Dachau, a Testimony

In recent days I have been consumed with thoughts about the accusations of America turning into a hotbed of fascism. This coupled with anti-Jewish rhetoric and action both in the Middle East and here at home has been on my mind as well. Thrown into the muddled mix I call my mind, is the historic and God-driven accounts of subject peoples of the Scriptures. The combination has not only dominated my thoughts but also provoked some memories of events which will forever color my thinking. These memories are not of being eyewitness to huge happenings. They are small in the grand scheme of things but keep coming back to me.

On a mild, but typically overcast fall day in 1953, I went to the motor pool, checked out my assigned Dodge ¾ ton 4X4, fueled, and comfortably settled in for the 150 mile trip to Munich, Germany. The mission was to go the US Army depot in Munich for forms, logs, manuals and the other paper work which is really what drives the military. Some general was credited years ago with maintaining that the army traveled on its stomach. Rather, it seemed the army I was in traveled on its paper. Various forms for requisitions, allocations, inventories, and on and on and on, were the order of the day. Actually it was a departure from normal routine and I looked forward to the trip.

The journey through Stuttgart, past Ulm and on, was through undulating forested hills which are the precursor to the Alps. This peaceful drive gave no hint of the violent war less than a decade earlier. The only disturbing factor was when I drove close to recently harvested cabbage fields with the rotting remains of wasted plants. All was well and I arrived early in Munich, found the depot, transacted my business and started back to Heilbron.

About thirty minutes into the return I noticed a signpost indicating the town of Dachau. A prominent name from the so recent past, it piqued my interest and I took the turn. As I neared the town, I came across my real goal, the former internment camp. I turned in and drove to a small cluster of brick buildings and parked. The camp was largely abandoned and completely unoccupied. I was at once aware that it was the loneliest place that I had encountered in Europe. Normally, there is somebody present everywhere you go. My truck (actually Uncle Sam’s) was the only vehicle parked. It was then I picked up on something which I had often heard of but had never personally experienced – the smell of death. One identifies it without question even lacking prior experience.

By then, appropriately, the overcast skies lowered and a gentle misty rain began to fall. I proceeded on my own self guided tour of the facility. A mound in the center of the parking area had an already faded and crude sign identifying it as containing upwards of 3000 souls, nameless and thrown into the pit with slack lime. One of the cluster of brick buildings revealed the crematory ovens embedded in a brick wall within, showing evidence of Teutonic craftsmanship and efficiency throughout. As I left the building I looked to the left upon rows and rows of spare frame structures used to house inmates. I knew for certain that I had a glimpse of hell. That all pervasive smell had not abated. The gentle rain continued.

Dachau had been populated in its history by over 200,000 prisoners. Between the main facility and its sub-camps the death toll was around 35,000. By no means the largest of the camps, it was the first and the model for all the others. It was also the first to be liberated by the 57th Infantry late in the war. The original Kommandant, Theodore Eicke, went on to be in charge of all the subsequent camps both in their design and construction and also their day to day operations. The original was built primarily for political dissidents but came to house persons from 30 different countries. Many later camps were built for the more exclusive internment of Jews, Gypsys, homosexuals and others thought undesirable to the Third Reich, and their death tolls reached the millions. These numbers and other facts do not reflect what I absorbed that day at Dachau.

The smell of death coupled with the reality of examining the actual site of this crime against humanity left a mark on my psyche that is permanent. I could no more dismiss this picture of horror than I could erase the faces of my children from my mind’s eye. I now recognize that I gained a different perspective on nearly every issue from that date forward. Any leftover innocence from childhood was removed. My attitude toward God, politics, my nation, my gifts, other peoples, and my very life was altered. Like most men, I don’t tear up easily. I did that day.

Although I didn’t know it at the time, the German government in Bonn had already declared the site for a lasting memorial. Viewing pictures taken recently I notice new, polished infrastructure, leisurely paths to exhibits, landscaping and an inviting atmosphere. Somehow, I believe my tour conveyed the message with far more impact. Arlington Cemetery is beautiful also until the reality of its purpose reaches your inner being.

Be assured, I do not bring this piece to you to put a damper on your upcoming celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ. I do apologize. My selfish interest prevailed because I love the Godgiven liberty in our Constitution which provided the foundation of a nation which recognized evil and destroyed it. In my life, I have been a witness to the full range of human behavior. As I recently read the false charges of impending fascism in our own administration I felt the need to share one aspect of what it really looks like. I think I would recognize it again if I saw it.

In His abiding love,

Cecil Moon