While
researching his 2002 book, Berlin, The Downfall, historian Antony
Beevor found documents about sexual violence in the state archive of
the Russian Federation. They were sent by the NKVD, the secret police,
to their boss, Lavrentiy Beria, in late 1944.
"These
were passed on to Stalin," says Beevor. "You can actually see from the
ticks whether they've been read or not - and they report on the mass
rapes in East Prussia and the way that German women would try to kill
their children, and kill themselves, to avoid such a fate."
Another
wartime diary, this time kept by the fiancee of an absent German
soldier, shows that some women adapted to the appalling circumstances,
in order to survive.
Starting
on 20 April 1945, 10 days before Hitler's suicide, the anonymous author
is, like Vladimir Gelfand, brutally honest, with razor-sharp powers of
observation and occasional flashes of gallows humour.
Describing
herself as "a pale-faced blonde always dressed in the same winter
coat", the diarist paints vivid pictures of her neighbours in the bomb
shelter beneath her Berlin apartment block, including a "young man in
grey trousers and horn-rimmed glasses who on closer inspection turns
out to be a young woman" and three elderly sisters, "all dressmakers,
huddled together like a big black pudding".
As
they await the arrival of the Red Army, they joke "better a Russky on
top than a Yank overhead" - rape is preferable to being pulverised by
bombs. But when the soldiers reach their basement and try to haul women
out, they beg the diarist to use her Russian language skills and
complain to the Soviet command.
Braving
the chaos on the rubble strewn streets, she manages to find a senior
officer. He shrugs his shoulders. Despite Stalin's decree banning
violence against civilians, he says, "It happens anyway."
The officer returns to the cellar with her and reprimands the soldiers, but one is seething with fury.
"'What
do you mean? What did the Germans do to our women!' He is screaming:
'They took my sister and…' The officer calms the man down and
gets them outside."
But
when the diarist steps back into the corridor to check they have gone,
the men have been lying in wait and grab her. She is brutally raped and
nearly strangled. The terrified neighbours, or "cave dwellers" as she
calls them, had slammed the basement door shut.
"Finally
the two iron levers open. Everyone stares at me," she writes. "My
stockings are down to my shoes, I'm still holding on to what's left of
my suspender belt. I start yelling 'You pigs! Here they rape me twice
in a row and you leave me lying like a piece of dirt!'"
Eventually
the diarist realises that she needs to find one "wolf" to stave off
gang rape by the "male beasts". The relationship between aggressor and
victim becomes less violent, more transactional - and more ambiguous.
She shares her bed with a senior officer from Leningrad with whom she
discusses literature and the meaning of life.
"By
no means could it be said that the major is raping me," she writes. "Am
I doing it for bacon, butter, sugar, candles, canned meat? To some
extent I'm sure I am. In addition, I like the major and the less he
wants from me as a man, the more I like him as a person."
Many of the diarist's neighbours made similar deals with the conquerors in the ruins of Berlin.
When
the diary was published in German in 1959 under the title A Woman in
Berlin, the author's frank account of the choices she made to survive
was attacked for "besmirching the honour" of German women. Not
surprisingly, she refused to allow the book to be republished until
after her death.
Seventy-nine years after the end of the war, new research on sexual violence
committed by all the Allied forces - American, British and French as
well as Soviet - is still emerging. But for years the subject slid
under the official radar. Few reported it and even fewer would listen.
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