A Trip to Fort Dönhoff

Updated: 3 May 2021 | originally published 24 January 2020

Königsberg, the former East Prussian capital which preceded Kaliningrad, was heavily fortified by two formidable rings of forts and interconnecting walls punctuated with bastions and other defensive structures. Today, these forts exist in various states of repair and disrepair, some extensively damaged as a result of military action in WWII, others being cared for by people who are renting them on a lease basis.

In 2015, we learnt that one of the forts belonging to the outer belt was being meticulously restored with a view to opening it as a tourist destination. Then, as now, a good friend of ours arranged for us to visit the fort. In January 2020, we were introduced to the entrepreneur who had taken on this ambitious restoration project. We were to meet him again at Fort XI to see how things were developing.

Fort XI (Fort Dönhoff), one of Königsberg’s forts within the outer defensive ring, is currently undergoing an extensive renovation programme. Already welcoming tourists, the massive and intricate structure is being painstakingly repaired, brick by brick, wall by wall, room by room. As I said to Arthur, the man behind the plan, “You’ve done a lot since we were here last in 2015.” Said he, with more than a touch of irony, “There’s still a lot to do.”

Having turned off the main highway, you arrive at the fort after travelling down a long narrow road that opens up into the visitors carpark. At the end of WWII and until recently, the fort was requisitioned and used as a munitions and armaments store. This explains why the perimeter of the fort is ringed with barbed wire fences, coils of barbed wire and a secondary metal gate, and why there are rusting warning signs and spotlights stationed in the trees. At this point you have not entered the red-brick fort. You are not in 19^th century Königsberg, or Königsberg World War II, but atmosphere-wise you are very much back in the Cold War era.

Where’s James Bond when you need him?

Not looking at all like James Bond, any of us, our friend Venzel, Olga and I pass through the Soviet military gate, which is now on the skew and decidedly rickety. We pass a portable cabin, which, for the time being, functions as a front office, pay-desk and souvenir shop, and walk the short distance to the fort’s gate proper.

The main entrance to the fort, built, as with the rest of the structure, in Neo-Gothic form, stands a few metres away from the later entrance, the banks on one side and the flatter terrain on the other still protected with military fencing.

The two tall pillars of the entrance continue to support the original iron gates to the fortress. They are awesome in every respect, thick and heavy with hinges and handle to match. What an excellent logo they would make for border control in Britain when we finally leave the EU. Hmmm, I think I should copyright this one.

Inside the compound, immediately inside, nothing much seemed to have changed from our last visit: small building on the left, small shed-like building to the right. But this position does give the visitor a commanding view of the front of the fort: the hardstone track crossing the moat to the great arched doorway; the side walls of the fort fanning out to form the open end of a chevron.

Our host, Arthur, the fort’s lease owner, greeted us, and we walked together towards the fort entrance. As we crossed the narrow bridge, I could see immediately that repointing and cleaning work had been undertaken and that the old windows had all been replaced with wooden-framed double-glazed units. The overgrowth, and the rubbish that it contained, along both outer walls of the fort had been cleared, the grass on both sides of the footpath in front trimmed and the vegetation stripped from the moat. Arthur explained that they had managed to lower the level of the moat by one metre, which must have had a beneficial effect in combatting rising damp inside the fort.

Rare bits and rabbits

The mown grass banks that slope gently down towards the moat side contain a small profusion of little wooden houses. These were not homes for a rising population constructed on a green belt, but executive homes for rabbits. Arthur explained that they had a number of resident rabbits, curious and exotic species, half-a-dozen of which could be seen bobbing around munching the grass.

Gathering outside the entrance to the fort to discuss what had been achieved since we were here last, I observed that an outer door had been added. This new door followed the original contours of the arch. The frame was black steel, the inner criss-crossed with vertical and horizontal struts in the manner of a portcullis, the intervals between the squares infilled with double-sided, ribbed, translucent plastic. This theme, I would soon discover, had been adopted throughout the fort. The portcullis effect was highly suitable to the surroundings in which it had been employed, whilst the translucent plastic served two fortuitous purposes: letting in light whilst retaining heat.

And heat there was, not in every room and corridor, but certainly in the rooms where renovation was complete. The heating of choice, and it could hardly have been any other bearing in mind the fort’s location, is wood burners. Nothing more, except for open fire hearths, would be appropriate. The stoves have a retro-look about them and fit well into the backdrop of red-brick walls and vaulted Gothic ceilings.

We passed through two ante-chambers containing relics from World War II: munition shells, military helmets, various items of field gear all discovered either in the fort itself or in the grounds surrounding it. The walls are interspersed at regular intervals with printed and pictorial information boards depicting the history of Königsberg’s defenses, the particular fort we were in, and the RAF bombing raids and subsequent battle which saw Königsberg reduced to ruins.

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I would have liked to have lingered longer here, but Arthur was calling us into what was effectively a suite of rooms, three interconnecting chambers that flanked the main entrance which, with their tall archways and multiple vaulted ceilings, were deliciously Königsberg Gothic. In here, the wall displays and glass cabinet containing both German and Soviet firearms from WWII, were augmented with a large wall-mounted monitor on which a video of the battle for Königsberg was running. From the presence of a longish conference table, complete with modern chairs, their back supports decorated armorial style, it would appear that this room was used for business meetings and educational purposes. Arthur was particularly proud of the real wood floor which, he surmised, would have been the status quo at the time when the fort was constructed.

It was explained to us before we continued our tour, that the two front radial arms of the fort had been the soldiers’ barracks, their living quarters.

When you first visit the fort, it is hard to visualise the layout, even with the help of plans which are dotted about on large display boards. For the novice visitor and us, effectively on our second visit, the initial and lasting impression is one of being swallowed up within a vast maze of corridors and arched-roof chambers. Obviously, electric lighting has been installed, but some areas are dimmer than others and others really quite dark. For the time being, however, the route we were on was figurable. On either side of the main entrance, long corridors run the length of the fort behind a series of arched rooms, the windows of which look out over the grassed bank and moat beyond. This would have been the view that the troops stationed here from the 19^th century to the end of WWII would have had on a daily basis.

As we walked, Arthur explained that these rooms were at the forefront of the renovation process and would eventually be rented as commercial units. All of the rooms were of the same proportion, except for the first, this larger space having been arranged to accommodate parties over the festive season. The main feature herein was the huge open fireplace with its solid oak mantle beam.

A unifying theme of both the left and right sections of this area of the fort, and, indeed, throughout, was the application of the portcullis-style doors, which fitted handsomely into the original archways and were used to good effect in dividing the length of the corridors.

I asked Arthur how the entrance to each room would have been originally, and he was able to show me, as one of the rooms was being restored in order to demonstrate the original design. The arches to the front of each room had been brick to the point where the verticals curved, with a conventional door at the centre. The arched upper section would have been filled with a wooden frame and windows.

The chambers on the opposite side to the one we had first visited were a mirror image, and, once again, contained relics and artefacts associated with the history of the fort and Königsberg in general. The first room had a giant plan of the fort on one side of the wall and, on the other, a circle of ceramic plaques showing the outer circle of forts, including Fort XI, with Königsberg at their centre.

The main suite of chambers here contained a modern, but refectory-style, table, and, if I remember correctly, recently these rooms had been used for holding parties.

Fort Dönhoff Caféteria

The design of the Königsberg forts was such that both sides had been constructed to include open yards. To get to these you have to pass through big, heavy iron doors. In fact, to get to anything here it’s big heavy iron doors! The yards are sunk well-like at ground level; they are valleys, with the ramparts of the superstructure rising precipitously above them on all sides. To get to the higher levels, you need to negotiate steep stairways or grassed tracks that rise gradually, but precipitously, along a lengthy incline. These yards are fitted with outbuildings sunk into the side of the banks, the exposed portions of their roofs grassed over, as is the fort in its entirety, making it look from the rooftop more like a giant mound covered in hills and valleys than a building. We would ascend to the roof in good time, but first it had done my chilled fingers and toes a power of good to see that in the corner of the yard was the welcoming sign of a café.

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Naturally, written in Cyrillic (isn’t my Russian improving!), I was heartened to see that in keeping with the historical tenor the sign was perfectly suited. It had been written, or painted, in hand and the wooden frontage and doors below had a rough-hewn plank effect.

Inside, the accent was on basic; just as it should be. The natural stone floor and seats arranged down one side as a series of wooden box-frame units, painted to look distressed, ostracised any attempt at modernity, making for a completely inline atmosphere.

Before ordering something warm to drink, and a snack to go with it, we were advised that quality and exotic coffees were the specialities of the house, and I have to say that my choice, coffee with real ginger, was superb.

Suitably replenished, we followed our guide into a long passageway set into the side of the bank. He asked us to close our eyes and imagine this as a street, with retail units of various kinds on either side. So, I put on my architect’s head and what do you know, it worked!

Aren’t your toilets wonderful!

From this point onwards the exact route that we took becomes a little blurred. We returned to the fort interior, checked out the long, arched powder rooms, entered several narrow walkways, popped out again into the open air, this being the opposite yard where in 2015 I had been filmed by Moscow television coming out of one the historic toilet blocks and all I could think of saying was, ‘the toilets are really wonderful’, returned inside, climbed a very steep flight of steps and came out on the upper level overlooking the entrance.

At this juncture, Arthur drew our attention to various scratched inscriptions in the walls and ceilings just behind the doorway. The names and their attendant dates largely belonged to the 1950s, and it was Arthur’s opinion that they had been incised there by a succession of lonely guards who, when the fort had been employed as a munitions store in Soviet times, would have been standing here in this doorway, rifle in hand, wracked with boredom.

Our excursion was now becoming more labyrinth-like by the minute. We traced our steps, literally, to a lower level, and then climbed a spiral staircase that brought us out on the top of the fort a few yards away from the main entrance. Wooden decking had been laid here, on which there were two park benches and, looking out towards Königsberg, a pair of coin-operated binoculars raised on a metal stanchion.

Fort XI, Dönhoff, in World War II

From this point you could just make out using your own built-in optics a distant Kaliningrad. Said Arthur, “The fort garrison could clearly see from here the city of Königsberg going up in flames. The Soviet artillery was placed not much more than a metre apart and firing was so intense that some of the barrels were melting.” It was not surprising, therefore, that the morale of the German forces occupying the fort had, like the once grand city before them, disintegrated.

Not all of Königsberg’s ancient forts had been this fortunate: some saw heavy fighting during the battle for Königsberg, and some were reduced to rubble. Later, as we were walking back through the main tunnel, Arthur said with an ironic sigh, “Ahh, all this material and work ~ for nothing!” He referred to the fact that by the time Königsberg’s legendary fortifications had been completed, they were already out of date. Developments in artillery meant that the massive walls and ramparts offered little or no effective resistance and, of course, come aerial warfare they were all but perfectly redundant. The crowning irony has to be that whilst large swathes of Königsberg were wiped off the map in WWII, much of its fortifications survived the onslaught.

Back in 2020, on the grassy roof of the fort the Germans had bequeathed us, I marvelled at the garrison of chimneys marching across the skyline. Each red-brick chimney block, capped against the wind and rain, seemed to contain several flues. It was good to see one or two of them smoking. Arthur had informed us that they had undertaken assessments of all the flues in the rooms that had been earmarked for later use and all were in functionable order.

Since we were here last, in 2015, the trees, bushes and undergrowth sprouting from the roof of the fort had been done away with. It was now possible to stand on the entrance peninsular and look out over grassed areas that were not too far from golfing-green standard, except for the presence of tree stumps, and when we climbed to the highest point, and took up position at the base of the flagpole flying the Russian flag, the hills and dales of the rooftop landscape traversed with wooden walkways really was a sight to behold.

We ventured to the furthest extremity of the roof and looked out on the other side of the fort, where, extending from and behind the massy walls of the moat, more buildings were waiting among the trees to be renovated.

Machine-gun post

At this moment, we were standing next to a great slab of concrete. It protruded from the ground at not much more than calf height and contained a pillar-box split, just wide and deep enough to peer through from the inside using a pair of binoculars or through which to mount a machine gun.

Arthur took us back into the fort so that we could see what this look-out/machine-gun post was like for the men who once were stationed here.

Our route took us past a peculiar tunnel, the walls and floor of which were almost smooth, that ran at a steep diagonal downwards. Apparently, it had once been a staircase, but some kind of high-powered incendiary device had been tested there, the heat from which had been so intense that it had literally melted the brickwork. The effect could clearly be seen and touched at the farthermost point of the ceiling, where the bricks resembled petrified jelly!

We also passed some large oval iron plates in the floor. These were trapdoors, which, when opened, would have allowed ammunition to have been hoisted up from the floors below.

We made it to the machine-gun nest, the last leg of the journey necessitating a short climb up a vertical ladder. Inside it was damp and claustrophobic, but those stationed inside would have had a narrow but commanding view over the moat. With a heavy machine gun trained on them from this elevated position many lives would need to be sacrificed before the fort could be stormed at this point.

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We wended our way back from here to the lower level, where we were shown the fixtures and viewing windows to the right and left of the moat, where some kind of heavy cannons would have been trained, making any attempt to bridge the fort by boat a costly if nigh impossible one, and then we made our way back through a narrow corridor closer to the front of the fort.

I’ve never seen one as big as this before!

We had been talking about horses and stables when I thought I could smell hay and, hey presto!, at the end of the corridor in which we were standing was a room full of hay bales. Tempted to revert to my Judge Dread and Ivor Bigun upbringing, I won’t say it after all, but the occupant of this room was a large one ~ one of the biggest and most self-confident cockerels that I have ever clapped eyes on. He looked at us as if to say ‘follow me’, and led us through an open doorway onto the chilly embankment outside.

We emerged about three-quarters of the way along the moat side, which put us in Funny Bunny country. Whilst Olga conversed with the cockerel, I observed three or four species of rabbit, the likes of which I had never beheld. I won’t dwell on this too much, as I have a friend in England who cannot stand rabbits. He claims that they were introduced to England by the ‘bloody Normans’, and that this was when for England ‘it all went wrong!’.

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We had spent a splendid afternoon at Fort XI (Fort Dönhoff) and look forward to returning later in the year to see how things are progressing there. It is truly a marvelous and atmospheric place, particularly if, like me, you are only too pleased when the past catches up with you!

When you visit the Kaliningrad region, put Fort XI (Dönhoff) high on your itinerary of must-see places. I assure you, you won’t regret it!

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This article was originally posted to my blog on 24 January 2020 and revised on 4 May 2021. To preserve the historical integrity of this piece, the editorial revisions that I have made have been essentially confined to practical details, ie opening times, costs etc. For an update on Fort XI, please refer to my March 2021 post: Kaliningrad Hosts Retro Car Club Day.

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Essential details:

Fort XI Dönhoff
Ulitsa Energetikov
Kaliningrad
Kaliningrad Oblast 236034

Tel: +7 4012 39 04 61
Web: https://fortDönhoff.ru/en/

Opening times:
The fort is open every day:
Summer from 10am to 6pm; Winter from 10am to 5pm

Admission:
300 roubles
Discount tickets 150 roubles (pupils and students, retirees, veterans of the Great Patriotic War, the disabled)
Free admission for children under 7 years old

Sightseeing tours:
Tours are provided free of charge
On weekdays tours take place daily at 11am, 1pm, 3pm and 5pm
At weekends and holidays at 11am 12 noon, 1pm, 2pm, 3pm, 4pm and 5pm
Approximate duration of tour is one hour
For groups of more than 10 people, advanced booking is required. Tel: +7 401 239 0699

Fort XI Website: https://fortDönhoff.ru/en/

For more background information on Fort Dönhoff, see my later post:
https://expatkaliningrad.com/fort-xi-kaliningrad-hosts-retro-car-club-day/

Copyright © 2018-2021 Mick Hart. All rights reserved.