Dachau

Synopsis of day: Dachau

Highlight of the day: Dachau

Lowlight of the day: Humans can be really sucky to each other.

Favourite photo:  

Derek’s selfie of choice: Derek was cloistered in my room for the day as I didn't think it appropriate to bring him.

Shameless selfie:

Historical Fact of the Day: Dachau was the first Nazi concentration camp and was used from 1933-1945.

Cultural-shock moment: I’m not sure that this really counts but we fit an awful lot of people on the buses to and from Dachau.

New food consumed: Bratwurst and sauerkraut. Would try again. Potato dumplings. Would not try again.

Best purchase of the day: I found a copy of one of the German propaganda picture books that were used by parents and teachers. Hopefully the Israelis won’t search my bag too thoroughly or I can post this one back.

Random act of crazy: As part of our tour orientation we went on the metro to a bierhaus. We ended up catching about five trams and the noises, food portions and clothing of the employees were all rather unusual. 

Something I want to remember: Most of it.

As established earlier, I had been anticipating this day for some time. Retrospectively I could easily have done it independently since getting there was not very complicated. Our arrival time coincided with numerous groups so the first parts of the museum were crowded and it was difficult to hear the guide so I wandered around a little myself and joined up again later when it was quieter. Since we stayed for many hours the congestion was reduced once we left the museum and toured the complex. By the time we left there were few groups or people visible until we reunited on the bus.

Wending our way along a path on our way to the entrance, looking to the right of the camp it didn’t stand out too much from the foliage. The relative simplicity of the site was reflected even at the entrance which was functional and designed with German efficiency. 

The replica wire gate marked ‘Arbecht macht frei’ which for some reason I had mistakenly thought was only seen at Auschwitz. 

The most prominent feature of the site from the entrance is the pebbled square where roll call was held, and was situated between the sleeping quarters and the official building. 

We walked to that building first which is now a museum. It was somewhat disconcerting to see the whitewashed walls with informative boards and displays, and to have a sign at the entrance of each room declaring its original purpose (this was the room where they would surrender their possessions, this is the room where their file was completed and kept, this was the room where they were showered, this was the room where their hair was cut etc). In most rooms it was difficult to reconcile the original purpose with the current location. Only in the shower room were there sections of concrete removed to make the original shape clearer. This felt like an incredibly sanitised version of the reality. 

The historical information was not over burdening and there was a good use of primary (written) sources in most instances. A couple of the rooms had some artefacts (ie possessions taken from people on their arrival, a desk with files or a wheelbarrow) but these were fairly sparse. It was easy to disassociate oneself from the personal experiences of the victims. I’ve had more affecting responses in numerous holocaust museums I have visited.

In preparing to come here, a few individuals who had been to Dachau previously implied that Dachau ‘broke’ them or that it was a very difficult place for them to visit. Presumably because of my background of experience, I didn’t have such an intense response. I suspect it was because I didn’t really learn anything new, the experience allowed me to contextualise what I knew already.

That being said, I don’t think it is possible to come to such a memorial site and to remain entirely unmoved. The documentary we watched between the museum and the tour of the site was the most graphic account I have seen of the holocaust in many years, perhaps ever. The senselessness of such atrocity and the inhumane treatment given to these men is beyond words.

Unlike others, I will not definitively say whether I think the locals knew the extent of what was happening. The site is within forty minutes travel from modern Munich but it is not in a prominent location by any means. The newspaper reports about the commencement of the camp and associated propaganda certainly didn’t suggest to the local populace what Dachau would end up being, especially by 1944 when it was supremely overcrowded and this brought further difficulties for its inhabitants.

It was stressed that there is no way to know how many people interred at Dachau either survived or died, because there was significant movement between camps, and official records are hardly to be trusted in such instances.

Walking through the site, I was surprised at the relative size of the solitary confinement rooms. Compared to historic prisons I’ve seen such as Port Arthur, they were larger but still not a place anyone would much like to experience. The guard towers around the perimeter ominously betokened the prison, and the barren trees and cool winter sky were the perfect backdrop.

We walked along the path by the fence towards the crematorium. There were two since the first became insufficient during the war years. This building was bleak and yet because most rooms were empty it was simpler to visualise the original purpose of the rooms. The gas chamber might have been used for individual or small-scale experimentation. As the first concentration camp it might have been the model for others but did not commit the mass-extermination of the death camps of Europe. The shower room and the clearing room had ominously low ceilings and a spartan appearance. The deep browns and hues of the furnaces in the next room provided a strong contrast and conclusion to the narrative of lives that encountered that room.  

  

The Protestant, Catholic and Jewish memorials on the site were prominently positioned. We passed a Russian Orthodox one on our way to the crematorium. We walked into the replica barracks before finishing the tour in front of the memorials and the grave of the unknown victim. By this point we were the only group visible on the site and I was grateful for that. Reflection is easier away from crowds. 

The return to Munich was simple enough. I walked through a few of the department stores but most of the prices of things were beyond me and I have limited luggage space until Israel. On arrival back at the hotel my roommate for the trip had arrived and at 6pm there was an orientation meeting for the Christmas markets tour. There are eleven of us plus our Austrian leader Sonya. There is one Australian couple and the rest of us are single women – one from America, two from Canada, one from Vietnam and the rest Australian. We headed to a bierhaus for dinner. The portions were crazy big and I definitely wouldn’t recommend the potato dumplings. The strudel was good though. By the time I made it back to the hotel for my latest bedtime of the trip I was rather hopeful I’d sleep better this time – I haven’t been having the best time of it.