In just three hours, we managed to go through a hell that for some lasted months or even more, or even less. We have experienced this wretched place but as the survivor (Howard) with us keeps repeating “we at least have the option of coming back out.”
As we walked in, we saw towns less than minutes away, which although they were not here during the time of the war, were a good representation of showing us how close normal and human life stood. The camp of Majdanek is completely exposed, it wouldn’t be hard to miss. One may constantly think to themselves why no one came and stopped this madness, but then again how could they.
We first walked through the gas chamber where near all of us broke apart at the sight of the scratches on the walls and the stains of Zyklon B. This gas chamber is connected at the site to the building, which used to be for bath and disinfection upon entry. As we walked the museum site, one particular building had on display thousands of shoes, which stretched on for what seemed like miles. We all thought about the stories that could have belonged to these shoes and wondered where they’d be now if they had not been so viciously murdered.
We visited the only field that remained (Field 3) and listened to stories from our guide, Mark, and the survivor with us (Howard) of some of the horrors that happened. (Howard will tell more of his story at his hometown and on our visit to Auschwitz-Birkenau where he was a prison laborer). One thing that struck me at t
he field was this sculpture that stood at the end. It was built by a Jew who lived in one of the barracks and was kept there, and this was the prize for winning an art contest that the commandant’s wife held. Mark mentioned that underneath the sculpture that was meant to spite the people who commissioned it; human ash from the crematorium was stolen and buried beneath so that when the SS would have their daily roll call they were saluting Jewish ash and life. A sense of hope spread through us if any was even left. We continued on to the crematorium. A sickening place nothing could really move us anymore, but then we saw a smaller room with a bathtub. We nearly all lost it once again. We had heard the story before entering but didn’t want to believe it. The bath tub’s purpose served for the commandant, who enjoyed taking long, hot baths; the only place that there was hot water of course, was the crematoriums. So he’d sit there bathing in the water that was heated by the burning people.
We then held a memorial service to end on a better note. Overall, the experience was heart wrenching but the fact that we had so many people around us to help us through it was incredible.
– Anatea Einhorn