Note: Translator Eric Lewenhaupt died in 1968, less than 70 years ago. Therefore, this work is protected by copyright, restricting your legal rights to reproduce it. However, you are welcome to view it on screen, as you do now. Read more about copyright.
Full resolution (TIFF) - On this page / på denna sida - Stockholm—Berlin—Friedrichsruh—Stockholm March 1945
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—guarded by male and female warders as they
marched wearily to their work. It was a dreadful
sight. A painful sight, too, were the long lines of
German refugees from East Prussia. By the time
we passed them it must have been weeks since
these people had abandoned their homes. They
were being directed to different centers where
the local authorities would be responsible for
billeting and feeding them. They appeared worn
and weary and utterly hopeless. There was no
future for them, and the present was a living hell.
Whatever they had possessed was lost, material
goods as well as any belief in the future. Silently
the pitiable procession moved on, along roads
lined with the carcasses of emaciated horses that
had drawn the primitive vehicles used by the
refugees until their strength gave out. These vehicles
were reminiscent of the covered wagons used by
the early settlers of the West in America. The
tarpaulin or similar covering with which they
had been hastily fitted was the only protection
available for the women and children at night,
and I was told that earlier in the year thousands
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