One of the half-naked men came from the back room and grabbed Helga, calling her a “Nazi whore,” in German. Those were the only words I recognized.
Helga, her eyes wide with terror, fought against them as much as she could, but it was no use. The other soldiers dragged her, screaming and sobbing, away. The men closed the French doors and for a time it was quiet. The commander stood near the doors with his rifle pointed at us. Inga sobbed on the bed.
Then Helga screamed and we heard her cries of pain for ten long minutes before they turned to muffled moans. Irmigard and I looked at the door, unable to do anything but sob. I tried to think of a way out, a plan to get us away from these beasts, but my head was too filled with horror and pain to think.
Then, after another long wait, the door opened and Helga was roughly pushed through the door. Her blouse was torn and blood dripped down her legs. Inga grabbed her younger daughter in her arms. They huddled together on the bed.
Irmigard was taken next.
Then the soldiers came for me.
The French doors closed and it was dark. Rough hands covered me. Teeth bit at my neck. Breath that smelled of cigarette smoke and liquor filled my nostrils. My dress was ripped open on top, the bottom thrust over my waist. Then the night became a haze of blinding red pain. Four of them took me in turns as the others watched. It didn’t take them long, although it seemed as though hours had passed.
When they were through, they shoved me out of the room and I collapsed on the bed with the others. All the time, the commander kept his weapon pointed at us.
A short time later, the four men came out, pulling up their pants, laughing and jeering. “Heil Hitler,” they sang to us, and raised their arms in the Nazi salute. When they were finished mocking us, the five soldiers slung their rifles over their shoulders and fled down the stairs.
“I’m going to kill them,” Inga said. She rushed toward the panel where Frederick’s gun was hidden.
I’d forgotten about the weapon and screamed at her to stop. “What can you do? Kill one of them and the others will kill us. Let them go.”
She stopped, leaned against the half-opened door and cried.
I pulled myself up from the bed and winced in pain. I lit a candle and its meager yellow light spread across the room. “We need medical attention.”
Irmigard stared at me and said, “There’s no doctor in this neighborhood.” She rocked her sister in her arms. Helga’s eyes were vacant and black. She stared at the ceiling and said nothing.
I could only go to one place for help—the Chancellery.
* * *
Irmigard and I tended Helga as best we could. We dipped rags in cold water from the wash bucket in order to staunch her bleeding. The bloody cloths turned the water pink. I rested with my friends for a half hour before I got off the bed. At first I thought it might be better to walk to the Chancellery in the morning when I could see the enemy, but after thinking about it I decided to take advantage of the darkness.
I told Inga to get Frederick’s gun, but to use it only as a last resort. I doubted the same soldiers would come back again, but conditions seemed to be worsening by the minute. There was little she could do against armed men. Firing the weapon would likely get her and her daughters killed. I looked out the front windows to see if I could spot any enemy soldiers. I only saw a young man and woman, dark hooded figures, running down the street toward the east, a dangerous direction. They looked like Germans running toward the enemy. I would be heading west.
The view from the window was like a nightmare. Artillery rockets shook the ground as they exploded near us. Many of them buzzed overhead, dangerously close to the apartment. Buildings burned on the horizon; several a few blocks away were engulfed. To the east, a flamethrower split the air with its orange fire. Its powerful stream shattered any window left unbroken. The liquid fire cascaded through the structure like a hellish waterfall. Far off, screams echoed through the night.
It took every ounce of my courage to leave the apartment, even though it offered no real safety. I washed up as best I could and changed into another dress. I threw my things, including my stuffed monkey, into my suitcase. I would have to leave my bag behind because I was in no condition to carry it.
“Wait here,” I said at the door. “I’ll send for a doctor. If you have to leave, don’t go far—at least tell a neighbor, anyone, so I’ll know where you are.”
Helga stared at the ceiling, unresponsive to my words. Irmigard thanked me and blew me a kiss. Inga nodded and said, “Pray for us.”
I closed the door and stared at the dark staircase. I let my eyes adjust to the light and walked slowly down. With every step, my legs and abdomen throbbed. The building’s door was shattered and wrenched open. Anyone could walk in, but not a living soul was in sight. Frederick’s bloody corpse lay in the street, his left arm stretched into the air as if he were reaching for heaven. There was no time for tears. I hoped that Inga and her daughters would not see his body in the morning. Perhaps some kind stranger or German soldier would carry him away before the sun rose.
I ran left down the street. Each step felt like a knife had been stuck in my groin. I had no choice but to walk on, to run if necessary. The Reich Chancellery was several kilometers away; how many I wasn’t sure. I was certain, however, the trip would take me several hours, and, at my slow pace, I would be lucky to get there by midnight. Of course, there were soldiers to worry about, too. The Russians could capture and rape me again. The Wehrmacht might fire at me, a shadowy figure in the night, mistaking me for the enemy.
I passed mountainous piles of rubble and the shattered shells of buildings, which rose like charred, blackened skeletons from the ground. Some were white with ash. I’d only gotten a few blocks away when I faced a barricade of battered trolley cars. I lifted my foot to the step of one of them and grabbed hold of the railing. I could see through the car—blazing ruins and empty streets filled with debris lay on the other side.
I stepped up, but in the process my right leg caught on a jagged piece of metal. A sharp slicing pain cut across my flesh. Instinctively, I reached down and felt for the wound. Warm, slick blood dripped from my fingers.
A hand caught me by the back of my coat and pulled me down from the step.
“Where are you headed?” a Russian soldier said in perfect German. He wore a long coat that brushed the ground. He pushed his cap back with the barrel of his pistol and then pointed the weapon at me. A fiery orange light flickered across our faces.
“You need a doctor,” he said, looking at my bloody leg.
“I’m looking for one,” I said. “Your men have raped me and two other women. One was very young.”
His eyes shifted from one of hostility to concern. He asked me to open my coat. I complied and he searched me. Satisfied that I wasn’t carrying a weapon, he said, “The men get carried away. They realize any hour may be their last on earth and they take advantage of the women.”
“Take advantage?” I asked incredulously. “They nearly killed us. The young woman was a virgin.”
He leaned against the battered side of the trolley. “War spawns hellish creatures. Go ahead, find your doctor. I wish you luck. There are German troops on the other side of these cars. If I were you, I’d walk with my hands up.”
“You’re letting me go?”
He nodded. “Of course. We’re not all rutting beasts. We’re looking for a particular monster and when we find him . . .” He took a white scarf from his coat and wrapped it around the cut on my leg. He started to speak, but his words died as if he had spotted a threat across the street. He slid around the corner of the trolley, dodged past a shattered doorway and disappeared.
Somehow, I trusted him. I lifted myself up on the trolley, my legs aching in pain, walked through the shattered car and climbed down the other side. I raised my hands over my head and walked down the littered street. In a few seconds, I was surrounded by a few old men, some boys from the Hitler Youth and an SS officer. The officer
looked at me blankly and then searched me. He asked my name and wanted to know where I had come from.
I told him my name and said, “About a kilometer to the east.” I pointed in the direction. “I was raped by the Russians.”
“Pigs! Attacking our women.” He escorted me down the street to the relative safety of a crumbling building. The other men and boys dispersed back to their hiding places and barricades.
“I must get to the Chancellery. I work for the Führer.”
The officer laughed. “You?”
“Do you have a torch?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I have a cigarette lighter.”
“Strike it,” I said.
He did. I took off my ring and showed him the inscription on my wedding band.
“My God,” he said. “I’ll get you there as soon as I can.” He shouted orders to the men and then walked with me. We ducked at a street corner as a Russian shell flew over our heads and struck several blocks away. He pointed to a brown lump about a hundred meters to the east. When we arrived, the officer pulled the netting off what looked like a pile of dirt and revealed a small vehicle, a cross between a motorcycle and a small tank. He instructed me to get in the rear seat while he drove. My stomach turned over many times on the bumpy journey, but in twenty minutes we were at the garage bunkers of the Chancellery.
The two officers on duty at the bunker did not believe my story until I told them to get Cook. They knew immediately who she was. The soldier who had brought me left me with them. One was kind enough to offer me a seat in the cold hallway as the other went to deliver the message. The garage bunker was a vast complex on the west side of the New Chancellery on Hermann Göring Street.
I doubled over in pain at one point and the remaining officer rushed to my side. He asked if there was anything he could do.
“Get me to a doctor,” I said. Points of light swam before my eyes, and despite the cool, clammy air, heat rose from my skin. The blood from my cut had pooled reddish brown on the Russian soldier’s scarf. I shivered on my wooden chair.
It seemed hours before I heard Cook’s familiar voice. She rushed toward me, shouting my name. “Why didn’t you tend to this woman?” she yelled at the officers. “She works for the Führer.”
The men cringed and made their excuses. Cook waved them away with her hands and said, “I will take her to the Führer, no thanks to you.”
She lifted me from the chair and I leaned against her. “It’s a long walk, Magda, but you can do it. Think about pleasant things. Better yet, you can tell me what has happened since we last saw each other. Talking will keep your mind off your pain.”
Cook didn’t know I had been raped. As we walked through the long corridor of bunkers, I told her of my stay with Irmigard and her family and my efforts to find my father. Many soldiers milled about, and it seemed an equal number were laid out on gurneys awaiting operations. Moans filled the air along with the smell of antiseptic. “We can’t stop here,” Cook said, and shook her head. “These bunkers are only going to become more crowded as the wounded come. I’m taking you to the Führer’s personal physician. You remember him.”
I did remember a pudgy doctor. He was responsible for giving Hitler his daily doses of vitamin injections and morphine. I never liked the doctor’s obsequious attitude or his pandering to his boss. However, given the circumstances, I would be happy to see him. The pain grew worse as we drew closer to Hitler’s underground headquarters.
We continued through the seemingly endless tunnels of bunkers until we came to a connecting corridor. I huffed and held on to Cook tightly as we turned left down the narrow passageway. An SS officer rose from behind his desk as we approached the Vorbunker. This was the first air-raid shelter Hitler had built under the Old Chancellery. Cook nodded and the man let us through this security checkpoint.
“I saved a bed for you in the sleeping quarters,” Cook said. “You’ll feel right at home. It’s close to the kitchen.” She managed a smile. We turned again down a broader passage until we passed through a dining area. My room was off it. I collapsed on the bed, relieved to rest again. Nothing suited me better than to sleep, but Cook wouldn’t hear of it. Finally, I told her my story of the Russian soldiers and my rape. She listened with tears in her eyes.
When I finished, she said, “Stay here. I will get Dr. Haase.”
I didn’t know Dr. Haase. Hitler had dismissed Dr. Morell, the fat physician who had been with him for years. Drifting in and out of sleep, I lay on my cot until the rat-faced doctor snapped his fingers over my eyes. I jumped awake.
“Please leave us,” he said to Cook.
Cook stroked my hand. “Be well, my Magda. I’ll be outside the door.” She left the room.
The doctor pushed up my dress and pulled down my bloody underpants. He shook his head. “The cut on your leg is the least of your problems. You’re bleeding internally. I’m sending for a nurse.” He called out to Cook, who poked her head in and then ran to follow his instructions.
I focused on my surroundings. I didn’t want to look at the doctor or feel his fingers upon me. The room was small, crowded with iron bunk beds and devoid of color. A few bare bulbs lit the room. A constant hum filled my ears, like the low whirring of machinery. The bunkers at the Wolf’s Lair seemed like a palace compared to those in the Vorbunker.
In a few minutes, a nurse appeared with a syringe in her hand. My arm stung briefly and then I lost consciousness. I awakened several hours later dressed in a clinical gown. Cook sat by my side, but I wanted nothing but sleep. A few other women slept on beds nearby. I lifted my head to say a few words, but the anesthetic’s effects were too powerful. My head dropped back to the pillow and I fell asleep.
When I woke up, I had no idea whether it was day or night. The room was empty. I tried to move my legs, but they were unresponsive. My heart quickened in a panic. I drifted in and out of consciousness until Cook appeared at my side.
“You mustn’t move,” she said, and pointed to my legs. “They’re strapped to the bed. The doctor doesn’t want you to walk for a few days so the healing process can begin. Then you should be fine. I’ll get you some food later.” She smiled and reached over to hold my hand. Despite her allegiance to Hitler, Cook again displayed her worth as a friend. She sat and stared at me with sad brown eyes.
A horrible thought struck me and I rose up on my elbows.
“The women I left behind,” I said. “They need a doctor. Someone must go for them. I’ll tell you where they are.”
Cook shook her head. “It’s impossible, Magda. Every available physician is here at the bunker, aiding wounded soldiers and the people who are defending the city. Besides, no doctor could make his way to the neighborhoods now. It would be suicide. They would be cut down by the Red Army.”
“I made it.”
“You were lucky. You had a much better chance coming west to the Chancellery than those trying to travel east. The enemy is drawing closer by the hour. Our casualties increase by the minute.” She paused and then dropped her voice to a whisper. “There’s something else. . . .”
I stared at her.
“Dr. Haase says you will never be able to have children. Too much damage was done.”
I lay back on the bed as tears gathered in my eyes. But there was more going on in my battered body than sadness. A red-hot anger surged through me.
“Where is he?” I said to Cook.
She looked at me as if I had lost my mind. Perhaps I had.
“Who?” she asked.
“Hitler.” I spit out his name and didn’t care if anyone heard my blasphemy.
Cook stared at me, horrified. “Magda, you’re ill. I’ll get the doctor.”
“I’m not ill! He’s the cause of all this! He’s the one who should be punished!”
Cook leaned over and put her hand on my forehead. “You’re not making sense. Calm yourself.”
I pounded the cot with my fists and pulled against the leg straps until I thought my feet would sn
ap off. Hot stabbing pain shot through my abdomen. I held on to my stomach and thrashed on the bed until I couldn’t move. Exhausted, I melted into tears.
The doctor did not come, but a nurse came with a sedative. She administered the shot and the light above me turned hazy and weak until it faded to blackness. One thought filled me as I slipped into unconsciousness: No matter what it takes, I will kill Adolf Hitler.
CHAPTER 20
The next few days slipped from my memory. I wasn’t sure how many hours had passed. I recalled doctors and nurses observing me, changing the bedding on the cot, my gown, my dressings, Cook feeding me although I wasn’t hungry.
Then, like a patient emerging from a prolonged fever, I felt better, well enough to get up on my feet. I took small steps around my room and stuck my head out in the corridor. A few people said hello to me. Others gave me a glance and then looked away. Cook and I talked when she brought me my meals; however, she never mentioned my ravings about Hitler or wavered in her steadfast friendship. She told me Berlin was about to fall—everyone knew it and was making plans to flee the city. Hitler, she said, was not convinced and planned to stay to the end. She and several members of the staff, including Hitler’s valet, wanted to remain as well.
I asked her if a doctor had been sent to Irmigard’s. Cook shook her head. I could tell from her expression that as much as I wanted them to be saved there was nothing Cook or I could do.
The hours droned by in synchronicity with the hum of the generators. If there were bombs falling, rockets smashing into the Chancellery, we didn’t hear them. There could have been hand-to-hand fighting in the garden above. We wouldn’t have heard it. It was as if we lived in a tomb sealed from the world with no hope of finding our way out.
One evening, I felt strong enough to take a meal in the canteen. The room was next to the kitchen in the Vorbunker and, as I was eating, I spotted a woman I recognized from the Berghof. At first I thought my eyes might be playing tricks on me, as if the lingering effects of my medications had affected my vision, conjuring a ghost before me. She wore a plain blue dress with long sleeves and glided around the kitchen in her usual breezy manner, smiling and talking to the staff. I recognized her voice immediately. The woman was Eva Braun.
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