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Next day, the 26th, we had a day off, as the tank urgently needed overhauling and cleaning. We could stretch out on a lovely plot of land in western Berlin and relax while the mechanic saw to the tank. It was lovely spring weather with greenery everywhere and the fruit trees in blossom. We made ourselves comfortable on our nice plot of land and could sleep undisturbed and wash ourselves properly in peace. However, next day we would have to go back into action.

Meanwhile the Russians had completed their ring around Berlin and we no longer had any communication with the west. From now on the Russians fired on the city with all calibres of artillery, while aircraft dropped their bomb loads on us. One risked one’s life going out on the street. Everywhere buildings and vehicles were burning and dead soldiers lying around. The water supply had collapsed and the population had to queue for hours at the few pumps as the shells fell, killing women and children.

Next day, the 28th, we went to the Tiergarten, where the regimental headquarters were located. Our tank parked close to the Victory Column (Siegessäule), where all hell was let loose. The Russians had worked out that our heavy artillery must have moved into the area, for they had fired a few times, and now were bombarding the area with artillery, mortars and bombs. As the firing intensified, I ran across to the Victory Column, under which there was a cellar, where I felt relatively safe. The Russians were already at the Brandenburg Gate, which I could see from there. There were four 37mm anti-aircraft guns near the Victory Column, but no longer firing, and Russian bombers were flying over at 200 to 300 metres in close formation without being fired at.

The firing continued to intensify and we could not afford to stay any longer. We drove off westwards along the East-West Axis. I preferred to run alongside the tank rather than sit aboard, as there was no cover on top. But as the tank could be seen by the aircraft, Second Lieutenant Lorenz drove ahead and waited for me. Suddenly a squadron of nine twin-engined bombers flew right over us and dropped their bombs in our immediate vicinity, so I took cover in a shellhole.

That night we were able to sleep again, with everyone taking turns at one hour of sentry duty. We moved into private accommodation in Mommsenstrasse, which was mainly undamaged. The inhabitants pestered us with questions, and when we said that we were looking for accommodation for the night, they mustered round us. However, we did not get much sleep, as during the night we received orders to go back into action. We were sent to Wilmersdorf, where we had to secure Barstrasse, where it led off Mecklenburgische Strasse. Our tanks stood at a crossroads and covered toward Mecklenburgische Strasse. Behind us were some shops, a small lake with a bridge going over it, and beyond it a cemetery and a crematorium. The Russians were already occupying the other end of the street.

Suddenly a T-34 appeared. Our gunner had spotted it and it burst into flames with the first shot. Meanwhile the Russian infantry could be seen in the buildings, so we had to withdraw over the bridge to the cemetery.

On 30 April we changed position again to the Margarinehaus on the Hohenzollerndam, where there was also a Mark IV tank from our regiment. In the Margarinehaus were thousands of civilians who had lost everything in the last few days, mainly women and children. There were no supplies and the children were crying for bread. Unholy chaos reigned. There were also many soldiers here, and the Russians were only 100 metres away.

On the afternoon of the 30th we moved back to Fehrbelliner Platz, where there were some large administrative buildings. Most of the city was now in Russian hands and we were being pushed in closer together. The Russian artillery fire was steadily increasing and the city lay under constant bombardment. For days we had not had any sleep and there was no longer any warm food to be had. We would have to see how we could survive. Nevertheless, we did not go hungry, for the civilians, with whom we were always in contact, kept giving us snacks. However, these were the worst days in my experience, for in the front line one knew where Ivan was, but here we had always to be ready for surprises. Often we would be in a building and a little later the Russians would come and bring the windows and cellar exits under fire.

For instance, at one crossroads a soldier was killed by a shot in the head and lay there dead just a few metres away, but no one knew where the Russians were. I disappeared quickly into the entrance of a building, and how I was able to come out again without being shot at, I still don’t know.

That evening I was in a building opposite the Margarinehaus. The Russian fire had diminished and the inhabitants had come up out of their cellars. A woman brewed me a cup of tea and gave me a few biscuits. As if in normal peacetime, I was sitting in an armchair in her sitting room, although the Russians were only 30–40 metres away. Suddenly I heard our tank and a machine gun firing. The Russians were attacking again. Fortunately it was very dark and I was able to cross over to the Margarinehaus. We withdrew back to Fehrbelliner Platz again.

During the night the Russians were able to close in on the Margarinehaus from three sides. Our Mark IV was also there and could not withdraw, because it was not known which streets were occupied by the Russians. On the morning of 1 May, Second Lieutenant Lorenz sent me to look for a way out for them. ‘Don’t miss anything, though!’ he said. At first I tried to reach the Margarinehaus via Eisenzahnstrasse. I ran across and was shot at by a Russian anti-tank gun, but was saved by diving into a cellar entrance as the splinters smashed into the wall above my head. Then I tried again via Cicerostrasse and Nestorstrasse, but I was spotted in both of them and shot at. The only route remaining was via Osnabrücker Strasse.[20] I ran from cellar entrance to cellar entrance and when I had to cross an open space, I opened fire on the Russians. There was not a single German soldier to be seen anywhere around. The last stretch was over open ground, but I was not shot at as I had expected, and I covered it at the run. I reported to the commandant of the Margarinehaus, a lieutenant colonel who had already given up hope of further contact with the outside world. There were now some 800 men in the building and when I explained to him that there was still a chance of getting away, he immediately ordered the building to be cleared.

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17 Now Bielefelder Strasse.