Towards midnight our arrival signal suddenly ceases to function from the Insterburg direction. It shows "red". The signal is operated through cable tension and is approximately 100m distance from the station. This means for me that I must now run towards each train as far as the signal in order to bring to the train driver a written order from the area manager. The order states that the train is allowed to pass the stop signal. The military trains run at 10 miniute intervals. I run without a break.I do not allow myself to be afraid of running along the dark tracks.

At 6 in the morning my colleague, Herta, takes over me me and I go home looking forward to getting some sleep. Mother comes and asks me to get up soon. I ought to go to my sister Lotte. My mother is worried about her. She has heard that the midwife from Jänichen has already fled. Also, the cousin Dora, who is about 17 years old,and who some days is supposed to stay with Lotte, has run home. Now my sister with her swarm of children is alone.

I allow myself two hours sleep then get up. Mother has already packed the food on the two-wheel wagon.She harnesses our old white horse-mare to it an I set off. The trip is very difficult. When I reach the main road it is full of refugee carts and vehicles with fleeing soldiers. I move along forwards only very slowly for I am going in the opposite direction to the flow.

My sister has given birth to a small girl. It is two days old. Bruno, the oldest of her children, himself not yet six years old, must help his small brothers and sisters, especially the 3-year old handicapped twins. I cook porridge for the children and the mother; then, with a heavy heart, I must go again. I cannot remain with them! I have night duty as railway points attendant in the Mattenau Station. There, I'm simply not allowed to be absent. "We must stick it out to the last in order to maintain the running of this railway line, which is so important for the East Front", said our station manager again and again. That is also my opinion.

Punctually at 6 pm on this day I appear for my duty. But what's this that suddenly appears at the station? Pigs and cows running about. Blood in the snow shows where animals had been slaughtered in a great hurry. People with suitcases and bundles pushing onto the train which stands at the platform in the direction of the west. "It is the last refugee train." This report comes by Morse telegraph. The telephone system and the signal wires of the state railway have already been destroyed.

And my family? They are still at home. They don't know how near and how great the danger is. I phone, full of fear, Betty Schneider, who has a telephone in her small general store in Hutmühle."Quickly Betty, run to my parents; also alert the entire village! It's too late for the trek! The Russians are coming."

With the horse sleigh my father brings our grandmother, mother, and my 10-year old brother, Helmut to the train. They have hardly brought any luggage. Father must go back again. The militia are supposed to travel on the trek and drive the cattle. It is a bitter cold night. The train in which my loved ones are sitting, stands in front of the window of my duty room. It can not be heated because the train driver wants to save the coal for the escape. Also, the train cannot depart because the railway is totally blocked.

A glow from fire shines over Insterburg. The "Volkssturmmänner" (militia soldiers) still go along the track armed with truncheons. One is afraid of attacks from the partisans. At two in the night the train driver drives the train without the safety of signals, without travel orders...only by sight and his own responsibility out into the darkness. "Dear God, have compassion.", I pray.

In the morning at six, when my duty is at an end, my colleague Herta, relieves me from duty. Her opinion is, that we have to stand by our posts just like soldiers. I go home once more. There are no people to be seen, not in the village of Mattenau and also not in Hutmühle. In my parents' home I take the suitcase made of plywood, which the Austrian armoured-infantry had made at the beginning of 1941, when they were quartered in the village for a week before moving to Russia. In the case I put the big loaf of black bread and the smoked ham which my mother has left for me for the coming uncertain times. I put on my grey winter coat over the railway uniform coat. Then I write a few farewell lines for my father who is not in the house, but has still not made his escape. I leave the piece of paper on the table and get going.

Now I am standing here on the road to Mattenau. I can once more see, from this place, the home of my parents. It stands there in the sunshine, bright green with red roof and small windows. From here I cannot spot our animals. Father has opened the barn door to release them. They must be left to their fate. I quietly say good bye to my home. Perhaps it is a departure for a long time. That it will be a farewell for ever, I do not foresee. I push my bicycle, with the wooden suitcase on it, through the freshly fallen snow. There are many aircraft in the air. Are they German or hostile? I don't know. I am afraid. I am alone. The thunder of guns seem to be very near. I will go to the railway station. Perhaps there will still be a possibility of escape there.I come to the Mattenau railway station. On the platform there are unknown railway employees. They came on foot along the railway track. Helplessness! Today there are no more trains. How will things go? We must be off! Quickly!

The rumbling is coming nearer. Let us be off before the Russians are here. Herta comes out of the duty room. The manager of the station still feels obliged to remain. Their Morse Telegraph is still working, and on it now comes a surprising announcement: " From the small station at Birkenfeld, which lies between the burning Insterburg and our Mattenau Station, a locomative is coming with an open freight car attached." "Is that our escape? Come with me Herta!", I beg my colleague. She vacillates between her feelings of duty and her fear. Then she gets her briefcase with the empty coffeepot, puts on her coat and is ready for the escape.

In the freightcar there are five railway workers. We climb in to join them. The bicycle and my suitcase come with me. It is ice cold. Already after a short time I am very cold. I have put two coats over each other, but only shoes on my feet. I don't possess boots.

The engine driver starts slowly, carefully! The rails could have been damaged by the partisans. It is possible that the railway bridge over the river is holding explosive charges since quite a long time. We come a distance of about 30km, as far as the Gerdauen station. We cannot go further. The Russian troops have already broken through in Southern East Prussia. Great excitement! What now?

Shivering from the cold we climb out of the freight car. The bicycle remains inside. A train stands there, overflowing with women, children, old people and soldiers. They say the train is supposed to go to Königsberg. Perhaps we can get on a boat in Königsberg. We push ourselves onto the train, going now in the direction of the northwest. Until now we were travelling to the south. Military police are looking for deserters in the train. We stop in front of a station. Low flying aircraft are over us and firing at the train. I press myself in the corner of the compartment and hold my hands over my head. Fearful, at their mercy!

We are no longer able to go to Königsberg. In the inner city there is supposed to be heavy fighting. East Prussia is encircled. The encirclement is now still only open on the sea side.The report affects me only a little. Resignation? Overtiredness? Railway points are being switched over. Now the war drives us to the Baltic Sea, as far as the Braunsberg Station, then it goes no further. Behind lies the place called, "Frische Haff" (part of Baltic Sea). Only a narrow strip of land separates the lagoon from the sea. We lie down with many people in the cold waiting room in the Braunsberg Station, body to body on the bare earth. I scarcely feel my feet because of the cold. A bit in front of me lies an older man. He has covered himself with a duvet. Ach, if I only could put my feet under it for a while! Beside me I see Herta and another young woman in a railway uniform. She is called Gertrude. She wants to join us. I fall asleep. Suddenly, again the call: "We must be on our way! The Russians are coming. There is only the track over the ice. Many people are streaming to the shore in the light that the snow gives. To the left of us, there, where Frauenburg lies, comes the thunder of guns. Soldiers with bandaged heads, crutches, supported by comrades are coming out of a hospital...an eerie procession.

I hear my name called. It is Gertrude.I had left my suitcase in the station. She has thrown it on a postal sleigh and approached us. "The bread", said she, "and the smoked ham". We people, those of us who belong together, now remain together. The four men out of the freight car, Gertrude, Herta, and I. On the ice of the "Haff" lies a film of snow; there, where Königsberg should be, a bright sky. Behind us there is a deep rumbling. It is becoming bright. The ice is full of people with bundles, with suitcases, and with children on their backs. Behind us are horse carts ("Panjewagen"). There are also some small Russian type of horse-drawn carts. They have probably come here from afar; in East Prussia one doesn't have such wagons. Beside me a woman struggles through the frozen, crushed snow. Above us is sunshine and a blue sky. Scattered belongings lie on the ice, left behind by the fleeing people, burdens thrown away. We have a short rest. We open the suitcase. Thanks be to Gertrude for having rescued it. We must go on further. Gertrude lays an elegant leather suitcase on the sleigh. Its contents consist of valuable photo equipment. It stood abandoned on the ice. For a moment my thoughts revolt against this. That is theft from a comrade, or something similar.

Bombs fall a short way from us. Further! Further! My feet are carrying me. The thoughts are as if wrapped in cotton wool. Herta complains. Her feet are so swollen. She can't walk any more. She sits down on the sleigh and is being pulled by us. Suddenly a new sound. It runs through the ice infront of us, like the sound of a singing saw. The ice has got a long crack. Now, if it cracks further? And further? Apart from that, what if it breaks! The woman beside us pulls her child out of the cart so that she can ran faster. We have managed! We are not looking back.The endless ice surface is still around us. Why are there crowds of people in front of us? A lane has been cut in the ice for ships. It is four or five meters wide. What now? Helplessness again. We see a ship coming, it is the ice-breaker. Coincidence or fate? It stops at the edge of the ice where we are standing. How I managed to get on the ship I don't know. A small flight of stairs, a warm room, a sleep of exhaustion.

The ice-breaker brings us into a harbour. What is the name of this harbour? We must disembark. The elegant suitcase remains behind.One of the men in our emergency team, Erich Kareseit, takes my wooden suitcase. A big steamship is lying in the harbour. But military police drive us back. Only mothers with children are allowed to go on board. We spot a freighter. The people are crowding in front of its ice-covered stairs. This ship is heavily overloaded with refugees. We push ourselves on.Where did Herta and Gertrude remain? Our ship is casting off. The deck is a single ice surface. Again and again water splashes over the deck and freezes. Aircraft circle overhead. A crew member calls through the megaphone: " If we are hit by bombs and sinking cling firmly onto the planks!" I become indifferent, without feelings. Erich rubs my hands which are stuck in mits. "Now you're not allowed to fall asleep." says he. He takes his coat off, wraps it around both of us. Times seems to stand still. I feel only the ice cold, fear, and two fatherly protective arms.

Some time we are again in a harbour. We disembark. It is still peaceful here. Red Cross nurses distribute hot soup. I discover Herta and Gertrude among the many people. We have to go on further. Soon we are sitting in the compartment of a train, which then stands at a siding behind a station for days, before travelling on to Schwerin. In Schwerin we find a hostel for railway workers, with two-tier beds, and hot water. A big cardboard sign carries the message: "No wet laundry allowed on the radiators!". We break the restriction. We are allowed to stay a week, then we must go again.

Early on a morning in March we are sitting on a passenger train seeing the ruins of Hamburg in the grey morning light. This sight shakes me. The railway administration in Altona decide: we women are allowed to stay in Hamburg and the four men must go on further to Fehmarn. Now, I haven't even been able to say "thank you" to Erich for his care, for the warmth of his coat.

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

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