Mohnke was standing in the middle of the room talking to two Russian officers, one apparently a general and the other acting as an interpreter translating all that was being said. I heard Mohnke say: ‘Let us sum up. At 1800 hours we hand over the city; the men go into honourable captivity and have to work; the officers will only have to work voluntarily; the staff officers retain their decorations and sidearms and of course their orderlies.’
The interpreter nodded eagerly, whereupon I stepped forward and said: ‘And you believe that, Brigadier?’
Mohnke came up to me and said: ‘Don’t speak unless asked when generals are talking!’
We then had a strong exchange of words in front of the Russians that I will not go into. I stormed out of the room in a rage, threatening to warn the comrades above, as we did not want to end up in the Siberian lead mines. I heard Mohnke call out to two of his officers: ‘Bring him back or he will spoil everything!’
But they were unable to stop me and my comrades helped me send them back down the steps into the bunker. Then another officer came after me, it was SS-Captain Mundt, and I said to him angrily: ‘What do you want, then?’
He had been present but I had not noticed him. ‘Oh, Rogmann,’ he said, ‘what a fool I have been thinking there was going to be another break-out. You don’t know how right you are!’
‘Oh yes I do!’ I said.
Mundt went on: “No one dared say anything against it and then you burst in and stirred things up. I do not want to surrender and go into captivity either. Please take me with you on another route that will hopefully bring us to freedom!”
When I agreed, my two comrades put their heads together and started whispering to one another. Then they pulled me aside and said: ‘Willi, just look at him! He can dress in anything he likes but he will still look like a Prussian officer, even at a distance!’
They were right, of course, but how could I leave him behind? I decided to take him, even if his presence might endanger us. Mundt understood what was happening and said: ‘Rogmann, I would rather die than go to Siberia!’
‘Of course I will take you with me,’ was my reply, ‘but I am in charge and you will have to do what you are told without any argument.’
He agreed, but now had to do things our way. I took his officers’ hat from his head and flung it away, for it was easily recognisable at a distance, and then his shoulder straps and cut off his runes and stars with my knife. Of course his boots and tailor-made uniform still showed what he was, but we could not do anything about that for the moment. He removed his officers’ belt and stuffed his pistol into his hip pocket.
In direct contrast, I was filthy, unkempt and unshaven, with a thick stubble on my face and my pockets bulging. I was wearing my trousers outside my boots and looked an absolute tramp, but in these circumstances, where the Russians were equally dirty, this was perfectly acceptable.
Then one of my comrades said: ‘Now we are a foursome, and that is too many to get through. Don’t take it wrong, but we prefer to make our own way.’
I sympathised, for they would have fewer difficulties without Mundt. Also Alfred was a Berliner and would soon find them shelter. So I thanked them for the loyalty they had shown and we hugged each other and said our farewells, thinking that it would be for ever. So off I went with Mundt, our first objective being to find civilian clothes.
I did not have to warn the other comrades. The place had thinned out considerably. Of the thousands that had been there standing around before only a few hundred remained and soon there would be even less. They were enthusiastically throwing their weapons on to a pile, on which I threw the sub-machine gun that I had liked so much, after removing the breech block so that no one else could use it.
We had reached Bornholmer Strasse and were crossing an open square when we were suddenly surrounded by a dozen armed foreigners, whose nationality I did not catch. They demanded we put our hands up and surrender.
I played dumb in order to allay their suspicions, with the idea of making a break for it, and this worked. The gang drifted off, looking for other targets, but two of them remained with us and started searching us. This infuriated Mundt. who picked his opponent up by the scruff of his neck and then kicked him hard. I had to join in too and felled my opponent with a hand chop to the throat. He fell without a sound and I grappled in my message pouch for my hidden 7.65 Mauser pistol.
Now we were attacked by the other foreigners, who had seen what had happened. There must have been a dozen of them dancing around us with knives. Mundt threw aside his lifeless opponent and pulled out the pistol from his hip pocket. We stood back to back for all-round defence. Time was not on our side, so I opened fire, as did Mundt. At this range every shot was a hit and soon they were either lying on the ground or in flight.
Then we suddenly had to deal with a far better armed enemy. There were several of them armed with rifles firing at us from only fifty metres away. We returned the fire but, while fifty yards is nothing for a rifle, it is too much for a pistol.
I emptied my magazine and had to change it, as did Mundt, so for a moment we were defenceless. The enemy, who had been dodging about with every shot we fired, noticed this and kept on firing. Two of them must have aimed at Mundt for he was hit twice in the head and fell down dead.
Having changed magazines, I rushed forward to close the range and so got the advantage of my faster firing weapon. I zigzagged as I ran, but they hit me twice, one a graze to the head and another to my lower left arm, which in my anger I only noted as a light blow. But then my enemies suddenly scattered in front of me and I heard sub-machine gun fire coming from behind me.
I had no time to look round to see who had fired, but raced into a doorway on my right. When my other enemies saw me appear, they tried to stop me, but I quickly pulled my second pistol out of my boot top and shot my way through with both hands. I found myself in a long passageway and, quickly looking back, saw a large group of armed Russians coming round a street corner.
I ran down the passage and came to a door at the far end with a key in it. I opened the door, pulled out the key and locked the door from the other side. Then I stood by the doorway listening to my pursuers creeping up. They began to break down the door. There was a crush of them there, so I fired through it a few times with my 7.65 pistol. Howls of pain announced that several of them had been hit, more than one with each round.
It was time to leave. I went across the backyard, climbed the wall into the next yard and so on. I could hear my pursuers some distance behind as they kept shouting. Eventually I came to an old disused cemetery, which gave plenty of cover with its clumps of bushes and big gravestones. I crouched down behind them as my pursuers passed quite close. I did not want to stay here long, as I was still without civilian clothes. When I checked my pistol, I saw that I had only two rounds left, too few for action. I rummaged through my message pouch, which I had stupidly been reluctant to part with, and emptied my pockets. Those contents that would have identified me, such as my paybook and decorations, I stuffed into my message pouch and buried in a hole that I dug with my hands behind a gravestone.
I crept through the cemetery and saw some multi-storied apartment blocks in the distance that looked undamaged. They were occupied and hardly any fighting had taken place in this area while the occupants sat in their cellars. I jumped over the cemetery wall, entered one of the buildings from the rear, and then went up to the second floor and knocked on a door. It opened and a voice came from inside, where two women, mother and daughter, were peacefully sorting out some bed linen. I told them that I needed some civilian clothing to change into. ‘But why?’ the mother asked naively. ‘The Russians won’t do anything to you, just look out into the street. You can see them leading German prisoners away peacefully.’