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Authors: Rochus Misch
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Reich capital.
For the imminent division of Germany into a northern and a southern part, Hitler had ordered Grand Admiral Karl Dönitz, commander-in-chief of the Kriegsmarine, to take command of the northern sector, and the commander-in-chief west, Field Marshal Albert Kesselring, to take over the south. The final order was âresistance to the last manâ. A small assortment of Wehrmacht soldiers and Waffen-SS, Volkssturm pensioners and Hitler Youth against millions of Red Army men â what could be hoped for?
I heard the participants at the situation conference urging Hitler to direct the final struggle from Obersalzberg and leave the bunker while there was still time to get out of Berlin. Until then I had been counting on our going to Berchtesgaden, but Hitler would not be moved â he wanted to remain. Now I had to do some rethinking. I did not succeed. What would it mean for me? All I wanted was what most of the others wanted. You could see it in their eyes; they all wanted to get out of here, out of the bunker, out of Berlin.
Göring, in his effeminate uniform, looked very nervous all day. Apparently, he was worried that he might not be able to get away in time. Finally, he took his leave of Hitler under the pretext that important tasks would be awaiting him in southern Germany. Hitler let him go without raising any objections or passing a remark. He seemed to look upon this sauve qui peut mood as if he were a disinterested spectator.
I was hoping that perhaps there might be somebody who could change his decision. My mind was racing, while telephone calls interrupted from time to time. Until this day, Hitlerâs birthday, on which, under code-word âClausewitzâ, the State of Alert had been added as a preliminary stage to the declaration of a State of Emergency, I had always gone home to see my wife and daughter after duty. During this State of Alert that was no longer possible. On my advice, Gerda had taken Gitta to her parentsâ house at Rudow from our marital flat (into which she had moved back). I strained every brain cell trying to think of some way to get my family to safety, away from the Russians. In the bunker, the export-model version of the Volksempfänger radio set was to be found everywhere. Goebbels was speaking through it. I did not listen to what he was saying. If he had known that at home I regularly listened to BBC London . . . Da Da Da Daaaaah . . .! [1]
In the evening, Eva gathered the remaining guests of the birthday reception upstairs in the Führer-suite. The bunker was almost empty. Only I remained at my work post, and Hitler in his room â the last celebration in the Reich Chancellery took place without the Reich chancellor.
21 April 1945
During the morning, the Reich Chancellery came under heavy artillery fire. In the deep bunker one heard nothing; only when a shell came down near the garden exit did the walls tremble for a second or so.
On this day, I saw Hitler only briefly on a few occasions. Linge had awoken him to report about the shelling. âThe bossâ could still not credit it that the Russians were at the gates. Over the last few months he had grown increasingly distrustful of his entourage, and now, shortly before the defeat, this distrust reached its zenith. Behind every contradiction he detected treachery; everywhere he suspected disinformation. He was fidgety, nervous and looked depressed.
My colleagues and I knew that the fall of Berlin to the Red Army was only a matter of a few days. The Soviets had already fought through to the suburbs, and Bernau, about fifteen kilometres from Berlin, had fallen. Frenzied activity and total apathy alternated. Among ourselves, we spoke openly of our hope that Hitler still might decide to leave Berlin, giving us the chance at the last moment to escape being trapped in the bunker. Only Goebbels kept pouring out his fantastic Final Victory scenarios. I noticed how he kept on at Hitler
For the imminent division of Germany into a northern and a southern part, Hitler had ordered Grand Admiral Karl Dönitz, commander-in-chief of the Kriegsmarine, to take command of the northern sector, and the commander-in-chief west, Field Marshal Albert Kesselring, to take over the south. The final order was âresistance to the last manâ. A small assortment of Wehrmacht soldiers and Waffen-SS, Volkssturm pensioners and Hitler Youth against millions of Red Army men â what could be hoped for?
I heard the participants at the situation conference urging Hitler to direct the final struggle from Obersalzberg and leave the bunker while there was still time to get out of Berlin. Until then I had been counting on our going to Berchtesgaden, but Hitler would not be moved â he wanted to remain. Now I had to do some rethinking. I did not succeed. What would it mean for me? All I wanted was what most of the others wanted. You could see it in their eyes; they all wanted to get out of here, out of the bunker, out of Berlin.
Göring, in his effeminate uniform, looked very nervous all day. Apparently, he was worried that he might not be able to get away in time. Finally, he took his leave of Hitler under the pretext that important tasks would be awaiting him in southern Germany. Hitler let him go without raising any objections or passing a remark. He seemed to look upon this sauve qui peut mood as if he were a disinterested spectator.
I was hoping that perhaps there might be somebody who could change his decision. My mind was racing, while telephone calls interrupted from time to time. Until this day, Hitlerâs birthday, on which, under code-word âClausewitzâ, the State of Alert had been added as a preliminary stage to the declaration of a State of Emergency, I had always gone home to see my wife and daughter after duty. During this State of Alert that was no longer possible. On my advice, Gerda had taken Gitta to her parentsâ house at Rudow from our marital flat (into which she had moved back). I strained every brain cell trying to think of some way to get my family to safety, away from the Russians. In the bunker, the export-model version of the Volksempfänger radio set was to be found everywhere. Goebbels was speaking through it. I did not listen to what he was saying. If he had known that at home I regularly listened to BBC London . . . Da Da Da Daaaaah . . .! [1]
In the evening, Eva gathered the remaining guests of the birthday reception upstairs in the Führer-suite. The bunker was almost empty. Only I remained at my work post, and Hitler in his room â the last celebration in the Reich Chancellery took place without the Reich chancellor.
21 April 1945
During the morning, the Reich Chancellery came under heavy artillery fire. In the deep bunker one heard nothing; only when a shell came down near the garden exit did the walls tremble for a second or so.
On this day, I saw Hitler only briefly on a few occasions. Linge had awoken him to report about the shelling. âThe bossâ could still not credit it that the Russians were at the gates. Over the last few months he had grown increasingly distrustful of his entourage, and now, shortly before the defeat, this distrust reached its zenith. Behind every contradiction he detected treachery; everywhere he suspected disinformation. He was fidgety, nervous and looked depressed.
My colleagues and I knew that the fall of Berlin to the Red Army was only a matter of a few days. The Soviets had already fought through to the suburbs, and Bernau, about fifteen kilometres from Berlin, had fallen. Frenzied activity and total apathy alternated. Among ourselves, we spoke openly of our hope that Hitler still might decide to leave Berlin, giving us the chance at the last moment to escape being trapped in the bunker. Only Goebbels kept pouring out his fantastic Final Victory scenarios. I noticed how he kept on at Hitler
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