大象传媒

The following story appears courtesy of and with thanks to Marushka (Maria) and Zygmunt Skarbek-Kruszewski and George (Jurek) Zygmunt Skarbek.

Whistling loudly our train entered the Dresden station. At most of the platforms trains were belching smoke. There were crowds on all platforms. The first impression was of noise, hurrying people, yelling, calling to each other, loud signals and penetrating voices from various loudspeakers. The light was dim everywhere. Globes were covered with something blue, giving only a little light which shone feebly on the masses of people.
Carried along by the crowd we reached the street. Small cream-coloured Dresden trams were ringing their bells non-stop trying to avoid hitting the people. We were looking for an address given us a long time ago. Near the station in one of the lesser known streets, we found the bookshop we were looking for. In its windows, as in all German bookshops, was displayed the book which was read by hardly anyone - 'Mein Kampf' by Adolf Hitler. The book was propped up by a wilting pot plant. It was quiet in the bookshop. The shop was full of books with shelves reaching to the ceiling. Behind these shelves in a narrow darkish room Alma was sitting, typing. We had been looking for her for many reasons. Firstly, she was the only person we knew in Dresden. She was Marushka's friend from Lithuania and for the last few years had worked in Germany and would be able to give us valuable information and tell us the score.
Alma was a rather unusual woman. I never could discover her nationality which was quite indifferent to me. She considered herself a civis orbium terrarum (citizen of the world) and went her own ways. I never knew if or where she had a family. Alma was a woman, I think, who did not love anyone deeply. Because of her love of books she had come to Germany to work in this bookshop. In addition, she was an employee of the cultural society of German-Turkestan Friendly Relations. I could never find out what the society was about, especially in-times when Goebbels liquidated all cultural life. Many schools were closed besides universities, theatres, libraries and other places of education and cultural entertainment but the cultural society for German-Turkestan relationship still existed, even employing quite a few people.
As Alma asked us to stay with her, we decided to spend a few days in Dresden. After a good rest, we went to see the capital city of 'Soksofony' which Lithuanian labourers called Saxoni. There were many Lithuanians there as the German employment office in Kaunas sent many transports of forced labour to Saxoni. There was also a large group of educated Lithuanians who, fleeing the Front, came to Dresden - people from the theatre in Kaunas, employees from different administration offices and even some divisions of the Lithuanian Army. In the streets one heard many different tongues and saw different features. People from the 'Ostland' were easily distinguishable. Ukrainers, White Russian and Lithuanian women wore bright, multi-coloured scarves and long skirts. Their menfolk wore clean but crumpled tunic shirts and high boots. Being Sunday, the streets were crowded with masses of gaping people. All these people from the captured East had sewn on their clothes a blue patch with a stamp 'OST'. These three letters covered a multitude of people. They included not only the Russians in their red and white berets but also people from Ukraine, White Russia, Baltic countries and also the dark Georgians, the slant-eyed Tartars, the Azerbaijans with flat Mongolic faces and sly-looking eyes. They were all imported into Germany for slave labour, the labourer marked 'made in the East. In this crowd were some dressed worse than others, even in torn clothing. They could not ever afford a Sunday best - those were the Poles. They were excluded from the general ' OST' - they did not belong to the East nor to the West but the newly formed German oddity 'General Gubcrasatian'. God alone might have known what their position would be in the 'New Europe' of Messrs. Goebbels and Rosenberg. Now they were required by the Third Reich for the hardest jobs. On their chests was a yellow sign well-known to all in Germany - a yellow rhomboid with a purple letter 'P鈥�.
Walking along the streets of Dresden we heard many more languages, some completely foreign to us. The Germans, taking over foreign countries, at the same time decreased their own population as the foreign countries taken by force had to be peopled by the Germans. This was the Fuehrer鈥檚 law - he was the master of New Europe. At this time Dresden was one of the few German cities still untouched by mass bombing. There were hardly any traces of bombing. The most beautiful part of the city was spread along the River Elbe, still in all its beauty. It was dominated by the famous 'Zwinger', the beautiful arena of ancient jousting Knights which was surrounded by a ring of ornate galleries, balconies and terraces. The fine old baroque was fully displayed amidst the flowers and the greenery. Among the fantastically arched galleries were miniature palaces built on different levels. Large greenhouses with huge windows seemed to catch all the sunrays. Theirs was a superior world, beyond temptation, beyond understanding of the gaping crowd. From there, arched galleries led to the king's chambers. Only tops of the trees planted on lower levels could reach them. Golden leaves were falling on the marble balustrades where, long ago, crowned heads and princesses watched the knights.
All this was a long time ago. The shining armour was put on wooden models, the exquisite gowns of the princesses were displayed in glass cabinets in the museums and the mansions were taken over by Dresden rich commoners. The rattling sound of the armour was replaced by the rich, soft sound of music. The Dresden symphony concerts received here their true sanctuary.
Further down we looked at the banks of the River Elbe. Large, sloping terraces led to the 'Zwinger', the place of ancient entertainment and tournaments. The open grounds over the Elbe were joined by bridges like clamping buckles. The other side glittered with the mosaic of many coloured houses. To the left of the open space stood the Dresden Opera House, its entrance enclosed with winding colonnades. To the right was the king's church - a beautiful Gothic, its proud tower rising straight to the sky, its wall nearly touching the king's castle. Over the narrow street was suspended an arcade in the shape of a state coach joining the church with the castle, the king's salon with the altar. A large painted gate led to the king's yard.
Further on were the boulevards along the river. In their shade were the buildings of the art academy and the museums. Now they were quite empty like tombs in a cemetery covered by autumn leaves. They were declared closed by orders of the Fuehrer. Objects of art were buried in the ground and people loving and living for art were fighting for a worse future. Only empty halls, galleries and auditoriums remained. Buildings by famous architects, these sanctuaries of beauty, culture and truth were awaiting in the empty stillness the uncertain tomorrow. Would they survive? Would the war respect them?
The street loudspeakers were calling ''Attention! Attention! Large formations of enemy bombers have crossed the frontiers of the Reich. Stay tuned in - in a few moments a new announcement from the airways force will follow, they proceed ..." and soon followed names of towns in central Germany. We rushed to the shelters. Had Dresden's last hour come? No.
Soon the 'All Clear' sounded. The planes had turned to the north - this time Berlin was hit. "A large force of enemy flying-fortresses is attacking our capital city. Churches and hospitals are being hit. The civilian population received many losses... headquarters announced the next day.
It was time for us to leave. I went to the station for information about possible connections for our travel.
At the information office travellers were constantly asking and pleading with the officer about the safety of different lines. They wanted some kind of guarantee. The old gentleman in a railway uniform was shrugging his shoulders and occasionally addressed everyone, saying 'I can't promise you anything. Trains going to the north are being shot at. If you don't want to take risks, go during the night." People from the crowd replied "But that would mean sitting for long times at different railway stations waiting for connections and we all know that stations are being bombed frequently." A woman going to Duisburg was very worried. The officer again shrugged his shoulders and said, "I can only inform you which lines are temporarily closed due to damaged and bombed railway lines. I can't tell you which lines will, or will not, be bombed in the future." Smiling, he added, "Even I, the information centre, am unable to say. If you are frightened, the best idea would be not to travel at all. As it is our trains are overcrowded." "I have to go. My son is seriously wounded,鈥� she said, showing him the wire received from her son. "He is in Duisburg hospital鈥�. At last I reached the window with my travel order far Isny.
"You can have two connections,鈥� the officer said in a tired voice. "One through Munich, the other through Augsburg." Not waiting for my question, he continued, "I would advise you to go through Augsburg as lately Munich has had more air raids." I agreed without any further question and he wrote out the tickets: Nuremberg, Augsburg, Memmingen - departure at 22.30.
The same evening we arrived with our rucksacks at the station. The long platforms were poorly lit by a blue light, giving everything a deathly pallor. The top platforms were shrouded in darkness. Sometimes sparks from the noisy engines flickered down onto the platform.
Unexpectedly all lights went out. Only red and green regulation lights and lighted signs showing the way to the shelter stayed alight. A thundering voice from the loudspeaker informed us "Enemy planes are over Germany. This is a warning. Keep calm and orderly. Further progress of the planes will be announced shortly."
Marushka got frightened and, grabbing my hand, she begged me to run away. But the crowd did not move - they looked indifferent. We knew that announcements would follow advising the path of progress. Germany is large and there are many towns to be bombed. A warning did not frighten anyone. Our train soon arrived and there was a rush to the doors. Marushka hesitated and entered the train distrustfully. We had to find our places in darkness. None of the travellers would part with their luggage. One had to be ready just in case any minute the real alarm might come and then ... The unpleasant minutes of waiting continued. Here and there people were lighting matches to look at their watches and count the minutes until departure. Seven minutes to go ... now only five ... now three... If only the time would hurry on, if we could leave this station more quickly, these heavy metal constructions, the ghosts of a permanent tomb. Again the voice from the loudspeaker ... "All Clear."
The lights came on, a loud whistle blew and the train started moving. We passed a few suburban stations. It was very stuffy in the train and I opened the window. A beautiful night with a full moon. We were travelling through the Saxonian Alps. The train often entered tunnels cut through deep cliffs, oddly shaped and covered with shrubs. The cliffs seemed to stretch up to the sky, blotting out the view and bringing complete darkness. Then again the cliffs were falling away leaving only boulders covered with a pale glow of the moon. It could be a beautiful country viewed during the day but at night it gave an eerie feeling as if God Himself in an angry mood had tossed down the heavy boulders, breaking them into oddly shaped humps. Now covered with shrubs they made a phantom landscape.
The day was full of nervous tension - the compartments became empty. We were leaving one Front behind and approaching another, this time from the west. Everyone knew or had heard about the flying fortresses and preferred to travel by night.
In Nuremberg we saw many ruins and sooty remnants of previous buildings and many ruins around the station. This town was already deeply scarred but still alive and working fully because the Fuehrer had so decreed. We continued without interruption - hours passed. We were coming nearer to the 'Blue Danube'. The train was rumbling over a bridge. Through the window we saw an unsightly narrow river full of sandbanks. In the middle of the river stood a boy, his trouser legs turned high up, holding a fishing rod. This was the Danube, the 'wide, blue Danube', which had its beginning somewhere here in the Black Forest (Schwarz Wald).
In Augsburg we had a long wait so we went to sleep. When I woke up the sun was already setting. The train was standing at a small station smelling of freshly cut hay. We could hear the gentle sound of bells coming somewhere from the field as if flowers were tinkling softly in the breeze in this meadow between the hills. Enraptured, we looked at the scenery near the alps, smelled the forgotten clean air and listened to the tranquil, melodious sounds. The high fir trees were cutting a straight line dividing the well kept fields. The colourful houses of the 'Bauer' (farmer) nestled against the hills. The walls of the houses were brightly painted with the shutters painted in another colour and masses of bright flowers made an enchanting view like a fairy tale. From the nearby hill cows were coming home - all alike, dark brown, wide in the shoulders, with a leather collar and a hanging bell. Even the young calves were ringing their bells as they romped around. Now we understood the origin of the ringing which had reached us from the meadows. There were many herds in the wide valley of Bavaria. For the first time we felt the calming influence of a peaceful atmosphere. The melody of the bells which the breeze, rich in scents of mown grass, was bringing nearer, was like a balm for our nerves. Nerves which were stretched tightly during tracking through the highways of war. We had the feeling that we were entering a land that had been left behind the main events of a total war. A land steeped in peace. The land of south Bavaria. In Kempton we had to change trains and continued our travel on a small local puffing train (Bummelzug). This little train with only a few small carriages puffed heavily, climbing the hills and whistling madly at each twist of its track. It went happily down the hills but panted heavily and whistled loudly going uphill. On each station stood the funny looking 'Schwabs', locals dressed in shorts like children back home. The farmers on the platforms had very hairy legs, long pipes clenched between their teeth and were dressed in short leather pants supported by embroidered braces, a Tyrol hat with a fancy feather and a bright checked shirt. They were the Swabians. Their women looked just as unusual in short pleated skirts with an apron, also with braces, bright embroidered blouses, hats with a feather, and white socks. Their throaty talk and their slang seemed quite incomprehensible and one had to listen carefully to pick up German words.
After a sharp bend we saw hills covered with snow. High peaks reaching the sky. On the far horizon was the chain of the Swiss Alps.

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'This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by 大象传媒 Radio Merseyside鈥檚 People鈥檚 War team on behalf of the author and has been added to the site with his / her permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.'

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