Sachsenhausen

19 April 2010, Germany.

I went to a former WWII concentration camp yesterday. ‘How was it?’ you ask. Im not sure what to answer.
Sobering. Sickening. Anger-inciting.Unbelievable.
It was a labour camp, as opposed to a death camp, so never designed for mass murder. Still, tens of thousands lost their lives there;its still mass murder to me.

We walked through the main gates: ‘Work makes you free’, it said.
We saw the barracks that housed up to 400 people at a time. People would just die on the toilet floors covered in excretement.
We saw the electric barbed wire fence, which many a prisoner, losing all hope and courage, ran into: suicide.
We saw the running track, where prisoners would run around and around, to test out army boots made by fellow prisoners at the factories. Sometimes they carried sacks of sand and ran, up to 70km a day, day after day.
We saw the prison (even though the whole camp was a prison) where inmates were subject to years of solitary confinement , torture and interrogation. Two British officers were chained to the centre of a concrete cell in darkness for 5 years. At the end they were transferred to another camp and then shot.
We saw the pathology building where prisoners with medical training would carry out autopsies. Often they would contract fatal Typhus or other infectious diseases from the corpses in the process. We didn’t have time (nor the guts) to see the infirmary where medical experiments, forced castration and racial research was carried out.

Even more disturbing to hear about was the relationship of the surrounding community to the camp. We read about the SS guards attending dances and social events, acting like ordinary family men. The townspeople would see the emaciated prisoners marching to and from work each day – was just a normal sight. A fine layer of ash would settle over the town when the corpse burning began to increase - did they not stop to wonder? One commander of the camp had been a church elder. Imagine! He let a pastor from town minister to a Bishop who was an inmate. And what did that Pastor think about it all?

I walked through that place thinking ‘God, where are you in all of this?’ I'll bet im not the only one to have wondered. ‘Seeing this is one of the reasons I cannot believe in God’, Michael told me as we walked back to the car. I understand what he means.
This camp by no means proves God - But I still believe in one. Many look at think 'There must be no god'. I look at it and think ‘There must be a God’, because if there’s not, and this is the state of human beings, then we are all doomed.