The Last Battle

This is historical narrative history at its finest and though first published in 1966 it has stood the test of time. Generally narrative history is not my style of presentation but it was very hard to fault the author's ability to take this reader along the journey of all the participants. Be they the military, the politicians or the civilians who were all caught up in the final drama that was the fall of Berlin this is a riveting and harrowing history told. Some of the civilian's stories of the sheer terror they suffered in this brutal final battle are heart-rending and to be frank must be read by anyone that has some sympathy to the glory that was never Nazism and the confidence trick it played on the German peoples.

Footnotes are scarce though there is a list of all the individuals that were interviewed and a very good bibliography.

Recommended to anyone with any interest in World War 2.

In the darkness, Private Willy Feldheim grasped his bulky Panzerfaust more firmly. He did not know for certain where he was, but he had heard that this line of foxholes covering the three roads in the Klosterdorf area was about eighteen miles from the front.A little while ago, waiting for the Russian tanks to come up the road, Willy had felt a sense of great adventure. He had thought about what it would be like when he saw the first tank and could finally fire the anti-tank gun for the first time. The three companies holding the crossroads had been told to let the tanks get as close as possible before firing. Willy's instructor had said that a sixty-yard range was about right. He wondered how soon they would come. Crouched in the damp foxhole, Willy thought about the days when he was a bugler. He remembered in particular one brilliant, sunshiny day in 1943 when Hitler spoke in Olympic Stadium and Willy had been among the massed buglers who had sounded the fanfare at the Führer's entrance. He would never forget the leader's words to the assembled Hitler Youth: “You are the guarantee of the future....” And the crowds had yelled “Führer Befiehl! Führer Befiehl!” It had been the most memorable day of Willy's life. On that afternoon he had known beyond doubt that the Reich had the best army, the best weapons, the best generals and, above all, the greatest leader in the world. The dream was gone in the sudden flash that illuminated the night sky. Willy peered out toward the front and now he heard again the low rumbling of the guns he had momentarily forgotten, and he felt the cold. His stomach began to ache and he wanted to cry. Fifteen-year-old Willy Feldheim was badly scared, and all the noble aims and the stirring words could not help him now.