All language subtitles for BBC.Berlin.1945.Diary.of.a.Metropolis.1of3.1080p.HDTV.x265.AAC.MVGroup.org

In 1941, director Leo de Laforgue
makes a film about Berlin...

..to be called
Symphony Of A World Capital.

The sun always seems to shine
and life is flourishing.

There's no mention of the
Second World War,

no inkling of concentration camps,

no sign of over 300,000
forced labourers in the city,

not a trace of misery and hunger.

Quite the contrary.

This summer, the Reich is
at the height of its power.

Half of Europe has surrendered,

and it's basking in the glory
of its successes.

But in less than four years,
the tide will have turned.

Adolf Hitler will have survived
an assassination attempt.

Allied troops will be ready to storm
the country and take the city.

The wall will return to
its source, Berlin.

And there will be little left
of the city but diaries

and memories, files and pictures,
ashes and dust.

TRANSLATION: Sunday, New Year's Eve,

a trip to Grunewald forest
with Kurt.

It was a splendid walk,
deep snow everywhere.

We stopped off for a beer.

We were home by six and
celebrated with Schultzes.

It was the end of an eventful year.

What will the next year bring?

We are fearful of 1945.

TRANSLATION: The new year
began quietly.

Lieutenant Kutner ordered the
whole battalion to listen

to the radio transmission
of the Fuhrer's speech.

January 2nd. Back to work.

Everyone talks about how drunk
they were on New Year's Eve.

In the evening, to the UFA cinema
on Alexanderplatz with Kurt.

We saw Rite Of Sacrifice with
Kristina Soderbaum and Carl Raddatz.

It was a wonderful film.

So sad. We were spellbound.

January 4th. Air raid alert
from quarter to 12

until quarter to one.

It's been quite a smash-up,
another heavy attack.

The capital of the Reich
was attacked by 40 fast bombers.

They crossed the city in loose
formation.

12 dead, 23 injured, 1324 homeless.

TRANSLATION: January 9th.

Something terrible has happened.

They've implicated Count Moltke
in the Hitler assassination attempt

and he will be brought before
the People's Court.

And whoever comes before the
People's Court -

treason, conspiracy
to overthrow the state,

the Nazi regime -
it couldn't be worse.

TRANSLATION: The setting was a room
packed with people.

The proceedings went like this...

Freisler - talented, brilliant and
not bright,

and potent in all three respects,

reads my resume. Details are
affirmed or things added.

Then come questions about
the allegations.

He ignores what doesn't suit him,
dismisses important points.

The name Moltke constantly rang out.

It permeated the proceedings

and it was obvious they wanted
to have me killed.

The barracks are wedged
between the main street

and the subway
next to a sports field.

The station is called
Baumschulenweg, a working class

district with small factories,
handicraft businesses, tenements.

From above, the barracks
look completely alike.

Four Berliners
passing by the fences.

It's just a compound,
and they couldn't care less anyway.

On the large meadow opposite
were several barracks

for prisoners of war
and forced labourers.

Most of them are Ukrainians and must
have been terribly mistreated.

Screams rang out again and again.

People living nearby ignored them.

That is, when the screams
of the tortured were heard,

they all closed their windows
as if on command.

TRANSLATION: Homesickness
hits me in waves.

At work I try to suppress
the sadness,

but when I'm alone
it's barely possible.

How many years of my youth
have I lost?

We go to the cinema.

After the film,
straight to the party offices

to pay my member's fee.

January 11th.

The Moltke trial.
Before evening falls,

the prosecution requests
the death penalty.

We just had thoughts,
just Delp, Gerstenmeier and me.

The NS is so afraid of these
solitary men's thoughts

that anything infected by them
must be eradicated.

If that isn't a compliment.

It was too late to execute us
the same day,

so, if it's the Lord's will,
I'll stay alive.

You're still alive, my darling.

Now I fight for you again.

This respite might benefit us.

Kurt came to eat with us.

Mother left us alone.

He played the mandolin and I sang
along, and then he kissed me

and was very tender with me.

The visits to the front lines
in the east

by our Berlin regional
commanders went well.

Our troops in East Prussia
are in high spirits,

confident they will repel
the coming Soviet offensive.

January 16th. For three days now,

there's been a major
Bolshevik offensive.

One of our men, Manfred, cries
in his bed at night

because he's worried about
his family.

He's from Konigsberg, where
the Russians are advancing.

But the battle lines already
reach deep into Silesia.

At night when the American and
English bombers approach,

we man the guns.

Two days ago, the Volkssturm
started enrolling

in civilian jackets and puttees.

Some had never held a gun before.
Extras to plug the gaps.

Every day in the darkroom,
I see the portraits

of young people who - barely
adult - are already dressed

in military uniforms.

Many of them won't live
to see the end of the war.

Their uniform will be the only
garment worn

in their short adult life.

Kurt picked me up for the last time.

He only took me with him
to the station.

Who knows when we'll see
each other again?

The first refugees arrived
from Silesia.

A wagon filled
with dead children arrived

at Berlin's Silesian station.

They'd been standing in the cold
for 96 hours,

packed in like pickled herrings
in a barrel.

Our boss says we have to shift snow,
then dig graves for the dead.

The earth is frozen solid
to 50 centimetres down.

We dig through ice and snow,
then continue down, battering

with hammers and iron wedges.

It was hard for us before.
Now it's even worse.

At three, I visited Muller,
head of the Gestapo.

He said he couldn't do anything
for you as you're a traitor.

I'm fine, my love. I am ready
and determined to happily

place my faith in God's will,
knowing he only wants the best

for us, including you, my dearest.

Farewell, my sweetheart.

May the Lord bless you
and all of us.

Yesterday at noon, they took
Count Moltke from his cell.

By four o'clock he'd been executed.

It was all quite sudden.

The city is teeming with refugees,

all complaining about these
cursed times.

Nobody is mincing their words.

For 24 hours, every person can rage
about his hardship, his desperation

and terror without inhibition.

Then Goebbels is back in control.

Today is the 12th anniversary
of the party's rise to power.

One or two British bombing raids
every night.

During the day,

desperate Wehrmacht reports.

The Fuhrer's radio address
is a good boost to morale.

SINGING

We went downstairs
to Matusack's again.

His wife was also there now.

The Schnapps was flowing until
ten o'clock.

Then we listened to the Fuhrer's
speech.

Uncle Paul is always drunk.

Stalin is at the gate.

The Russians have crossed the
River Oder, advancing on Wriezen

with about 100 tanks.

There is nothing between Berlin
and Wriezen, no anti-tank

guns, no barricades,
not a single soldier.

People are restless.

My loving wife, you ask what's
to be done.

I'm still optimistic on the whole.
The more rational voices say

we still have considerable reserves
and will still get new weapons.

Berlin can't be considered to be any
safer than where you are.

Since there is no adequate means
of travel, I think it best

if you stay there.

The four o'clock weather briefing
indicated that there would be visual

conditions in the Berlin Magdeburg
area.

This was later confirmed
by the ten o'clock conference.

In Berlin, the aiming points were

the centre and the heart
of the city,

an area bounded by the
Lindenstrasse,

the Unter den Linden
and the Wilhelmstrasse.

We had to report early to
Rosenthaler Platz

to build barricades. We hadn't
been working for long.

Everyone was in a good mood,

the lads were singing, but then
the air-raid siren sounded.

SIREN WAILS

NEWSREEL: More than 1,000 Flying
Fortresses sweep out

from their bases in England
to hammer the German capital.

The stern voice of retributive
justice comes to Berlin

in the heavy drone of bombers.

From Berlin went the orders

which wreaked havoc in Rotterdam
and Warsaw. From Berlin,

also, Germany watched without pity
the agony of those millions

of refugees whom war turned
into sad armies

of the uprooted and dispossessed.

Today, the wheel has turned full
circle. Berliners are undergoing

the ordeal to which they
unprotestingly committed

the great cities of Europe.

In 45 minutes, 2,500 tonnes of high
explosive and incendiaries rained

down on the government and army
administrative offices in the heart

of the city.

The city's in a terrible state.

Through smoke, soot and filth,
I reached the publishing house.

The rain's pouring down, binding
the smoke and soot, which sticks

to our shoes like thick porridge.

Disaster struck our anti-aircraft
unit.

A bomb hit the munitions chamber
and all 400 rounds

of ammunition exploded.

All of my classmates are dead.

The districts of Kreuzberg,

Mitte, Horst Wessel and Wedding
were hit hardest.

1,130 dead, 738 missing,

1,116 wounded, 102,061 made
homeless.

Bayerischer Platz underground
station is also

affected. More than 100
bodies are under the rubble.

Men, women and children
stand crowded together.

They hang their heads in silence.
Grave, speechless, solemnly,

they wait for their dead
to be dug up.

Your pick sinks
into something soft.

You shout, "Here! I've found
someone."

A policeman comes running.

Only a German may touch
cold German flesh.

They finally get the body out, grab
it by the leg and pull it out.

Sometimes the leg comes off.

Some puke. At least they still
have something in their stomachs.

NEWSREEL: In this operation,

the Americans lost 19 bombers
and five fighters.

As they head for home,

they leave behind them a reminder
to Germans that war doesn't pay.

Berlin, they say, is now a city
of dreadful night. As an American

airman said after this trip,
"When Stalin's boys get to Berlin,

"they'd better bring a Fire
Department, because the place

"is really burning now."

The eighth of February. We reached
Stalag VII in Luckenwalde

in the early morning. Due
to overcrowding, there are no bunks.

Each man has a filthy blanket.

The latrine for hundreds
of men is a deep hole.

If the hole is full, Russian
prisoners have to go down and clean

it. They are treated horribly.

Power was cut
for two hours today. I received

the first two letters from Kurt.

Air-raid alarm from 8:45
to half past nine.

We've only
just learned that during the daytime

attack last weekend, the president
of the People's Court, Dr Freisler,

was killed along with most
of his staff.

For a moment, I'm torn between
horror and joy.

Freisler, the man
who sentenced everyone to death,

he died a month too late and many
weeks too early to be made

accountable and face retribution.

My little doll, news
from here. The night was clear,

the temperature dropped to zero.
Tomorrow morning at ten past seven,

I have to go to the Volkssturm,

probably to build tank barriers
again.

I'm still hoping the countermeasures
announced will turn

the tide. All the best from your
dad.

February 15th.

Today I'm alone in the clinic.

Professor Sauerbruch isn't there,
nor is his official deputy.

The order was given
to move all patients to the shelter,

or at least to the basement. First,
children and private patients,

then the women.

In the bunker, I met a half-Jewish
biology professor.

He told me there are Jews
hiding in Berlin.

They have been living for months
or years in cellars and attics,

looked after by friends
and acquaintances.

My love,

we've been apart for two
years already. This fear

of being hunted, what for?

All my life, I've lived as a decent
human being and now I have to hide

like a criminal, like a murderer,
and tormented by my thoughts

about the children.

That's the worst of it.

I am so desperate, because I simply
know nothing about them.

If things went badly
for Miss Muller,

they're no longer alive, but I had
no choice, otherwise I would

have had to face
the Gestapo with them.

When children sing songs
on the radio, it brings tears

to my eyes.

February 25th.

My confirmation in the Church
of Jesus Christ in Dahlem.

Daddy came, we were 14 girls
and six boys.

Unfortunately, it didn't take place
in the church. It was too cold.

Nevertheless, it was very solemn
and no siren interrupted it.

For lunch, we had a good pot
roast that Daddy had brought

with him. In the afternoon, visitors
and real coffee and cake.

February 26th.

Today was the day we were
trained for.

I always wanted to bomb
Hitler's Berlin.

The city has the toughest
anti-aircraft defences

and more enemy fighters
than any other target in Germany,

so it's understandable
that the crews let out tormented

groans when they heard
about it at the briefing.

After take-off, I felt so alone
on my position in the rear

of the plane, in spite of the many
planes around us.

So terribly alone

and afraid that this could be my
last flight.

I cannot describe the emptiness
I felt.

Saw Truxa with Liana at the cinema.

Right at the best part,

the sirens started and we ran
to the bunker.

After the longest distance
we've ever flown, we were right

in the middle of it.

Lurching airplanes. A direct hit
sent the one right next to us

up in flames.

I shuddered in anticipation
of the steel

that could rip through my body
at any second.

Then the bomb bays opened.

A wing of the factory's hit.

Fire breaks out from the incendiary
bombs.

As we walk into the shelter,

we have to avoid the burning
asphalt.

Alexanderplatz in flames.
We have no lights

and no water at home.

After the all-clear,
the film continued.

After what felt like hours,
we reached the beautiful shores

of England, we had made it.

It was over and I was so glad,
I didn't know what to say.

Now the city is dying and can no
longer be saved.

Tired, apathetic people.

The doormen at the entrance tells a
crying woman,

"Be glad, I tell you, that he's
buried in a mass grave.

"At least he's not alone there."

German morale
is in freefall, and every

round of bombing reinforces
this feeling of depression.

But as critical as the situation
may be, it does not in any way

interfere with the normal
daily routine.

Police surveillance is being further
intensified.

The camp was fenced in with barbed
wire, which was electrified.

The guards had dogs and machine
guns.

Our strength was waning.
We were consumed by work.

One day, the kitchen made soup
from dried potato peels.

It was pig swill.

February 28th.

Margot's place has been damaged by
bombs again.

Incendiary bombs fell
on the doctor's flat, but the fire

was extinguished, only caused minor
damage.

He says that's how we'll win
the war.

I darn socks in the evening.

March 3rd.

We left Berlin

early in the afternoon. The Fuhrer
wanted to see progress on the front

lines for himself to strengthen
troop morale

and check ammunition supplies.

The Fuhrer was here.

His visit sharpens our awareness
of where we stand, namely to defend

the capital of the Reich.

Basic order for preparations

to defend the capital. Berlin
is to be defended to the last man

and to the last bullet.

The struggle must be fought
with fanaticism, imagination,

with every means of deception,
cunning, deceit,

on and above the ground.

It is necessary that every block,
every house, every storey, every

hedgerow is defended to the last.

We build tank traps on Landsberger
Allee and in Kniprodestrasse.

We now have daily bazooka
firing and rifle training

under SA supervision in
Friedrichshain.

Many old men are taking
part, from the People's Storm.

The Wehrmacht reports are shocking.

Life is becoming increasingly
primitive.

Detergent and soap have to be made
to last ever longer.

Items for personal hygiene are a
luxury. Sewing material and bits

and pieces are all the clothes
ration card allows for.

The less cultured people of the East
may still feel comfortable

under these circumstances,
but civilised Europeans

suffer and degenerate.

We visited Father. As soon
as we were there, sirens sounded.

We stayed in an overground bunker.

I thought I'd long since overcome my
fear, but today I trembled, afraid

for my life. A terrible bang.

The bunker sways, the lights
go out, people screaming.

The attack lasted two hours.

We saw the tremendous glow
of fire on Prenzlauer Berg.

Opposite, house number 15
was hit and collapsed.

Half Berlin was in flames
and in ruins.

It's enough to drive you insane
when you walk the streets.

Our Berlin, the Berlin I loved
so much.

Even though it disgusts me
that its inhabitants allowed us

to be excluded from their community
just because we're Jews,

I still love my hometown.

March 20th.

We face the toughest challenge in
our history,

Battalion chief Kuckner told
us this morning.

We are to stand firm
with religious fanaticism.

At the shop at 9am, had to walk
home, went for a walk

with Kuzi in the
evening and fetched water.

Got a wonderful letter from Kurt,
read some of the most beautiful

parts to Kuzi.

Went to the cinema with Margot.

ORCHESTRAL PIANO MUSIC PLAYS

Saw Soloist Anna Alt.

Some comrades no longer know
where their relatives are.

East Prussia, Silesia.
Without a home,

the war becomes pointless.

I can't imagine that Berlin
would be lost.

Today, it is they who are deprived
of their last possessions

and their homes, whose relatives
face an uncertain fate in endless

treks and refugee trains.

I well know what it means to live
in permanent uncertainty

about your nearest and dearest
and all the people close

to you in need and misery and hunger
and agony without hearing

anything from them.

I, we, we Jews, we have long
lived through this.

Am I now supposed to feel
pity for them?

63rd Transport was scheduled to
Sachsenhausen

and Ravensbruck.
Destination - Theresienstadt.

Date of departure - March 27th,
1945. For the evacuation of Jews

from the territory of the Reich
to the Theresienstadt ghetto,

the following regulations apply.

Transportation is to take place
in single carriages on a regular

train servicing the Theresienstadt
route. Each person is to take 50

Reichsmark, a complete set of
clothing,

bedsheet and blanket, eating

utensils, plate or pot with spoon,
rations for eight days.

Prohibited items are stock
certificates, currencies, savings

account documents, etc,
animals or ration cards.

Before departure, the carriages
are to be searched for weapons,

ammunition, explosives, poison,
currencies, jewellery, etc.

Without exception, all assets
are to be confiscated.

Easter Sunday. We slept
in very late, reading during the day

and telling each other scary stories
in the evening. We did some

exercises and then we went to bed.

SIRENS WAIL

I'm sick of war.

Every night, fast bombers attack
Berlin.

We are always tired and weary.

And those miracle weapons,
where are they?

Once again, a hostile attack

on the capital by Mosquito aircraft.
One has already got so used to them

that they've become part
of the daily routine.

If they don't come, the Berliners
feel something's missing.

My comrade, Udo,

received a letter from the Pankow
NSDAP branch. His mother

and little sister, Elke, burned
to death in the north of Berlin.

He has no-one now.

He stood still for a long time,
then suddenly jumped on a stool,

tore the large portrait
of the Fuhrer from the wall, spat

on it and stamped on Hitler's head.

When the on-duty sergeant came,
he locked Udo in a cell.

April 12th. The Russians and
Americans

have advanced across the borders
of the Reich.

The situation has markedly
deteriorated.

In the office, we only do the most

urgent work. We are burning most
of our files in case Berlin falls.

My dearest love,

the day before yesterday
was your birthday.

Will there ever be another
one we spend together?

I don't believe it any more.

And the children. Yesterday
Weimar was taken by the Allies.

How will I ever find a trace of them
if things have gone wrong?

I will listen to American
radio today to hear

what happened in Weimar.

BIG BEN CHIMES

This is London calling.

RICHARD DIMBLEBY: I have just
returned

from the Belsen concentration camp.

I find it hard to describe
adequately the horrible things

that I've seen and heard, but here,
unadorned, are the facts.

There are 40,000 men, women
and children in the camp,

thousands of them Jews.

In the last few months alone, 30,000
prisoners have been killed

off or allowed to die.

Dead bodies, some of them in decay,
lay strewn about the road

and along the rutted tracks.

Inside the huts, it was even worse.

I have seen many terrible sights
in the last five years, but nothing,

nothing approaching the dreadful
interior of this hut at Belsen.

I picked my way over corpse
after corpse in the gloom

until I heard one voice that rose
above the gentle, undulating

moaning. I found a girl.

She was a living skeleton.

She was stretching out her stick
of an arm and gasping something.

It was, "English, English,
medicine, medicine."

Got my STEN gun.

RICHARD DIMBELBY: The SS guards,

who shot several of the prisoners
after we'd arrived in the camp

when they thought no-one was
looking, are now gathering

up all the bodies and carting
them away for burial.

May I add to this story only
the assurance that those officers

and men who've seen these things
have gone back to the Second Army,

moved to an anger such
as I have never seen in them before.

A lot of time has passed since we
started marching through Germany.

The Baltic Sea comes to mind,
where we drowned the Fritzes.

Now victory is in our grasp.