge balcony bathed in a bright light coming from the inside. On the outside were also many lights firmly attached on the building or freestanding in the street, illuminating the whole plaza of the Kaiserhof. It was getting dark now, but all the bright lights were replacing daylight, not letting you become aware of the onset of the night. I could not tell what time it was, but it really does not matter. Constantly a wave of excitement and euphoria was inflaming the masses. Nobody was tired or bored; everybody was singing, and voices were getting louder, calling the Führer to come.

The happiness of the people reflected a visible relief that fourteen years of afterwar chaos was over and an area of national unity was on the way. Maybe not everybody standing here tonight was convinced about Hitler’s sincerity, but certainly the hope for a better future was on everybody’s mind. Suddenly, after hours of waiting, people were jumping and screaming, trying desperately to get a good look at their Führer appearing above them in the window. I could not see anything, being a small person as I was, but my father lifted me up and put me on his shoulders. Instantly I was taller than everybody else, having a front-row seat. I could see Hitler perfectly; he was holding his right arm up, moving from left to right over and over again, leaning as far as he could over the windowsill to give everybody a chance to see him. To talk to the people was impossible for him as they constantly shouted, Sieg Heil, sieg Heil, sieg Heil! Hail to the chief! Before my father put me down again, he said to me, Son, take a good look at our Führer. With God’s help, he will save Germany.

After a couple of minutes had passed, Hitler left his well-wishers and returned to the inside of the building. Other dignitaries came to the window, but the main event at the chancellery was over. During the two-day celebration starting on the night of January 30 to January 31, perhaps the biggest spectacle was the torch parade of the SA, which lasted five hours. My parents took me by the hand, and my father made sure to work his way through the multitude of people heading to the Brandenburg Gate. However, a lot of others had the same idea. The lines in front of the Reichs-Kanzlei were almost as long as those in the Wilhelm Strasse. A slow pilgrimage toward downtown was on the way. It was not possible to get lost as everybody was pushing in the same direction. The human avalanche was slowing down the moment we were getting closer to the Pariser Platz. Everybody was trying to get a standing place by the Brandenburg Gate to watch the torchlight parade. The only chance to get out of this congested area would be an attempt to break away to the left and head for the Tiergarten, a huge park nearby.

Once we reached the Tiergarten, the traffic of people walking around without crowding each other was almost normal. We followed a small road leading to the Charlottenburger Chaussee. Finding a place on the sidewalk was difficult, so we kept walking in a westerly direction a little longer till we found a spot. We were able to look up and down the Charlottenburger Chaussee. Looking back east, we could see the Brandenburg Gate. The whole parade was going in a circle; it started coming down the Charlottenburger Chaussee through the Brandenburg Gate, turning right into the Wilhelm Strasse. At the end of the Wilhelm Strasse, the parade turned right again at the Bellevue Allee back to the Charlottenburger Chaussee. We just arrived as already the first regiment of brownshirts came in sight. They marched in rows of twelves, holding their flaming torches in front of them. The first unit of the SA was a marching band playing military music. Behind them was a column of officers bearing swastika flags. Each regiment had their own banner, emblem, and insignia. It was almost as bright as daylight and getting brighter every minute the storm troopers came closer to our place. The air was warm from the thousands of torchlights,