The day regularly began at 6 a.m., or 5 a.m. in the summer, and in just half an hour we had to be washed, dressed and have our beds made up in military style. If you still had time, you could have breakfast, which meant a hurried slurping down the thin flour soup, hot or luke-warm, and eating your piece of bread. Then we had to form up in eights on the parade ground for morning roll call. Work followed, in winter from 7.30 a.m. to 5 p.m., and in summer from 7 a.m. to 8 p.m., with a half-hour break at the workplace. After work, straight back to camp and immediate parade for evening roll call.
"Each block marched in formation to the parade-ground and had its permanent position there. The morning parade was not so drawn-out as the much feared evening roll-call, for only the block numbers were counted, which took about an hour, and then the command was given for work detachments to form up.
"At every parade, those that had just died had to be present, i.e. they were laid out at the end of each block and counted as well. Only after the parade, and having been tallied by the report officer, were they taken to the mortuary and subsequently burned.
"Each block marched in formation to the parade-ground and had its permanent position there. The morning parade was not so drawn-out as the much feared evening roll-call, for only the block numbers were counted, which took about an hour, and then the command was given for work detachments to form up.
"At every parade, those that had just died had to be present, i.e. they were laid out at the end of each block and counted as well. Only after the parade, and having been tallied by the report officer, were they taken to the mortuary and subsequently burned.
"Disabled prisoners also had to be present for parade. Time and again we helped or carried comrades to the parade ground who had been beaten by the SS only hours before. Or we had to bring along fellow-prisoners who were half-frozen or feverish, so as to have our numbers complete. Any man missing from our block meant many blows and thus many deaths.
"We new arrivals were now assigned to our work, which was to keep the area around the block clean. That, at least, was what we were told by the NCO in charge. In reality, the purpose was to break the very last spark of independent spirit that might possibly remain in the new prisoners, by senseless yet heavy labour, and to destroy the little human dignity that we still retained. This work continued till a new batch of pink-triangle prisoners were delivered to our block and we were replaced.
"Our work, then, was as follows. In the morning we had to cart the snow outside our block from the left side of the road to the right side. In the afternoon we had to cart the same snow back from the right side to the left. We didn't have barrows and shovels to perform this work either, that would have been far too simple for us 'queers'. No, our SS masters had thought up something much better.
"We had to put our coats with the buttoned side backward, and take the snow away in the container this provided. We had to shovel up the snow with our hands (our bare hands!), as we didn't have any gloves. We worked in teams of two. Twenty turns at shovelling up the snow with our hands, then twenty turns at carrying it away. And so, right through the evening, and all at the double!
"This mental and bodily torment lasted six days, until at last new pink-triangle prisoners were delivered to our block and took over for us. Our hands were cracked all over and half-frozen off, and we had become dumb and indifferent slaves of the SS.
"I learned from prisoners who had already been in our block a good while that in summer similar work was done with earth and sand. "Above the gate of the prison camp, however, the 'meaningful' Nazi slogan was written in big capitals: 'Freedom through work!'"
Furthermore, homosexuals were at another important disadvantage. They lacked the group support within the camp to maintain moral.
The prisoners with the pink triangle had certainly shown "pre-camp" qualities of survival, but they did not get a chance to apply these qualities in the camp. Because their subculture and organisations had been wantonly destroyed, no group solidarity developed inside the camp...Since every contact outside was regarded as suspicious, homosexuals did not even dare speak to one another inside (as numerous survivors have reported in interviews).
Death rates for Homosexuals were much higher, perhaps three to four times higher, than for other non-Jewish categories of prisoners. While their overall numbers are small, their fate in the camps more nearly approximates that of Jews than any of the other categories, except, perhaps, Gypsies. And, homosexuals did not survive for very long. Of those who were exterminated, most were exterminated within the first few months of the camp experience.
Numerous testimonies by Gay men who survived the camp experience suggest that the SS had a much less tolerant view. Those who wore the pink triangle were brutally treated by camp guards and other categories of inmates, particularly those who wore the green (criminals), red (political criminals) and black (antisocials) triangles. The following testimony by survivor, Heinz Heger, provides a dramatic illustration:
The following are extracted from Heinz Heger,. The Men with the Pink Triangle. Alyson Publications 1980:34-37. |
Our block was only occupied by homosexuals, with about 250 men in each wing. We could only sleep in our nightshirts, and had to keep our hands outside the blankets, for: 'You queer arse-holes aren't going to start wanking here!'
"The windows of had a centimetre of ice on them. Anyone found with his underclothes on in bed, or his hand under his blanket -- there were checks almost every night -- was taken outside and had several bowls of water poured over him before being left standing outside for a good hour. Only a few people survived this treatment. The least result was bronchitis, and it was rare for any gay person taken into the sickbay to come out alive. We who wore the pink triangle were prioritised for medical experiments, and these generally ended in death. For my part, therefore, I took every care I could not to offend against the regulations
"The windows of had a centimetre of ice on them. Anyone found with his underclothes on in bed, or his hand under his blanket -- there were checks almost every night -- was taken outside and had several bowls of water poured over him before being left standing outside for a good hour. Only a few people survived this treatment. The least result was bronchitis, and it was rare for any gay person taken into the sickbay to come out alive. We who wore the pink triangle were prioritised for medical experiments, and these generally ended in death. For my part, therefore, I took every care I could not to offend against the regulations
Our block senior and his aides were 'greens', i.e. criminals. They look it, and behaved like it too. Brutal and merciless towards us 'queers', and concerned only with their own privilege and advantage, they were as much feared by us as the SS. "In Buchenwald, a homosexual was never permitted to have any position of responsibility. Nor could we even speak with prisoners from other blocks, with a different coloured badge; we were told we might try to seduce them. And yet, homosexuality was much more rife in the other blocks, where there were no men with the pink triangle, than it was in our own. "We were also forbidden to approach nearer than five metres of the other blocks. Anyone caught doing so was whipped on the 'horse', and was sure of at least 15 to 20 strokes. Other categories of prisoner were similarly forbidden to enter our block. We were to remain isolated as the damnedest of the damned, the camp's 'shitty queers', condemned to liquidation and helpless prey to all torments inflicted by the SS and Capos. . |
Host's Note:Questions about this evil regime were asked and studied after the war. How could a race of people treat other's so murderously?
An answer I found for myself was that if you degrade someone physically and mentally enough, (to avail yourself of power over them) then the rest follows. They become niether human or intelligent and therefore worthless to society. Many other's eventually believe what you say and become wrapped up in that belief because human's are very much like sheep: they follow any shepherd they think is strong. (only my opinion) |
My Holocaust Experiences
by Charles V. Ferree
It is extremely important for Liberators and any other witnesses to the atrocities of the Holocaust to document their testimonies. We would like to build a Liberators' section in the Cybrary, and Chuck's story is the beginning. If you'd like to participate in this important project by sharing your own testimony as a Liberator, just click here [email protected] and send an email to Chuck. Displaced Persons Camp
(Law and Order for the Property Owners At least)
In April and May 1945, I was a first lieutenant in the 9th Air Force, attached to the 7th Army Headquarters, temporary duty, for the purpose of flying officers from Eisenhower's headquarters into the various camps as they were liberated. Our unit had moved from France into Germany near Frankfurt. We continued to fly combat missions from that location until the war ended in May of 1945. The rumors became reality as three L-5 Observation planes were dispatched to Buchenwald. Our passengers--medical officers, military police, legal and intelligence officers--were to assess the situation and report to General Eisenhower. After we landed on a makeshift airstrip, we were taken into the first Nazi concentration camp liberated by American troops. As we neared Buchenwald, the odors became nauseating. I commented to the driver about this, and he said "You ain't seen nothing yet. There's dead bodies all over the place, and the clean-up hasn't even started." He took me on a tour of Buchenwald. I can't begin to describe the heinous scene. The officials went about their business, and we flew back to Frankfurt. I felt more anger against Germans that I thought possible. About April 29th, we flew to Munich. We reached the area, and were informed by radio not to attempt landing, as fighting was still in progress. We headed toward the town of Dachau, the site of the second Nazi camp to be liberated. We circled the area seeking a safe spot to land, requesting ground troops to clear a nearby road of rocks and other debris. We made tricky and bumpy landings on the road. Command cars and jeeps took us to Dachau. I thought Buchenwald had been bad; Dachau was much worse. The camp had been liberated that morning, and as we drew near the gates we heard sporadic gunfire. Our driver warned us to be careful. Some inmates had weapons and, only a few hours before, troops had a shoot-out with SS guards. We entered the gates, and were met by a Major General who disappeared with our passengers. The smell burned my nostrils and permeated my pores. Every direction I looked, I saw dead bodies and former prisoners running around. Soldiers gathered in groups, bayonets fixed on their rifles. Chaos like I had never seen before. We observed crazed inmates beating and clubbing their former tormentors to death. The jeep driver asked me if I wanted to look around. He wore a shoulder patch from the 45th Infantry Division, an outfit I had trained with in 1940-41. We drove toward a long freight train, eighty-six cars. Medics were checking the open coal cars and some regular cars with locked doors. Frost still covered the ground, and the hundreds of skeletal, naked corpses were piled into every car and overflowing onto the tracks. An unimaginable sight. Later I learned each car held fifty to eighty prisoners and had been shuttled all over trying to stay away from our troops. The prisoners starved, or froze, or perished from disease. We drove toward the main camp. Dead and dying prisoners were piled in heaps near the crematorium. Soldiers sorted through the bodies, trying to locate the living. It didn't matter, they all died anyway. We turned a corner just as machine-gun fire erupted nearby. The driver stopped and we could see Nazi guards lined up against a building being cut down by the guns. I have no idea how many Nazis died, but the firing went on for thirty or more minutes. Before the end of May, I had flown to five Nazi camps, Bergen-Belsen twice. Twenty-six thousand people had died between trips. Anne Frank and her sister were among the dead. Most of us have some idea of the horrors the Nazis perpetrated on the European Jews. No one knows how many humans suffered and died at the hands of these "ordinary men." We do know millions were murdered by the Nazis in ways too cruel to imagine. After Dachau, I burned my uniform in a vain attempt to rid myself of the death smell. It's still with me, fifty years later. Only recently have I begun talking about the Holocaust. One reason is because I read that as many as seventeen percent of Americans recently polled expressed some doubts that it happened at all. The greatest tragedy in modern times. And some doubt it happened. Others compare the Holocaust with special interests, to fight this or that cause. Political groups even compare each other to Nazis, which I find ridiculous. My wife and I have returned to Europe several times. We visit friends in Austria and Germany. I have revisited some of the Nazi death camps. It's an emotional experience for me. Some European friends apologize for their country's role in WW-II, others argue that the Jews brought it all on. There must be a lesson here someplace. I wish I could find it.Displaced Persons Camp (Law and Order for the Property Owners At least) by Chuck Ferree "Why'd they shoot that guy, Major?"
I'd seen this dead man crumpled up in sort of a fetal position in a field near the road from our airstrip to the village where we were billeted in German homes. A lone young soldier with bayonet fixed to his M-1 rifle stood guard near the body. The dead man wore white clothing, like so many other recently liberated inmates from Nazi concentration camps.
"I'm not sure." the major replied, "But those people in the D.P. camp have been bothering the villagers, stealing food and animals. Guess they cook them in the camp. They cleaned out the factory of all the cloth the Krauts used to make pockets for uniforms. Orders went out to stop the raiding, so I heard he was shot carrying off a lamb or something."
Germany had surrendered a month before. Our squadron had been assigned to fly as targets for an anti-aircraft outfit so they could track us with their new radar guns. It was very boring; we just flew a pattern, changing altitude to see if the new guns could stay on us. Two hours each time, then some other pilot took over, and we had the rest of the day off.
On take off, we flew over the Displaced Persons Camp at about 500 feet. We could see thousands of people milling around inside the barbed wire. Their toilet facilities were out in the open, slit trenches, with canvas providing a little privacy. But from the air, we saw everything, except what went on inside the huge fortress-like buildings and hundreds of tents and barracks. Orders were to stay away from the camp itself. It could be dangerous. The D.P.s had been collected from many Nazi camps and brought to this point for processing and sent back to their native countries. Americans working to sort the people out told us stories of how difficult their job was. Many displaced persons didn't want to return to their homes. Jews didn't want to return to Poland, Gypsies had no safe place to go, Russians were afraid to return for fear of being put to death as traitors. Most expressed a desire to go to the States or Palestine.
Some of us attended an indoctrination session where we were informed of the vast numbers of displaced persons all over Europe, an estimated thirty million in all, with eight or nine million in the Western zones of occupied Germany.
The fighting was over for me and my buddies and we would head home soon. In the meantime we saw Europe. It wasn't my job to see that these victims of Hitler made it home to their families and loved ones. I wanted to take advantage of the opportunity to visit historical European cities which only months before we had tried to destroy.
I put out of my mind the trips I had made to Buchenwald, Dachau, Bergen-Belsen, Mauthausen and other sub-camps. I tried to forget the gruesome sights of thousands of dead victims, the indescribable odors of so much death and suffering. Trying to cope with so many humans totally broken in body, mind and spirit had been just too much. We just could not comprehend the enormity of it all. Some of the men who had not seen these hellish places doubted the reports anyway, so why try to convince skeptics.
I remember telling a buddy about the dead man beside the road. "Let's go take a look." He said.
"Jimmy, a dead man is just a corpse. I don't want to go back there, maybe he's gone by now anyway. They wouldn't leave him out there in the sun all day."
"Come up, I'll drive." Jimmy said.
So we hopped in a jeep and headed for the airstrip. I felt squeamish. "Let's just forget it, pal. Okay?" I hoped Jim would turn the jeep around. But he spotted the body and skidded to a halt. The guard was gone and it was late afternoon. The sun beat down on us as we walked over to the former Nazi prisoner. He had been shot in the back by a high powered American rifle. The blast had blown his belly open. It was messy. Jimmy gasped and vomited.
"Jesus! He's a D.P. why did they have to shoot him because he was hungry and stole some Kraut's sheep?"
"Yeah, that's what I asked the major this morning. The guy was running with food for the hungry bastards in the camp. It ain't right."
We drove back to the village in total silence, each deep into our own thoughts. We went to the command house and requested that the body be removed. "Why'd they shoot the poor guy, Major?"
"He and the others bothered the villagers. Bet they don't steal any more sheep."
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