Königsberg Offensive Revisited

Thoughts on 9^th May Victory Day Celebrations 2002/2020

Published: 9 May 2020

9 May is an important day in the Russian calendar. It is the day when the entire Russian nation pays homage to the sacrifices made by their forbears in World War II, known in Russia as the Great Patriotic War. Each year an impressive military parade is conducted in Red Square, Moscow, and simultaneous events are held throughout the country to commemorate the 27 million Russians ~ military and civilian ~ who died in the Second World War, the highest loss of any country.

Western leaders have been snubbing the parade for years, evidently finding it far easier to rewrite history than acknowledge the inestimable contribution made and loss suffered by Soviet Russia in defeating Nazi Germany.

Whatever underlies the political motivation and projected end game of such revisionism, apart from the obvious, provocative disrespect, it is pointless speculating on as, thanks to coronavirus, the world’s events are cancelled pending further notice.

As many as 15,000 soldiers have been stood down, and so has Mick Hart. I was looking forward to the celebration this year and was contemplating a trip to Moscow, but then along came a little round thing with trumpets stuck all over it and put the mockers on that.

9th May 2002 Kaliningrad

The last time that I attended a 9th May event in Russia, I was in Kaliningrad. This was way back in the mists of time, 2002, but I remember it vividly: bright sunny day, warm, blue sky ~ perfect.

As we walked towards the park, the hub of the celebrations, the first thing that struck me was the sheer volume of people that had turned out. It was relatively early, well, around 10am, and the streets were inundated. The second observation was that the age range extended across the entire generational spectrum, from the very young to wartime veterans. Within that broad swathe of people, teenagers and young adults from 14 years old to late 20s were well represented.

The latter seemed odd to me as this was and still is distinctly not the case in England. Our equivalent of Russia’s 9^th May is V.E. Day, 8^th May. It is officially acknowledged and in the past few years the tradition of street parties has been resurrected in some places, but both it and Remembrance Day, which is held on 11^th November each year, attracts fewer and fewer young people.

I can appreciate, or at least understand, the disinterest for non-heritage youth but the sad fact remains that even legacy-UK youth have very little time, very little interest and even less respect for the sacrifices made by previous generations, let alone those that continue to be made by our serving military.

In more recent years, the very act of remembering the debt we owe to our armed forces has become a victim of a socio-political pincer movement, caught up in the machinations and fripperies of social engineering and political correctness. Pathetic spectacles of the red poppy, the traditional symbol of remembrance and peace, being burnt by dissident immigrants whilst the usual suspects on the left agitate to expunge the tradition, ostensibly on the grounds that it offends the sensibilities of certain foreign groups and sects, but really as part of a broader cultural purge, is grist to the carnival mill of neoliberal politics. But the real disrespect lies not in these sideshows, but in a cultural revisionist programme which invidiously subtexts the UK education system from primary school to university level.

Thankfully, the wind of change is blowing from various directions ~ even from a coronavirus one~ and achieving positive confluence, so perhaps there is hope for us yet?

From angst to Hallelujah in three paragraphs!

9th May Victory Day Kaliningrad

Meanwhile, back in Kaliningrad, Russia, 9 May 2002.

As we were walking Olga introduced me to two WWII veterans. The first was ex-Soviet Navy and the other Merchant Navy, and my presence at the celebration was warmly welcomed by both. Because of my involvement over the years with 1940s’ re-enactment and living history groups and through personal associations made when we ran a vintage and antique warehouse, I have been fortunate in that I have had many opportunities to meet and converse with veterans from various countries and from different services of the armed and auxiliary forces. It is 75 years since the close of the Second World War and each year the number of surviving veterans dwindle. I am grateful that I have had the chance to meet and speak to this remarkable generation before the era in which they lived and the experiences they encountered fade from living memory into history.

On our return from the war monument and park where the celebrations were being held, I would have the chance to meet more veterans, but first we went to place the flowers we had brought with us on the steps of the war monument next to one of Kaliningrad’s eternal flames.

Mick Hart at 2002 Victory Day celebrations, Kaliningrad, Russia

Placing flowers at the 1200 Guardsmen monument, 9th May 2002, Kaliningrad

Mick & Olga Hart with Russian Soldier at the 1200 Guardsmen monument

Photo-shoot opportunity with Russian soldier, 9th May Victory Day celebration, Kaliningrad, 2002

The 1200 Guardsmen monument, which was constructed a few months after Soviet troops wrested what was then Königsberg from the Germans, is arguably one of the most dynamic sculptures and wartime monuments in the city, and a fitting tribute in scale and drama to the fallen soldiers whose remains occupy the mass grave by which it stands and marks. The gas-powered eternal flame burns in front of a tall, carved obelisk. Behind and set back from the obelisk a curved wall bears the names of those who made the ultimate sacrifice in the four days of savage urban warfare which it took to take the city. At either end of the wall, on massy plinths, two figural groups of soldiers storming into battle capture the cost in death and the glory in memory of what in its entirety is a truly awesome ensemble.

Mick & Olga Hart wedding day at the 1200 Guardsmen monument. Kaliningrad

Mick & Olga Hart, Wedding Day 2001. Photograph taken at the obelisk of the 1200 Guardsmen monument, Kaliningrad

This was not my first encounter with the monument. We had been here before, on 31^st August 2001 to be precise, on the afternoon of our wedding, when, in keeping with Russian wedding tradition, we had placed flowers on the monument steps, as we were doing today.

‘Kasha’ dispensed from a mobile military unit, 9th May 2002, Kaliningrad

From here we descended the steps into the park and walked towards a row of tables at the far end, where, my wife informed me, I would be able to refresh myself with mineral water or tea. There was quite a crowd assembled in front of the tables, and, as we drew nearer, I saw in the background, two or three old Soviet mobile ‘soup kitchens’. Olga revealed that on this occasion they were serving ‘kasha’, hot porridge. My inclination was to avail myself of a glass of water or tea, as I was parched, but lo and behold, as we arrived at our destination I found that not only was there free water and free tea but also free vodka! Well, it was far too early in the day for me to say no, and besides as the friends who we were with had already helped themselves to a glass apiece, it would, to coin a phrase, have been rude not to.

Partaking of vodka at the 9th May Victory Day celebrations in Kaliningrad, 2002

It was whilst we were imbibing that my wife told one of the staff serving behind the tables that I liked the t-shirts that they were wearing. There were about six people serving in total and all had white tea shirts with a printed ink outline image of Mr Putin on the front and on the back the slogan ‘Forward with Putin’. The chap whom Olga was talking to, when he discovered that I was from England and that I liked the shirt, immediately said that I could have it and, taking it off there and then, handed it to me. I still have this shirt, which, being almost 20 years old, must have acquired collectable status. It is, after all, a piece of significant political memorabilia.

9th May Victory Day Kaliningrad. Mick & Olga Hart

Vodka gratefully received at 9th May celebrations, Kaliningrad, 2002. In the background you can just see the back of a Putin T-shirt, one of which was given to me on this day.

By the end of the day this, at that time contemporary political icon, would be joined by another, but one which represented Russia’s Soviet era.

We were making our way back from the park along the street busy with pedestrians when my attention was drawn to a group of lady veterans bedecked with medals and carrying aloft a large silk Soviet banner. Olga introduced me to them and as a token of their esteem for my attendance at the celebration that day, they presented me with a 9th May medal. This medal was home-made, constructed from cardboard with a pin back but, as with the Putin T-shirt, it is still in my possession, waiting to return home if or when coronavirus allows, along with many other personal items that I want to ship from England.

9th May Victory Day Kaliningrad., with lady veterans, 2002

Kaliningrad 9th May Victory Day celebrations 2002: Lady Veterans

Had things been different I would certainly have been in Moscow this year, and history would recall that whilst many western leaders were conspicuous for their absence, Mick Hart did his duty and was there to fly the flag!

Aaah well, “This time next year …” as Del Boy was fond of saying, and I will qualify that with another aphorism, “Hope dies last!’

Mick & Olga Hart the evening of 9th May Victory Day Kaliningrad 2002

Patriotism & Romance: Wearing my 9th May medal, Kaliningrad 2002

Königsberg 9 April 1945 / Kaliningrad 9 April 2020

Published: 12 April 2020

10:30pm: As tired as I am, and I am, I had to write this. In about one and a half hours from now, Otto Lasch, Commandant of Königsberg, sitting in his command bunker at the heart of Kaliningrad, will sign a document the contents of which will change the course of history here forever.

By now he must have been agonising over whether to give the surrender order or not, particularly since Herr Hitler had strictly forbidden him to do so and knowing that whilst further resistance was futile the grim alternative was to hand himself and what was left of his army over to the Soviets, from whom he could expect very little leniency and possibly even less humanity.

This haunting train of thought was set in motion by a chance comment from my wife, Olga, this morning, who happened to mention that today, 9 April, was the last day of the Königsberg Offensive (WWII).

I had other things planned for today, but, thought I, perhaps I should put something together for my blog to acknowledge the historic significance that today’s date has to Königsberg’s demise and Kaliningrad’s existence.

At first, I was not sure what form the essay would take and mulled various options, some quite elaborate, too elaborate. I could write, for example, from the perspective of a time traveller, which would allow me to write a dramatic account and, as a shadowy figure from the future, flit about at will from one location to another over the four-day period that the assault took place. Or, I could write the piece as if I was an on-the-spot reporter, using short, dramatic and punchy sentences (why, now that would be a change!). But what decided against these novelties was time and the need to gen up on the historical facts first. If I wanted the article to be posted on my blog by the end of the day, I would have to read, digest, select, condense and then write.

The form which my modest contribution to this awesome day took in the life and death of Kaliningrad and Königsberg respectively, worked itself out whilst I was taking notes from my readings. After all, I would be content, for the time being, to precis the salient points from the four-day invasion and epilogue it with a time-travelling postscript, enunciating the contrast between this warm, sunny and relaxing day of 9 April 2020 with the noise, mayhem, pandemonium, pain, suffering, horror, fear, bloodshed and death which characterised today’s date 75 years previously.

In the course of compiling this little work, my research tripped the switch, and, short-circuited emotionally, my imagination stole off to do some unauthorised time travelling of its own.

Apart from odd air raids by the Soviet Air Force, the real terror and horror of war began for Königsbergians in the August of 1944, when two consecutive nights of heavy bombing orchestrated by the RAF blew the guts out of the city. Why it had not occurred to me before I do not know, but the occupants of Königsberg, those who had not been blown to pieces, crushed to death or incinerated in the allied air attacks, would have eight months more of waiting, watching and fearing to do before their worst fears were to be realised.

Königsberg Offensive Revisited. Königsberg in ruins. — *Königsberg in ruins as a result of Allied bombing. (Photo credit: Dylan Mohan Gray. (Public Domain*))

As now, with the coronavirus scare, there must have been the usual suspects who were in denial or just plain blasé, but for the realists one can only imagine how the months, weeks, days, hours, minutes and seconds passed as they waited and watched for Hell to announce itself.

Königsberg 6 April 1945

Having sneaked off on its own accord, my imagination arrived in the East Prussian region on the dawn of 6 April 1945. It was sun-up and the artillery onslaught, which would last for three hours, was well underway. Then came the surge of the ground troops.

This was not something that had happened in some far flung corner of the world of which I had heard but little and to which I had never been, it had happened here, in this little corner of the world, and would have taken in and effected the district of Kaliningrad where we now lived, the streets outside these windows and the very house in which I am sitting. And now came the questions, one after the other, following in quick succession. Was there anybody living here at the time of the assault or had they perchance been fortunate enough to have fled on one of the refugee ships? If not, who were these people? What were their thoughts, their feelings, their conversations to one another? What did they hear, smell, see? How did they react? And, of course, did they survive or were they murdered?

The researching and writing part of me toiled on throughout the day, but my imagination was busy elsewhere, amongst the heavy artillery explosions, the echoing chatter of machine guns, the shouts and cries and the screams of pain, the mighty explosions, the sounds of crashing buildings. It was with the Soviet troops as they scrambled through the dust and broken masonry in a fierce endeavor to rout the enemy; it was with the German defenders, each and every one I suspect endowed with the imminence of their own cruel fate; it was here, above all, it was here ~ in this very house, within the four walls of this room, helpless in its observation of the cowering, terrified inhabitants, their own imaginations mercilessly fueled by tales of Soviet barbarity (true or false) which had been unleashed on other towns and other unfortunate victims en route to the great prize itself, Königsberg.

Königsberg Offensive Revisited. The aftermath of bombing. — *Königsberg* ~ the aftermath.
(Photo credit: *Sendker – altes Foto, Public Domain, <a href="”https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=6601474″">Link</a>*)

Historical record has it that Otto Lasch, the Commandant of Königsberg, officially surrendered to the Soviet forces in the city’s command bunker a few minutes before midnight 9 April 1945.

For the rest of my evening the two of us, the working me in 9 April 2020 and my temporarily estranged imagination in 9 April 1945, peeped into and hovered around the bunker of Otto Lasch. I looked at the computer clock, and I wrote: In about one and a half hours from now Otto Lasch, Commandant of Königsberg, sitting in his command bunker at the heart of Kaliningrad, will sign a document the contents of which will change the course of history here forever.

I did not wait up for my imagination. Longstanding association and a comprehensive understanding of all my many dualities assured me that this would not be necessary, futile even.

Suffice it to say we would meet tomorrow, when all this would be over, back in the past where it belongs ~ or so the present would have us believe …