Two Escaping the Last Battle
by
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FACING THE IMPACT OF OUR ESCAPE
April 22, 1945
Day one
When I awoke on the morning of April 22, I was a bundle of apprehension. I felt overwhelming sorrow at the prospect of leaving my family behind in Berlin, for I wondered how they could possibly survive. I dressed as quickly as I could, considering the amount of clothing I had to wear. I put on layer after layer. I was glad to be able to take so many of my things with me, so the discomfort was worthwhile.
I found Oma sitting on the footstool near the sink in the kitchen. As usual, she was peeling potatoes for home fries. Opa was standing close by her right, and Ella stood to her left, the baby cradled warmly in her arms. Never in my life will I forget this lovely family portrait.
I walked to my loved ones with numb feeling, and kissed each one of them.
We sat down to breakfast in absolute silence, not daring to look at each other. I know that if I had seen my Oma’s eyes, I would have wept uncontrollably. I don’t know if I could have retained the courage I needed to leave her.
I will always remember this last meal together. We each had one slice of rye bread with the delicious marmalade Oma made from red beets and sugar beets. Of course, we had our usual cup of Muckefuck (coffee substitute) with it.
Shortly after breakfast, Opa tied my suitcase to my back. Then, I gathered up the two bags, which I planned to carry with me. They contained some of my best towels, and my essential bathing suit. I also took my hockey stick, for I could not bear to leave it behind. When I wasn’t swimming, I was playing field hockey. I loved the sport, even though the ball frequently hit me. Oma criticized me constantly for this.
"Why must you spend your time playing a game that sends you home black and blue?" She ranted
"You will never be a lady!"
The fire department didn’t approve of my participation in field hockey, either. By law, they had to provide Sundays off with pay to those employees who wanted to play, and the department didn’t like it.
"Playing hockey doesn’t win the war, Bruni," my boss would say. Then off I would go.
When I had all my things together, I gave Oma, Opa, Ella and the baby each final farewells kiss. I can not express the depth of feeling of sadness we all shared at that moment. I left hastily, feeling I would burst with the unspoken emotion.
Outside, I called Karma, my Scott terrier. I picked her up and pressed her to me. My heart was breaking as I wept heartily against Karma’s fur. Karma whimpered as though she knew I was going to leave her behind. Later, when I thought about her, I always felt heartsick. It was as though I felt her fate.
I was still crying as I strutted down the Ungarn Street, past all the lovely family homes with the little fenced in gardens. I was on my way, never to return to my home. Never to return to the place where I grew up, and where I had spent my youth.
A Russian plane flew very low over me. I walked as close as I could to the fence, hoping the pilot would not notice me. I was filled with fear and I immediately recalled why I had to leave Berlin.
My friend was waiting impatiently for me at her home.
"Why do you have so many bags?" her father wanted to know. "Your hands should be free." I knew he was right, and though I hated to part with anything more, I agreed to leave the two handbags with Margit’s family.
"Promise me you’ll deliver them to my grandparents," Then I tucked my bathing suit under the blanket I had wrapped around the suitcase.
Margit pushed me out of the house, following close behind. She wanted to leave before the good-byes became too emotional. I could tell she was as upset as I was. We walked side by side, each of us holding one end of both hockey sticks, which we had put together. Our potato pancakes and handbags hung between us on the sticks. We had walked a fair distance down the See Street before we felt relaxed and we overcame our trembling feelings. My friend finally broke the tense silence.
"Yesterday my father talked to some soldiers who told him that the Russians’ encircle Berlin now. He said we might be able to get out if we go through Spandau. But we need to hurry!"
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About the Book
TWO ESCAPING THE LAST BATTLE
Is a dramatic, true story about two Berliner girls, my girl friend and I, who escaped on April 22, 1945, at 11:30 AM, just in time to avoid the cruelty and raping by Russian Soldiers.
One-day later Russian soldiers entered my grandparent’s home.
This story is dramatic and encounters danger, wit, ingenuity, comedy, love, and disappointment. The dialog, dispersed with a German accent, is as close to the native speech as possible. This is a great story; there was suspense almost every day. People who read my rough draft could not put it down. Their comment was that it would make a great movie. My girl friend and I prayed many times to the lord, and He must have heard us because here I am writing this story.
About the Author
I am a Berliner. I was born and raised and received my education there. I was sent to a business institute to study American bookkeeping, banking, business German, and shorthand. I was trained and worked at radar, receiving and announcing advancing aircraft during W.W.II. Also, I was trained as a teletype and switchboard operator and worked as a telegrapher at the fire department Schoeneberg in Berlin. I endured bombings and hunger blockades. I watched the Airlift when American airplanes brought food to Berlin. I left Germany on April 15, 1962, for America. Here, I worked as an annalist, model maker, keypunch operator, secretary, and data controller. I gave lessons in garment pattern drafting and dress designing. I designed a foot warmer for which I received a U.S. patent. At the firm I worked at as a data controller, I met my husband Ray, who was working there as a mechanical design engineer. Ray, who is very tolerant and understanding, encouraged me to write my story, which I named, Two Escaping the Last Battle.