All language subtitles for BBC.Berlin.1945.Diary.of.a.Metropolis.2of3.1080p.HDTV.x265.AAC.MVGroup.org

In April 1945, Soviet director
Yuli Raizman

makes a film about the end
of the so-called Third Reich.

He has 38 Red Army cameramen
at his disposal.

The title of the film - Berlin.

The liberation of the city by
the Red Army is to be documented.

It is due to start on April 16th

at the Oder with
the Battle of the Seelow Heights,

70km outside of Berlin.

At the banks of the river,
the Red Army has gathered -

2.5 million soldiers,
over 6,000 tanks,

7,000 aircraft and 41,000 artillery.

They are confronted
by the German Army -

one million soldiers, many among
them Hitler Youth and old men,

800 tanks and no air support.

Over two million people are still
living in Berlin.

Men and women, young and old,
guilty and innocent.

Soon, only diaries and memories,
files and pictures,

ashes and dust will tell
the tales of their city.

TRANSLATION: Miracle upon miracle,
we're allowed to sleep in.

No air raid alert, not in the
morning, not in the afternoon.

We fetched water and made preserves,

many glasses,

in case of a long siege.

Sewing and reading in the afternoon.

Nobody who hasn't lived through it
will believe

how orderly life goes on,
despite everything.

The bread carriage and the grocery
truck are ringing their bells

in the streets.
People gather outside to chat.

You're aware of
the approaching catastrophe...

..but it's not here yet.

RUSSIAN NARRATION

The night between April 15th
and 16th felt unusually long.

With nerves strained to the utmost,
expecting major events,

time passes very slowly.

The offensive was due
to start at 5am.

We watched the final seconds
tick by.

ARTILLERY EXPLOSIONS

There has never been a day
like today at the front line.

At four in the morning, thousands
of Stalin organs opened fire.

Later, the battle cry
echoed everywhere -

"To Berlin."

It was cold in the early hours.

Fog rose, the smell
of sulphur everywhere.

The ground dins and trembles.

Hell seemed to have broken loose.

Impacts continue. Our ears have
been deaf for a while now.

Hardly anyone speaks.

Farms and villages
are burning in the distance.

Death stands right next to us.

The city hums like a swarm of bees.

Now it begins.

In Berlin,
we hear the Russian cannons.

Everywhere in the streets,
one encounters military police

hunting down refugees and deserters,
who are convicted on the spot.

A proclamation by the Fuhrer
is hanging on each wall.

Everyone ordering retreat is to be
arrested and killed on the spot.

Michel saw how a barricade
was erected at Alexanderplatz.

He also saw with his own eyes a man
hanging from a tree at a crossroads.

He had complained about
the Nazis and the war.

Supplies precarious and uncertain.

AIR RAID SIREN SOUNDS

Even though the Russians are well
beyond Furstenwalde,

we had to take shelter
from English bomber aircraft.

Uncle Fritz, an old party comrade,
turned pretty brutal.

"Dieter, you have to return to your
battery, it's your duty," he said.

If I didn't go to the Flak tower,
I was to be reported.

I am on German territory,
where I have seen the tiniest Fritz

and the womenfolk.

I'm trying to destroy them faster

so the German no longer thinks
he can invade us.

It will be a reminder and a lesson.

Mum, I have already taken
revenge for Father.

I've killed with my own hands.

I don't know how many
and yet, still too few.

I will take revenge
as long as I shall live.

The higher-ups report that
Furstenwalde has been occupied.

I hope it is not just
a ruse to lift morale.

Many of our people have been killed.

They're lying in a field
or by the side of the road,

falling so close to victory.

Today is the Fuhrer's birthday.

We are already afraid of it.

You can hear the artillery.

Dr Goebbels says we should trust
and have no fear.

The Fuhrer will conduct
an experiment

and all will turn out well
in the end.

The day when usually the flags
of ugly malice would be

flapping all over the country,
there is not a single flag.

Not even the official departments
have flags out,

and that should mean something.

The mood is kaput.

In the afternoon, I reported
to our department in the garden

of the Reich Chancellery.

When Hitler appeared from the
bunker, I reported to him too.

Then the Fuhrer walked along
the length of the delegation.

Together with a local NSDAP group
for the borough of Kreuzberg,

I'm lying in the small bunker

of the Ministry for Propaganda,

waiting to be deployed.

I feel awkward among
the old party comrades.

It disgusts me
that many of them are drunk.

Suddenly, a radio blares
with military marches

and we heard Goebbels' speech
for Hitler's birthday.

Years back, they screamed "Heil."

Now they hate the man
who calls himself the Fuhrer.

They hate him, fear him.

They suffer deprivation
and death for him.

But they have neither the strength
nor the courage to free themselves

from his demonic possession.

No water, no gas,
no electricity either.

It was in Germany when our
soldiers began to ask

why the Germans invaded us.

Millions of our men have seen
the rich farms in eastern Prussia,

the advanced agriculture,

the two-storey houses fitted
with electricity and gas,

the well-paved roads.

They all ask themselves in anger,
"But why did they come to us?

"What did they want?"

Many of my acquaintances, my friends
even, will think that I'm touched,

that I feel for the German cities
and the German population.

I have to confess, no,
I will never, ever pity them

since I have seen for myself the
havoc they have caused in Russia.

The exhaustion is overwhelming,
but we're going to make it.

We have to make it.

Everyone is on the run.

The Russians are coming
to Kaulsdorf.

It's all moving fast.

Digging trenches is useless. There
are no soldiers to defend them.

We're in the rectory basement.

In the basement, the minister
performs a brief service.

Soon after, two Russians appear.
They demand watches.

Mrs F gives them her watch.
The Russians leave.

Meanwhile, at home,
Mrs Richter and Mrs Kushel

were being raped repeatedly.

It happened around midday.

Unter den Linden took a hit.

Without prior warning,
without a bomber aircraft,

one shell impact.

Now it is certain,
Berlin WILL see the Red Army.

Mum wouldn't let me go to the shop.

The tank shoots like crazy.

We hauled our most precious
possessions to the basement

and set up air shelter beds.

They are burning swastikas in the
houses, throwing away the medals.

Me, I clear away the briquettes
in the basement

and bury the Fuhrer's images.

Why? I do still believe in
National Socialism after all.

10pm. Rumours are spreading
in the cellar.

Mrs L says, "Rather a Russian
on the belly

"than an American bomb on the head."

Miss B is screaming in the cellar,

"Now, let's face it,
none of us is still a virgin."

Nobody answers.

There is no doubt.
We're putting the screws on Berlin.

I'm a staff member again

and have to occupy myself
with office work.

The only fun part is listening in

on the German and Allied
radio shows.

They're coming thick and fast
through the airwaves.

The headlines
in Sunday's papers state,

"The cruel front line spirit
now rules over Berlin."

It's about obtaining a turn
in the war by sheer obstinacy.

The order of the day -
a fight to the last Berliner.

Already, new emergency
measures are introduced.

From now on, death penalty
for using electricity for cooking.

Mum has just buried the last pieces
of jewellery.

I'm keeping my watch.

The grounds are too wet.

Mum and I have packed a rucksack
in case we need a quick start.

We each have our papers,
two sets of underwear, soap, shoes,

dress, towel, and so on.

Maybe we'll be kidnapped
and brought to Russia.

April 24.

Today we crossed the Spree.

It's a rather narrow
and pitiful river.

I spit in the damned water
three times.

The Fritzes are cut off.

Now we're supposed to finish them.

In the Flak tower, I reported back
to Senior Lieutenant Kuttner.

In our barracks, I met
only a few of my old comrades.

But there are still news of
victories in the Wehrmacht report.

RADIO CRACKLES

I went to collect water from the big
basin in Number 16 Wins Street.

It's very misty, but we don't
want to use our preserves yet

in case things get even worse.

We are hearing about new deaths
every day,

people who died fetching water.

Around 11am, I got a call from
the Reich Chancellery.

I was to go and see General Krebs.

Krebs told me that I had made
a good impression on the Fuhrer

and had been appointed
Commander of the Berlin Defence.

I was to take over immediately.

At 10pm, I arrived at
the Reich Chancellery

to report on the current situation.

The Fuhrer was once again sitting at
his desk which was covered in maps.

All his words were directed
towards one thought -

if Berlin falls, Germany's defeat
would be inevitable.

The troops are moving in all
directions. Where is the front line?

The captain is badly injured.
He's unlikely to make it.

There are shootings,
fire and smoke everywhere.

The Germans are attacking us
from their windows and doors.

A grenade explodes
in front of the house.

We get a man shot in the arm
and leg into the cellar.

He's lying there
with an emergency bandage

and a shot of morphine.

Miss Blau has been hit worse.

Splinters in her lungs,
losing blood.

I calm her with morphine.

No more beds in Gertraude Hospital.

The injured, Russian
and German soldiers alike,

are mixed together in the corridors.

Performed surgery until midnight.

I wanted to go to my room
to have a drink

and listen to the BBC news.

Suddenly, the bunker
swayed like a boat.

A huge bomb fell
right into the clinic.

My room is in ruins.

The janitor and his wife are dead.

Four nurses are buried under debris.

I've been pondering
whether I'm scared of dying.

No, I'm not afraid to die,

but I fear serious injury.

I'm carrying cyanide with me.

The battle for Berlin rages on
but for Dahlem, it is over.

No more Russian grenades,
no more projectiles,

no more Russian bombs.

Around midday,
I saw three soldiers coming,

the first Russians.

They were very nice,
asked for watches and liquor.

Then they left.

Shortly after, the next group came.

One of them came up to me,
took me outside,

led me upstairs to the sofa.

Surprisingly, I wasn't scared.

I had to take off my trousers and
then he laid on me and did this.

It hurt.

In any case, it was horrible.

We all had to.

Even little Inge,
who was only eight years old.

I kneeled in front of the soldiers
but it was no use.

Later, we had to cook for them.

They say that
during those first few days,

there were around 100 suicides
in Friedrichshain.

The pastor shot himself,
his wife and daughter

because the Russians broke into
the basement and assaulted the girl.

Mrs Hoffman shot her sons and then
cut her veins and her daughter's.

Our teacher, Miss Klinkmoller,
hung herself.

She was a Nazi.

The local group leader, Schmidt,
shot himself

and Mrs Nitschke poisoned herself.

The further we advance into Berlin,

the harder the fighting.

The thick, massive stone houses
make for perfect fortification.

GUNFIRE

Just like in a manoeuvre,
our men jumped from door to door

to attack the Red shooters
hiding on each floor.

Our attack gained ground.

Our units held their ground
at Belle-Alliance-Platz

to block the access
to the government quarters

in the Reich Chancellery.

There are no more defences,
right or left of us.

We only have the bazookas, assault
rifles and a few machine guns left.

ARTILLERY FIRE

EXPLOSIONS

Company Commander Kirchner has
received the Knight's Cross

and returned from
the Fuhrer's headquarters

with Adolf Hitler's best wishes.

The five floors of the Flak tower
are scattered with dead bodies.

A disgusting, sweetly scent
fills the tower.

It stands like an island in the sea,

the Russians having already
moved past us.

We were slowly moving forward
towards the Reichstag.

Suddenly, I was hit by a damned
fascist explosive device.

I was badly injured

and lost consciousness.

We are out of morphine.

It is terrible not to be able
to give sedatives to the injured.

April 30th.

Everyone will remember
the air in Berlin -

acrid and hazy from the fire
and the dust of the stones,

our teeth crunching on sand.

The walls were covered
in German posters.

I am so scared.
We don't have much longer to live.

I certainly won't.

What will my dearest Kurt do?

Surely I will not see any of
my dear soldiers ever again.

EXPLOSIONS

Good day, my friends.
I am still alive,

just a little drunk.

I need it for courage.
Three Star cognac never hurts.

I'm 50m from the Reichstag.

It's not easy to take the Reichstag.

What's left of the once
awe-inspiring Prussian army

was desperately defending
themselves.

The building was transformed
into a fortress.

The Reichstag is filled to
the brink with Russians.

When we shoot ten, 20 more follow.
It's dreadful.

Hand grenades and gunfire
are raining down on us.

In the underground corridors
and vaults,

everyone is shooting at everyone.

I climbed onto the roof
with the soldiers

and passed the flag to one of them.

Finally, I found the spot

where you could see the burning
Reichstag with burning houses

and the Brandenburg Gate
in the background.

And I knew, that's it.

The fighting got more intense.

Houses collapsed
with thunderous noise.

The Fuhrer said goodbye to those
still with him.

He shook hands with everyone
for one last time.

He stood there, hunched over.

I snapped to attention
and signed off for the last time.

In a seemingly calm manner, he said,

"Linge, I will shoot myself.

"You know what to do."

Berlin was still engulfed in battle
when the Central Committee

of the Communist Party sent
delegates from Moscow to Germany.

The First Initiative group landed
70km from Frankfurt Oder.

Nothing to see all around -

no city, no buildings, nothing.

Two young officers approach us
and say,

"We are very happy to be able
to welcome you here.

"We have heard that you are members
of the new German government."

I almost choke.

What did he just say?

May the 1st.

I dive from one cellar door
to the other

until I reach Number 33 Lindenallee.

There is supposed to be
a battery radio there.

Everything is filled with debris
and ash. Furniture is damaged.

The walls and ceilings hanging low.

In the basement,
I actually find the radio.

When the message arrives that the
Fuhrer has been killed in action,

everyone leaves the foxholes

and is very agitated
for the next few hours.

There are no more clear orders.

The leadership has
probably lost its head.

We have decided not to leave Berlin
but to stay

and end our life
at our Fuhrer's side,

because to me,
life no longer holds value.

I make this decision also on behalf
of my children,

who are too young
to offer their opinion,

but would surely come to the same
conclusion if they were old enough.

There is no more help
and no more troops to replace us.

We long to sleep
and eat a full meal for once.

In the second half of the day, the
situation became extremely grave.

The defenders of Berlin were
squeezed into a very small space.

There was only one way out.

"Are you the defender of Berlin?"
I asked General Weidling.

"Yes," he answered.

He had given the order of surrender
to his troops today.

The war is over for us. My God.

There is no amount of liquor
you can possibly drink to celebrate

all these occasions. The mood is
the jolliest I've ever seen.

Sacha gets a canister
filled with spirit

and mixes it with juices to create
a devilish concoction.

He calls it Hitler's Death.

MUSIC: En Route by Les Choeurs
De L'Armee Rouge Alexandrov

A young Russian soldier collects
weapons

and kicks against the discarded
helmets lying on the ground.

He laughs and brags.

"Vanya, kaput. Hitler, kaput.

"We go home to Babushka."

I leave our hiding place
in the basement.

At once, I am seized
by a strange atmosphere.

Silence.

A deafening silence after days
and nights of explosions,

roars and shooting.

When I had finally grasped it,

I could no longer contain myself.

It was impossible to hold
back the tears.

The day we'd been yearning for
had finally arrived.

The day of Berlin's surrender.

It is hard to describe.

Vast masses of German prisoners,

their faces reflecting
the drama of the situation.

This cold, cloudy, rainy day,

undoubtedly
the day of Germany's ruin.

I am so scared.

They are picking up all the men.

Our policemen have been collectively
taken away. Our old policemen.

The women, standing in the street
as they were led away, cried.

We might not live much longer.

In the evening, they found Goebbels.

He is dragged to the door of
Wilhelmstrasse.

Hitler's right-hand man is dead
but still recognisable.

Soldiers and civilians
gaze at his corpse.

Before Goebbels killed himself,

he had someone poison his kids.

We were only interested
in one thing -

where's Hitler?

Zoological garden. There was
fighting there. Cages destroyed.

The bodies of monkeys,
tropical birds, bears.

A conversation with an old man.

He had cared for the monkeys
for 37 years.

In one cage was
the body of a dead gorilla.

"Had the animal
been frightening?" I ask.

"No," he answers.

"People are more vicious."

There were rumours
of a dead horse across from us

in a street just off Ku'damm.

I went to cut off a piece as well.

The food situation is critical.

You have to listen carefully to find
out where to get bits and bobs.

I found typhoid pills and warned
everyone against drinking the water.

It comes from pumps,
and because of all the bodies buried

in the rubble of the city, the
ground water could be contaminated.

We took off and walked to Heike's.

There are many bodies

and the bloated cadavers of
horses lying in the street.

It looks terrible.

Luckily, the weather is rather cold.

The body of a man in the next-door
garden has turned blue and black

and is threatening to decompose.

The Russians refuse to deal
with German corpses,

but are very thorough
when dealing with their own dead.

Our soldiers have been through
everything.

Pain and hatred, bitterness and
self blame in the face of defeat,

the hopelessness of encirclement,

desperation in detention camps,

the rage of attack,

the euphoria of victory in battles
from Volga to Spree.

And all that for some of them
to die in these last few minutes

on the streets of Berlin.

The looting of shops has begun.

Yet it's not the Russians
who are responsible for looting,

but mostly the German people.

Unbelievable scenes.

Women hit and scratch each other,
pour oil on themselves,

and rub their skin with jam.

They're carting things away
by the kilo.

It feels strange to no longer be
in charge in your own country

but to be exposed to the
whims of lawlessness.

Where there was once a forced order,
now there is chaos.

We were assigned to Soviet officers
with the task of helping

their commander to establish
and build administrative bodies.

We were to get in touch with former
members of the Communist

and Social Democratic parties,

and with those unions who had

remained true to antifascist
ideology during Hitler's regime.

Proclamation by the Russian
city commander -

"The population is to remain calm.

"All members of the Wehrmacht,
SA and SS have to come forward

"within 72 hours."

So I have to come forward.

I might be taken to Siberia.

Today at noon, there is supposed
to be a nationwide ceasefire.

Germany is surrendering.

At two in the afternoon,
three Douglas aircrafts

appeared in the sky.

The British Air Marshal Tedder
arrived on the first plane,

American General Spaatz
on the second,

and the third brought French General
de Lattre de Tassigny.

At last, another plane landed
with Field Marshal Keitel.

No-one shook his hand.

ARCHIVE: What did open our eyes

was the drive in from the airport
to Kaulsdorf

where the meeting was to take place.

It's a fairly long drive
but you can take my word for it,

that there was hardly a single
habitable house

or usable building within sight
along the entire distance.

One can put it in six words -

Berlin has practically
ceased to exist.

All eyes were on the door.

Over this threshold, those who have
so boastingly proclaimed

to be able to conquer the whole
world would enter at any moment.

Keitel entered,
arrogant and defiant,

strode to his table and raised
the Marshal's baton in greeting.

He eyed up the room
as if from the battlefield.

He looks ridiculously Prussian
as he bangs his heels together.

No-one gets up.

When he sees me, he says,
"Oh, the French. What's next?"

Zhukov asked me if I had read
the articles of surrender.

I answered, "Yes."

The second question was if I was
prepared to accept by signing.

Again, I replied with
a definite "Yes."

At 43 minutes past midnight,
the document was signed.

I ordered the German delegation
to leave the room.

They stood up, bowed,
and left with their heads hung low.

An incredible ruckus
broke out in the room.

Many people had tears of joy
in their eyes.

I then opened up the banquet
and made a toast.

The feast went on way into
the morning with songs and dance.

CHEERING

There is nothing to say
about the night except that

I was allowed to spend it alone.

For the first time
since April the 27th,

there was no-one under my sheets.

No Major, no Uzbek showed up.