remembrance

I'm hoping the photos I have taken of the Dachau Concentration Camp speak louder than any words I could use to portray the somber day we visited Dachau and all the emotions we felt at learning about the truths of what really happened and seeing it with our own eyes.

The day we decided to go to Dachau, I decided to devote my thoughts to this day. Every little moment I had I thought about the people who were subjected to the cruelty that took place in Dachau and the ramifications still seen today from this horrific event. We sat across from this old man on the train. And I couldn't help but wonder what his story was... and why he was also on the train to Dachau.

Before we got on the train, an old man approached us in the train station and asked if we knew where we were going. We politely shrugged him off even though we didn't know what platform to leave from. He must have seen the Dachau directions in my hands because he said... "Follow me." After all my run-in's with creeps and beggars for some reason I trusted my instincts and followed him. He guided us straight to the platform, took my hands in his, looked me in the eyes, and said... "Thank you for coming. Thank you for seeing this. Goodbye." And he walked away. That moment will forever be etched in my memory. Maybe it's because I had heard the Germans are either ignorant of what happened, refuse to talk about it, or believe nothing ever did happen. To have an old German man approach us, lead us to the train, and thank us for going... shows the heart of those who do want us to learn, understand, and hope it to never happen again.

For those that traveled to Dachau by train, I wondered if this was their last view of the outside world.

I wondered if those entrapped inside ever looked at this same wall and dreamed about escape, freedom, and life beyond this cruel place.

On the big gate entering the camp, the words say, "Work will make you free." To think about the haunting realities that truly took place beyond these doors, the work so many died because of, and the freedom so many never saw....

The prisoners were required to stand at attention for "roll call" for miserable long amounts of time... in the cold snow, barefoot, rain, sleet.... Even dead bodies were dragged out to have an accurate count of "heads."

While there, these officials were walking around. I had no idea who they were and I didn't ask. Seeing them definitely added to the eerie feeling of what once happened there.

Two of the remaining barracks that weren't torn down.

This is the "maintenance" building where prisoners were stripped of their belongings and their rights. They were dunked in bathtubs full of harsh chemicals to "wash" them and all the men's heads were shaved with blunt razors and knives that caused pain and bleeding. They were given their prisoner clothes and each were required to strip down naked in front of the masses to change into them. This was a time of humiliation for them that can never be justified. I read a story about a woman who tried to argue with them and let her keep her wedding ring. They shot her.

Before entering the room where the prisoner's belongings were stripped of them, I couldn't help but look out this window and wonder if a girl my age had looked out this window at one time not ever being able to comprehend what was about to take place. Walking through this building was very hard for me.

Where their legal documents were taken up. Property was seized. Everything was taken from them. Even their dignity.

This was called the "whipping table."

This is an inside view of the barracks in the sleeping quarters. They were designed for 9,000 prisoners. At one point there were over 30,000 prisoners living in these conditions "fit" for only 9,000. Reading about how they slept at night made my stomach hurt. Being there in the snow and not being able to feel my toes in my boots and my fingers feeling cold, I could not even fathom having no shoes, in degrees colder than I was in at that moment, and sleeping squeezed between hundreds of other women with no blankets and barely any clothes on at all. My mind can't even wrap around some of these facts.

The guard tower in the distance always had armed soldiers with guns pointed at prisoners. Their commands were to shoot any that caused disruptions or fell out of the line of their "work." I read about an instance where a woman just walked calmly towards the guard tower just so she could be put out of her misery. And she was.

The photo below explains the liturgical vessel above.

I wondered how many prisoners gained faith or lost their faith. I wondered what went through their minds... what their conversations with others were... I wondered how many turned their backs to God and how many relied on Him for strength.

Walls, barriers, gates, wires, and fences surrounded these premises. I felt so boxed in with not many people around. It's just so hard to try and fully fathom the true events that really happened here.

Crematorium.

"But the souls of the righteous are in the hand of God, and there shall no torment touch them."

The moment this photo was taken was probably my weakest moment. We had watched a movie in the museum part of the camp and the video footage had shown that this room was the room all the dead bodies were dumped after they had died in the gas chamber. After the camp was liberated, nearby civilians who lived down the street who hadn't known the cruelties existing in this place walked into this room. At the exact spot I was standing when I took this picture, the civilian women put their heads in their hands and turned their backs to the bodies and put their faces up against the door post on the left of the picture. Seeing the graphic images and then walking in and remembering that scene playing over and over in my head really took a toll on my emotional state. Instead of thinking about the "dead bodies" I started thinking.... These aren't just bodies.... That is a little boy who loved to play with toy cars. And a mother who enjoyed making quilts with her friends. And a father with 3 children with whom he read to each night. And a cousin who enjoyed playing in the park. And an uncle who made everyone laugh at holidays. These were real life people just like you and I... and the catastrophic elimination of them as a whole caused their names and true identities to be shadowed by words like "dead bodies." It just really affected me in a way I'm not quite sure how to type even now.

"Brausebad" = "Shower"

This was another crematorium built after the first we viewed. After this one was built, 11,000 documented people were slaughtered here. More, are said to have died here but without proper documentation, 11,000 officially died here. Again, I can't quite comprehend the magnitude of what that means.

A chapel built for the "Christians."

I wasn't quite sure if I should smile in the picture or even be in this picture at all. When I was smiling, I was thinking about the power of God and how inexplainable His might is and how we, as humans, just can't understand. I can't understand why bad things happen like this. But I know that the Lord has a far greater plan for His people that we will never be able to know because we are fallen, broken, and sinful ourselves. I smiled because I know that in the end of time, Good will triumph Evil... and for that I smile. And I am not ashamed to smile for that reason.

No words.