Free Berlin at War by Roger Moorhouse Page B
Authors: Roger Moorhouse
in 1940. Above the silhouette
of a person standing in an undarkened doorway, an RAF bomber
appears to dive out of the clouds, with a grotesque skeleton riding
atop its fuselage, holding a bomb which it is about to hurl down onto
the house below. It bore the chilling reminder: ‘The enemy sees your
light – black out!’
For those who still contrived to forget their duty, air raid wardens
were always on hand to remind them, patrolling the streets and bellowing
‘Lights Out!’ at those who contravened the blackout order. Wardens –
who were usually Party members – also had the power to inspect all
blackout measures in any property within their jurisdiction. Repeat
offenders were publicly humiliated. As an initial punishment, wardens
affixed a placard to the offending property bearing the words ‘This
House Is Poorly Blacked Out’, reminding the building’s inhabitants that
compliance was a communal responsibility and warning that they could
endanger the entire district. The placard would only be removed when
38
berlin at war
all apartments, the stairwell and the rear of the building were satis-
factorily blacked out.15
Subsequent transgressions might earn the offenders a visit from the
authorities, or a personal lecture from the local air raid warden. In
time, a fine would be levied by the authorities, specifying the date
and time of the offence, and even the particular window that was
insufficiently blacked out. The standard fine was 10 Reichsmarks, which
was to be paid within a week. The impecunious, however, could opt
instead for a two-day stay in a police cell.16 In extreme cases, offenders
were liable to have their electricity supply cut off for eight days.17 The
most persistent among them could even earn themselves a spell in a
concentration camp.
For many, however, the greatest risk from the blackout did not come
from the threat of prosecution. A spate of accidents in that first autumn
of the war swiftly highlighted the dangers involved in the sudden
switch to darkness. In September 1939, Berlin police reports concluded
that nine out of ten accidents involving trains had been directly caused
by the blackout.18 A serious rail crash in Berlin that autumn was also
attributed to the new legislation. On the evening of 8 October, an
intercity train overran a set of signals before ploughing into the back
of a commuter service near the Gesundbrunnen Station in the north of
the capital. In the mêlée that followed, the wreckage caught fire and
twenty-four passengers were killed. The accident was initially attrib-
uted to the driver’s inattention, combined with the new and difficult
conditions of the blackout. However, when the driver was subse-
quently cleared of negligence, only one cause remained.19
Berlin’s roads were not much safer. Driving in such conditions was
fraught with danger. Cars crawled along the street, picking their way
through the darkness, while other vehicles appeared as scarcely visible
hulks with only pinpricks of light emanating from their darkened
headlights. In open squares, such as Wilhelmsplatz or Potsdamer Platz,
it was not unusual for drivers to become completely disorientated as
they lost sight of the rooftops and trees that might mark the approx-
imate direction of the road. In consequence, though most private
traffic had disappeared from the streets with the outbreak of war, due
to the strict rationing of petrol, road accidents rose by 82 per cent in
Berlin between August and November 1939. And although an increase
in alcohol consumption was considered to be a contributory factor in
a deadly necessity
39
that rise, the blackout was deemed to be the dominant cause. In
October, 28 out of 33 serious traffic accidents were attributed to the
new legislation; the following month, it was found to have been respon-
sible for 12 out of 15 road deaths.20
Curiously, the high rate of deaths did not fall, as the city grew used
to the
of a person standing in an undarkened doorway, an RAF bomber
appears to dive out of the clouds, with a grotesque skeleton riding
atop its fuselage, holding a bomb which it is about to hurl down onto
the house below. It bore the chilling reminder: ‘The enemy sees your
light – black out!’
For those who still contrived to forget their duty, air raid wardens
were always on hand to remind them, patrolling the streets and bellowing
‘Lights Out!’ at those who contravened the blackout order. Wardens –
who were usually Party members – also had the power to inspect all
blackout measures in any property within their jurisdiction. Repeat
offenders were publicly humiliated. As an initial punishment, wardens
affixed a placard to the offending property bearing the words ‘This
House Is Poorly Blacked Out’, reminding the building’s inhabitants that
compliance was a communal responsibility and warning that they could
endanger the entire district. The placard would only be removed when
38
berlin at war
all apartments, the stairwell and the rear of the building were satis-
factorily blacked out.15
Subsequent transgressions might earn the offenders a visit from the
authorities, or a personal lecture from the local air raid warden. In
time, a fine would be levied by the authorities, specifying the date
and time of the offence, and even the particular window that was
insufficiently blacked out. The standard fine was 10 Reichsmarks, which
was to be paid within a week. The impecunious, however, could opt
instead for a two-day stay in a police cell.16 In extreme cases, offenders
were liable to have their electricity supply cut off for eight days.17 The
most persistent among them could even earn themselves a spell in a
concentration camp.
For many, however, the greatest risk from the blackout did not come
from the threat of prosecution. A spate of accidents in that first autumn
of the war swiftly highlighted the dangers involved in the sudden
switch to darkness. In September 1939, Berlin police reports concluded
that nine out of ten accidents involving trains had been directly caused
by the blackout.18 A serious rail crash in Berlin that autumn was also
attributed to the new legislation. On the evening of 8 October, an
intercity train overran a set of signals before ploughing into the back
of a commuter service near the Gesundbrunnen Station in the north of
the capital. In the mêlée that followed, the wreckage caught fire and
twenty-four passengers were killed. The accident was initially attrib-
uted to the driver’s inattention, combined with the new and difficult
conditions of the blackout. However, when the driver was subse-
quently cleared of negligence, only one cause remained.19
Berlin’s roads were not much safer. Driving in such conditions was
fraught with danger. Cars crawled along the street, picking their way
through the darkness, while other vehicles appeared as scarcely visible
hulks with only pinpricks of light emanating from their darkened
headlights. In open squares, such as Wilhelmsplatz or Potsdamer Platz,
it was not unusual for drivers to become completely disorientated as
they lost sight of the rooftops and trees that might mark the approx-
imate direction of the road. In consequence, though most private
traffic had disappeared from the streets with the outbreak of war, due
to the strict rationing of petrol, road accidents rose by 82 per cent in
Berlin between August and November 1939. And although an increase
in alcohol consumption was considered to be a contributory factor in
a deadly necessity
39
that rise, the blackout was deemed to be the dominant cause. In
October, 28 out of 33 serious traffic accidents were attributed to the
new legislation; the following month, it was found to have been respon-
sible for 12 out of 15 road deaths.20
Curiously, the high rate of deaths did not fall, as the city grew used
to the