60 years ago

Today marks the 60th anniversary of Auschwitz concentration camp’s liberation and the beginning of the end of the holocaust.
The people who survived are fading from our history. Those still alive were just small children and have to be reminded every day how close they came to death when they look at their bare forearms with the tattoo marking them for possible death. I was only about 6 or so when I lived in Germany and visited Dacau, another concentration camp.
My brother was born while my father was on his first tour of duty in Germany in the late 60’s. Yep, my brother’s a Kraut. They lived on the second floor of a dairy farm. Naturally, the owners of the farm became his godparents and, my surrogate grandparents after we moved back. Needless to say, my ties to Germany are not just from reading books. Even though we were small, my parents wanted us to see and learn as much as we could while we were there. I learned not to ask for seconds at Mama Beckert’s house. She remembers the war and Sunday dinner is a luxury. I learned about feather blankets and hot water bottles. About garden gnomes and castles. About wooden shoes and walking sticks. …And about Nazi’s.
You’d think a kid wouldn’t remember going to a concentration camp. But I do. I remember the open field where the barracks used to be. I remember thinking what a great time we could have if we were allowed to play on that field. Instead we were kept back by a barricade. I thought it was a shame that we weren’t allowed to play on it. I thought it was odd that even though we were outside, we had to hold my father’s hand and be really quiet. The museum with photos of piled bones and piled shoes and articles of clothing. A pile of eyeglasses. And the ovens. I’ve seen the ovens. I remember talking to my mother about the ovens that day. I related it to Hansel and Gretel and the witch who wanted to cook them. This was exactly the size oven she would need to cook children. Strange how children’s minds work. Oddly, I remember it was a day like today. Not a full rain, more like mist the whole time, overcast.
Not until I got older did I really understand what I saw there, and I don’t regret having seen it. I regret the reason that I had to see it. I regret the lives and souls lost because of one man’s ability to sway the thoughts of a nation. The systematic, planned slaughter of an entire race of people. They sat at a table and planned this. It wasn’t a Tsunami that cared not how and who it struck. It wasn’t terrorists aiming at buildings not caring or knowing who was inside, getting it all over in one fell swoop. These people were picking off Jews. Specifically. Quietly.
Those sick F*cks. Cowards. Some lowly soldier had to carry out their bidding. Had to look into the frightened eyes as they crowded into the poison showers. As their bodies shriveled over time from starvation. Once proud people being taken down notch by notch to nonexistence. We can’t let this happen again.
We can’t let people say this was just a story. We can’t let people deny it ever happened.
I haven’t seen anything about Prince Harry going to Auschwitz. People say it was just a joke, but symbols are powerful and have powerful effects. I optimistically think he will understand when he gets there. Innocent ignorance will give way to knowledge and Knowledge is Power.