Free Berlin at War by Roger Moorhouse Page A

hide the light.8
    Aside from the journalistic hyperbole, Berlin and its inhabitants
    genuinely adapted well to the new regulations. Pedestrians took
    to carrying torches (with an appropriate filter), or pinned small
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    berlin at war
    phosphorescent badges – sometimes in the shape of cloverleaves or
    horseshoes – on their clothing to avoid collisions. Others adopted
    more imaginative measures. According to an American corres-
    pondent, ‘to keep from bumping into one another on the sidewalks
    at night, Berliners . . . were rattling canes on the pavements or
    imitating old-time auto horns with guttural cries of “Honk, honk,
    honk”’.9
    A few saw the legislation as a business opportunity. For a fee, entre-
    preneurs and small businessmen offered advice on how best to meet
    the new requirements. Sales of kerosene lamps, thick card and blackout
    curtains multiplied, and some who had previously struggled to make
    a living selling items such as roll-shutters suddenly saw demand hugely
    outstrip supply. Big business was not slow to get in on the act either.
    The German chemical giant BASF, for instance, developed an additive
    called Lumogen, which would lend luminescence to almost any colour
    of paint, as well as to dyes, polishes and waxes. One report enthused:
    ‘He who cleans his shoes with Lumogen and crosses the street in the
    dark, will see them all lit up.’10
    Some ordinary Berliners received the blackout with similar enthu-
    siasm and a few commentators were even moved to lyrical outbursts
    by the sudden darkness that descended on a previously brightly lit and
    colourful metropolis. The writer Carl Haensel may have set the mood
    with a newspaper article in which he described the blacked-out capital
    in the most romantic tones – from the ‘Morse-code’ of the street
    markings to encounters with other pedestrians ‘like ships passing in
    the night’. Berlin, he rhapsodised, was like a ‘city of dreams’ bathed
    in a soft half-light that liberated the imagination. He claimed that he
    had no desire to return to the garish brightness of the ‘old world’.11
    Another Berliner recalled in her diary how brightly the stars seemed
    to shine over the city. ‘We see stars over Berlin for the first time’, she
    wrote, ‘not paling behind gaudy electric signs, but sparkling with clear
    solemnity. The moon casts a milky gleam over the roofs of the town.
    Not a spark of electric light falls upon the streets.’12
    Most other observers eschewed such purple prose, but were no less
    enthusiastic. One eyewitness recalled the party mood that descended
    on the city in the early weeks of the blackout, with sightseers crowding
    the city centre:
    a deadly necessity
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    The streets, which otherwise would be quiet so late at night, were over-
    flowing with a happy, excited crowd keen to experience the blackout.
    This unusual darkness was the cause of great amusement and some
    incidence of violence. One heard giggling, curses and laughter. The
    huge buses, with their blue-painted windows, rocked along the narrow
    gorge of the Friedrichstrasse like enormous sea-monsters.13
    Yet, whether they liked it or not, Berliners had little choice but to
    comply with the order. To help them, the government produced an
    official booklet in 1939, entitled Verdunkelung – Aber wie? , ‘Black out –
    But how?’, which contained a host of tips, suggestions and sketches
    showing how the order might best be implemented. ‘Nobody’, it
    reminded its readers,
    should say that the chink of light escaping from his dimly lit room is
    not dangerous, or that it doesn’t matter if the blackout measures leave
    a little gap, through which a tiny shaft of light can shine. If many
    thought that way, then the lights would be clearly visible from high-
    flying aircraft, and pilots would know for sure that they were over a
    poorly blacked-out city.14
    Propaganda posters also reminded Berliners to be on their guard.
    Perhaps the best known was produced