A Time of Infamy

In our journeys through Berlin, one of the items that sticks with a person is the history behind its streets and rebuilt plazas and buildings. The dark history that everyone wishes to forget. But it is our duty as the living to remember the fates of the dead and dying, and learn from them. Prevent the past from becoming the present, learning from our mistakes. In Berlin, we took in a walking tour, which showed us some of the most important places in the history of Germany in the 20th Century. From the plaza where the great book burning occurred, to the parade route of the NSDAP, to the monument for the murdered Jews of Europe. We arrived at the place where the conductor of this vile symphony met his end, and at the place which was set aside to remember the atrocities of the past. But, we also saw the fruit of his actions, the dividing line of the world, the rubble of the work of centuries, and the bullet holes. Let the fruit of his actions remain a testament to his legacy, one of nothing but hollow victories, great loss, and ultimate failure.

The next day, we saw one of the pride and joys of the black-hearted conductor and his vile soloist, Sachsenhausen. Here, thousands met their end, many more were kept here in a squalor and entropy that would come to define this dark time. We bore as witnesses to a small glimpse of the past, one could only imagine the true conditions at the time, but all that remained was a recreation and a small part of the original. However, what it lacked in size and scale, the camp had no want for atmosphere. An aura of dread seemed to permeate the atmosphere so much so that many of us were visibly shaken after viewing the sites. One of the most haunting moments for me were the initial gate. Many times I had heard the words, seen a picture, or seen a movie recreation, but none of them compared to the cold iron writing of “Arbeit Macht Frei”. Inside a miniature museum within the camp, we found the graffiti of an artist who represented what was happening in the camp with an art style akin to rubber hose. Disturbing to say the least. A little later, we were lead to where the ovens were kept, and where Soviet soldiers by the thousands were killed, butchered, and burned. One of the greatest things that worked against me here was the overactive imagination I have. Standing in that place, I could see that path unfold before my eyes, see the industrial and cruel nature of that black hole.

All of this was a dark moment in this trip, but it was an even darker time in our history. I speak not only of the history in Europe, but the history of all mankind. Our culture, our science, our medicine, our very way of life was impacted by this time. Despite the pain of remembering the past, and the want to forget the evils of men dead and gone, we must always remember, not only the events that occurred, but the context by which they were committed, else we grow rosy-eyed as time wears on.