Our Day At Sachsenhausen

One of the things that I knew I had to do during my time in Europe was visit a concentration camp. It's strange because most people can't name more than one concentration camp: Auschwitz-Birkenau. Recently, during a discussion in my Honors class of the book Survival in Auschwitz, we tried to get to the bottom of it. Personally, I feel like Auschwitz is just kind of a perfect storm in the worst possible way. It was one of the largest camps. It was both a death camp and a work camp. (By the way, not all concentration camps were death camps. Only a select few, mostly in Poland.) It is also one of the most intact camps still left to visit-- it's still tangible. And to top all of this off, it held quite a few famous names, like Primo Levi and Anne Frank. If someone had just casually mentioned the name Sachsenhausen, I wouldn't have known what they were talking about.

Sachsenhausen is just forty-five minutes by train north of Berlin. You sit on this high-tech speed train, as all German trains are, watching a beautiful countryside speed by. But, it's hard not to have this pit in your stomach. Not just because you're about to go to a concentration camp, but because if this is how you're getting there, it's probably the same train line used to transport victims.

The majority of Sachsenhausen is not intact. This is due to a combination of a few factors. Immediately following the war, the surrounding town used it's building materials to rebuild their own ruined buildings. It was also destroyed partially by the Soviet troops that liberated it.

As sparse as it is, it is surprisingly not difficult to imagine buildings where the gravel areas now demarcate them. Much of the wall that surrounds is still intact, and oddly, but appropriately enough, there is now a police academy in the old SS headquarters-- near enough to the past to remind new officers of the consequences of abusing power.

The replicas they do have could easily fool me. They are built from first hand descriptions from the survivors. There was one moment where I was left alone in the 'mess hall' area of one of the barracks. It was strange because on big tours you're almost never alone. But, there I was, standing by myself in the middle of this replica that felt so real even though I knew it was fake. I sat down at one of the benches in the center of the room and took a hard look around. I felt the weight of history on my chest. As much as I could imagine life there, in that room, it was impossible for me to do so. How could I? I was face to face with a site of intense suffering and I had no idea what to do with that. I'm still trying to figure it out as I write this.

 
It was surreal to see a crematorium in person. Even if it was half destroyed. I remember noticing some odd instruments that looked like the spatulas they use at pizzerias. It took me a moment to realize that they were for putting the bodies in. And there they were. Laying right in front of my eyes.

There are a few things from that day trip that I will never forget. Little snippets of stories. Objects. I'd like to share them with you. But I'm going to warn you that they are graphic by nature.

I saw two objects in the camp's museum. The first was a large arch. Its wood was old and twisted, and it was in extremely poor shape. It was on this arch that SS officers would hang rebellious prisoners. In one instance, they forced a fellow prisoner to hang a man who had tried to escape. It still had the hook at the top of it. The second was an interesting looking wooden contraption where a person could lay, stomach first, over the top of it and be strapped in by the ankles and wrists. It was on this object where prisoners were whipped. Many died on it. Both objects where not closed off by glass. I could have reached out and touched them if I wanted to. But, I had no desire to touch such things.

The second is a story. Sachsenhausen was more a work camp than a death camp. They had a gas chamber/shower, but it was only used once. Instead, they had a more hideous and methodical way of killing. The prisoners were told that they were going for a medical check up and were lead into what would look like an actual doctor's waiting room--green couches and everything. There was even a phonograph playing music in the corner. One at a time, the prisoners were brought into the 'doctor's office' where they were asked to open up their mouths. The SS officer disguised as a doctor needed to see their tonsils, they were told. In actuality, they were really just looking for fillings. If the prisoner had fillings, they were given a mark on their arm. After that, they were to stand to have their height measured. They did not know that the measuring instrument had a hole in it and in the next room over, SS officers would take turns shooting. The body was disposed of. The room cleaned. The process repeated.

There's not a lot of conclusions to derive from such a place, such an experience. There's not a lot of sense in tragedy like that. And I don't want to make statements that I'm not qualified to make. I merely mean to share an experience with my readers.

I guess the memory I can think of to end this post is this. As we were leaving, I turned to Emily and said something which I had been thinking all day: "It even smells weird here." She agreed, saying that she had been thinking that too. And then, at the same time, without even meaning to, we both said, "It smells like death."

I got to walk away from Sachsenhausen. But, many people did not. And for that I am very grateful.

xoxo

lauren