The evacuation took hours. This was foreseeable but no provision had been made for it. There was no handing out of warm drinks, although the evenings and nights were still decidedly cool. Disappointment spread when it became known how limited the transport available for the first stage was. Only a few were prepared to walk all the way to Alt Bleyen so as to keep the places on the wagons free for women with small children, the sick and feeble. The instruction that the vehicles could only take small items of luggage brought an angry reaction from the crowd. Even old people who had given up the chance of a place on one of the trucks in order not to lose the last of their belongings gathered on the approaches to the nearby Oder bridges, hoping for a lift. There were still many handcarts, as those who wanted to go on the vehicles–and they were the majority–did not need them any more. They began marching off in batches of 20 or 30 in the darkness, with their escorting security guards giving the impression of shepherding prisoners on the march. The armed escorts were explained as precautionary against nervous bridge and road sentries as the evening curfew for civilians, to whom the password could not be given, even as an exception, had already begun. But everyone knew that their presence was really to deter potential army deserters from slinking into the column.
At last the first vehicle moved off and was promptly stormed. A few voices calling for calm could be heard in the trampling crowd, amid the complaining and wailing. Older people dared not enter the turmoil. There were no kind hands to pull them up on to the high truck beds, and there were no stools or mounting blocks to help people climb aboard. Loaded to the limits of their capacity, the wagons drove off, winding their way through the anti-tank barricades of ancient cannon rammed into the roadway before the bridges, and vanished into the night. Ownerless suitcases, purses and prams, for which no room had been found or which had been torn from people’s hands in the press, remained behind.
Only half an hour went by before the first vehicle returned, during which time the crowd had quietened down a bit and the second trip began in far less dramatic circumstances. Thus the evacuation went on until midnight, when an officer brought instructions to stop as bright moonlight now made any movement in the ‘corridor’ risky, and the shuttle service from Alt Bleyen to Seelow/Werbig had to be stopped. However, there were still about 150 people waiting and the dressing station in the school could not take them. A return to the Neustadt during curfew–and crossing the Warthe bridge, which was dangerous even in daylight–was out of the question. So abandoned buildings in the neighbourhood were broken into and used as temporary accommodation. The vacated assembly point bore the depressing evidence of the breakout. Between the old trees were strewn suitcases and satchels, prams and even a bicycle. The NSV people were in no position–and anyway were far too tired–to secure the ownerless items, but stacked them under a tree so the police could collect them the next day; however, when the police duly came they found only a few ripped open and plundered items, the rest having vanished.[1]
Lieselotte Christiansen remembered the evacuation:
On 19 February we received the order to leave Küstrin immediately. We left our cellar in the Neustadt under fire and reached the Altstadt over an almost completely destroyed bridge. We arrived in a hail of fire. It seemed as if the heavens were in flames. We thought it was the end, but it could not be. It became quieter again and we went to the collecting point where the vehicles were standing. Only old and sick people could be taken. The Wiese family, my mother and I obtained a place on a truck that had brought ammunition into the town. We were all squeezed up together, but were happy to get away. The driver drove in such a way as to dodge enemy fire.
We arrived unharmed in Gusow from where in the morning a train took us on to Erkner and then to Woltersdorf.[2]
The inevitable looting started after the first departures and increased during the evacuation of the population, but soon the fortress commandant got a grip on the situation and hanged people for even the smallest offences, both soldiers and civilians. The Feste Küstrin reported that the Standing Court dealing with looting and desertion sentenced one soldier for looting on 15 February, another for desertion on the 18th, another for desertion and looting on the 23rd, an Italian prisoner of war for looting on the 24th, and one soldier and a girl for looting on the 26th. Almost all the fortress news-sheets carried in bold letters the notice that ‘Looters will be shot!’, and later ‘Looters will be shot or hanged!’ This had some effect on reducing this crime.
Ten German soldiers were shot in Kietz one day. On or around 20 February two members of the Wehrmacht were hanged from the Kietz Gate with a placard saying, ‘I deserted’. From then on there was no further absence without leave. It was just about impossible to get out by the ‘pipeline’ and no one wanted to go over to the Russians. The incident at the beginning of the siege in which the Volkssturm troops captured at the Cellulose Factory had been executed had been discussed by many of the fortress’s defenders.[3]
Luftwaffe Officer Cadet Sergeant Helmut Schmidt continued his account of the defence of the Weinbergshof Farm on Monday, 19 February:
The night was exciting and we remained alert until dawn. Should the Russians have risked a second attack, we would have given them a hot reception. Our machine gun was back in its old position. In the trenches the men chatted about the Russian surprise attack and our counterattack. They spoke concernedly about Hans Hof and thought about the fallen. In the cellar of the manor Lieutenant Kühnel went over the events of the previous hours with his platoon commanders. What had gone wrong? In my opinion we should have provided cover for the minelayers, and they should not have been working in the open ground without protection.
We thought that the Russians had made a spontaneous surprise attack when they discovered the minelayers. We calculated the attackers at about one or two dozen. They had gone forward without preparation and counted on surprise. I think they must have asked for reinforcements but had set off before they arrived. Support from the mortar had come at the right time, and its blocking fire had enabled their rapid withdrawal. The Russians had only been able to hold the Weinbergshof for an hour, but this had been enough to reconnoitre our positions. They now knew the exact situation of our trenches, the company command post and the weakness of our defence. Their opportune attack had proved a valuable reconnaissance.
We had hardly sat back in our shelter holes when the Russians started shooting at us again with their machine guns. We noticed their nervousness and irritation. They were angry. They put the hedge and my section of the trench under particularly intensive fire, and the mortar went on firing with the hits crashing down between the buildings, and at daybreak the 76.2mm gun joined in too. We ducked down in our primitive holes. The barrage increased and lasted longer. The Russians wanted to keep us awake. We urgently needed a breathing space, for we were frightfully tired.