According to Google, Müncheberg was right in the middle of the Russian's final run on Berlin in March - April 1945, during the last few weeks of the war. The combat in Müncheberg between the Germans and the Russians took place from April 17 to April 19, 1945 and destroyed 85% of the town. Pop tells me his memories of the evacuation, which sadly did not include his grandmother, who was unable to walk due to a recent surgery and was left in the care of the Red Cross. Unfortunately the Red Cross fled too, and grandmother was left to burn to death when the Russians marched through. He also recalls his attempts to go back to find her in the following weeks.
Photo: Anna Marie Liebenow Kromat and Gisela Bauke, 1943
"I got to Berlin in the middle of January, after fleeing from school in Posen. I made it to Berlin, and went to the burned out Holbeinstrasse building and stayed a few nights in the basement, then I caught a train to Muncheberg. This was a proper train, a small local one, but I didn’t have any money. Things were pretty disorganized so it was pretty easy to catch a ride. I just went to the end of the station and jumped on and didn’t pay anything.
So I went to Muncheberg, which is about 50 km east of Berlin, because that is where my mother had gone to take care of her mother, Anna Marie Liebenow Kromat. (Author 's note: The address on the letters is Muncheberg /Mark, Adolf Hitlerstr. 21. The street, if it still exists, is probably under a different now. Pop says the address had always been referred by his family as “before the Katrina gate #20.” the house was a block away from the main walled gate entrance to the town, called the Katrina Tur)
My grandmother had fallen and broken her arm and needed help with cooking and care. My mother stayed in the apartment with her mother, Dietz, and Gisela. Hans Wacker stayed in the apartment next with his mother. The property had been built by my grandfather Ernst Liebenow on a farm he owned. I never knew my Grandfather Liebenow, but I remember his funeral when I was about 9 years old. He had built a house with four apartments, three were kept for the unmarried sisters that did not inherit the property. You see due to WWI, there were a lot of unmarried women, but since only the sons could inherit property, the sisters were taken care of with these apartments.
I do remember the farm. There was a flood plain that would become a small pond that we could play on. At this time I was 14 and Hans was about 12 years old. We paddled a rowboat around the little flood plain lake. I remember very clearly when a Russian fighter plane flew over, shooting at the boat. I still can feel the water spray on my arm. We paddled very fast back to the house after that.
Irmel had also come at this time for a few days. She had been in an all girls school in Posen, but with the Russians coming through and the thought that 15 year old girls were going to be at risk for rape, the school was transferred to an island north of Hamburg, called Witburn or Wittung or something like that, in the British zone. Just a few days before the Russians came through, Irmel was put on top of a tank with her rucksack, and rode out of town. I still remember that. She was alone on top of the tank. She was supposed to get to a train station to meet up with the school, but it was many months before my mother ever got any word if she got there or was even still alive.
The Russians took the road right through Muncheberg. When the Russians broke through over the Oder, there was a hill, the Germans were ordered to get out of town. My mother, Dietz and Gisele and I stayed until the battle got close. At night we stayed in an air raid basement of some main building. My grandmother couldn’t be moved – due to a cast she could only lie on her back, couldn’t be moved, and couldn’t get out, so she was not there with us. The next morning, the military came by the shelter and said we had to get out now. There were a couple of trucks to drive people out. We had to leave immediately from the air raid shelter straight into the trucks. We were not allowed to go back to the house to check on her. The local public nurse said she would look after her. All my mother had with her were the clothes on her back, an 8 year old boy, a 1 year old baby, me, and a baby carriage. From there we went back to Schoenemark. This was in March / April.
A few weeks later, I rode my bicycle from Schoenemark back Munchenberg to check on my Oma. I had ridden there by bicycle a few years before with my sister, so I had sort of remembered the way. However, along the way I came across a lot of military marching west. I was riding east. People were yelling to me “don’t go that way”, and the Russian airplanes were shooting right up the roads at the retreating german soldiers. I was saved because I could jump with my bike into a drainage ditch to avoid the bullets. Then I turned around and went back to Berlin. Thinking back I am surprised my mother let me go at all, a 14 year old boy riding a bicycle alone, straight into the middle of the war zone.
I once asked her about leaving her mother behind. She told me, she had a choice to make – save the children or go back for her mother. She could not have faced my father if anything had happened to the children, so she had to leave.
In Berlin, I remember I stayed in basement of the burned out Holbeinstrasse building for a few nights, but on the 20th of April there was a horrendous air raid right through the middle of town. I took my bike and went back to Schoenemark the next day.
In June 1945, I peddled back to Munchenberg and was able to get into the town, but even with a map, I couldn’t find anything. Everything was rubble, and I couldn’t find anything about my grandmother. I discovered the church was still o.k. and the town hall was damaged but still standing, but couldn’t find anyone I knew, and I couldn’t find out anything about the red cross nurse. On the way back to Schoenemark, I was stopped by a couple of Russians, who hit me on the head and knocked me unconscious. When I woke up, my bike was gone. I started walking to the next village to file a complaint. The police chief, who was Russian, made a pretense of sending out a patrol to look for the bike, but they said they couldn’t find it and I was sent on my way. I think the commandant told the policemen next time to kill the guy instead of just knock them out. Anyway, I had to walk back to Schoenemark bei Gransee, about 50 km. It took me about a couple days time. All I had to eat was a couple of slices of knackerbrot."
Photos: Ernst Liebenow 1821 - 1918