Dachau: The Harrowing of Hell

13. Liberation

13 LIBERATION April 3o. It is still early in the morning as we approach the I,ooo-year-old city of Dachau. In the distance we see pillars of black smoke fading away in the cold, cloudy sky, and we hear the pounding of artillery and the screaming of planes. Dachau, with a population of about I5,000, seems to have the same attributes as other cities its size. There are flower beds and trees, small shops, bicycles on the ground, churches with steeples , a mirrorlike river. Many old-fashioned wooden houses are built on terraces, and from their windows we can see faces peering at us from behind curtains. Above the houses gloomily sits a weather-beaten castle. There is no intimation in this innocentlooking city of the activities a few minutes away. The narrow streets are filled with tanks, jeeps, and other military vehicles, and DPs and unhappy German civilians, now refugees . Small clusters of forlorn, disheveled German soldiers trudge wearily toward rear area POW enclosures. Some are under guard, others are unguarded, their resistance gone. Hailstones begin to fall as we drive toward our destination: the concentration camp outside the city. We are slowed down by roadblocks where American soldiers check our identification and orders. We brake to a stop at a railroad unloading point. An unbelievable sight. Flatcars and open boxcars contain hundreds of emaciated bodies piled on top of each other, bodies of men, women, and children, lying in grotesque positions. Their cadaverous arms and legs seem disproportionately long compared to their sunken abdomens, narrowed bony chests, visible ribs, protruding shoulder blades, and withered necks-all signs of starvation. Some of the bodies are covered by pajamalike cotton uniI 79 forms with vertical blue and white stripes, the official clothing of concentration camp prisoners. Some are covered with coats. Many are naked. Because of the intense cold, the bodies and cars are now lightly coated with white frost, Nature's shroud. Refuse and excrement are spread over the cars and grounds. More of the dead lie near piles of clothing, shoes, and trash. Apparently some had crawled or fallen out of the cars when the doors were opened, and died on the grounds. One of our men counts the boxcars and says that there are thirty-nine. Later I hear that there were fifty, that the train had arrived at the camp during the evening of April 27, by which time all of the passengers were supposed to be dead so that the bodies could be disposed of in the camp crematorium. But this could not be done because there was no more coal to stoke the furnaces. Mutilated bodies of German soldiers are also on the ground, and occasionally we see an inmate scream at the body of his former tormentor and kick it. Retribution! An incredible sight, a stench that is beyond experience. Horror -stricken, outraged, we react with disbelief. "Oh God!" says Rosenbloom. Ferris is silent, and so is Howcroft, his vocabulary inadequate to describe this circle of evil. I hear Hollis, our carcounting driver, say that even primitive, savage people give a decent burial to their own dead and the dead of their enemies. I shut my eyes. This cannot be the twentieth century, I think. I try to remember the redeeming attributes of man. None comes to mind. "Lieutenant," says Private Eastman, our young driver who has never voiced his feelings before. "Maybe we should occupy this country for fifty years." We drive past an ornate lamppost mounted on a cement base, bearing a large sign reariing 55 KonzentrationsLager (concentration camp). Above it are six brightly painted figures, each with a grim, unsmiling face. Of the three on the right, two wear peasant clothing; one plays an accordion and the other holds an umbrella. The third is a soldier holding a cello. This part of the sign indicates the road to the prison compound. The trio on the left, consisting of a bugler leading two other helmeted, march80 I Dachau: The First Week ing German soldiers carrying full packs, indicates the road to the peripheral administrative area. Then down SS Strasse with its large residential homes, surrounded by a vast complex of office buildings, warehouses, shops, and rows of barracks. This area is landscaped, but now the grounds are strewed with bodies of prisoners, guards, and large Alsatian bloodhounds. We reach the prison area, which is surrounded by a waterfilled moat about fifteen feet wide, and a ten-foot-high...