by Heath, Tim
On 22 February 1943, the trial of Sophie and Hans Scholl began at 9.00am and closed at 1.00pm. Hans and Sophie’s parents were not allowed to attend the trial and had not been issued with passes to enter the courtroom.
Documentation that provides information about the proceedings of the trial against Sophie, Hans and Christoph, makes one marvel at how dignified and defiant the three were. Freisler, for all his theatrical shouting and abuse, could in no way whatsoever break Sophie or the others. She stood before him and refused to denounce the ‘terribly heinous crime’ she had committed against the Reich. Her wit and intelligence, together with her challenging composure certainly unsettled Freisler. For once, he was facing someone who was not afraid of either him or the consequences of her beliefs. It was a strange scenario – a young German woman aged twenty-one and a hardened servant of the Hitler regime verbally sparring.
Sophie’s last words to Freisler were, ‘You know the war is lost, why don’t you face it?’
Judge Freisler sentenced Sophie and Hans to death by guillotine, before they were taken to Stadelheim Prison. Robert and Magdalene Scholl were able to seize a precious few minutes with their children.
Robert embraced his son and said to him, ‘You will go down in history. There is another justice than this.’
Roland Freisler did in fact face the truth with which Sophie had challenged him. He was killed in an Allied air raid at around the second anniversary of his murder of Sophie and Hans Scholl.
Magdalene embraced her daughter, saying, ‘I will never see you come through the door again.’
Sophie replied, ‘Oh, Mother, after all, it’s only a few years more life I’ll miss.’
It was a statement so typical of Sophie. She was proud that she and Hans had not betrayed anyone during their interrogation and trial. Sophie’s mother remarked on how beautiful and radiant her daughter looked during those last few minutes that she spent with her. Sophie was very concerned what the effect of their deaths would have on their mother, but as for herself, she was completely resigned to her fate.
Sophie Scholl’s short life ended at 6.00pm on 22 February 1943, when, along with her brother Hans and their friend Christoph Probst, she was executed by guillotine, only a few hours after their sentencing. This so evidenced the extent of the fear that this young girl had instilled in the Nazis, that she and the others had to be disposed of quickly and ruthlessly.
It had been noted that, as Sophie was led away from her cell to the execution chamber, she remained defiant to the end, even winning the admiration of the prison officials. The guards later mentioned how courageous she was, and how she showed no fear of dying for her cause.
Upon entering the execution cell, her hands bound behind her back, Sophie remained silently dignified, ‘like Joan of Arc’, as the door to the cell slammed shut. Just a few short minutes later Sophie Scholl was dead.
Sophie and Hans were both buried in Perlach Forest Cemetery on 24 February 1943. In the nearby towns, graffiti began to appear on the walls of buildings, their spirit living on in the struggle again Nazism. Most notable of all of the graffiti was that revealed at first light on 23 February – the day after the execution – emblazoned across a building in Berlin. It was short and explicitly direct: ‘FUCK HITLER!’
Sophie Scholl was a remarkable human being in many respects, possessing qualities that were instantly recognizable by her personality. From her many activities, she had made many friends over the years. That was something the Nazis could never change. The Nazis could never defeat Sophie Scholl or the White Rose. On 12 October 1987, the Weiße Rose Stiftung or White Rose Foundation, was founded in Munich, to keep the legacy of the wartime resistance movement alive, while reminding today’s youth of the importance of fighting for human rights. Today, Sophie and her brother Hans remain at rest in the peace and tranquillity of a Germany that is completely different to the one that they knew and for which they had given their lives to change.
Recently, a German magazine for teenage girls, titled Brigitte Magazine, held a readers’ poll to find out from teenage girls in Germany today who they view as one of the most important female figures of the 20th century. Carried out amongst the million-strong readership, the person chosen was Sophie Scholl.
A contemporary German theatrical production was also staged to celebrate the short lives of Sophie and Hans Scholl and the other members of the White Rose who were executed during those dark days in the Second World War. This theatrical production enlightened and educated a whole new generation of German girls and boys, some of whom are still struggling to come to terms with the mistakes made by their predecessors.
Today’s young German girls especially recognize and acknowledge Sophie Scholl’s selfless bravery and sacrifice in the face of certain death, making one wonder what Sophie might have thought about it had she been alive today.
The next time that anyone says ‘all of the German nation was to blame for the Nazis and their rise to power’, they need to be asked if they have ever heard the story of Sophie Scholl – the White Rose remembered.
Chapter Eight
Bombs on the Reich
The first British air attack against Berlin, the capital of Adolf Hitler’s Third Reich, came during the evening of Sunday, 25 August 1940, when around forty aircraft of RAF Bomber Command struck Berlin for the first time. This first attack caused limited property damage to the city. The raid was, however, to prove an immense psychological blow to the German civilian population. Luftwaffe chief Hermann Goering had repeatedly assured the German people that such an event could never happen. It was a very foolish boast. It was a promise that amounted to a public relations disaster for Goering. He now had to go out onto the streets of Berlin to talk to angry and frightened civilians, and attempt to reassure them that a solution would soon be found to prevent such an outrage from happening again.
Kirsten Eckermann:
Goering visited the areas where the bombs had fallen, and people gathered around his car to listen to what he had to say to them. We really did believe that Berlin could not be bombed, and now that it had happened, we began to feel insecure and afraid. Goering made all kinds of stupid excuses and gestures, and I think people believed in what he told them. We did not believe at that moment that the RAF would be allowed to bomb our city again, but they did.
Whatever excuses Goering had made to those he had addressed in the days after that first RAF raid on the capital, the vulnerability of Berlin from RAF Bomber Command was made very clear during the nights of 28–29 August 1940, when the British bombers returned to Berlin for a second time. This time, people were killed in the raids, bringing the reality of war home to the people of the city. The RAF attacked Berlin again two nights later, inflicting more death and destruction upon the city.
Kirsten Eckermann:
There had been a degree of expectation of further attacks from the English. We knew that if they were going to come then they would come at night. I remember it was in early September during the night the air-raid siren sounded. I had never heard one of these sirens go off before. It was a horrible howling sound that sent you into a sense of panic. We all woke startled in the darkness and we quickly dressed and put on what clothing we could. We had not really practised air-raid evacuation and it was some minutes before we got out of the house and were all running down to the communal shelter that was situated right at the bottom of our street.
Other people were running along the darkened street and I vividly remember even now the searchlight beams as they clicked on and began to search the dark sky – they reminded me of fingers clawing the darkness as they looked for the enemy planes. When we arrived at the shelter, we were surprised to find that it was still half empty and that there was room for more people. Quite a few people had decided to remain inside their homes, though some had their own little shelters built in their back gardens. We huddled up together in a corner and then it was a case of waiting for whatever was going to happen. The adrenaline was flowing and alth
ough it was the middle of the night, I could not doze off to sleep.
Then I heard the first real sounds of war arrive as the flak [from the German for anti-aircraft guns, Fliegerabwehrkanonen] batteries around the city began to fire at the enemy planes. It must have been terrifying for those who stayed up above the ground in their homes, as the noise was tremendous. The flak guns fired continuously, it was like a continuous series of ‘booms’. The flak guns must have drowned out the noise of falling bombs, as although a stick of bombs fell fairly close by, I do not recall hearing any really large explosions or whistling sounds, only the occasional flicker of the lights and some dust falling from the ceiling.
Gradually, after what seemed some considerable time, the noise seemed to slowly die down until the guns one by one stopped firing. I think it must have been one hour later when the all-clear was sounded. We came out sheepishly from the shelter not knowing what we would see. Surprisingly, everything looked normal all around us, though a blanket of mist hung in the air. We started walking back towards our street when we noticed people gathering down a neighbouring block. As we went to see what was going on, it became obvious. Bombs had hit three of the houses and we were told that the families were inside. Groups of people began helping some fire brigade and RAD workers to clear the debris.
I remember a little girl who could not have been any older than five years of age. She was picking something up out of the rubble. It was the lifeless body of a small black kitten, and the little girl picked it up and cradled it in her arms, as if she could not accept that it was no longer alive. Some boys were picking up pieces of the exploded shells and bombs, and some people watched in stunned silence. When we arrived home, we were relieved to find that the houses along our street had not been harmed. We arrived home exhausted and went to bed to try and catch up on the sleep we had lost during the night.
Hitler was beside himself with rage over the attacks on his beloved city of Berlin, and on 4 September he delivered his most aggressive speech yet to the German nation. Clearly very angry, and shaking with rage, Hitler shouted:
When the British air force drops 200-, 300-, or 400-kilograms of bombs, then we will in one night drop one-hundred-and-fifty, two-hundred-and-thirty, three-hundred, or four-hundred-thousand-kilograms. When they declare that they will increase their attacks on our cities, then we will raze their cities to the ground. We will stop the handiwork of those night air pirates, so help us God.
In Germany, civilians in all areas of the country had begun to prepare for the inevitable air attacks.
Ursula Sabel vividly remembers how the cellar beneath her home became the only place that they could seek safety when the bombers came.
In 1940, the war began to approach us quite substantially in Duisburg. It was the terrible time of air raids. The windows of our house had to be pasted over with rolls of black paper. This was to ensure that at night not a single ray of light would escape, and give any reference point to the bombers. The first attacks came at night only, and once the enemy machines had been detected, the sirens began to sound in their terrible howling tone. The siren would sound to warn of an incoming attack and then the second to sound an all-clear when the attack had gone.
Citizens were required to either go down into their cellars or make their way to another air-raid shelter. My father had spent much time reinforcing the cellar beneath our home with thick and heavy railway sleepers. The sirens often sounded when we were asleep in our beds, and we were forbidden by the authorities to use any lights, and we had to quickly dress in the dark, grab our little suitcases, and run down into our cellar. I also took my violin with me down into the cellar. Our beds were made up from wooden planks and we would remain in these for the duration of the air raid.
Not far from our neighbourhood lived the railroad men and their families. The railroad men often built small shelters in their gardens. But only those who had helped to build them were allowed inside. So we continued to use our cellar beneath our house for protection. I heard stories of how families’ houses had been struck by bombs and they had been buried alive underneath. So there were times when we stayed in our bedrooms in the house trembling and scared and unable to sleep as the bombers hummed overhead.
Gradually, the attacks on our cities increased, and it became clear to us just how much danger we were in, and that perhaps our cellar could become our grave. Father decided to dig me and Mother a shelter out in our garden. He wanted it to be as comfortable and as safe as possible. So he dug a deep hole wide enough for Mother and I to sit opposite each other. The shelter entrance had been formed with a section of curved trunk shaped like a gate. The roof had been covered with thick wooden boards with soil placed on top of them. Mother and I lined the internal walls with wattle work, and two boards were placed inside to form a seat. Once inside that shelter we were safe from everything apart from maybe a direct hit, but there were sufficient targets for the bombers away from our area, so we felt relatively safe.
Even in the middle of winter, when the siren sounded we would run into the shelter in the garden. Many winter nights were freezing cold with snow and ice on the ground. I would put on an additional jacket, coat and scarf, with an old smock over the top to protect my clothes from the damp and the dirt. I also used to put an old cap on my head and an old steel helmet on top of it. The steel helmet had lay in our garden for many years. With all of the extra clothing on it was heavy and very difficult to run. I always took my suitcase and my violin with me into the shelter. You might find it very hard to believe that Mother and I often fell fast asleep in a sitting position only to be awoken by the all-clear signal, sometimes one or two hours later. In the morning, I would go to school as normal, and as if nothing had happened. Only later in 1942, when the daylight attacks began, did we receive no peace both day and night.
Heidi Koch remembers that the first air attacks only had the effect of hardening people’s resolve, and maybe increasing their support for total war. She remembers the first raids made by the RAF on Berlin, and how it had affected the attitudes of both her mother and father.
Father used to say that there would be no air attacks, not against Berlin anyway. He believed, like many, that Goering was telling the truth, and that the Reich airspace was impenetrable to enemy planes. He often lost his temper when we began to question him over this, especially when the British planes carried out the first series of attacks on our city.
He would say to me, ‘You ask far too many questions, girl’ and ‘shut up.’
Tension began to build after the first few air raids. This was brought on by the uncomfortable shelters we had to go in and the lack of sleep. I remember one night, the air-raid siren began to sound. There was panic in the house, as Mother shouted to us, ‘Don’t touch any lights. Get your clothes quickly and don’t forget your shoes.’
We had started going to bed partly dressed so if the siren sounded in the middle of the night we had only a few remaining items of clothing to struggle with. Once we had our things together Mother would say to Father, ‘Ernst, get the girls out of here straight away, and I will join you shortly.’
Mother always put us and Father first before we left the house to enter the extremely uncomfortable shelter out in our tiny back garden. Once we were all inside, Father shut the door tightly. When the flak guns started to fire we knew the enemy planes were nearby, and soon we could hear this noise like angry bees – a continuous humming sound as the enemy planes came overhead. When they dropped their bombs, you could hear them come whistling down, followed by a loud explosion as the bomb or bombs went off. I never went outside that shelter while a raid was on, and if I felt like going to the toilet, I just held it in. Father would just get up and go outside as if nothing was happening. Once he began to shout, ‘Go on, knock those bastards down!’ as the flak guns fired away at the planes in the dark sky above.
Theresa Moelle has a slightly different perspective of the first RAF air attacks made on of Berlin. Having been adopted by what many would
consider to have been well-off parents, and living in a house on the peripheral landscape of Berlin, Theresa often witnessed the scene as the bombers attacked the city during the hours of darkness.
Shops and businesses in the city began to close early, especially during the wintertime, when it became dark early and the bombers started their attacks earlier. We Berliners living on the outskirts of the city were largely unscathed during the early years of bombing. The bombers were after industry and railway networks and gas and electricity sub stations. At first, we would all run down into the cellar where Walter Moelle used to keep all of his wines. It was very cold in there during the winter, but it was relatively dry and safe from everything but a direct hit on the house itself. It became obvious after some time that no bombs were going to fall in our area, as there was nothing there to bomb; there were only one or two farm buildings and other residences near our house.
During one of the air raids, I decided to be difficult and refused to go down into the cellar with the others. I told Walter Moelle that I was going to stay in my room and that I did not want to go into the cellar. He as usual began to shout and try to reason with me, and I gave him some silly excuse about being afraid of spiders and things like that. In the end, he stormed off and left me in the house alone.
We were not allowed to have any lights on at all, not even small candlelight was allowed. With the house in blackness, being nighttime anyway, I pulled the curtain across just enough so I could peer through. The siren was still going off and I could clearly see the searchlights switching on and begin to sweep across the sky. If it was cloudy, the lights reflected the grey undersides of the clouds, and it could be quite bright, though the bombers always seemed to hit Berlin on frosty moonlit nights. As I peered out of the window I had to frequently rub the glass with the sleeve of my bedclothes as my breath kept frosting over the glass. The siren suddenly stopped and more searchlights began to switch on over the city, which was around thirteen miles away. Still nothing happened, and I began to wonder if it had been a false alarm, but a noise in the distance soon confirmed otherwise. I could hear the faint booms of flak guns firing, as the outermost batteries began to fire.