“Much of that money was stolen from Jews,” Dulles said angrily.
“Yes, and sadly that is another thing over which we have no control. I deplore what was done but cannot change the past. You and I can only impact the future.”
Vietinghoff stood and they all shook hands. When the German aide was out of hearing, Vietinghoff turned to Dulles and spoke in a whisper. “Allen, kindly remember that I am the messenger, not the message. Do not forget that I worked for peace once and will continue to do so, despite what Herr Goebbels might want. If this bomb is used, it will unleash horror.”
The two Germans departed by car to the border. “Captain Janek, I trust that you found that educational?”
“I found it shocking and stunning.”
“Indeed, but I am no longer surprised by what the Nazis might think of in order to save their wretched skins. I do not totally trust Vietinghoff. He is significantly motivated by self-preservation. Nothing wrong with that, of course. In the meantime, Captain, you may do us both a favor.”
“Sir?”
“I think we need a drink, a strong one. Perhaps two.”
* * *
“Arbeit Macht Frei,” proclaimed the sign over the gate to the Dachau concentration camp. “Work will make you free.” It was a hideous play on words as so many of the inmates became free only in death and a terrible end to their lives. The camp in southern Bavaria had been liberated by units of the Seventh Army the day before. General Evans had taken the opportunity to see for himself whether the rumored horrors were true or not. He took Tanner, Cullen, and a squad of infantry for security. A young lieutenant from Patch’s Seventh Army staff tried to be their guide. It was apparent that he was emotionally overwhelmed by the scope of the evil they’d discovered.
The stench from the camp was noticeable well before they got to it. Cullen shook his head. “I’ve been told that the people living around here deny knowing anything about the camp. What the hell, what did they think they were smelling, burned pot roast?”
Their goal was to see and learn, not to help. The Red Cross was working hard to assist the several thousand inmates still in the camp who were alive and the U.S. Army was using former camp guards to bury the dead.
Even so, there had been little time for cleanup. Countless bodies lay about and many inmates looked at the Americans with both hope and fear. Many of the living were little more than skeletons who hadn’t yet died. Their guide said that liberated inmates continued to do so despite heroic attempts to help them.
“At least they died as free men and women, although I wonder if many of them knew it,” he said.
He went on to add that the largest segments of prisoners in the camp were Poles and Germans arrested as political criminals. There were Jews as well, just not the vast numbers that had been sent to death camps like Auschwitz. During the weeks before the camp’s liberation, large numbers of prisoners from camps in the east had been sent to Dachau to prevent the Russians from liberating them. These had arrived sick, starved, and riddled with typhus and many of them dying.
“We have no idea how many actually died here,” the lieutenant said, “Although we’ve got people trying to work that out. It’s got to be in the tens of thousands. It’s almost too many to comprehend.”
“I heard that some SS camp guards got shot by our guys,” Cullen said. “Too fucking bad if you ask me.”
Their guide grinned. “It’s true although nobody will say how many got shot. Also, the inmates killed a number of their former captors so we may never have an exact figure. I have heard that some do-gooders want some of our boys court-martialed for killing the guards. Good luck with that if you ask me.”
No argument, Tanner thought. They asked a few questions and found that large numbers of prisoners had been marched south to work on the Redoubt. Tanner wondered how many of them made it and were now working to kill Americans. If they were anything like the skeletal survivors still in the camp, they would not be much use.
Civilians from the town were being marched in. They had stoutly proclaimed their ignorance and now they would see the proof of the atrocities they’d denied. The German men and women would also help bury the dead. The civilians looked shocked and sickened. Maybe they had deluded themselves into actually believing that Dachau was merely a work camp. Tough shit, Tanner thought. Let them see and smell.
Evans shook his head. “We are totally useless here. I had hoped to be able to use what I found here to inspire the troops. But I can’t describe the indescribable. I can’t tell anyone about the look in prisoners’ eyes or describe the stench. Pictures won’t even begin to tell the story.”
One of the infantrymen they’d brought said he’d been a photographer as a civilian. He’d been given a camera and was trying to record what he was seeing. He said that his efforts would not suffice. The awfulness was too much. No camera had yet been made that could adequately document the horror.
“What’s worse,” said the lieutenant, “is that this is just the tip of the iceberg. There are satellite camps run by Dachau’s administration as well as hundreds of other camps. Most of the others are small, but then you have major ones like Buchenwald and Auschwitz. Of course it doesn’t matter a hell of a lot if you’ve been starved and brutalized to death in a small camp of a large one.”
“Can’t argue with that,” Evans said. He thanked the lieutenant and they drove back to the division.
“I want to take a half a dozen showers with a strong soap and burn my uniform. Maybe that will get the stench off,” Tanner said to Cullen.
“But it won’t get rid of the memories, will it?”
* * *
Being a nun, even a pretend one, had its advantages. The American liberators were courteous to the sisters, even giving them food and rides in the back of trucks. Apparently they were willing to give the sisters the benefit of the doubt as to whether or not they were Nazis. Or perhaps they were afraid. Lena overheard a couple of them talking about the nuns they’d had in school and what fearsome monsters they’d been.
They arrived at the city of Stuttgart in southern Germany. American and French forces had taken it on April 21. What the Allies got were massive piles of ruins. The city had been bombed numerous times and had been shelled by both the Americans and the French before capturing it. The city center area had been especially hard hit. Before the battles, Stuttgart had been one of Germany’s largest cities. Now it was a scorched and blackened shell. Lena realized that she had been sheltered while living with the Schneiders. A small blessing, she thought. The destruction around her was almost beyond comprehension. If somebody had attempted to describe it to her they would have failed utterly. Block after city block was totally destroyed. Bare walls jutted up like skeletal remains. People wandered through the ruins like ghosts. Some poked at a particular piece of debris. Perhaps, she thought, they were looking for something tangible that had been a piece of their previous lives.
Worse was the stench. Many bodies still remained rotting under the ruins. Lena and the nuns had seen and smelled death while walking along the roads, but the smell in Stuttgart was overpowering. On a couple of occasions, it had caused them to vomit. Even their American drivers seemed stunned by the devastation.
The people who had survived and who remained in the city appeared to be wandering aimlessly. Their thin pale faces showed shock. Not only had their homes been destroyed, but a foreign power had taken over what remained. Many civilians were dressed in rags. Large numbers were bandaged. They were the walking wounded. Some still wore their military uniforms and they were often in tatters. One of their drivers mentioned that the large hospitals for civilians and German military were totally overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of casualties. Nor was there enough medicine or beds to care for the multitudes.