Dachau Quotes

Max," she said. He turned and briefly closed his eyes as the girl continued. There was once a strange, small man,"she said. Her arms were loose but her hands were fists at her side. "But there was a word shaker,too." One of the Jews on his way to Dachau had stopped walking now. He stood absolutely still as the others swerved morosely around him, leaving him completely alone. His eyes staggered, and it was so simple. The words were given across from the girl to the Jew. They climbed on to him. The next time she spoke, the questions stumbled from her mouth. Hot tears fought for room in her eyes as she would not let them out. Better to stand resolute and proud. Let the words do all of it. "Is it really you? the young man asked," she said. " Is it from your cheek that I took the seed.?" Max Vandenburg remained standing. He did not drop to his knees. People and Jews and clouds all stopped. They watched. As he stood, Max looked first at the girl and then stared directly into the sky who was wide and blue and magnificent. There were heavy beams-- planks of son-- falling randomly, wonderfully to the road. Clouds arched their backs to look behind as they started again to move on. "It's such a beautiful day," he said, and his voice was in many pieces. A great day to die. A great day to die,like this. Liesel walked at him. She was courageous enought to reach out and hold his bearded face. "Is it really you,Max?" Such a brilliant German day and its attentive crowd. He let his mouth kiss her palm. "Yes, Liesel, it's me," and he held the girl's hand in his face and cried onto her fingers. He cried as the soldiers came and a small collection of insolent Jews stood and watched.

The things I believed in dont exist any more. It's foolish to pretend that they do. Western Civilization finally went up in smoke in the chimneys at Dachau but I was too infatuated to see it. I see it now.

We try, we struggle, all the time to find words to express our love. The quality, the quantity, certain that no two people have experienced it before in the history of creation. Perhaps Catherine and Heathcliff, perhaps Romeo and Juliet, maybe Tristan and Isolde, maybe Hero and Leander, but these are just characters, make-believe. We have known each other forever, since before conception even. We remember playing together in a playpen, crossing paths at FAO Schwarz. We remember meeting in front of the Holy Temple in the days before Christ, we remember greeting each other at the Forum, at the Parthenon, on passing ships as Christopher Columbus sailed to America. We have survived pogrom together, we have died in Dachau together, we have been lynched by the Ku Klux Klan together. There has been cancer, polio, the bubonic plague, consumption, morphine addiction. We have had children together, we have been children together, we were in the womb together. Our history is so deep and wide and long, we have known each other a million years. And we don't know how to express this kind of love, this kind of feeling. I get paralyzed sometimes. One day, we are in the shower and I want to say to him, I could be submerged in sixty feet of water right now, never drowning, never even fearing drowning, knowing I would always be safe with you here, knowing that it would be ok to die as long as you are here. I want to say this but don't.

The women at Dachau knew they were about to be gassed when they pushed back the Nazi guard who wanted to die with them, saying he must live. And sang for a little while after the doors closed.

The content of your character is your choice. Day by day, what you choose, what you think, what you do—is who you become. Your integrity is your destiny … it is the light that guides your way. —HERACLITUS

Has it ever occurred to you to wonder if the history we teach our children is a lie?

Comic books, movies, radio programmes centered their entertainment around the fact of torture. With the clearest of consciences, with a patriotic intensity, children dreamed, talked, acted orgies of physical abuse. Imaginations were released to wander on a reconnaissance mission from Cavalry to Dachau. European children starved and watched their parents scheme and die. Here we grew up with toy whips. Early warning against our future leaders, the war babies.

At Dachau. We had a wonderful pool for the garrison children. It was even heated. But that was before we were transferred. Dachau was ever so much nicer than Auschwitz. But then, it was in the Reich. See my trophies there. The one in the middle, the big one. That was presented to me by the Reich Youth Leader himself, Baldur von Schirach. Let me show you my scrapbook.

Well, my dear sisters, the gospel is the good news that can free us from guilt. We know that Jesus experienced the totality of mortal existence in Gethsemane. It's our faith that he experienced everything- absolutely everything. Sometimes we don't think through the implications of that belief. We talk in great generalities about the sins of all humankind, about the suffering of the entire human family. But we don't experience pain in generalities. We experience it individually. That means he knows what it felt like when your mother died of cancer- how it was for your mother, how it still is for you. He knows what it felt like to lose the student body election. He knows that moment when the brakes locked and the car started to skid. He experienced the slave ship sailing from Ghana toward Virginia. He experienced the gas chambers at Dachau. He experienced Napalm in Vietnam. He knows about drug addiction and alcoholism. Let me go further. There is nothing you have experienced as a woman that he does not also know and recognize. On a profound level, he understands the hunger to hold your baby that sustains you through pregnancy. He understands both the physical pain of giving birth and the immense joy. He knows about PMS and cramps and menopause. He understands about rape and infertility and abortion. His last recorded words to his disciples were, "And, lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world." (Matthew 28:20) He understands your mother-pain when your five-year-old leaves for kindergarten, when a bully picks on your fifth-grader, when your daughter calls to say that the new baby has Down syndrome. He knows your mother-rage when a trusted babysitter sexually abuses your two-year-old, when someone gives your thirteen-year-old drugs, when someone seduces your seventeen-year-old. He knows the pain you live with when you come home to a quiet apartment where the only children are visitors, when you hear that your former husband and his new wife were sealed in the temple last week, when your fiftieth wedding anniversary rolls around and your husband has been dead for two years. He knows all that. He's been there. He's been lower than all that. He's not waiting for us to be perfect. Perfect people don't need a Savior. He came to save his people in their imperfections. He is the Lord of the living, and the living make mistakes. He's not embarrassed by us, angry at us, or shocked. He wants us in our brokenness, in our unhappiness, in our guilt and our grief. You know that people who live above a certain latitude and experience very long winter nights can become depressed and even suicidal, because something in our bodies requires whole spectrum light for a certain number of hours a day. Our spiritual requirement for light is just as desperate and as deep as our physical need for light. Jesus is the light of the world. We know that this world is a dark place sometimes, but we need not walk in darkness. The people who sit in darkness have seen a great light, and the people who walk in darkness can have a bright companion. We need him, and He is ready to come to us, if we'll open the door and let him.

Contemplation in the age of Auschwitz and Dachau, Solovky and Karaganda is something darker and more fearsome than contemplation in the age of the Church Fathers. For that very reason, the urge to seek a path of spiritual light can be a subtle temptation to sin. It certainly is sin if it means a frank rejection of the burden of our age, an escape into unreality and spiritual illusion, so as not to share the misery of other men.

He looked up to the tall spruce trees and noticed an eerie silence envelope the camp. Not a bird sang when the gates to Dachau opened. It seemed an evil-smelling place, and the dreary surroundings befitted this wicked establishment.

As an SS officer said to the guards at Dachau: “Any of the comrades who can’t see blood should resign. The more of these bastards go down, the fewer of them we’ll have to feed.”4

And maps can really point to places Where life is evil now: Nanking; Dachau. —WILLIAM C. KIRBY, Professor of Modern Chinese History and Chairman of the Department of History,

And maps can really point to places Where life is evil now: Nanking. Dachau.

Thomas Merton writes that if we have meditated on the events of the Passion but have not meditated on Dachau and Auschwitz, our perception of God at work in present times is incomplete.

Our goal was Munich in Bavaria in southern Germany, the town where Hitler had gotten his start in a beer hall. But on the way, we made a stop to liberate the concentration camp at Dachau.

The name came from the fact that prisoners could be “concentrated” in a group and held under protective custody following Nazi law. Quickly, this changed. Himmler made concentration camps “legally independent administrative units outside the penal code and the ordinary law.” Dachau

[...]finché non siamo arrivati al cancello, al, al cancello, ho visto un treno e binari. Ma non un treno come ho visto quando arrivavo qui a Dachau, ma un treno con...per passeggeri, per gente [cane guaisce in sottofondo]. Non per, ehm, per cani o per ehm, cavalli. Ma questo, questo non può essere per noi, forse Gestapo arriva anche. No...il treno era per noi! E lì, prima di entrare su treno, tutti ricevevano una scatola. Una scatola da Croce rossa svizzera, e io l'ho acchiappata, e sono entrato su treno. Ho aperto la scatola; c'era molte cose, qualche sigaretta, un pezzo di pane, un pezzo di cioccolata. Marmellata. Oh, era un grande, grande tesoro per me. E questo, e il treno ha cominciato a muoversi. Un treno...la prima volta che entravo in un treno dove sta la gente. Persone viventi. E il treno ci ha preso; siamo andati per qualche giorno, non ricordo quanto, mi sentivo molto male, qualche volta un poco meglio, ma questo mi aiutava, quello che avevo. Ma io...dovevamo stare molto attenti; di notte potevo dormire, ma non dormivo per causa del mio tesoro quale avevo. Perché rubavano. Altra gente finiva tutto in una notte, o in un giorno, così non avevano; hanno rubato ad altri. Io stavo sdraiato sopra e tenevo. E qualche volta di notte acchiappavo qualcuno che voleva rubare il mio, il mio tesoro. Certo, se avevo molto più da dormir, mi sentirei molto meglio. Ma non potevo dormire, perché questo era più per me che dormire. Sapevo che con questo posso sopravvivere. Metamaus, Art Spiegelman

In answer to 'But violence hasn't solved anything!' The hell it hasn't. The application of violence - of killing and a willingness to be killed - on a massive scale is responsible for a lot of solutions. The most recent mass application of violence liberated Kuwait. The most recent mass application of violence on a global scale alone cleansed the world of the Third Reich. Nonviolence and passive resistance did less than nothing to stop Hitler and his henchmen. The Atlantic slave trade wasn't stopped by 'dialogue' or 'passive resistance' or conferences, but by the opened gunports of the Royal Navy; Dachau and Chang-I weren't liberated with pamphlets.

During the whole of the fucking Middle Ages, the place where they had it off most of all was the cemeteries!...people don't face up these odd little sides of things, leave a lot of naughty little facts in the dark out of human decency! A mistake! wrong!...human decency never holds up!...with me it's my enemas! the toilet! after two weeks without an enema I have nothing against dying...and they give it to me so hot that I scream... --And in Claunau? [i.e. Dachau] --You're right, you're right! I whimper, but I'm spoiled! but were you there, in Claunau?...My ass you were! doesn't stop you from screeching your fucking lungs out as if you were the first one in and the last one out!

Buchenwald and Dachau had knocked him crooked, and he’d never been really straight afterward. Yet he had done his best in small ways—volunteering in the city’s soup kitchen, working with kids from homes that were poor, broken, or both—to straighten some things. He still thought things like that mattered; even two bits in a bum’s upturned hat mattered.

Dachau: A Chronicle,

But ideas can be true although men die, And we can watch a thousand faces Made active by one lie: And maps can really point to places Where life is evil now: Nanking; Dachau.

They were going to Dachau, to cencentrate.

the Jews were marching through Molching. They were going to Dachau, to concentrate.

Himmler offered Blome a medical block at a concentration camp like Dachau where he could complete this work. Blome said he told Himmler he was aware of “strong objections in certain circles” to using humans in experimental vaccine trials. Himmler told Blome that experimenting on humans was necessary in the war effort. To refuse was “the equivalent of treason.

I explained to him how, if God has created man with free will, He has to leave a back door open for unbelief despite all His revelations of Himself. For if He showed Himself to us too clearly, He would force us to believe and thus, having given us freedom with one hand, take it away with the other.

Curl moaned. Mattie rocked. Propelled by the sound, Mattie rocked her out of that bed, out of that room, into a blue vastness just underneath the sun and above time. She rocked her over Aegean seas so clean they shine like crystal, so clear the fresh blood of sacrificed babies torn from their mothers arms and given to Neptune could be seen like pink froth on the water. She rocked her on and on, past Dachau, where soul-gutted Jewish mothers swept their children's entrails off laboratory floors. They flew past the spilled brains of Senegalese infants whose mothers had dashed them on the wooden sides of slave ships. And she rocked on. She rocked her into her childhood and let her see murdered dreams. And she rocked her back, back into the womb, to the nadir of her hurt, and they found it-a slight silver splinter, embedded just below the surface of her skin. And Mattie rocked and pulled-and the splinter gave way, but its roots were deep, gigantic, ragged, and they tore up flesh with bits of fat and muscle tissue clinging to them. They left a huge hole, which was already starting to pus over, but Mattie was satisfied. It would heal.

By early 1937, the Nazi state could be likened to an atomic structure. The nucleus was Hitler, surrounded by successive rings of henchmen. The innermost ring was Göring, Himmler and Goebbels, privy to his less secret ambitions and the means he was proposing to employ to realize them. In the outer rings were the ministers, commanders-in-chief and diplomats, each aware of only a small sector of the plans radiating from the nucleus. Beyond them was the German people. The whole structure was bound by the forces of the police state – by the fear of the wiretap, the letter censors, the Gestapo and ultimately the short, sharp corrective spells provided by Himmler's renowned establishments at Dachau and elsewhere.

The world is not a bad place, it is a pity to have to die. But, of course, it is only a good place for a very few people. Think of Dachau, think of China, and Czechoslovakia and Spain. Think of the distressed areas. We must die now, and there must be a new world.

The outcome was clear to Dodd well before the votes were counted. He wrote to Roosevelt, “The election here is a farce.” Nothing indicated this more clearly than the vote within the camp at Dachau: 2,154 of 2,242 prisoners—96 percent—voted in favor of Hitler’s government. On

We're brought up to expect a happy ending. But there are no happy endings. There's only death waiting for us. We find love and happiness, and it's snatched away from us without rhyme or reason. We're on a deserted space ship careening mindlessly among the stars. The world is Dachau, and we're all Jews.

People think I am being modest when I tell them I know absolutely nothing about art. But if they show me a piece of student work, I won't have the slightest idea whether it's art or even "good". What I do know is whether such things hang or stand in the houses of the rich - or in the museums where the rich allow their treasures to be seen. And when people understand this, they'll instantly agree with what I said in the first place, that I know absolutely nothing about art.

All you had to do was take a visit to Dachau or Auschwitz or Srebrenica to see what kind of monsters humans could be. Humanity had always been brutally selfish; one slip, trip and fall away from lynch-mob violence, from downright evil. It wouldn’t take much of a breakdown in society to push them all across that line.

And so now, today, one cannot think of the greats—Kant, Hegel, Spinoza, Marx, Fichte, Freud, Nietzsche, Einstein, Schopenhauer, Leibniz, Schelling—the whole Germanic sphere—without thinking, at some point, of Auschwitz and Treblinka, Sobibor and Dachau, Bergen-Belsen and Chelmno. My God, they have names, as if they were human.

In the summer of 1949, Borman was one of a select few cadets to tour postwar Germany. For him, the biggest impression came at the Nazi concentration camp at Dachau...The trip sickened and saddened him, and it reinforced his certainty that America was a force for good in the world, a country that stepped up to help suffering people and defend freedom.

Indeed, good leaders were often good actors, able to convince their men if not themselves that they would somehow prevail.

Here we are, a quarter of a century later,” declared Clark, “with the same Allies as before, fighting the same mad dogs that were let loose in 1918.” Clark

THE MANY FACES OF SURVIVAL Sunday, August 10th at 2:00 PST Dachau Liberator, medical whistle-blower, award winning writer, college professor and world renowned garlic farmer, Chester Aaron, talks about the hard choices he’s had to make, why he made them, and how it’s changed his life. Mr. Aaron was recognized by the National Endowment for the Arts, and received the Huntington Hartford Foundation fellowship which was chaired by Aldous Huxley and Tomas Mann. He also inspired Ralph Nader to expose the over-radiation of blacks in American hospitals. Now Mr. Aaron is a world-renowned garlic farmer who spends his days writing about the liberation of Dachau. He is 86 years old and he has a thousand stories to tell. Although he has published over 17 books, he is still writing more and looks forward to publishing again soon.

His only realistic hope of survival was to order his own artillery to fire on his positions to stall the German attack. Some of his own men might be killed, but “pulling the chain,” as it was called, was his only option.

CHARLIE (Intently) You hate all white men, don’t you, Matoseh? TSHEMBE (A burst of laughter. Casting his eyes up) Oh, dear God, why? (He crosses down and away) Why do you all need it so?! This absolute lo-o-onging for my hatred! (A sad smile plays across his lips) I shall be honest with you, Mr. Morris. I do not “hate” all white men—but I desperately wish that I did. It would make everything infinitely easier! But I am afraid that, among other things, I have seen the slums of Liverpool and Dublin and the caves above Naples. I have seen Dachau and Anne Frank’s attic in Amsterdam. I have seen too many raw-knuckled Frenchmen coming out of the Metro at dawn and too many hungry Italian children to believe that those who raided Africa for three centuries ever “loved” the white race either. I would like to be simple-minded for you, but—(Turning these eyes that have “seen” up to the other with a smile)—I cannot. I have—(He touches his brow)—seen.

Max," she said. He turned and briefly closed his eyes as the girl continued. "There was once a strange, small man," she said. Her arms were loose but her hands were fists at her side. "But there was a word shaker, too." One of the Jews on his way to Dachau had stopped walking now. He stood absolutely still as the others swerved morosely around him, leaving him completely alone. His eyes staggered and it was so simple. The words were given across from the girl to the Jew.

Munich before we reached a small town called Dachau. Of course, I knew my closest friend was Jewish, but I only thought of him as a classmate, and we never quarrelled about anything except who should open the batting for Yorkshire. And when Ben once told me that his grandmother kept a packed suitcase by the front door, I had no idea what he was talking about. When the bus came to a halt outside the entrance of the concentration camp, we all got off in an uneasy silence and stared up at the uninviting rusty gates. I

A group of ten prisoners from Dachau, I was with them, we hid in the forest to wait for the Americans. The Germans had already left everything behind. We had food but no weapons. For days we could hear bombs exploding around us. We just wanted to survive long enough for the Americans to control the territory. We didn’t want to die. At that point, our prison uniforms were the only things to keep us from being shot on the spot by the Americans. That was all we had. Who would the Americans believe? Real prisoners or guards dressed as prisoners? Those devils might even say we were the Germans. This was our nightmare.

he listened carefully to all the men were saying in the other room. He was stunned by how rapidly it seemed the Reich was rushing toward another European war. He was sympathetic to his uncle’s argument that they should all leave Germany soon. And he was deeply dismayed that his father refused to see the handwriting on the wall and what it bespoke of the fate of Germany and its Jews. “Reuben, have you ever heard of the Dachau camp?” Avi asked one night. “No,” Jacob heard his father say. “Buchenwald?” “No.” “Sachsenhausen?” Avi pressed. “No, why?” “That’s where they’ve been sent, all of them.” “Who?” “The Jews.” “What Jews?” “The thirty thousand they arrested during Kristallnacht.

But Hans Beimler survived Dachau, escaping certain death just hours before the SS ultimatum expired. With the help of two rogue SS men, apparently, he squeezed through the small window high up in his cell, passed the barbed wire and electric fence around the camp, and disappeared into the night.7 After Private Steinbrenner unlocked Beimler’s cell early the next morning, on May 9, 1933, and found it empty, the SS went wild. Sirens sounded across the grounds as all available SS men turned the camp upside down. Steinbrenner battered two Communist inmates who had spent the night in the cells adjacent to Beimler, shouting: “Just you wait, you wretched dogs, you’ll tell me [where Beimler is].” One of them was executed soon after.8 Outside, a huge manhunt got under way. Planes circled near the camp, “Wanted” posters went up at railway stations, police raids hit Munich, and the newspapers, which had earlier crowed about Beimler’s arrest, announced a reward for recapturing the “famous Communist leader,” who was described as clean-shaven, with short-cropped hair and unusually large jug ears.9 Despite all their efforts, Beimler evaded his hunters. After recuperating in a safe house in Munich, he was spirited away in June 1933 by the Communist underground to Berlin and then, in the following month, escaped over the border to Czechoslovakia, from where he sent a postcard to Dachau telling the SS men to “kiss my ass.

On Good Friday last year the SS found some pretext to punish 60 priests with an hour on "the tree." That is the mildest camp punishment. They tie a man's hands together behind his back, palms facing out and fingers pointing backward. Then they turn his hands inwards, tie a chain around his wrists and hoist him up by it. His own wight twists his joints and pulls them apart...Several of the priest who were hung up last year never recovered and died. If you don't have a strong heart, you don't survive it. Many have a permanently crippled hand.

Ceil moaned. Mattie rocked. Propelled by the sound, Mattie rocked her out of that bed, out of that room, into a blue vastness just underneath the sun and above time. She rocked her over Aegean seas so clean they shine like crystal, so clear the fresh blood of sacrificed babies torn from their mothers arms and given to Neptune could be seen like pink froth on the water. She rocked her on and on, past Dachau, where soul-gutted Jewish mothers swept their children's entrails off laboratory floors. They flew past the spilled brains of Senegalese infants whose mothers had dashed them on the wooden sides of slave ships. And she rocked on. She rocked her into her childhood and let her see murdered dreams. And she rocked her back, back into the womb, to the nadir of her hurt, and they found it-a slight silver splinter, embedded just below the surface of her skin. And Mattie rocked and pulled-and the splinter gave way, but its roots were deep, gigantic, ragged, and they tore up flesh with bits of fat and muscle tissue clinging to them. They left a huge hole, which was already starting to pus over, but Mattie was satisfied. It would heal.

The first days of January 1942 brought enormous amounts of snow. The reader already knows what snow meant for the clergy. But this time the torture surpassed the bounds of the endurable. At the same time the thermometer hovered between 5 and 15 degrees below zero. From morning till night we scraped, shoveled, and pushed wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow of snow to the brook. The work detail consisted of more than 1,000 clergymen, forced to keep moving by SS men and Capos who kicked us and beat us with truncheons. We had to make rounds with the wheelbarrows from the assembly square to the brook and back. Not a moment of rest was allowed, and much of the time we were forced to run. At one point I tripped over my barrow and fell, and it took me a while to get up again. An SS man dashed over and ordered me to turn with the full load. He ran beside me, beating me constantly with a leather strap. When I got to the brook I was not allowed to dump out the heavy snow, but had to make a second complete round with it instead. When the guard finally went off and I tried to let go of the wheelbarrow, I found that one of my hands was frozen fast to it. I had to blow on it with warm breath to get it free.

Ya no, ya no, ya no me sirves, zapato negro, en el cual he vivido como un pie durante treinta años, pobre y blanca, sin atreverme apenas a respirar o hacer achís. Papi: he tenido que matarte. Te moriste antes de que me diera tiempo… Pesado como el mármol, bolsa llena de Dios, lívida estatua con un dedo del pie gris, del tamaño de una foca de San Francisco. Y la cabeza en el Atlántico extravagante en que se vierte el verde legumbre sobre el azul en aguas del hermoso Nauset. Solía rezar para recuperarte. Ach, du. En la lengua alemana, en la localidad polaca apisonada por el rodillo de guerras y más guerras. Pero el nombre del pueblo es corriente. Mi amigo polaco dice que hay una o dos docenas. De modo que nunca supe distinguir dónde pusiste tu pie, tus raíces: nunca me pude dirigir a ti. La lengua se me pegaba a la mandíbula. Se me pegaba a un cepo de alambre de púas. Ich, ich, ich, ich, apenas lograba hablar: Creía verte en todos los alemanes. Y el lenguaje obsceno, una locomotora, una locomotora que me apartaba con desdén, como a un judío. Judío que va hacia Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen. Empecé a hablar como los judíos. Creo que podría ser judía yo misma. Las nieves del Tirol, la clara cerveza de Viena, no son ni muy puras ni muy auténticas. Con mi abuela gitana y mi suerte rara y mis naipes de Tarot, y mis naipes de Tarot, podría ser algo judía. Siempre te tuve miedo, con tu Luftwaffe, tu jerga pomposa y tu recortado bigote y tus ojos arios, azul brillante. Hombre-panzer, hombre-panzer: oh Tú... No Dios, sino un esvástica tan negra, que por ella no hay cielo que se abra paso. Cada mujer adora a un fascista, con la bota en la cara; el bruto, el bruto corazón de un bruto como tú. Estás de pie junto a la pizarra, papi, en el retrato tuyo que tengo, un hoyo en la barbilla en lugar de en el pie, pero no por ello menos diablo, no menos el hombre negro que me partió de un mordisco el bonito corazón en dos. Tenía yo diez años cuando te enterraron. A los veinte traté de morir para volver, volver, volver a ti. Supuse que con los huesos bastaría. Pero me sacaron de la tumba, y me recompusieron con pegamento. Y entonces supe lo que había que hacer. Saqué de ti un modelo, un hombre de negro con aire de Meinkampf, e inclinación al potro y al garrote. Y dije sí quiero, sí quiero. De modo, papi, que por fin he terminado. El teléfono negro está desconectado de raíz, las voces no logran que críe lombrices. Si ya he matado a un hombre, que sean dos: el vampiro que dijo ser tú y me estuvo bebiendo la sangre durante un año, siete años, si quieres saberlo. Ya puedes descansar, papi. Hay una estaca en tu negro y grasiento corazón, y a la gente del pueblo nunca le gustaste. Bailan y patalean encima de ti. Siempre supieron que eras tú. Papi, papi, hijo de puta, estoy acabada.

Bavaria, May 8, 1945. While civilians embraced...and took to the streets around the globe...many infantrymen in Europe, brutalized and broken, sat alone with their grief or paced their rest areas in mournful silence. "There is V-E Day without, but no peace within," wrote the war's most decorated infantryman, Audie Murphy..."People were damaged," remembered Thunderbird Guy Prestia. "It was like we'd been in a car crash. There was trauma. It takes a while to get over that."..."There was great relief," recalled [Lieutenant Colonel Felix] Sparks, "but no celebrations."....It was hard to believe, hard to accept that the killing and dying were finally over. There would be no more Anzios, Salernos, or Reipertswillers. Finally, after the death of 135,576 young Americans, Europe was free.

In September 1999, the Department of Justice succeeded in denaturalizing 63 participants in Nazi acts of persecution; and in removing 52 such individuals from this country. This appears to be but a small portion of those who actually were brought here by our own government. A 1999 report to the Senate and the House said "that between 1945 and 1955, 765 scientists, engineers, and technicians were brought to the United States under Overcast, Paperclip, and similar programs. It has been estimated that at least half, and perhaps as many as 80 percent of all the imported specialists were former Nazi Party members." A number of these scientists were recruited to work for the Air Force's School of Aviation Medicine (SAM) at Brooks Air Force Base in Texas, where dozens of human radiation experiments were conducted during the Cold War. Among them were flash-blindness studies in connection with atomic weapons tests and data gathering for total-body irradiation studies conducted in Houston. The experiments for which Nazi investigators were tried included many related to aviation research. Hubertus Strughold, called "the father of space medicine," had a long career at the SAM, including the recruitment of other Paperclip scientists in Germany. On September 24, 1995 the Jewish Telegraphic Agency reported that as head of Nazi Germany's Air Force Institute for Aviation Medicine, Strughold particpated in a 1942 conference that discussed "experiments" on human beings. The experiments included subjecting Dachau concentration camp inmates to torture and death. The Edgewood Arsenal of the Army's Chemical Corps as well as other military research sites recruited these scientists with backgrounds in aeromedicine, radiobiology, and opthamology. Edgewood Arsenal, Maryland ended up conducting experiments on more than seven thousand American soldiers. Using Auschwitz experiments as a guide, they conducted the same type of poison gas experiments that had been done in the secret I.G. Farben laboratories.

The attempt to develop a sense of humor and to see things in a humorous light is some kind of a trick learned while mastering the art of living. Yet it is possible to practice the art of living even in a concentration camp, although suffering is omnipresent. To draw an analogy: a man’s suffering is similar to the behavior of gas. If a certain quantity of gas is pumped into an empty chamber, it will fill the chamber completely and evenly, no matter how big the chamber. Thus suffering completely fills the human soul and conscious mind, no matter whether the suffering is great or little. Therefore the “size” of human suffering is absolutely relative. It also follows that a very trifling thing can cause the greatest of joys. Take as an example something that happened on our journey from Auschwitz to the camp affiliated with Dachau. We had all been afraid that our transport was heading for the Mauthausen camp. We became more and more tense as we approached a certain bridge over the Danube which the train would have to cross to reach Mauthausen, according to the statement of experienced traveling companions. Those who have never seen anything similar cannot possibly imagine the dance of joy performed in the carriage by the prisoners when they saw that our transport was not crossing the bridge and was instead heading “only” for Dachau. And again, what happened on our arrival in that camp, after a journey lasting two days and three nights? There had not been enough room for everybody to crouch on the floor of the carriage at the same time. The majority of us had to stand all the way, while a few took turns at squatting on the scanty straw which was soaked with human urine. When we arrived the first important news that we heard from older prisoners was that this comparatively small camp (its population was 2,500) had no “oven,” no crematorium, no gas! That meant that a person who had become a “Moslem” could not be taken straight to the gas chamber, but would have to wait until a so-called “sick convoy” had been arranged to return to Auschwitz. This joyful surprise put us all in a good mood. The wish of the senior warden of our hut in Auschwitz had come true: we had come, as quickly as possible, to a camp which did not have a “chimney”—unlike Auschwitz. We laughed and cracked jokes in spite of, and during, all we had to go through in the next few hours.

Before the twentieth century, ideology - as opposed to religion - did not kill people by the millions and tens of millions. The stakes were not thought to be worth it. Such enthusiasm for mass murder awaited the combination of aristocratic militarism, really-existing socialism, and fascism. Thus it was only in the twentieth century that utopian aspirations about how the economy should be organized led nations and global movements to build dystopias to try to bring the utopian future closer. And then they turned around and justified the dystopia: compromises must be made, and this is as good as it is going to get. My view is that too much mental and historical energy has been spent parsing differences between movements that are justly classified as dystopian, and even totalitarian, in aspiration. Time spent on such a task is time wasted, given their commonalities - if not in formal doctrine, then at least in modes of operation. The guards of Auschwitz, Majdanek, Treblinka, Dachau, and the rest were very like the guards of the Gulag Archipelago. Rather, mental and historical energy should be focused on where these movements got their energy. Why was the world unable to offer people a society in which they could live good lives? Why was a total reconfiguration necessary? Karl Polanyi saw fascism and socialism as reactions against the market society's inability or unwillingness to satisfy people's Polanyian rights. It could not guarantee them a comfortable community in which to live because the use to which land was put had to pass a profitability test. It could not offer them an income commensurate with what they deserved because the wage paid to their occupation had to pass a profitability test. And it could not offer them stable employment because the financing to support whatever value chain they were embedded in also had to pass a profitability test. These failures all gave energy to the thought that there needed to be a fundamental reconfiguration of economy and society that would respect people's Polanyian rights. And the hope of millions was that fascism and really-existing socialism would do so. Instead, both turned out to erase, in brutal and absolute ways, people's rights, and people's lives, by the millions. So why were people so gullible? The German socialist Rosa Luxemburg in 1919 could see the path Lenin was embarked upon and called it 'a brutalization of public life: attempted assassinations, shooting of hostages, etc.' The German liberal Max Weber, writing in 1918, could also foresee what would become of Lenin's sociological experiment, saying it would end 'in a laboratory with heaps of human corpses.' Similarly, the British diplomat Eric Phipps wrote in 1935 that if Britain were to take Hitler's Mein Kampf seriously and literally, 'we should logically be bound to adopt the policy of a "preventive" war.' The dangers of a fascist turn were clear. The unlikelihood of success at even slouching toward a good society of those who took that turn ought to have been obvious. Utopian faith is a helluva drug.

The imprint of Dachau branded me indelibly and caused me to suffer the miscarriage of my hopeful philosophy. If man was good, then Dachau could never have happened. Simple as that.

It was not until 1953, however, that a residents’ building cooperative managed to construct enough dwelling units to enable most of the original camp cohort to leave. Their places were taken by more recent arrivals from Czechoslovakia, the remnants of the German minority allowed to stay in 1948 by the Prague government, so the final closure of Dachau as an ethnic German housing facility took place only in 1965.

the final closure of Dachau as an ethnic German housing facility took place only in 1965.

In September 1999, the Department of Justice succeeded in denaturalizing 63 participants in Nazi acts of persecution; and in removing 52 such individuals from this country. This appears to be but a small portion of those who actually were brought here by our own government. A 1999 report to the Senate and the House said "that between 1945 and 1955, 765 scientists, engineers, and technicians were brought to the United States under Overcast, Paperclip, and similar programs. It has been estimated that at least half, and perhaps as many as 80 percent of all the imported specialists were former Nazi Party members." A number of these scientist were recruited to work for the Air Force's School of Aviation Medicine (SAM) at Brooks Air Force Base in Texas, where dozens of human radiation experiments were conducted during the Cold War. Among them were flash-blindness studies in connection with atomic weapons tests and data gathering for total-body irradiation studies conducted in Houston. The experiments for which Nazi investigators were tried included many related to aviation research. Hubertus Strughold, called "the father of space medicine," had a long career at the SAM, including the recruitment of other Paperclip scientists in Germany. On September 24, 1995 the Jewish Telegraphic Agency reported that as head of Nazi Germany's Air Force Institute for Aviation Medicine, Strughold particpated in a 1942 conference that discussed "experiments" on human beings. The experiments included subjecting Dachau concentration camp inmates to torture and death. The Edgewood Arsenal of the Army's Chemical Corps as well as other military research sites recruited these scientists with backgrounds in aeromedicine, radiobiology, and opthamology. Edgewood Arsenal, Maryland ended up conducting experiments on more than seven thousand American soldiers. Using Auschwitz experiments as a guide, they conducted the same type of poison gas experiments that had been done in the secret I.G. Farben laboratories.

Some of my family were persecuted by Hitler, a few, a pitiful few. My uncle, a priest, was martyred in Dachau. But most of my relatives were complacent, asleep, or frightened.

Slightly further afield, you will find Baroque palaces such as Nymphenberg and Schlossheim, with wonderful parks and art galleries. On a slightly darker note, Dachau Concentration Camp is around 10 miles from town. Trains go there from Munich’s main train station every ten minutes and the journey takes less than 15 minutes. Transport in Munich is well organised with a network of trains – S‐Bahn is the suburban rail; U‐Bahn is underground and there are trams and buses. The S‐Bahn connects Munich Airport with the city at frequent intervals depending on the time of day or night. Munich is especially busy during Oktoberfest, a beer festival that began in the 19th century to celebrate a royal wedding, and also in the Christmas market season, which runs from late November to Christmas Eve. Expect wooden toys and ornaments, cakes and Gluwien. The hot mulled wine stands require a deposit for each mug. This means that locals stand chatting at the stalls while drinking. As a result, the solo traveller is never alone. The downside of Munich is that it is a commercial city, one that works hard and sometimes has little patience for tourists. Natives of Munich also have a reputation for being a little snobbish and very brand conscious. To read: The Book Thief by Markus Zusak. Narrated by death himself, this novel tells of a little girl sent to a foster family in 1939. She reads The Grave Diggers Handbook each evening with her foster father and, as her love of reading grows, she steals a book from a Nazi book burning. From this, her renegade life begins.

My feelings about men are the result of my experience. I have little sympathy for them. Like a Jew just released from Dachau, I watch the handsome young Nazi soldier fall writhing to the ground with a bullet in his stomach and I look briefly and walk on. I don't even need to shrug. I simply don't care. What he was, as a person, I mean, what his shames and yearnings were, simply don't matter.

1945 Elsie, I hope this letter finds its way to your good hands. Tobias and I are among friends in Zurich. The news of the Allied invasion of Garmisch is bittersweet. Though we are German, our Fatherland is no longer a welcoming place. The Jewish families I hid for over a year—the Mailers and the Zuckermanns—lost nearly all their extended family members over the course of these wretched years. Thanks to your engagement ring, we were able to bribe the SS guards and smuggle Nanette Mailer, her friend, and the Zuckermanns’ niece, Tabita, from KZ Dachau before the march. Unfortunately, Tobias’s sister, Cecile, succumbed to

Berlin, April 22, 1945. That afternoon, with the Soviet front lines just a few miles away, the Führer held a final conference with his most senior generals. It would be the last time many would see Hitler alive. The news he relayed was, for the first time, stripped of all fantasy and optimism. The Reich was almost at an end. Berlin would be encircled in a matter of hours. Defeat was inevitable. But it was not Hitler's fault. Then began a wild stream of invective and crude abuse. His generals, his people, and his soldiers had failed him.

Hitler thought highly of Himmler. He readily accepted that Himmler's ‘concentration camps’ were indispensable for the political re-education of the dissident – and indeed of the dissolute as well, because by 1935 the camps contained more than one hapless inmate whom Hitler had ordered incarcerated as a drastic cure for alcoholism or some other less savoury human failing. (‘The punishment was not ordered by the Führer to hurt you,’ Himmler wrote to one alcoholic in Dachau on May 18, 1937, ‘but to retrieve you from a path that has clearly led you and your family to ruin.’)

In addition, Dachau became a holding place for other Nazis from such places as Buchenwald and Mauthausen, who would also be tried.

Our Slime Minister, Pardon of Auschwitz and the Holocaust.

I think the universe is infinite, but the terms “infinity” and “eternity” are abstractions that have no physical correlation. The possibility that matter can act as its own architect and create the human eye or brain strikes me as irrational. The great mystery for me has always been the presence of evil in the human breast. Animals kill in order to survive. The record of humankind is so bad we cannot look at it squarely in the face or dwell on its memory lest we become subsumed by it. No? Try watching the 1937 Japanese footage of their own crimes in Nanking. Or the footage from Auschwitz or Dachau or photographs from My Lai. Or read medieval accounts of disembowelment and burning of a condemned man’s entrails, followed by the drawing and quartering of his body, all of it performed alive.

De Oranjestad Breda stemt in op Dachau. Mijn complimenten.

Sorry, maar ik heul niet met de vijand.

We try, we struggle, all the time to find words to express our love. The quality, the quantity, certain that no two people have experienced it before in the history of creation. Perhaps Catherine and Heathcliff, perhaps Romeo and Juliet, maybe Tristan and Isolde, maybe Hero and Leander, but these are just characters, make-believe. We have known each other forever, since before conception even. We remember playing together in a playpen, crossing paths at F.A.O. Schwarz. We remember meeting in front of the Holy Temple in the days before Christ, we remember greeting each other at the Forum, at the Parthenon, on passing ships as Christopher Columbus sailed to America. We have survived pogrom together, we have died in Dachau together, we have been lynched by the Ku Klux Klan together. There has been cancer, polio, the bubonic plague, consumption, morphine addiction. We have had children together, we have been children together, we were in the womb together. Our history is so deep and wide and long, we have known each other a million years. And we don't know how to express this kind of love, this kind of feeling.

In April of 1945, in the Dachau concentration camp, several men were lined up against the wall, tortured, and shot. Such savagery was typical for Dachau. Tens of thousands of prisoners had been murdered there, through starvation, execution, the gas chamber, and even grotesque medical experiments. But this incident happened after the camp had been liberated. The victims were captured German soldiers, and it was the American liberators who were doing the killing.

You are a BULL BULL BULL BULL BULL of Dachau.

Ik stel me in de Sperzeit beschikbaar, voor OPEN CUT WIFI.

William’s life rumbled over, like a train on loose tracks: the images from Dachau that would not leave his brain after he had gone there with me so many years ago. He had been petrified by what he saw there in Germany. He must have been

Abrió un local en la ciudad de Corinto y colocó un rótulo anunciando que «podía consolar a los tristes con discursos adecuados». Cuando acudía algún cliente, lo escuchaba con profunda atención hasta comprender la desgracia que lo afligía. Luego «se la borraba del espíritu» con conferencias consoladoras. Usaba el fármaco de la palabra persuasiva para curar la angustia y, según nos dicen los autores antiguos, llegó a hacerse famoso por sus razonamientos sedantes. Después de él, algunos filósofos afirmaron que su tarea consistía en «expulsar mediante el razonamiento el rebelde pesar», pero Antifonte fue el primero que tuvo la intuición de que sanar gracias a la palabra podía convertirse en un oficio. También comprendió que la terapia debía ser un diálogo exploratorio. La experiencia le enseñó que conviene hacer hablar al que sufre sobre los motivos de su pena, porque buscando las palabras a veces se encuentra el remedio. Muchos siglos después, Viktor Frankl, un discípulo de Freud superviviente de los campos de concentración de Auschwitz y Dachau, desarrollaría un método similar para superar los traumas de la barbarie europea de su época.

Life is about lessons and what we can overcome. I believe we can overcome this.

They can try to take everything, but some things can’t be obtained,” he says, pointing to his mind. “I will have my dreams, memories, and the stories that live within my head… I will still have you.

Eugenics is not just a tool of totalitarianism. Eugenics, as it was conceived, could not be anything but totalitarian as it desired to control all aspects of society. Hitler’s “National Socialist” (Nationalsozialist) form of government was amongst the first to put the full force of its government to conduct compulsory health initiatives. It is by no coincidence that the Dachau concentration camp used its slave-labor to run the largest organic produce farm of the era.

Il est bon que les exterminationnistes (c’est-à-dire ceux qui croient à l’extermination des juifs) aient fini, de guerre lasse, par reconnaître qu’on ne trouve trace d’aucun plan, d’aucune instruction, d’aucun document relatif à une politique d’extermination physique des juifs et que, de la même façon, ils aient enfin admis qu’on ne trouve trace d’aucun budget pour une pareille entreprise ni d’aucun organisme chargé de mener à bien une telle politique. Il est bon que les exterminationnistes aient enfin concédé aux révisionnistes que les juges du procès de Nuremberg (1945-1946) ont accepté pour vrais des faits de pure invention comme l’histoire du savon fabriqué à partir de la graisse des juifs, l’histoire des abat-jour faits de peau humaine, celle des « têtes réduites », l’histoire des gazages homicides de Dachau ; et surtout il est bon que les exterminationnistes aient enfin reconnu que l’élément le plus spectaculaire, le plus terrifiant, le plus significatif de ce procès, c’est-à-dire l’audience du 15 avril 1946 au cours de laquelle on a vu et entendu un excommandant du camp d’Auschwitz (Rudolf Höss) confesser publiquement que, dans son camp, on avait gazé des millions de juifs, n’était que le résultat de tortures infligées à ce dernier. Cette confession, présentée durant tant d’années et en tant d’ouvrages historiques comme la « preuve » n° 1 du génocide des juifs, est maintenant reléguée aux oubliettes, du moins par les historiens.

Patton was being driven in a jeep. Just days before, the silver-haired Seventh Army commander had admitted to a fellow general that the two things he loved most in life were “fucking and fighting.

Joshua M. Greene, author Justice at Dachau

you need

This was brought home to me on my transfer from Auschwitz to a camp affliated with Dachau.

This is your last warning, Frau Catarrh-Throat. You will issue these contract documents at once or you and your family will find yourselves in Dachau. And I’m sure you are aware of just how many people come back from there.” Bormann’s empathy and sensitivity, his ability to deal with people, were greatly underestimated. He

in 1939 a British police chief was due to make an official visit to Dachau in order to observe “modern policing techniques

In the interview, Roger reflected how the German philosopher Nietzsche said a man can undergo torture if he knows the why of his life. But I, here at Dachau, learned something far greater. I learned to know the Who of my life. He was enough to sustain me then, and is enough to sustain me still

Today, most people are unaware that of the eleven million people exterminated, five million were not even Jewish. In Dachau, one of the largest and most infamous of all concentration camps, only a third of the population was Jewish.

The brother of a close friend of my parents living in Vienna, was arrested and sent to Dachau and shortly after sent back to his family, in a sealed coffin. Later on they did not take that much trouble any more, people were buried in mass graves and afterwards they were disposed of in the crematorium. Nightly, on the radio, we heard Hitler ranting and raving and screaming. He blamed everything that ailed the world on the Jews and he predicted that only their complete annihilation would save Europe and the world.

Father was nearing sixty, had no real trade, could not envision what he would do there, no knowledge of the language, nobody he knew there. I was 18 years old and could not make any far reaching decisions. Thus we, like millions of European Jews waited for the storm to break over our heads. All the signs of a terrible tragedy became visible. Daily, newspapers carried tragic headlines: Central Europe's only democracy, Czechoslovakia annexed; Austria accepted its incorporation into the Reich with enthusiasm. The majority felt proud of their native son, Adolf Schickelgruber, now Hitler, who had made good in politics, in Germany. They also deserve the dishonor of having sent Viennese Jews to Dachau, the newly created concentration camp in a suburb of Munich, Bavaria.

In Germany, the Nazis arrested Otto Selz and took him to Dachau, their first concentration camp. They held him there for five weeks.

Italian foe in Sicily. From now on, the men

Another Munich-based journalist, Fritz Gerlich, made the ultimate sacrifice in his pursuit of Hitler. Editor of the newspaper Der gerade Weg (The Straight Path), Gerlich was one of Hitler’s fiercest critics. He was arrested after Hitler came to power and murdered in the Dachau concentration camp outside Munich. “We Will Not Be Intimidated,” the Munich Post said in a front-page headline a few days before storm troopers ransacked and shut down its offices in March 1933. Whatever the Munich Post’s faults, that headline should be the rallying cry of journalists around the globe whose work is threatened by those who place accumulating and wielding authoritarian power above the defense of citizens’ rights.

its requisitioning. Plans for the conversion were apparently overseen by no less a personage than architect Albert Speer, Hitler’s minister of armaments and war production,25 with the actual construction supervised by SS-Second Lieutenant Ludwig Petz.26 A member of Dachau’s facilities branch, he arrived at Itter on February 8 with twenty-seven prisoners—twelve from Dachau and fifteen from Flossenbürg27—all of whom had before their arrests been carpenters, plumbers, and the like.28 Petz also took along some ten members of Dachau’s SS-Totenkopfverbände (SS-TV) unit29 to act as a security detail during the conversion work; they would be replaced by

Stupid penis on Saturday, and Sunday starts with Dachau.

We kunnen haar nog niet krommen, jongens, dan mot ie Rechter.

Edwin Bleichrodt stands for Dachau and I, with Tel Aviv.

The Lady is presented, his penis frustration at 49 years old.

would

Those trees still bother me. I have always seen beauty in trees, and these at Dachau were quite lovely. Yet for me the trees were obscene; for their roots, which entangled and sucked up the nutrient human ash, are to this day nurtured by ghosts.

He broke with Tony Benn, though, over the ‘black flag of Dachau’ speech in the 1970 election.† Oh, yes, but then he came to Enoch’s funeral, do you remember?