The Day I Went to Dachau
For Those Who Don’t Know, Dachau was a Concentration Camp
I ended up living in Germany for about seven years as a young adult. Good times and bad times, just like anywhere else I have lived, but I had a horrid fascination with Nazi Germany and the horrors perpetuated by them ever since I had been a little girl. “The Diary of Anne Frank” was required reading in one of the thirteen schools I went to, and I felt so, so sorry for that little girl. You can read more about Anne Frank here.
Deciding to move to Germany was a pivotal moment for me. I had already packed a trunk to make a move to Richmond, Virginia, where I was enrolled in school. The plan was that I would eventually be a nurse. There was a two-year program at the time. I have to admit that I was nervous about this because it was also the first time I would be away from my family, likely for the entire two years and possibly for the rest of my life. At the same time, I was also enrolled at the University of Maryland, Munich campus, which would be a three-hour train trip from where my family would be stationed in Stuttgart, Germany.
Two days before the movers came to collect their belongings for the move to Germany, I decided to go with my family. Packing for me was already done; the movers took my big silver trunk. It seemed a sudden decision to me, but it ended up being a good thing all around. The reason was that I would eventually meet my husband in September of that year, just after I had turned 18 years old. We wed three years later and have been married 46 years since that time.
So, the die was cast, but I was still a bit uneasy about the move. There were reminders of the Nazis everywhere we went. Driving through the beautiful German countryside, you will see small, maybe two feet tall, black crosses set alongside the roadway. Those were signs that a concentration camp had been located nearby. We saw a lot of black crosses during the time we spent in Germany.
Dachau was the first camp to be opened in Germany in 1933. It was liberated on April 29, 1945, almost 78 years ago at the time of this writing. According to the Pittsburg Jewish Chronicle Newspaper, more than 44,000 camps were set into place by the Germans and their allies during World War II, ranging from Norway to Somalia. The Dachau concentration camp is located 50 minutes away from Munich or 35 minutes if you go by train. It would have been easy for us to take a trip there from where we were going to school in Munich. I never went.
I’m actually having a hard time writing this article.
Then, seven years later, it was time for Dennis and me to go back to the States. I looked at Dennis and said, “We’d better go to Dachau.” And so we went.
What I remember.
I remember a visitor’s center full of photographs to show you what it was like. Every day. Twelve years that camp was in operation.
The buildings were gone — all except the ovens at the back. You could see where the foundations were of the barracks. It was like standing on a huge, cemented-over football field. Except a football field is 1.3 acres, and the Dachau concentration camp is 5 acres. There was not a blade of grass anywhere. Now there is an avenue of trees between the barracks that were planted after we left.
The ovens were in the back. Even from where I was standing just after we’d gained entrance to the camp, I imagined I could still smell the flesh of the burned people. I stood there by myself, Dennis having wandered off alone, and then I doubled over. I don’t remember much after that. I sobbed. I prayed. It was horrible. It was real, and everything was hitting me at once. It’s tough right now remembering the one and only trip I made to a concentration camp.
You can see and hear testimonies from some of the survivors on the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum website. The YouTube channel History Underground has a video about the camp here.
You can go online to see the pictures. I’m not going to put one here.
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Thanks for reading.