Dachau

On our way to Munich on Friday, we stopped to visit Dachau, the first concentration camp in Germany, predating the war.

I had asked a friend, before we went, what she thought of taking Grant in with us. At first she said she wouldn't recommend it, but later she said she'd asked her husband his opinion and he thought it was OK. I thought long and hard about it. On the one hand, I don't want to strip him of his innocence before age nine; on the other hand, I don't ever want to lie to him. We could and did easily tell Charlie it was just a museum. Charlie is our most rambunctious child, but when we go into churches he seems to understand that it's important to be quiet and respectful. I explained that it was a museum and that he needed to be quiet, that he might see people praying or crying. Amazingly, he was totally quiet while on the grounds. Grant and I went in first and Tobi stayed out by the visitor center with Charlie and Caroline.

The front gate of Dachau, with the infamous saying,

"Arbeit macht frei" - work sets you free.

The moment you walk through the front gate, the oppressive sadness seeps into your bones. I wasn't prepared for that. But it hits you straight away. Despite the many tour groups, it was very quiet. Lots of people taking pictures, reading the signs, contemplating.

A cell ward for SS soldiers, suspected of treason

The day was beautiful - breezy and sunny. It was in stark contrast to the way one feels when walking around the grounds. The beauty of the swaying trees lining the alley where the barracks once stood was juxtaposed with the ugliness of what occurred there. Grant read every sign. I joked with Tobi later that he is his father's child. If you've ever gone into a museum with Tobi, you know you won't get out of there anytime soon. He reads everything. Grant did as well. I think it was partly because he was happy to be able to read it on his own without asking me to read it to him. He also asked very thoughtful questions. As only a child can, he asked some that were impossible to answer. He also reasoned with his childlike innocence. He asked me why they constructed a crematorium. I explained that there were too many bodies for burial, to which he replied, "Shouldn't that have been their first clue that they were killing too many people?" He also asked me if there were any people who tried to escape. I said, "Yes, but it was very difficult," to which he replied, "Well, I'd wait until the guards went on lunch break."

The 69 original barracks were destroyed,

two have been reconstructed to look like the originals.

One of seven watch towers

The thing that most struck me of the experience were the expressions of art dotting the buildings (you can read more about the art here). There are numerous plaques and sculptures. The memorials were beautiful. Some, like the Catholic and Jewish memorials, were elaborate and beautifully done. Others, like the Polish memorial, were austere and understated.

A sculpture linking all the various badges the prisoners were forced to wear

The Jewish Memorial

The Polish Memorial, on the Catholic Memorial

The Polish Memorial reads: Here in Dachau, every third victim was a Pole. One of every two Polish priests was martyred + their holy memory is venerated here by their fellow prisoners of the Polish clergy.

The barbed wire fence still stands.

Memorial at the crematorium. "Think about how we died here."

To honor the dead, to the living a reminder

I still don't know if I did the right or wrong thing by taking Grant in and letting him see the truth of what happened in the camp. There were not a lot of photos on the signs, which was lucky on our part, because that would have been difficult to shield him from. But at the end of the visit, he did see one disturbing photo and he looked at me and said, "Mom, this is too much. Can we go now?" I felt like he mirrored my sentiments exactly.

The bells rang out late in the day during our visit. It was the most beautiful arrangement of bells I think I've ever heard. They started off very loud and gradually they lessened to the sound of mostly echoes. It sounded like voices echoing from long ago. The profound sorrow too great to ever really fall silent.