The Good Man of Nanking

by John Rabe

  27 APRIL

  The first reports of rape are coming in. Frau Kitlaus at 1 Harries Strasse just missed being raped when a neighbor came by and interrupted the Russian. At Nos. 5 and 7, it’s reported that two girls, aged 17 and 19, were raped three to four times. Ribbeck tells me that the same thing has happened on Rapp Strasse as well. Ribbeck has left his house on Rapp Strasse, and he and his wife have moved in with friends on Riepelt Strasse. We’re very worried about how we’re going to protect Irmi59and Erika Brechelt.60

  This morning at 5:00 heavy artillery shelling, machine gun and rifle fire, which has continued until this moment (10:30 a.m.) with only very brief pauses.

  The Russian soldiers are making themselves at home in our apartment, but are very amiable—so far. They don’t bother us, even offer some of their food, but they’re crazy about any kind of alcohol and are unpredictable once they’ve had too much.

  28 APRIL

  The night was quiet. No shelling. At 6:30 and 8:30 a.m., brief cannonades from the Russian side aimed into the city. It’s horrible to be constantly aware that women are being raped. Frau Freier now admits that the night before last she had to give in to a Russian who threatened to shoot her if she refused. Last night she was able to hide. I’m writing these lines in great haste by the dim light in the room. Russian soldiers are constantly coming and going in our apartment.

  The Siemens slaughterhouse (Süd Strasse behind the nursery) has been giving away for free whatever meat was left. A few residents of Siemensstadt walked away with whole quarters of beef. By the time I heard about it, it was too late: nothing left. And we need it so desperately. A Russian soldier, who likewise came away with a quarter, offers it to us—for a gold watch. Sure, if I had one! Both my gold watches have been taken. Frau Becker, our neighbor, is sympathetic and gives Mutti some frozen liver. Mutti is so happy to get it, even though her fingers are numb from preparing it.

  Frau Becker brings another bit of sad news. Frau Dr. Orlich killed both her children and herself by injection with poison. I ask a German who lives close-by, but whom I don’t know personally, if he knows anything about the incident. He replies: “No. Haven’t heard about it. Too bad I don’t have any poison, otherwise I’d be happy to take it.”

  SUNDAY, 29 APRIL

  The night was quiet. This morning around 7:30 Russian batteries right outside our windows started firing. Stopped again after fifteen minutes. According to the Russians, Berlin has been surrounded. But in four different pockets, one of which is Tempelhof airport, where German planes are still taking off now and then. The Führer is said to be in Munich.

  Our apartment was totally taken over last night by Russian soldiers. Along with the rest of the people in the building, we slept in the bomb cellar.

  I’ve just heard from one of the Russians quartered in our apartment that Himmler is supposed to have capitulated to the Americans and English; i.e., surrendered personally to them, but notto the Russians. The man’s got it all wrong, the Russian says.

  Herr Brechelt went to have a look at his apartment. Now, together with about fifty colleagues, he’s being held to work in the pipe mill, but is allowed to visit his family every day.

  MONDAY, 30 APRIL

  The night was relatively quiet. We, Mutti and I, were able to sleep in the bedroom of our apartment for the first time again; the rooms to the right and left were home to Russians for the night. At the moment there’s heavy shelling of Spandau, where they say the Deutsche Werke is still resisting.

  Our garden has come through poorly. A Russian truck drove over Mutti’s bed of peas. The hedges and garden walls have been partly destroyed, but we can surely endure that. If only we knew what we are to live from! Until now goodhearted neighbors have helped us out with potatoes; and we’ve been given a little bread and meat by the Russians.

  Willi and I are busy hauling water from a pump in the neighborhood. The waterworks haven’t been in operation for days, and the Russians want to wash. We hear from various sides that the Russians have chased people right out of their apartments.

  TUESDAY, 1 MAY

  Our most recent billeted soldiers, a Russian noncom (medical student) and several privates, had to move on yesterday, much to our regret. They were relatively decent fellows [relativelyinserted as an afterthought], who gave us some of their rations now and then. No sooner were they gone than three Russian soldiers forced their way in, looking for girls. Herr Wagner’s calm demeanor—and he speaks fluent Russian—convinced them to leave, after unsuccessfully searching the building and bomb shelter, but without doing any damage, either. The shock still sits in our bones.

  All sorts of things have been happening in the neighborhood. A seventeen-year-old girl was raped five times, then shot. The women in a bomb shelter on Quell Weg were raped while their husbands looked on. Herr Gabbert was stopped on the street and had to take off most of his clothes because he claimed he had no jewelry. A ring he had hidden in one shoe was then taken. Only a little shelling overnight, but heavier this morning.

  Himmler has shot himself, or so the Russians say. On 28 April the Anglo-American forces were about 20 miles outside of Munich, which they have probably taken by now. These are just oral reports from Russian soldiers.

  We’re down to our last slices of bread again. How Mutti is going to feed us is a mystery. People sometimes talk about how they would want to share their last crust of bread. And you want to do it, too!But none of us ever realized how hard it is. I sit down in a corner of the parlor and read. I’m having a go at an old Gustav Freytag novel—Debit and Credit.I’m trying to forget!

  Wagner, our neighbor, has poured out all the rest of his alcohol, wines and liqueurs, because he was afraid it would fall into the hands of the Russians, who would get drunk and then get out of control. Who can blame him? But Mutti is crying, she would have so loved one or two bottles. Well, it’s too late now. I have other worries: First thing we have to do is replenish our water supply.

  5 P.M.

  I’ve just come back from a walk that I took with Willi through Siemensstadt to see if we could scare up food of any kind somewhere. No success. There’s nothing more to be had. We visited Fräulein Naumann, who has taken on a little job of some sort in the administration building, in exchange for potatoes or whatever, and who was visiting her mother. She didn’t have any suggestions about where to find something to eat. Then we visited Paul Meyer, whose apartment above the pharmacy was horribly damaged during the last air raid and then by a German grenade. One room is ripped wide open. You can look right outside because a wall is missing. The furniture is ruined, and everything is buried under rubble and plaster. But Meyer is as calm and level-headed as always.

  “Where are you living, where are you sleeping?” I asked.

  “Well, in the bomb shelter. And we cook and eat somewhere together with the rest of the people in the building.”

  We then joined Meyer to go ask at the waterworks if there was any food to be had there. No go again! There was a food depot there that the Wehrmacht had secretly set up and that no one, not even the directors, knew anything about. What they told us at the waterworks was that directors Bauer and Buol had sworn on oath that there was no food there. When the depot was then found—ostensibly some foreigners were the informers—Buol and Bauer were arrested. There’s no way to check the facts, I am only passing on what we were told. The official there also mentioned that a number of local residents had behaved shamelessly when the depot was then cleared. They didn’t just take food but used the opportunity to break into offices and steal office supplies, like mechanical pencils and other things stored there, including stuff they could have no use for, like screws and rivets, crates and crates of them. I’m simply recording this incident as well, and the revulsion with which it was described, just to give a feel for the times.

  We’ve heard that street fighting is still going on in the West End and Charlottenburg. I met some refugees who had come from Charlottenburg and were trekking on to Karlshorst. At the
east gate, by the war monument, near the T-works and outside the Werner Werk high-rise, are the graves of fallen Russians, decorated with red wooden pyramids bearing the Soviet star.

  Frau Freier has just come by with the following news that somebody heard on some foreign broadcast:

  Himmler’s offer of capitulation was not accepted by the Anglo-Americans. Meanwhile, Himmler has been captured and sent off to Moscow.

  Goebbels has shot himself.

  Hitler and Göring are in Munich.61

  Of the two tower shelters at the Tiergarten, one has been blown up, while a battle with flamethrowers is raging around the other.

  We’re told that a German-speaking Russian staff officer is living at 43 Rohr Damm, to whom you can apply for help if you’re molested by Russian soldiers. They say the same officer is in charge of getting supplies to the civilian population promptly. That sounds very promising.

  SATURDAY, 5 MAY

  On Wednesday, 2 May, I went with Willi to the cable works to get some food. The works were in a sorry state, half destroyed, the offices plundered. In the cellar we found some dried vegetables and grain coffee. On the way home, still on the cable works grounds, we were arrested by a Russian officer and locked in a room with other prisoners in apartment No. 368 at 19 Schuckert Damm. Among others, we met Herr Steinberg along with Herr Bücking. We were fed well, and treated well, too.

  Rabe’s entry in his Berlin diary describing his arrest by the Russians

  We were interrogated, and I had to tell the story of my life, down to the last detail, and then sign my statement, which they had taken down. On Friday, 4 May, Willi and I were released, after having sworn an oath that we would help the Russians in their attempts to restore order in Berlin. We were happy to promise it.

  How could that be done? As I see it, the Siemens directors should be located, since after all their primary interest must be to get the operation up and running again. The Russians shared my view. I asked the Russian officers to release Herr Steinberg as well, who could help me locate the directors. Herr Steinberg was then also released.

  We then went looking for Herr von Kissling in the administration building, from whom we received a list of the last known addresses of all directors, which we then gave the Russians. Herr Steinberg is supposed to search for individual directors today by car. In the meantime a certain Herr Brehm from AJ4 has been able to establish contact with directors Bingel and Dr. von Witzleben. When Herr Steinberg and I returned to talk with the Russians at eight that evening, we ran into Herr von Witzleben, who is probably being held under arrest now in the same room where Willi and I spent three days. I’m sorry that Herr von Witzleben has not been spared this discomfort, but without some rigor there is no way to impose a new order.

  Herr Director Möller was found shot to death in a garage near his apartment and has already been buried. Herr Hofer is said to have shot himself and his entire family.

  The news that Frau Dr. Orlich killed herself and her children has, thank God, turned out not to be true; but Frau Dr. Heyde did take her life with poison.

  I have been ordered by the Russians to determine who on our vast staff has ever worked in the Soviet Union. A difficult task. I don’t know how I’m going to carry it out.

  Mutti was very brave during our arrest, but it was hard on her psychologically. She looked in vain for us everywhere. She wandered around close to distraction in the administration building and at the cable works, too, calling out my name. Words can’t describe her happiness when we were able to return home. You have to experience such moments to truly and totally grasp them.

  And how are the children doing? Ah, your heart simply overflows and you can’t put the words that run through your mind to paper.

  SUNDAY, 6 MAY

  Yesterday the administration building was occupied by a column of 180 Russian soldiers. On Major Föderoff’s orders, Herr von Kissling is rounding up fitters and engineers, most of them from the assembly mill, who previously worked in the Soviet Union. Dr. von Witzleben, with whom I was able to speak for a few minutes as he was getting into a car with a Russian officer to take care of some business or other, asked me to go to Herr Bingel’s house where his wife is and tell her that he’s all right. Since I have no way of driving there, I asked Herr Steinberg to convey the message, and he said that Frau von Witzleben had already been told.

  I’m not feeling well at present. My blood pressure is too high. Yesterday afternoon I was close to collapse but managed to make it home. The Russians apparently had some sympathy with my condition and did not detain me, so that I was able to get back home quickly and immediately crept into bed. I’m doing a bit better this morning. I have to report to Russian Major Förderoff at 9 o’clock.

  MONDAY, 7 MAY

  I picked up an intestinal infection while I was under arrest, which I’m hoping I can cure with Yatren.

  We received the order this morning to clear out of our apartment within three hours. We’re moving in with Borowski, 71 Rapp Strasse. I’m storing my model ships, a good number of paintings and bronzes, as well as some Chinese pewter in our and K.’s cellars, since a Russian officer told me that we can lock the cellars. I’m doing so badly this evening that I call on Frau Dr. O. on Riepelt Strasse, who gives me a small package of Tannalbin.

  TUESDAY, 8 MAY

  I’m feeling a little better this morning, but still very drained, yet I get dressed anyway to be ready for marching orders if need be.

  At 10 o’clock, we are ordered to clear out of the apartment that we’ve only just moved into, and within two hours at that. We drag our bags, mattresses, bedding, and so forth to Richters, 69 Rapp Strasse, 2nd floor. But will we be allowed to stay here? Since we have no coal or wood for the stove, we go to the cellar of our old apartment at 3 Harries Strasse and find the cellar locked on the outside, but all the individual doors inside have been forced open, the contents rifled or simply smashed. A Russian soldier comes into the cellar, sees that we’re getting coal and doesn’t bother us.

  WEDNESDAY, 9 MAY

  Orders have come from the Antifascist Central Office that all men must report for work at 7 a.m. Yesterday they had to load stuff from the cable works to be shipped off. Everyone got something to eat (soup and a large piece of bread). This morning Willi went to work as well. I cannot go just yet, since I’m still not over my intestinal flu.

  The water has been on again since yesterday, the pressure’s low, but there is running water at least.

  Some shots this morning, presumably soldiers drilling; then music and hurrahs, down at the end of Rapp Strasse. We’re worried whether we can stay on in our present quarters.

  NOON

  The Russian soldiers are dancing and are all very happy. They say some sort of peace or armistice has been signed between Russia and Germany. No one knows who’s in charge on our side, who signed for us (Dönitz?).

  Frau Freier comes to see us, very distraught. She had moved into an empty eight-room house with the Brechelts and the Fischers. A Russian commandant also occupied one room, but that night the whole house erupted in tumult. Frau Freier was raped. Frau Fischer and Frau Brechelt were too old and were left alone. The young girls escaped by hiding in the attic. In grappling with the Russians, Herr Brechelt was wounded in the face. And now they’ve all left the house, are strewn in all directions, and we take Frau Freier in. Part of her belongings are already here with us. The rest are to follow. She went off to get them a good while ago; let’s hope nothing else has happened to her!

  We have not one bit of bread left in the house. But when need is greatest, God is nearest. A neighbor lady, Frau Kitlaus, brings us a bowl of meat and rice stew. We carefully ladle off the fat. Given my current state, the rice is more than enough for me. Another neighbor, Frau Dr. Hermann, brings us a piece of meat. We’ve given most of Otto’s medicine to Frau Dr. Orlich. Unfortunately she couldn’t offer us anything to eat in trade. She doesn’t have enough even for herself, and there are patients lying in the Red Cross station at
her house, including the man we dug out of the house on Riepelt Strasse on 24 April.

  THURSDAY, 10 MAY

  From yesterday afternoon until 11:00 p.m., a lot of shooting (in celebration), a great banquet in the garden, with dancing and singing. Since there’s a great deal of drinking, too, we fear the worst for the rest of the night. Irmi and Frau Freier hide. Frau Freier was raped four times yesterday. Thank God, the night remains calm. No one dared take off their shoes and clothes.

  Willi came home at 5 o’clock yesterday. He brought a quarter of a loaf of bread, and during a break in work he’d been given some broth. He was helping dismantle machines (lathes) at the pipe mill. The dismantling is a bad sign, since the plant cannot return to operation if the machines are all hauled away. Word is that Generals Jodl and von Krosigk62signed the armistice.

  We all shared Willi’s bread, and now there’s not a crumb left in the house. And neither do we know where we’re supposed to get coal and firewood if the Russians won’t let us into our cellar on Harries Strasse. Willi left again for work at 7 this morning. He’s still physically strong and if he gets his soup every day from the Russians, he can probably manage the physical labor demanded of him for a good while, despite my illness.

  I’m amazed at Mutti. She is brave, never complains or grumbles, and is constantly trying to beg some sort of food for us. God bless her! And along with Irmi she keeps the house in order, to the extent that you can speak of order. We sleep on the floor and hope that no one takes our mattresses away from us, or our bags and clothes, which we’ve had to drag along on each of our several hasty moves.

  And we wonder, how are Gretel and her children and Otto and Eva63 doing? You don’t dare start brooding, it only leads to despair!