Another survivor in similar circumstances, Hans Jedlicka, claims that the shock of this sight numbed him:
I was still convinced that the fire bombs had only hit our doorway, that once we’d run through we’d be safe. As we came through, the sight that met us was like a blow. All I could see was flames. The whole of Hammerbrook was burning! A powerful storm took hold of us and drove us in the direction of Hammerbrookstraße. That was wrong. We had to go towards Heidenkampsweg – there was water there, and the Stoltenpark. We stumbled over the first charred corpses. From there on it was like a switch turned in my head. It was like being in a dream. I saw and heard everything, crystal-clear, but in spite of the great heat felt no pain. We had to fight our way through the firestorm metre by metre. My mother’s clothes caught fire. I put the flames out with my hands. 22
It is little wonder that many people chose to stay in their cellars in the unrealistic hope that the reinforced ceilings would afford them some protection from the flames in the buildings above them. Some people must have believed they would be safer in their makeshift bunkers than they would be outside – as the public-information documents and broadcasts had told them. Others gave up in despair. When everything outside was burning, what difference did it make whether one stayed or left? Some air-raid wardens reported having to bully people into seeking safety elsewhere with blows and kicks, even though it had become obvious that to stay put meant certain death. 23
In any normal raid, when the upper floors of a house were on fire it was still fairly safe in the cellar, and certainly better than risking the explosions outside – occupants of a burning building were encouraged to stay where they were at least until the all-clear had sounded. But, this was no normal raid. Once the firestorm had taken hold, the wind and all the flaming debris it carried made it almost impossible to escape through the streets. Many of those who survived did so because they left their cellars early – perversely, those who initially appeared to be in the most danger were the most likely to survive. Those whose buildings caught fire later in the raid found themselves trapped between their own fire and the ‘hell’ of the firestorm outside.
In an interview with Der Spiegelmagazine in 2003, the poet and song-writer Wolf Biermann described how agonizing the decision was to stay or go. He was six at the time, but remembers the events of that night as clearly as if they were burned into his memory:
I sat there alone with my mother… She was sitting there as if she was paralysed or maybe because she was smart – because in such a panic everything you do is a mistake. It’s a mistake to leave: you run to your own death. It’s a mistake to stay: death will come to you. Nobody is rational in such a situation. In a sense I was rationaclass="underline" I pressed my little head into my mother’s coat, into her lap, and thus I could breathe; the air was impossible to breathe elsewhere.
Then my mother realised we’d burn there. She took a little leather suitcase with our papers and a few photos of my dad who, just a few months ago, had gone through the fiery oven in Auschwitz, as a Jew, as a Communist. And she handed me a little bucket – a little aluminium bucket with a cover. There was mirabelle jam inside, my mother had made it. And I took my little bucket and then we got out. We crawled through the basement. 24
As he stepped outside it was not so much the sight of all the flames that terrified him as the noise. The crash of the bombs exploding around him, the roar of the fires, the drone of the planes and, above it all, the terrifying whine of the wind: ‘What a sound it was! It was hell, it was hell’s fires. In hell it is not only hot but loud. The firestorm was screaming!’ 25
The odyssey that lay before people like the young Wolf Biermann and his mother defies imagination. In a conflagration so huge it was impossible to escape the fire – the distance to the edge was too great. The best anyone could hope for was to get to some open space that would act as an island in the terrible flaming sea – a park or playing fields where the fire could not properly take hold. In Hammerbrook people made for the Stoltenpark, or the banks of the many canals that criss-crossed the area. In Hamm, those who could made their way to the Hammer Park, and in Eilbek it was the Jakobipark, just north of Hasselbrook station. Even there the heat was so great that people were overcome. Without shelter from the storm of sparks their clothes and hair were still in danger of catching fire, and many sustained such bad burns as they escaped that they perished shortly after reaching relative safety. In the smaller parks and open spaces hundreds died because they could not get far enough away from the incredible heat. In one green about 120 metres square, more than a hundred people who had sought safety in the centre were burned to death. 26
The following account is by a man who was in his mid-forties. When the exit from his cellar was blocked by rubble he was forced to break through into his brother-in-law’s pastry shop on the ground floor of the building. From that point on it became almost impossible to keep the family together as they ran through the burning streets in a desperate search for shelter:
There were only two places that might be safe; either the sports field on Grevenweg or the Ankelmannplatz in the opposite direction. The escape route to the sports field was shorter, but was more likely to be in the middle of a sea of fire. I personally, with my family, chose the somewhat longer route, racing along the middle of the street which was alight with flying sparks, in order to avoid some of the heat from the burning house façades.
Even on the short distance to the next corner, we saw the first people burning, desperately running figures, who suddenly fell, and as we approached, were already dead. We had reached the first crossroads. Here we saw a building whose roof had, exceptionally, only just caught fire. In the entrance to this building we took shelter for a few moments from the storm, the heat, the whipping whirl of sparks and the glowing mounds of phosphor. We were in desperate need of this break. Although we had only travelled a short distance, our lips were already badly swollen. Our throats were incredibly dry. Our legs felt weak…
All around people fled from burning buildings. Some came out with their clothes already alight, others caught fire outside, from the sparks, the blazing heat or the phosphor. Again and again we saw burning people suddenly start to run, and soon after, to fall.
After this terrible cries were to be heard, but they too grew rarer. I saw many burning people who ran and collapsed in silence. There were also people travelling in the opposite direction to us. Because of this we had only gone a few steps when I heard my sister call. We could not see her, because despite the bright fires close by, thick smoke and dust darkened everything. We followed my sister’s voice, calling [to her] ourselves, but received no answer. For a short while it became lighter. Around twenty metres in front of me, I saw my brother-in-law appear from the darkness of a building’s wall, and run into the middle of the street. I called to him. He turned to me. I saw from his badly swollen face that he had already suffered heavy burns. Whether or not he recognized me, I do not know. My brother-in-law suddenly turned away again and began to run. I then saw that all his clothes were burning brightly. He fell into a mass of three or four corpses which were already completely burned. When my wife and I reached there, our brother-in-law was already dead, burned. There was no way to save the people who were falling. He who fell over during his escape was lost…
My wife’s head began to burn. Her hair had caught fire. With a small amount of water that I had in a bucket with me I was able to put out her burning hair. At the same time I cooled my hands and face… My wife complained, ‘I can’t go on! My feet are burned! My hands!’… I also felt great pain in my right hand, caused by a severe burn. My left hand was beginning to hurt similarly as well. My head burned as if on fire, especially my face. I also noticed that my sight began to fade.