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In Berlin, police arrested more than 200 coal thieves in one week, while citizens queued up for their meager fuel rations (see cut). In one instance, the cold brought a negative kind of relief: it halted (temporarily) the expulsion of Germans from Polish-held regions in the east. Perhaps the best example of what the cold wave meant to Europe's plain people was furnished by a refugee from that area, whose case was reported by TIME Correspondent Percy Knauth:
Frau Frieda Budde came to Berlin a year ago, went to live in a tenement at 33 Kolbergerstrasse. She never talked much to her neighbors. Her one friend was Old Man Faseler, who lived in the room next to hers. He spent most of his time in bed, fully clothed, with a cap on his head. Last week, he mumblingly related the climax of his neighbor's story: "She came home that evening frozen stiff. 'Frau Budde,' I said to her. 'You better warm your hands in hot water.' When I got her a pot of hot water, and she put her hands in, she all of a sudden fell over. 'Dear me,' I said, 'what's the matter, Frau Budde?' "
A few hours later, Frau Budde died on a red plush sofa, wrapped in a thin army blanket supplied by Faseler (she had none of her own). Dr. Elfriede Acker, who handles about 120 frostbite patients a day, reported death by freezing. For six days, Frau Budde lay on her plush sofa, while the wind whipped the brown paper that covered the windows. At last, overworked attendants removed her to an overcrowded cemetery. It was much too cold for Old Man Faseler to attend the funeral.