Terrible Déjà Vu: The Experience of Meeting the “Liberators”
By Roksoliana Sviato
A Woman in Berlin—the
well-known diary from the Second World War—gives us a terrible
sense of déjà vu today. In it, a young German woman
records in detail what she experienced in the spring of 1945, when the
“victorious” Soviet troops entered Berlin.
In
the spring of 2022, the “liberators” directed by Moscow
brought violence and chaos to Ukrainian cities and villages. What can
the experience of earlier encounters with Soviet soldiers tell us today?
Diary of a Wartime Underground
“Yes,
the war is moving toward Berlin. What yesterday was only a distant
rumble has now grown into an unbroken roar. People breathe in the
thunder of weapons. The ear grows deaf and now hears only the
largest-caliber guns. For a long time it has been impossible to tell
where they are firing. We live squeezed inside a ring of gun barrels
that narrows every hour.”
— A Woman in Berlin
If
the city’s name were removed from the first sentence, the passage
could apply to many Ukrainian cities in March and April 2022 as well.
Today it seems that the statement about the narrowing ring describes
exactly what was felt during the first weeks in Kyiv.
On
February 25, the second day of Russia’s large-scale invasion, the
author went down with her family and large dog into the nearest
underground parking garage. As she searched the dim light for familiar
faces, she remembered A Woman in Berlin—a book she had spent six months translating in 2018.
Unlike
the German author, many in March 2022 were unable to record anything
properly; every attempt to keep a diary turned into a list of
banalities. The original author could do what many could not because
"her" war had begun much earlier: she had already become accustomed to
existing in a state of constant uncertainty and danger.
Not Anonymous: Who Was Marta Hillers?
The author of the book was thirty-four-year-old Marta Hillers.
She wrote her diary literally on her knee, from April 20 to June 22,
1945, in several school notebooks she happened to find and on stray
scraps of paper. In the summer of 1945, she typed the text for herself
and close friends.
Key Biographical Facts (1911–2001):
-
Background: Born in 1911 near Düsseldorf into an ordinary German family. Her father was killed during the First World War.
-
Political Views:
In her youth, she sympathized with the Communists and defended ideas of
universal equality and women’s emancipation. In the early 1930s,
she served as an instructor in a Communist Party cell.
-
Journey to the USSR: In 1931, she went to Moscow to work for the photo agency Soyuzfoto.
Until 1933, she traveled through the European part of the USSR
(including Georgia and Armenia). In her diary, she later noted that
extreme poverty and lack of freedom made it a place where she could not
have lived permanently.
-
Education: Studied world history and art history at the Sorbonne in Paris before returning to Germany.
To protect herself and others, she adopted the pseudonym "Anonymous" when the book was published. Her true identity became widely known only after her death in 2001 in Basel at the age of ninety.
Publication History:
-
1954–1955: First English editions published in the United States and Britain.
-
1959: First German edition (met with harsh social condemnation in Germany).
-
2000s: Independent investigation by archival historian Walter Kempowski confirmed the authenticity of the original manuscripts.
-
2008: Feature film adaptation by Max Färberböck (Anonyma) brought international fame and a second life to the book.
The Inexpressible and the Unsaid: Scale of Sexual Violence
A Woman in Berlin
is known above all as a diary that speaks quite openly about sexual
violence by Soviet soldiers against German women during the Second
World War.
For
a long time, rape remained one of the least documented war crimes.
Social condemnation, rejection, and self-loathing led most victims to
remain silent and take their terrible stories to the grave.
Historical Estimates of the Scale:
-
90,000 to 130,000 women were raped in Berlin alone in 1945;
-
Up to 2,000,000 victims across the entire Soviet occupation zone;
-
The prohibition on abortion was temporarily lifted in postwar Germany as a direct result.
The diary records the greatest horrors in an almost telegraphic style:
“Not
a sound. Only when the underwear he is tearing crackles, I
involuntarily grind my teeth. My last intact things. Suddenly his
fingers are on my mouth; the stench of horses and tobacco. I snap my
eyes open. The stranger’s hands expertly force my jaws apart. Eye
to eye. Then he carefully gathers saliva and spits into my mouth.
Numbness. Not disgust, only cold. My spine is frozen; an icy dizziness
at the back of my head. I feel myself slipping and falling, very, very
deep... That is how it was.”
Survival Strategies & "Forced Relationships"
One
of the most controversial threads in the diary is the story of forced
relationships with occupiers chosen to serve as "protectors":
-
Anatoly (Red Army Senior Lieutenant, a Ukrainian peasant):
Became
her first "leader" to scare away other chance visitors and marauders.
He brought food on every visit and shared stories of his life.
-
The Major (an educated officer with a bad leg):
Brought even more generous supplies, but demanded emotional closeness and "love" in addition to physical intimacy.
Black irony became a crucial defense against despair:
“You
cannot say that the major is raping me. Am I doing it for bacon,
butter, sugar, candles, canned meat? To some extent I am sure that is
why...”
When
her fiancé returned to Berlin and read the diary, he reacted
with indignation rather than empathy. Postwar society was unprepared to
accept that women fought for survival rather than remaining passive
victims.
Individual vs. Collective Guilt
The
diary is deeply impressive for the author’s self-criticism and
empathy. In brief moments of relative calm, the narrator thinks of
herself not only as a defenseless victim, but also as a representative
of the aggressor nation.
Reading
this diary today forces an involuntary projection onto the current
situation with Russia's war against Ukraine, raising the question of
whether repentance is possible.
The
recognition of guilt and genuine societal denazification are possible
only in the event of the aggressor's total defeat—followed by a
long and painful process of acknowledging collective moral
responsibility, as outlined by Karl Jaspers in postwar Germany.
From Marta Hillers's diary, we draw the most vital lesson: the will to live—and the readiness to rebuild life even amid utter ruins.