Alright, I think I've put off this blog post about as long as I can. It's time to sink my teeth in and just write. It's certainly not a pleasant topic, but many of you, my friends and family will never get to see the things I saw last Saturday. That was the day I visited Dachau."Arbeit Macht Frei," : Work will set you free. These are the words etched into the gate as you first enter the compound. (Interestingly enough, most of my pictures didn't turn out due to over exposure, but I hope I have enough to give you an idea of what it looks like today).
There are several impressions you get upon first entering the camp. My initial
reaction was complete breathlessness, (which I found interesting as I'm not generally an emotional person. I hadn't expected much of a reaction at all). The center square is absolutely massive stretching far into the distance only to be punctuated with a guard tower directly across from your line of sight. On Saturday the square was barren. It is filled today with white gravel that matches the sterile buildings that square it off on all sides. One can hardly imagine such a place filled with people, living skeletons dressed in rags as they stood in this, the Roll Call Square for hours on end.
The second impression, we all noted with a little unease was that the grounds were beautiful. Between the rows and rows of bunkhouses there is a center walkway, a mall if you will, lined on either side with tall cypress trees brilliance with green in the midst of the monotone colors of the camp. At first you would think, "but surely nothing like that would be original to the time," but it is. They were part of the propaganda of what the camps were "designed" to be at the start. As questions began to be raised by institutes such as the Red Cross, the Nazi's simply invited them to come have a look for themselves. The camp was then cleared of the most dangerous looking "offenders" (i.e. Communists at this time) and the cleanliness combined with greenery added a nice, hospitable effect. "My there are being well cared for!"
Dachau was the first of the camps to be opened in March 1933. At its opening, Hitler
had been in power as Reich Chancellor for a little less than two months. However, after the notorious Reichstag fire (see post from June 28) Hitler found himself granted with temporary Enabling Rights (the temporary part would soon fall away). With this power he turned with full force against his political opponents. Soon the German Parliament belonged to one party, the Nazi party. Non Nazi newspapers were being harassed into shutting down and everyone not of the Nazi party was seen as an enemy of the state. The enemy must disappear.The press release for the opening of the camp:
'All Communists and—where necessary— Reichsbanner and Social Democratic functionaries who endanger state security are to be concentrated here, as in the long run it is not possible to keep individual functionaries in the state prisons without overburdening these prisons, and on the other hand these people cannot be released because attempts have shown that they persist in their efforts to agitate and organise as soon as they are released.'
Inmates are said to lose three things upon arrival at Dachau, their possessions,
their rights, and their dignity, and they were reminded of these losses time and time again. The first night in the barracks, laying across bunks covered with straw mattresses was the coldest of all. How many lay in their beds staring at the little strip of wood over their heads: a shelf, installed to remind them only that they had nothing to put on it. Did they then remember the treasures stowed away in their bags? Pictures of family, money, clothes. What? Loss of possession shouldn't mean much, you say? Let us move on to rights: the right of self. Identity was stripped, names torn away from their owners, ancestors and families negated in the power of a simple number, a number that became the only distinguishing factor from prisoner to prisoner. Further the inmate spirals into a world where no one knows they exist, no one cares except himself. Loss of dignity came at the edge of a razor blaze, rusted and chinked sheering hair from the prisoner's body upon arrival. The truth is (and I can attest to this one) one can never feel more naked, more vulnerable than when he has no hair.
This is the real Dachau...
But the history becomes much more darker. It becomes increasingly difficult to flip through the pictures or watch the video screen, but this is the most important part of it all.
This is the real Dachau...
I thought a long time about whether or not to include my pictures, and ultimately decided I would do more damage denying them to you. This is the real Dachau, 12 years and 31,000 dead. Don't turn your back.
This is the real Dachau...
This is the real Dachau...
"Den Toten Zur Ehr Den Lebenden Zur Manhung""To remember the dead, we must warn the living."
