The air-raid on the evening of the 22nd November, during which the Legation was totally destroyed, was a complete surprise. Within the space of half an hour the inner city, of which the Legation building stood on the western fringe, was a sea of flames and blinding smoke.

Alarm was given at about 7.15 p.m. I was working in the office at that time, putting the finishing touches to the October accounts, as I was expecting to be departing on leave within a few days. We had had some 'Mosquito' raids the previous week, and nobody expected that anything special was in store for us. At about 7.30 I went upstairs again, and continued with my accounts.

I should mention that at the time we had no proper air-raid cellar. Work on the bunker which was being built for us behind the house was showing signs of progress, and the stage had been reached where the entrance from the old cellar in the house was being constructed. The wall of the old cellar had been broken through on the garden side, so that the cellar had become useless. All we could do to protect ourselves against explosive bombs was to stand against the solidly built walls of the basement. I was entitled to go over to the bombproof bunker in the Governments' Guest House across the road, but I felt that it was my duty to remain in the Legation.

I had been working for about ten minutes when I heard the heavy antiaircraft guns nearby open fire, and within a few seconds the first bombs were dropped. In spite of the explosions I was not unduly worried, as nothing had ever happened in our immediate vicinity, and I was living in a feeling of security. I had time to get downstairs before any bombs were dropped near us, but it was not long before the whole house was shook by the force of a series of violent explosions which lasted for about ten minutes. The doors were blown from their hinges, furniture was smashed, and the lamps crashed down from the ceilings; in spite of this, however, the house still stood, with all walls and floors intact. As if by miracle, nobody had been injured in any way. We could see that the houses all around us were burning – and then our own misfortunes commenced.

An incendiary bomb which had fallen beside the house started a fire in the servants' refreshment room. Peikert, the messenger, and his wife and I got the fire under control and put it out for the time being. We then went upstairs and found no further sign of fire until we got up to the attic; there the smoke was so intense that we had to put on gas-masks. We succeeded in extinguishing a fire inside the attic, but found that a bedroom below had gone on fire too, and, what was worse, all the timber lying in the garden and the wooden huts on both sides of the Legation (belonging to the building contractor who was constructing the bunker) were blazing furiously. Peikert and I continued our efforts in the burning bedroom until at last our supply of water – and we had a lot of it – gave out. It became obvious then that the house was doomed, and we began to clear bed linen and other movable effects from the top floor to the floor below. We had no help from any outside quarter, as the whole district was ablaze. Then came the most bitter surprise of all: while we were upstairs endeavouring to stem the fire, and save anything we could, a phosphorous bomb had fallen on a builder's hut outside the drawing room window and in a few minutes the whole ground floor of the house was in flames, and it became dangerous for us to remain in it. Peikert and I went in again and again with gas masks, and I succeeded in rescuing one typewriter, the code book, the cash box, cheque-books and various other odds and ends. At one stage I was reported missing, but in spite of our most strenuous efforts we rescued practically nothing. I myself have lost most of my clothing and any personal property I had, including all my books and papers (except my passport).

The garage was a separate building, and fortunately I still had time to rescue my two cars after we had been forced to leave the main house. This was the only relief in a tragic evening. The atmosphere was suffocating, and we were all suffering from inflammation of the eyes, caused by the dense clouds of smoke. I was treated the next day in hospital.

I spent the first few hours of the night in the Tiergarten Park, which is just beside the house, and finally went to the Government's Guest House, which, though damaged, was still standing. The Guest House was crowded with refugees. Our whole district had been burned down, and the supplies of water, gas and electricity had ceased to function; the telephonic communications had also been destroyed.

The next morning, black in the face and unshaven as I was, I walked through the smouldering streets to the Foreign Office, which had not suffered badly. The Deputy Head of the Protocol advised me to go at once to my Ausweichquartier, emergency quarters which had been reserved for me last summer in the event of my ever being 'bombed out'. All missions made arrangements for emergency quarters after the British had introduced their 'total' methods in Hamburg.¹ Mr. Charles Mills, the best known trainer of trotting ponies in Germany, who has a stud farm at Staffelde Castle, called on me in August and offered of his own accord to place rooms at my disposal in his house at any time I should need them. Mr. Mills is an Irishman and I was very glad to accept, particularly as Staffelde is at a safe distance from the city and still not too far away; it is about one hour and a quarter's drive from Berlin.

I remained in the city for two more days, living under primitive conditions and sleeping in the bunker of the Guest House. There were heavy raids each night.

I was anxious regarding the safety of Mrs. Coyle (Mr. O'Riordan's sister) who had been staying with me, and was not at home on the fatal evening. She turned up the next day. I was also waiting for Mr. and Mrs. Cremin, who were to arrive from Vichy. The Cremins got as far as Potsdam on Thursday. They did not know that Berlin had been so heavily bombarded, and were surprised at the confusion which they found. Mr. Cremin made unsuccessful attempts to telephone or telegraph me, but there were no connections with Berlin and eventually the police placed a taxi at his disposal. Little did he think that the Legation building had been destroyed. When he arrived at the ruins in the afternoon, he found that I had left only half an hour previously for Staffelde. I had waited on till the last minute hoping that Mr. Cremin would have heard of the air-raids while he was still in Paris, and have postponed his journey. I had no means of communicating with him. Mr. Cremin then returned to Potsdam, and got in touch with me the next day (Friday) through the police. On Saturday I drove across to Potsdam and brought Mr. and Mrs. Cremin and their maid to Staffelde, where we are all fairly comfortably accommodated.

Frau Kamberg and Peikert are also here in Staffelde, so we have been able to get started on the task of establishing an office once again. The village post office can only give limited service, but I drive into the city a few times per week, according as my petrol supply permits. There is a local railway fairly near; the journey by train to Berlin is, however, complicated and uncomfortable, and takes over two hours in each direction.

Our heaviest task will commence when your next bag arrives with copies of old correspondence. The work of sorting and filing and indexing will be a severe strain on our slender resources of man-power, and I doubt whether we shall be able to get through it with any speed. At all events it is very satisfactory that I have been able to hold the staff together, particularly in that we have the uninterrupted services of Frau Kamberg at our disposal. That this is possible is due to the generosity of Mr. Mills in placing so much of his house at our disposal. Frau Kamberg's apartment in the city has not suffered too badly – comparatively speaking – and when things get more settled down I propose to open a city office there on fixed days each week; it is centrally situated, ten minutes walk from the old Legation, and is much better placed as regards the tram and omnibus services.

It is now over three weeks since the catastrophe, but life is still far from normal. Postal communications are still bad. The damage is perhaps not quite as great as one was inclined to think at first, but nevertheless destruction on a colossal scale has been caused: except in the south-west of the city, which has suffered on previous occasions, there is not a street which has not suffered to some extent. The Foreign Office has not yet been able to fulfil all the promises which it made to the diplomatic missions, the task is too great. The only Legation buildings which came through the raids with only small damage were those belonging to the Afghan, Bulgarian, Croatian and Thai missions, all of which lie outside the recognised 'Diplomatic Quarter ' in the Tiergarten district.

Before closing the report I feel that it is my duty to pay tribute to the fine courage shown by Peikert during the raid. Despite great personal danger he fought the flames to the last, even after it had became obvious that we could not save the house. At one stage he was out on the blazing roof, and I was hanging through an attic window operating a stirrup pump. We were too few people in the house, but, if it had not been for the continuous rain of incendiaries and for the phosphorous bomb which set the ground floor on fire, we possibly could have saved something.

Our immediate neighbours the Nuncio, the Hungarians, the Swedes, the Portuguese, the Rumanians, the Finns and the Slovaks suffered the same fate as ourselves. The Turkish Embassy and the Manchukuo Legation were also totally destroyed. Heavy damage was sustained by the Italian, Japanese, and Spanish Embassies, and by the Danish Legation. It was a night which the Berlin Diplomatic Corps will never forget. It is good to have come through it alive!

Nothing remains of the former Legation building except the walls.