Our peaceful little village in the middle of green meadows, blooming fields, sleepy woods, in the heart of Germany is now also threatened by the horror of war and probably left to devastation. The inhabitants of the village are moved to fear and terror. What will the next hours bring? Will we once again be able to sleep in peace, once again see the shining sun?

From north and south, from east and west came poor war-banished people to our location, and found rest and recuperation here in quiet and peace, strengthening their exhausted nerves. Who would have thought that the fiery breath of the terrible war would get through to here, to haunt this place of refuge for the many homeless. Is there no way to make an end to this cruel fighting? Why this senseless delay? Why not command, "Stop!"? Why must the last little piece of German soil be destroyed? Has no one the courage to throw away the weapons and through this save human lives? What thoughts actually, nobody is allowed to disobey, otherwise he would be a doomed man. Our government want destruction, not peace. Each person who is for peace will be ruthlessly exterminated.

The turrets of the tanks are coming nearer. - We have done all in our power in order to save something. Yesterday, on Easter Sunday, the entire family had helped with the building of a bunker, or rather, a dugout. Many important things were stuffed in sacks today, and are already lying beside the packed suitcases. The foodstuff has already been thought about.

Now we are sitting here, waiting, waiting, waiting - it completely paralyses us. Father is with the territorial army "Volkssturm" digging trenches in front of the village, was not allowed to refuse. A young lieutenant has blown up the sturdy bridge in the upper village. Sad Easter! German soldiers are withdrawing through the village, day and night. I have written these pages in order not to sit around idle.

Tuesday April 3rd. We have once again been able to sleep calmly, yet the nervous excitement has remained. Each of us goes about his business. Father must go to his workplace, an armaments factory in Mühlhausen. We cleaned the house. As a result of the packing there is a mess all over the place. Mother, Auntie Hedwig, Gerda, and I are sitting mending socks. Winfred and Inge are in the the nursery school; why should they not play carefree? Their father, my favourite uncle, has been reported missing since 1943. There, listen! The expected sound of the siren, the up and down resounding, wailing, eerie signal, removing the tension that held us in captivity. "American tanks starting to roll in our home area.". Now the minutes have arrived in which each must preserve the highest discipline and do what is necessary. Gerda immediately gets the children. We bring all the suitcases into the shelter.

Sadly the church bells are ringing here with us and in neighbouring villages - highest danger. I walk through the house saying goodbye.Perhaps there will soon be no more house. I am still finding many an important item and packing them in the shelter. The cattle is fed again, everything is ready. Father is still in Mühlhausen! If only he were back. After a seemingly endless hour he rides up on his bicycle with the latest report: " The tanks are standing in front of Heyerode.", there remains for us still, one reprieve. The soldiers say that the church region would be defended to the last. Holy stupidity! The evening comes, will a good star protect us from destruction?

The night from Tuesday to Wednesday. Gerda and the children have remained with us; in these difficult hours we want to be together, to bear everything together. The children are the only ones who through this endlessly long night have found sleep. We are sitting around the living-room table and the paraffin-lamp throws ghostly shadows on the walls.Sometimes some sound startles us while dozing it is nothing, we came ourselves. At 4 o'clock Vera comes with Auntie Lisbeth: " Prepare yourselves for everything, the soldiers are taking up position..". They both left us. I shook hands with both of them. Will we see each other again? I am going into the bedroom to the children, to check their slumbering. If only the night were over and done with...A cockcrow heralds the morning. I glance out the window, at the so-peaceful dormant village. Hot tears run over my cheeks again and again. A pale dawning approaches; the morning dawns.

Wednesday April 4th. At 10am a dreadful shooting starts on Oberdela, the neighbouring village. We run into the shelter in no time flat. There are eleven people sitting huddled together on bundles of straw. These are hours that we will never forget, hours in which one thinks Hell has opened up in order to devour us, if it is possible to experience Hell on Earth. Both grandmothers, Auntie Hedwig, father, mother, Gerda and the children, Ilse, Irma, and I, listen with horror to shots exploding over us, beside us, behind us. We are holding hands, screaming, trembling, and grandmother is praying - we are in the direct line of fire.

A small group of German soldiers, the last contingent, escape along the water ditch at the edge of our garden, exhausted, tired, careworn trying to avoid captivity at the hands of the Americans. They were not allowed to surrender. We feel very sorry for them; probably they wanted the war just as little as we did. They are driven by an irresponsible government which is having everything destroyed. The soldiers are having a rest for a while during a short pause in the shooting. Father hands a refreshing drink, quickly they run off further, and we watch from our shelter as they go.

The wild shooting begins once more, and we think again, the last hours have come. But God is merciful, he yields to our pleas. Niederdorla has surrendered in the last minutes before it had been reduced to rubble. We are relieved! We leave the shelter with the feeling that we are arising out of the grave. We can again breathe freely! We have to thank a brave village resident for our deliverance. With his motorcycle and a great white sheet he approached the tanks despite the danger in which he was situated. He drove into the village sitting on the leading tank; a single shot from a sniper would have brought an end to his life.

We are standing at the entrance to the village, tank after tank, our liberators, roll past. The tyranny of a 12-year Hitler dictatorship has been survived. The suffering and the consequences of this irresponsible government is still not comprehensible, but the mad war is over for us as is the despotism of the megalomaniac Hitler-government. Hundreds of tanks roll by, what madness to fight against this material, against this superiority, against these strong men equipped with everything which is necessary with the last contingent of our exhausted soldiers, who are inadequately armed and fed - many eyes were wet with emotion, now that we had survived the worst. Perhaps it also became clear to those, at least to some, who, trusting in an unscrupulous executioner, were true followers of the Führer to the end.

At the "Mühltor" some scattered German soldiers are disarmed by big black men, the prisoners, with their hands clasped round their neck, are driven here and there by the gum-chewing Americans. A shameful and sad sight for us. After all, I was twelve years in national socialist schools,so that even my anti-faschist father could not always correct everything. We went home and helped to take the things out of the shelter.

Thursday April 5th.The tanks travelled further on; vehicles of all sorts occupied the village. In the Herrengasse also there is one truck behind the other without a gap. No inhabitant of the village is to be seen.What will be decided about us? We are looking out of the windows at my aunt's. At that moment my grandmother comes walking slowly down the street towards us, looking quite cooly at everything. We are worrying unnecessarily The Americans politely allow the small old granny to pass.

Translated from the German by John Milloy, Can. (nimso@aol.com)

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© 2002 Brunhilde Kollars