and spirits—great treasures which for a long time had existed
for us only in rumours. We were infantrymen, and therefore
the last troops to arrive before the Russians, and yet the
resident quartermaster refused to yield up anything without
the appropriate Forms A and E, which had to be signed by
an officer. (Dieckert and Grossmann, 1960, 95)
On 27 January Königsberg was embraced by a semi-circle of
Russian forces which very nearly touched the Frisches Haff on
both sides of the Pregel estuary. Inside the city the hospitals
were overflowing with 11,000 wounded, and the refugees
streamed in from the countryside
mixed together with disbanded mobs of the Luftwaffe, the
Organisation Todt and the army. Peasant carts were jammed
along the gutters in long rows, and on the roads between
there was an intermittent movement of prams, bicycles,
sledges, trucks, grey-green artillery pieces, and snow-
encrusted motor cycles, and all the time a mass of humanity
trudging onwards. . . . The cold had become sharper still
than a few days before, but these people knew the enemy
were after them, and their numb faces were running with
sweat, such was their exhaustion and terror. (Thorwald,
1950, 182)
Nearly all the members of the Nazi hierarchy had by now
fled, but they left a standing instruction that, in the case of a
Russian breakthrough, all the population must escape by way
of the road which led around the northern end of the Frisches
Haff to the seaport of Pillau. Using loudspeakers, the Party
issued the appropriate order on 27 January. Nobody had
thought of contacting the military command, and the result
was indescribable confusion just east of the city when thou-
sands of people took to the road only to find that the way to
Pillau was already a combat zone.
On that day and the next it was almost literally true that the