Well, after the wonderful time in Melk, Marsha and I went to Munich for a few days...a few very short days.  Arrived Friday, late afternoon, and returning to Vienna on Monday afternoon...

Saturday, we took the local train to Dachau.

WOW!!!

Man's inhumanity to man!

It is holy ground, obviously.  Ground upon which God cried, without stop.  How could something like this have existed, and the world did nothing for so long...13 years...

We wandered the grounds, and went through the museum.  We went to the 'film' which was showing, in English.  There were moments in the film when the narrator stopped talking, and allowed the horrific pictures to tell the story!  Very powerful!!!  Even the young teenagers in front of us were enthralled, and watching every minute.  There were no sounds from the audience, and now fidgeting.  I believe everyone was transfixed. 

We toured the barricks, and the grounds.  Went to the RC Chapel, the Jewish Chapel, and then off to the furnaces.  In all of this..the only good was that the gas chambers that had been built were supposedly never used...but death came in so many other ways, that it probably didn't matter.

As we toured the holy space, I was reminded of my father.

While I realize that there is a vast difference between a Concentration Camp, such as Dachau, and a POW camp, such as where my father lived for several years, there was (to me) a strange similarity.

Your life is not your own.  Time travels at someone else's pace.  Accountability, and role call are required.  There is no freedom. 

My father never talked about his time in the POW camp, but once in a while, we got a glimpse, or a quick story.


He said that the most 'true' depiction of life in the POW camp was 'Hogan's Heros.'  He said that the guards (Schultz) were just doing their job, and wanted no trouble.  They didn't really want to know what was going on, but the alternative to working there, was working on the Front, and that was no ideal for anyone...so they stood their ground, but just marked time, as best as they could.

He also said that his 'gang' of friends were all picking through the Red Cross rations, and picking out 'stupid' things, rather than the important things, like cigarettes...It turns out they were gathering up chocolate and flour, etc, to make him a birthday cake for his 21st birthday - celebrated as a POW.  Those are friends!

For some reason, as we walked through the foundations of the barricks that used to be at Dachau, I thought ofmy father's favorite joke (or at least one of the 2 or three that I remember him ever telling).  He said, "The guard came into our barricks and said, "Men, I have good news and bad news!  The good news is that you're going to have a change of underwear, today.  The bad news is:  Bill you change with Harry.  Jim, you change with Joe..."

A rather strange thought standing in the midst of such tragedy, but I suppose that somoene had to find some humor somewhere, to make life bearable.

How in the world?

And then we left.  We took the bus back to the train station.  And along the way, we drove through the town of Dachau.  A beautiful town, with lovely shops and homes.  Children playing, and the streets lined with people.

How???

Not only "how could this have been allowed to happen?" but how could someone stay in such a town?  Always that name...always that remembrance...always that sadness...

When other tragedies have happened, it is not uncommon to raze the property, and start a garden, or a memorial...but in this case, the camp remains...such as it is.

I guess in this case, the remains tell the story, and we should never forget...never shall this happen again!

God...you are in the midst of us, and we are grateful. 

+WMK