Viola Türk

They took the tram all the way to Karl Marx Platz, eyes bulging with astonishment. They had thought there might be a few people, but not this many! Anna was beside herself. ‘Peter, I can’t believe it, the square is teeming!’

So as not to attract attention, they walked in a sort of dawdling stroll. If anyone asked them what they were doing here, they would just say they were going to buy ice-cream at the Penguin in the Alter Markt. As they pushed their way through the mass of people, they caught little snippets of talk: ‘To convert the Karl Marx Platz into a proper socialist square, the architects need complete freedom to design, the old has to make way for the new and improved!’ ‘Yuck!’ some other people called back, or: ‘It’s a disgrace!’ and ‘Barbarians!’

‘Look, Anna, do you see those people standing around everywhere? They’re up to something, aren’t they? I think they’re trying to provoke people in the crowd!’ Anna nodded as she went on, turning her head this way and that, so as not to miss any of what was going on.

‘The University was so badly damaged in the War that it’s past repair. It has to be knocked down! And if it goes, then the Church has to go as well! It’s not as if it’s great architecture!’

‘So, what the Allied bombs missed is now to be destroyed by the city fathers!’ They knew the voice. It was Andreas. Before they could run off, they had walked smack into him.

‘Are you mad? What are you doing here? Get along home, the pair of you!’

Anna mumbled something about the Penguin ice-cream bar, but she could tell Andreas wasn’t listening. He was staring at something over their heads.

His expression changed. Irritation became astonishment – or could it be fear? Anna turned to look the way Andreas was looking, to see what he saw. Police cars criss-crossed the square, lights flashing, loudspeakers squawking barely comprehensible instructions: ‘Citizens of the GDR! Leave Karl Marx Platz! This is an unlawful assembly!’ At the same time, there were cries and squeals, interspersed with loud shouts and commands. The crowd suddenly slopped to one side, everyone pushed towards the theatre. Whoever could, broke into a run, made for the Ring, the street, the station. The crowd washed towards them. Before they understood what was happening, they were surrounded by people. Some stood there weeping, one man was holding his head, blood trickling between his fingers, and yelled: ‘Run, run away, they’re using rubber truncheons!’

For a few seconds, the crush was such that Anna and Peter were pressed against Andreas. Then the people round them started to run. Anna stood there, breathing deeply. Andreas took Anna and Peter by the hands and ran off. With the unexpected move, Anna lost her balance, and fell to the ground. A burning pain in her knee. Andreas tried to pull her upright. Then his grip was broken. As she scrambled to her feet, she found herself standing in front of a policeman. With one hand he was gripping Andreas’s shoulder, with the other he twisted his hand behind his back.

‘Run!’ yelled Andreas. ‘Run away!’ Peter tugged at Anna’s sleeve, and they ran. In Anna’s head there was only one thought: The theatre! They had to get to the stage entrance.