We left everything and only took some clothing. My mother, lost
her head, and even left family jewels. Of course, we never saw them again!
We crossed the bridge, still intact. We could only see
perforations in the bridge, made by bombs that passed through and exploded below
in the Wisla River. That was a big failure of German technology, luckily
for us!
At last, all of us arrived at the apartment of a family member,
the bishop of the Lutheran congregation in Warsaw. We settled in a room on the
first floor. Now on this place is the building of the Warsaw Opera; at the
corner of a very well known square, then called Pilsudzki.
As artillery and bomber plane attacks became more intense, we
slept in the basement. However, only two days later, the house was set on fire
and we were forced to abandon it. It was during the night that we left that all
that part of the city was in flames. I will never forget that night. Even now,
it is still present in my memory, as if it had happened yesterday and not
sixty-seven years ago.
All houses on both sides of Swietokrzyska Street were
burning and the flames were illuminating the sky, which appeared red, like
blood. It was night but it looked like day. A lot of people were running in all
directions, nobody knew where. Everybody was confused and frightened. As we
stood completely disoriented in the middle of the street, artillery shells were
falling all around us and we were in this hell, with grandmothers and the young
baby.
