Living Memorials: Sachsenhausen Concentration Camp by Catherine Hokin

And I know one thing more - that the Europe of the future cannot exist without commemorating all those, regardless of nationality, who were killed at that time with complete contempt and hate... Andrzej Szczypiorski, Prisoner 

The above quote appears on the wall at Sachsenhausen, a

 Sachsenhausen main gate

concentration camp on the outskirts of Berlin whose liberation took place seventy four years ago today, on the 22nd April 1945. I visited the camp a few months ago as part of a research trip. It was, of course, a deeply unsettling experience - like any of these facilities, no matter how much you read before you go, you are not prepared for the emotions they engender.

The first thing that is difficult to comprehend about Sachsenhausen strikes you before you get to it: this is no isolated space tucked away from prying eyes. The camp is situated in the small town of Oranienburg, 22km or less than an hour's train journey from the centre of Berlin. High-ranking officers lived in mansions around the perimeter and a large SS housing estate bordered the camp - local girls married the men who served there and families lived backing onto the walls and within earshot of the camp's brickworks and shooting gallery. Prisoners were marched through the town between the camp and forced labour details and there are accounts of the residents closing their doors and shutters at the sound of marching feet. The Camp Commandant's office was landscaped with trees and a duck pond and the barracks for the guards were surrounded by gardens. It is almost surreal how much part of the local fabric the camp was and how much of a village feel was created for the men who ran it. 

 Plan of the camp showing its triangular shape

Sachsenhausen was established in 1936 and was initially used to imprison "undesirables" during the prettifying of Berlin that formed the background to the 1936 Olympics. Between then and 1945, over 200,000 people were interned there, including Jews, Sinti and Roma, homosexuals, “career criminals” and “antisocials”. By 1944, about 90 % of the internees were non-Germans, primarily citizens of the Soviet Union and Poland. The camp quickly became the model of what the National Socialists believed a concentration camp should be: an expression of absolute power. The barracks' triangular placement, fanning out from the parade ground, means that every aspect was overlooked by a huge machine gun set on top of the gate. If the prisoners faced the other way they were confronted by a gallows and the roll-call area is bordered by a running track where shoes were tested on a variety of materials, including cinders and cracked stones, by men carrying heavy packs of sand on their backs. Few survived this treatment for more than a matter of days. Visitors (including the industrialists who used its forced labour) were offered tours, the SS were trained there and, in 1938, the “Inspection of the Concentration Camps”, the central administrative office for all concentration camps in the territories controlled by Germany, was moved here.

Due to its proximity to Berlin, Sachsenhausen was a key

 Memorial to the dead

forced labour camp. As well as the details in the camp itself, prisoners made up the workforce for the massive Klinkerwerk brickworks on the nearby lock, as well as the munitions factories operated by AEG and Siemens. By 1942, more than 100 satellite details and satellite camps worked out of Sachsenhausen. Tens of thousands of internees died from this forced labour, or from hunger, disease, and the medical experiments which were a feature of the site. In addition many were deliberately murdered, either in a specifically-built  “neck shot unit” (the fate of 13,000 Soviet POWs in 1941) and, from 1943, in a purpose built gas chamber. When asked at his trial why he introduced the mass extermination facility, Commandant Anton Kaindl responded "because it was a more efficient and more humane way to exterminate prisoners." On a busy day with school parties everywhere on site I have never been anywhere so silent as the remains of that chamber.

In 1945, with the war nearing its end, Sachsenhausen,

 Prisoners, Sachsenhausen

along with the rest of the camps, was cleared. In February an SS special unit headed by Otto Moll murdered 3,000 internees who were considered dangerous (which could mean because they had military training) or were declared unfit and another 13,000 were taken to be killed at Mauthausen and Bergen-Belsen. On the 21 April more than 30,000 remaining internees were marched off on Death Marches towards the north-west, the intention, according to Kaindl's trial transcripts, being "to drive them onto barges out to sea and let them sink." The number who died remains unknown. On 22 April 1945, units of the Soviet and Polish armies liberated the 3,000 prisoners left behind due to sickness. 300 of the camp’s former inmates did not survive their liberation and died, and are buried, there.

 Soviet barracks for German prisoners

This, however, was not the end of Sachsenhausen's story. From August 1945, Sachsenhausen became Special Camp No 7: an internment camp for German officers and political prisoners held by the Soviet Union. By 1948, the site, by now renamed Special Camp No.1, was the largest of three special camps in the Soviet Occupation Zone which together held over 60,000 prisoners. Information at the site describes the conditions during this period as inhuman: "Hunger and cold prevailed in the Special Camp. The inadequate hygienic and sanitary conditions and the insufficient nourishment led to disease and epidemics." By 1950 when the camp closed, another 12,500 men were added to the role of Sachsenhausen's dead.

The first memorial at Sachsenhausen was inaugurated in 1961

 The red triangle memorial

by the pre-reunification East German government. In line with their thinking, the main emphasis then was on the role of political resistance. An obelisk was erected in the middle of the site which carries 18 red triangles, to commemorate the 18 nationalities of the political prisoners held there between 1936-45. Post reunification, along with other sites of this nature, the emphasis was on the victims who suffered and died. That two systems remembered Sachsenhausen in different ways caused problems for the site and how it was to be used and there are still visitors today who find the juxtaposition of Soviet and German memorials complicated. It is, I think, to the site's credit that the question of what it exists for is still under scrutiny. The historian Gunther Morsch, a previous director of the Sachsenhausen memorial and museum, has been very vocal about the need to re-examine how we approach these places, particularly in a political climate which is seeing a rise in populism and the right. "We want to keep honoring the victims. And most exhibitions are about their fate. But it has become clear that the emphasis must be shifted to the perpetrators' motives and the structures that enabled these crimes to be committed. More and more visitors were rightly asking, "How could such a thing happen?" and "Is it possible today?" Unfortunately, the second question had to be answered in the affirmative, because "National Socialism actually showed in its most radical form what people are capable of – even today." 

Sachsenhausen does not shy away from exploring the systematic extermination policy of the Nazis and its impact on individuals. The site is full of personal testimony which makes the numbers real and an art exhibition by former inmates which is both heart-breaking and hopeful. It is a brave place to visit - both for what it is trying to tell and what it demands from its visitors. If you go, don't take a tour - they'll whisk you through and serve you a potted version. Get the train from Berlin and walk from the station, it's horribly close. I spent a day there, too much in some ways, not enough in others. I wish I could go back and drag everyone who doesn't get the need for humanity and a united Europe with me. I defy even the toughest nut not to crack.

Walking the Krakow Ghetto by Catherine Hokin

Some places, for example Bruges, immerse the visitor in history as if you were walking through a film set. Others, as I discovered in the area which once housed the Krakow ghetto, take you down ordinary streets and trip you up with the weight of what they once held.

 Entrance to the Krakow Ghetto 1941

The ghetto in Krakow was one of 5 major metropolitan Jewish ghettos created by the Nazis during the occupation of Poland in World War Two. It was liquidated between June 1942 and March 1943 with most of the inhabitants being sent to the nearby forced labour camp at Plaszow, or the extermination camps at Belzec and Auschwitz. It was set up in the suburb of Podgorze rather than the traditional (and still very vibrant) Jewish district of Kazimierz because its architect Hans Frank (Hitler's personal lawyer) felt Kazimierz was more significant to Krakow's history. That Kazimierz is far more central to the city and thus harder to hide away must have played a significant part in that decision. The Krakow ghetto was a closed ghetto: it was physically cut off from the surrounding area and access was restricted; the suburb of Podgorze is across the river from the main city and can only be reached by bridge or boat.When first formed, 15000 Jews were crammed into an area meant for 3000 people; the size of the ghetto was reduced once deportations began.

 Ghetto Memorial Krakow

Like the majority of people with an interest in  history, we usually research our trips before we go. The Krakow trip, however, was a last minute short break and, beyond the salt mines (which I can't recommend highly enough), the Schindler Factory and Auschwitz, we hadn't looked at much in advance. Consequently we stumbled into the ghetto en route to the Factory without realising where we were. It was an eerie experience. The square we came into was quiet and empty, which is not the norm for Krakow squares. It was only when we stopped and looked closer that we realised we were looking at rows of deliberately empty, some small and some over-large, identical chairs. It's not easy to find, but there is a plaque on the kiosk at the square's edge - this is Heroes Square, the central point of the ghetto, and the 33 large chairs and 37 small ones made from iron and bronze are a memorial to its Jewish victims. It's a very poignant place and hit us all hard with its simplicity. The plaque contained a map and little else (there is no background explanation to the memorial) but it did direct us to the far corner and one of the best museums I think I've ever visited.

 The Under the Eagle Pharmacy

The Apteka Pod Orlem, or Under the Eagle Pharmacy, was run by Tadeusz Pankiewicz, a Roman Catholic Polish pharmacist and was the only pharmacy which continued to operate during the period of the ghetto. Pankiewicz chose to decline the Nazi (or Hitlerist as they are often referred to in Krakow) offer to relocate his premises and continued to supply medications throughout the ghetto's operation. More than this (which was brave enough), he and his staff helped smuggle food and information into the ghetto and helped hide many of those facing deportation. Pankiewicz's memoir (which is on sale in the tiny ticket office three doors down) talks about supplying hair dyes for changing identity and tranquilizers to keep children quiet during Gestapo raids. Because of his work, he was given the title of Righteous Among the Nations in 1983. The pharmacy has been completely refurbished and makes use of videos and testimony to tell its often heartbreaking stories. As many people will be aware, in February of this year the Polish government passed a law that outlaws blaming Poland for any crimes committed during the Holocaust. This museum puts the blame squarely where it should go but makes no attempt to wipe away the locals who participated - their, named, stories are presented along with those of the victims and survivors. It is an intelligent, even-handed account of a terrible period and deserves visiting.

 Ghetto Wall Krakow

We now had our bearings so decided to make the half-hour walk to the Plaszow concentration camp. It's a roadside, not very scenic walk and there is a tram that takes you there (we used it on the way back) as well as the innumerable little tourist road trains but walk, for two reasons. Firstly, if you don't you will miss the unbearably moving stretch of the old ghetto wall, now sitting very incongruously beside a children's playground at the back of a primary school. Again the plaque is tiny and it isn't marked on any map we had. This section is one of only two that survive and stretches up into the old quarries and the cemetery. The original encircling walls were 3m high and there were only 4 gates in. One of the most disturbing features is its shape: the wall is deliberately built in the shape of the tombstones that you will find in the sixteenth century Jewish graveyard in Kazimierz. The Jewish men forced to build it can have been left with no illusions.

 Plaszow 1941

The second reason for walking the route is to experience how (like Sachsenhausen in Berlin) short the distance is between slave camp and city. In another very deliberate gesture, Plaszow was built on the site of two Jewish cemetaries which were destroyed for the purpose - the shattered tombstones were used to cobble the roads. The camp was a forced-labour camp providing labour for the quarries and a number of armaments factories. By its height in 1944 it is estimated the camp held 25000 prisoners on the 200 acre site. Conditions were abysmal with deaths from typhus and starvation rampant. There is no museum at Plaszow and no guides. Since November of last year large information boards have been put in place describing the site and what happened there and these provide a kind of route through. The site is very beautiful - it is a wildflower filled nature-reserve - and that alone makes the whole experience of walking its paths a hard one. If you follow the numbered boards, you end at the Hujowa Gorka - this roughly translates as Dick Hill and is a play on the name of Unterscharfuhrer Albert Hujar, the man who turned this beautiful hill into a killing field. Some 8-10,000 prisoners were marched to a trench in this hillside, stripped and shot. In 1944, all the bodies were exhumed and burnt on a giant bonfire to hide the evidence. Witnesses have testified to seeing 17 lorry loads of human ash.

 The Memorial of Torn Out Hearts

The hill is dominated by a memorial which finally broke us all - me, the Jewish American OH and the 23 year old Berlin-living son. We'd all taken time out here and there, and there is something about Holocaust places that requires everyone to move in their own space, but this brought us all to tears and silence. This is the Memorial of Torn Out Hearts - you won't see the name (or any explanation) at the site but you'll have named it something similar already. This massive stone was designed by Witold Cęckiewicz and unveiled in 1964. It depicts five figures (representing the five countries of Płaszów's victims) with their heads bent under the weight of the massive stone block from which they're carved and a horizontal crack across their chests, symbolising their abruptly ended lives. Each face is different, each hand is different. I've never seen anything as moving. It dominates the skyline and, what you can't see from my photograph, is that the sky shows through the crack so the rip feels almost living. There are discussions currently being held about a permanent museum being built here, it doesn't need it - the monument and the boards and the beauty of the place tell all the stories that you need.

We didn't get to the Schindler Factory - the website to be honest is crackers, we couldn't book in advance and the daily allocation was done before we got there. It didn't matter, we had discovered our own history which then led us into Kazimierz and its wonderful synagogues. It was a short stay and we are leaving Auschwitz for another trip: our walk through the ghetto reminded us that these sites, which are so woven into the places that still bear their scars, take recovery and reflection time. The quietly demonstrative Krakow Ghetto made us remember and remember vividly; it did its job.