Auschwitz I Death Camp, Poland
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Auschwitz II (Birkenau) Death Camp, Poland
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Gorgeous, lush landscape rolled past my window as the tour bus sped through the countryside. I could see my reflection in the glass window as my eyes admired the natural, idyllic beauty of rolling green hills before me. Tall trees in the distance, charming little homes speckled the expanse on either side of the bus. Fragments of unspeakable horror resided in such natural splendor. Our tour guide announced that we had arrived. I stepped off the bus and we made our way to the main reception building where we were handed ear sets and a receiver which enabled us to hear the commentary by our tour guide as we followed her. A few steps later I found myself standing in the shadow of the sign “Arbeit macht frei” (“Work Will Set You Free”) with the rays of the sun streaming through the letters cast in iron above the main gate. The ground under my feet was dusty and unpaved. I looked up. The letters wore a sinister dark shroud against the shining bright sun.
I don’t wish to launch into and describe what I saw there, as it has been documented countless times in languages the world over. I will share with you what I felt. I spent four hours taking a tour of the two camps and as I walked, and with every word that fell upon my ears and registered by sight, I felt numbed with disbelief. At every turn, in every exhibit was a testimony of lowest of the lowest depths man can succumb to alongside the heights of endurance man can scale.
It was a nice sunny day with a slight breeze blowing through as we stepped in and out of barracks and buildings which today are home to material evidence of horror unleashed by man upon man......seven tons of women’s hair shaved off their heads, children’s shoes and clothing strewn around, piles of artificial limbs and reading glasses, fabric made out of women’s hair for the SS soldiers with locks of real hair placed on the yarn in the display window, photographs, paintings, sketches and images of human suffering of the unfathomable kind are enshrined behind glass. We walked past each exhibit, paying a solemn homage to those who perished. Some coughed and cleared their throats, some wiped dry their moistened eyes as tears erupted and some couldn’t hold it in. A lump in my throat lodges itself as I revisit those images. Real people like you and me lived through it and succumbed.
What does a small child of 4 experience when it is stripped naked and suffocated until its innocent flame of life is snuffed out of its un-lived body? What must a young fellow feel when he is ordered to remove the remains of his family buried under a pile of hundreds poisoned by Zyklon B (the gas Nazi’s used to kill)? Human bones crushed and turned into fertilizers? People made to stand naked for hours, sometimes several nights, outside in brutal cold simply for being late for roll call or having taken a few extra moments relieving oneself in the toilet; clothes not washed for 6 to 8 months; women resorting to taking a shower with the tea served to them; sleeping nightly in bunk beds under a shower of human waste; 11 hours of hard physical labor daily on a diet of soup, one piece of dirty bread and water; surrendering to be specimens for experiments by a mad doctor; appearing like a 70-year old at tender age of 13; a horses’ stable fit to house 70 horses, accommodating 400 humans......just a few of the countless unbelievable atrocities.
Imagining the unimaginable which actually happened to real people renders the mind parched. I struggle to react and process and, lend it a perspective but nothing comes of it. Grief renders the brain arid. I salute the generation that lost its own and till today struggles with it. I salute those who perished as they left behind a heroic legacy of human courage and endurance while falling victim to the worst crimes subjected upon mankind.
These sites must be visited, for those who lost their lives there are deserving of our homage. It is a part of history, albeit incredibly wrenching to the mind and soul, that one must acquaint oneself with by being present there, inhale that air, touch those barbed wires, feel those cold muted walls and walk those grounds.
If you listen carefully, you might hear their cries of despair traveling with the winds in the distance;....those tall trees have stories to tell;...the earth below is still redolent with tears and blood spilled many decades ago;...that icy gallery of facial mugshots with hopeless stares and glassy eyes shimmering with fear....
“Man did this to Man”.
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