December 4, 1943. In the spring of 1943, the victorious German armies had already suffered their first serious defeats, which indicated that the war would end badly for Germany. Most of the major cities had been largely destroyed by bombs from Allied squadrons. Leipzig was one of the few exceptions. Although we went to the shelter night after night and spent hours in the basement, we lulled ourselves into the false hope that the Reich’s trade fair city would be spared1.
After Grandma’s death, nothing made sense but to stay in the empty apartment in Sonneberg. Our father would have loved to have us in this safe place. But we absolutely wanted to go back to Leipzig. We went to school there, had made many friends in the meantime, and what did the little alarm every night matter! We were so well prepared. The old apartment building had a sturdy vaulted cellar, which our father had inspected very carefully. In an emergency, we were supposed to stand right under the supporting pillars.
Our mother was a so-called lay helper, so she knew all about all the dressing materials. The bathtubs in the whole house were full of water day and night, there was a sandbag on each step on the right and left2; we would be able to fight the bombs successfully with these. Besides, the nightly attacks were only aimed at the poor capital of the Reich, which was systematically bombed night after night for two years. If one street had not yet been completely destroyed, one could expect that the destruction would continue exactly at that spot the next night.
When the bomber squadrons were reported over north-west Germany at around 11 p.m., heading for Berlin, it usually only took a few minutes for the sirens to sound all over Leipzig. We were awake as soon as we heard the first howl, grabbed our coats and tracksuit bottoms, which were lying next to our beds, and rushed off. In the corner of the hallway, everyone’s cellar luggage was ready: a wool blanket and a suitcase with the bare essentials so that we could possibly stay in the cellar for days. Even my brother, who was only six years old at the time, groped for his pack and tripped down the steps to the cellar. A thermos flask full of tea was boiled for us every evening so that we could have something hot to drink during the long night hours and not catch a cold.
Only once has a stray bomb fallen in our area. Perhaps it was intended for the nearby water tower. In any case, it was a sensation for us. For days the children searched the parks for shrapnel and I was very jealous of my friend’s trophy. I was unsuccessful in my hours-long search.
The all-clear time was of the utmost importance for the schoolchildren. Because if you went back to bed before midnight, school started at the usual time, but if we didn’t leave the cellar until after midnight, which was usually the case, then we didn’t have to get to school until nine o’clock.
I still remember the many hours we spent in the air raid shelter. There were only women and children there and an old grandfather, a former head waiter who owned the apartment building. The women knitted, told each other about their husbands who were at the front, and if one of them happened to be on leave from the front in France, there was even a cup of good coffee from the occupied neighboring country.
The young people played Ludo or Battleship, and at first it wasn’t all that tragic. I often stared at the air raid regulations, which were posted on the wall and signed by a certain Field Marshal Milch. I could have recited them by heart, but I didn’t understand what all the blather about gas and phosphorus was about. These dangers couldn’t harm us in our safe vault. And our blackouts worked perfectly. No light penetrated through the windows, how were the bombers supposed to find our city? We didn’t know anything about the dreaded “Christmas trees” that were dropped before the bombings and lit up the area to be destroyed as bright as day.
And so that terrible night began on December 4th. The bomber squadrons had once again flown in towards Berlin and had suddenly turned towards Leipzig shortly before. As, inexplicably, no air raid warning was given, the city was taken completely by surprise. But my brother had heard a signal from somewhere. At around 3:30 in the morning he came crying into my parents’ bedroom, where my mother and I were sleeping, and woke us up. Mother thought he had only dreamed and sent him back to bed. At around 4 in the morning there could no longer be an air raid warning – nothing like it had ever happened before. But she had at least woken up enough to suddenly notice the hum of the planes. She had only heard such a noise once in her life, and that was at the Nuremberg Reich Party Congress. At that time the squadrons of planes also flew over her in waves and she had followed them with great enthusiasm. But now she suddenly realized what it was. She just screamed through the whole apartment “into the cellar”. There was no way we could get dressed anymore, barefoot and in our nightgowns we got downstairs just in time. As the heavy iron door slammed shut behind us, an air mine exploded in our immediate vicinity, as we later found out. All I remember is that the lights went out immediately, we were thrown to the floor and gasped for air in the pitch-black cellar. Nobody actually screamed. But the tremendous air pressure pressed the dust from the briquettes stored everywhere into our lungs, and we coughed and gasped wildly. We were not standing in the place our father had indicated, we did not have the damp washcloths over our faces, as we had practiced so well beforehand.
We only screamed for our mother, who should actually have been in an adjoining cellar to bandage any wounded according to regulations. But she rummaged around in the cellar wall and pulled out brick after brick. Each air raid shelter had a passage to the neighboring house, which was marked with luminous paint. The stones were only loosely stacked on top of each other so that in an emergency you could escape through the hole into the adjacent cellar. Finally someone lit a few candles and we recognized each other as we lay on the floor, completely distraught, with soot-blackened faces, waiting in this humble posture for the next bombs.
Our air raid warden, a young woman, risked a look outside. The backyard was lit up as bright as day by the fire. She staggered back and reported that we had already been hit. All I remember is that I breathed a sigh of immense relief at that moment. So I had it behind me, I wasn’t buried, I would come out of the cellar safe and sound. I didn’t waste a thought on our apartment, which was probably on fire above me.
After an hour we discovered that only the neighboring house was burning and that the glow of fire in the yard had been deceptive. This time we were spared except for shattered window panes.
Nevertheless, I have terrible memories of this experience. I cannot express in words how one feels when one is waiting helplessly in a cellar for the next bomb to hit one. One cannot run away; one would have even less protection outside. One no longer remembers the memorized slogans of perseverance, but stammers out a few fragments of prayer that one’s mother taught one as a small child. But during these hours, God was not on the side of the German civilian population, who were helplessly exposed to their cruel fate.
That December night, our basement room shook for about 30 minutes, and in the distance we heard a constant noise like the thunder of cannons. We did not know at that time that the beautiful old city center of Leipzig had been almost completely destroyed in that half hour.
At dawn we finally ventured out onto the street. The house next door was ablaze and suddenly we remembered the air raid precautions we had often practiced. We formed a chain and passed the buckets of water around. But we were powerless against this inferno. The unimaginable heat meant that no one could get close to the fire and where a piece of wall seemed to be intact, the sticky black phosphorus mass suddenly dripped down and everything suddenly burst into flames. What could we have done with our buckets? The people in the building were saved, however. One by one they were pulled out of a tiny basement window by their feet or hands.
Everyone was screaming for the fire brigade. Where was it? After all, only one bomb had fallen.
Meanwhile, our mother was standing in the grounds in front of the Red School, which was only razed to the ground during the next attack, and was giving first aid. She was dressing the burns of her neighbors. The one tube of ointment was used up in no time, and the perfectly wound bandages in her first aid kit didn’t go far either, but she was still able to help a little.
Then we returned to our apartment, boarded up the windows and didn’t say a word, but everyone had the same thought: we wanted to go home to Sonneberg today. We didn’t want to spend another night in Leipzig.
- Between 1943 and 1945, Leipzig was the target of several bombing raids by the Allied forces, primarily conducted by the Royal Air Force (RAF) and the United States Army Air Forces (USAAF). These raids aimed to destroy Leipzig’s industrial infrastructure, railways, and other key facilities, significantly affecting the city’s civilian population and urban landscape. December 3-4, 1943 – RAF Bomber Command launched a large-scale raid involving over 400 aircraft. The primary target was the industrial and railway areas. Significant damage was inflicted on the city, with numerous buildings destroyed and civilian casualties.
December 4, 1943 – USAAF carried out a daylight bombing raid, focusing on Leipzig’s rail yards and industrial zones. This raid was part of a larger strategic bombing campaign against German transportation networks.
↩︎ - Placing sandbags on the left and right sides of stairs during an air raid serves primarily as a protective measure to mitigate the effects of explosions, shrapnel, and debris. Here are the key ways in which sandbags contribute to safety:
1. Blast Absorption: Sandbags are effective at absorbing the energy from explosions, reducing the impact force that reaches individuals taking shelter behind them. This can help prevent injuries from the shockwaves generated by nearby bomb blasts.
2. Shrapnel Shielding: Explosions often produce shrapnel, which consists of fragments of bombs, buildings, and other debris. Sandbags can trap or slow down this shrapnel, preventing it from reaching people taking cover on the stairs.
3. Structural Reinforcement: Sandbags can help reinforce the structural integrity of the stairs and surrounding walls. In the event of an explosion nearby, the sandbags may reduce the likelihood of structural collapse by absorbing some of the impact.
4. Debris Containment: In the chaos of an air raid, buildings might partially collapse, sending debris flying. Sandbags can help contain this debris, preventing it from cascading down the stairs and injuring those sheltering there. ↩︎