Day 10 -- Munich, Germany

Here it comes. Dachau. The birthplace of the modern concentration camp. I wasn't sure what to expect exactly – there was no basis for comparison in the United States. Sure, we treated the Native Americans quite poorly, but (aside from the unpleasant biological warfare) there was no tacit, government sanctioned genocide. The same goes for the slaves – we didn't want to exterminate them…just use them as property. And either way, those original sins are centuries old…as opposed to decades old for the German people.

So it was difficult to picture exactly how they would approach this. A lot of foreign (and some domestic) tourists are interested in these places, yet on the other hand, they're a stark reminder of the sins of your country. And sins so bad that it's sorta' the benchmark for any "country gone awry."

And it's interesting seeing history from a European perspective – especially their perspective on American involvement in European wars. For instance, in the Musee d'Armee, the section that mentioned the American involvement in World War two started, not with Pearl Harbor, but with the "American Oil Embargo on Japan." Never mind the reason behind the oil embargo (the Japanese invasion of Manchuria, and the League of Nations response), the beginning of American involvement in WWII was, from the French perspective, the oil embargo on the poor, oil-hungry Japanese.

There was also absolutely no mention of Patton in Northern Africa (the exhibit only mentioned General Bernard Montgomery), and when the Americans became involved in WWI, the French were sure to point out that it was "With the assistance of French arms" and that the troop assistance was initially "very limited" since the Americans only arrived in 1917.

But what to do about a concentration camp? Well, I was about to find out.

We got up fairly late – there was a general feeling of unease between us…unspoken mostly. It was a strange, dreading feeling going to the camp. Like you know you're about to watch the most tragic movie of your life (which is Beaches, of course); you want to prepare yourself mentally, but you don't know totally what to expect.

By now we'd licked the German transportation system. We got our S-Bahn pass for "5 people and under," then hopped on the west-bound train.

Arriving in the city of Dachau, we did what we've been doing all trip – skipped the shuttle bus, and walked the hour-and-a-half to the site. Admittedly, this walk was not as pretty as the Neuschwanstein hike – it was mostly suburban, and the water we walked beside was more "canal" than "creek."

Another interesting note – we looked at the map by the train station, and it listed "Things to Do in Dachau." The concentration camp was number 7 or 8 on the list (behind the "Town Hall," and several art galleries). Now, I can't imagine that most tourists are coming to Dachau to see their nice, historic town hall…but…then again, who wants to be known as the "Concentration Camp Town!"

We got to the camp eventually – the place was pretty unassuming at first. No big lines. There were several large groups of people (tour groups and school field trips, mostly), but no real "crowds." Lots of individual stragglers as well (like ourselves).

Now I don't like to speak in sweeping generalities – I mean…I try to avoid them, but everyone avoids them…especially the Italians, who are really the best at avoiding generalities. So I'll try to give my feelings about this place as "personal" a vibe as I can...

Basically, right before you walk through the gate there was a little, dilapidated train platform. This was where every person who came to Dachau disembarked…and for many of them they'd never see the platform again.

Now, unlike a lot of places (especially in Munich), the concrete I was seeing here was the same concrete that the Dachau prisoners saw…the camp was mostly untouched after WWII (briefly serving as an American POW camp and military prison…then as a refugee camp), becoming a full-time memorial in the early 1960s. So…while a lot of other places around Europe have been touched up, repainted, repaired, and reconditioned over the years…this historic site was the real deal. The pocked concrete walls, the metal grating, the heavy wood doors, the light fixtures; for the most part this was all "primary source" history.

So I got to run my fingers along this platform…which is fairly corny, but looking from the platform to the entrance…it was just a pretty powerful sight for me. I was looking at the same thing they were looking at…sixty-five years ago.

We stepped inside, through the gate famously stating "Arbeit Macht Frei" (work will set you free). And we went to the first exhibit – the bunker.

Again, all the same emotions as the train platform. One of the first rooms you see "the bunker" was the place where the special prisoners were tortured. Out the back you could see the concrete posts that (as punishment) prisoners would be hung from – by their hands, which were tied behind their backs (a kind of vertical crucifixion). There were several rooms inside the bunker that were called "standing rooms," which were made so that people were unable to sit or lay down. As punishment, people were made to stand in these little rooms for up to 72 hours at a time. Finally there were rooms that were bare and black – as another form of punishment, they'd throw you into this room and keep you in total darkness for up to 6 months at a time (sometimes longer).

And Dachau was not an extermination camp – it was one of the first (if not the first) concentration camp…founded in the 1930s. It initially housed political prisoners…then it housed POWs, and finally, after Kristallnacht, it housed the standard fare of Jews, Gypsies, Homosexuals, and Miscreants.

So as bad as Dachau was, there were even more terrible places, such as Birkenau, or Belzec. But I was finding out, even the camps built solely for "internment" were awful, deadly places to be. In addition to the torture and forced labor, there were awful medical experiments being conducted by some "men of science." Imagine if you were a prisoner, and one of the guards selects you for a special duty. They probably picked you because you fit the description of a Luftwaffe pilot, and you were (relatively) healthy. So they take you aside. You've done everything right up to this point – probably staying as healthy as possible…keeping your head down…going about your business…

When they take you to a chamber. It's a pressure chamber, and they're testing the survivability of Luftwaffe pilots in high-altitude situations. So they sit you on a bench in this chamber, then start de-pressurizing it until the arteries in your brain expand, and eventually pop. Or maybe they put you in a tub of freezing ice water (in full Luftwaffe pilot attire) and see how long you last until you die of hypothermia…because they were concerned about pilot survivability in cold-water situations. I mean…that's just not fair. There's no "Frei" in this situation…you could work your ass off, and if you're the guy who seems "the most healthy," you're tortured to death for the sake of curiosity.

But one of the things that stuck with me was the pictures and videos that were taken by the American forces that liberated the camp. After the invasion of Normandy, and the advance of the Allied forces through France and Germany, the Nazis made an effort to withdraw not only their troops, but also their detainees…and they attempted to destroy all evidence if their misdeeds. So when the Americans reached Dachau (surprising the German guards, and preventing the Nazis from dismantling the camp before Allied forces arrived), it had been used to house prisoners at 20 times its regular capacity. So when the Americans arrived, the saw the camp as it was being run – scattered with various corpses, and piled high with bodies ready for the incinerator.

Now I'm going to get a little macabre here, so bear with me. Arbeit macht frei. Dachau was used, generally, as a source of slave labor, as the Germans were running out of domestic labor (most men of a suitable age and heritage had already been drafted into the Army). So the men at Dachau would get shipped to various armament factories in the area, or they'd work maintaining Dachau itself. Since they were treated poorly, often they'd be worked until they could not work…then those invalids would be sent to an extermination camp and "healthy" workers would replace them.

So the only way to survive Dachau was to work. Arbeit macht frei. The pictures the American forces took were of men…fully dressed for work…sitting against a wall, or passed out on the ground…just not living. These men were worked to death. It's hard to imagine – like anyone, I put myself in their place. How could I have survived this? I'm sure it's common to read about a disaster, and picture how you'd have survived…like, during a plane crash, I'd be the one opening the emergency door at the last second and swan-diving into a lake. Or I'd brace myself against a window, and get thrown clear when my bus plunges over a bridge. In every emergency I see myself as the sole survivor, busting out through a window, rolling through the flames, diving under the table to escape the collapse, et cetera.

I asked myself if I could have done that these men were unable to do…and even given my propensity for the "hero complex," I realized…these men were tougher than I could ever be. They were mostly Russian and Polish prisoners of war, with the occasional western-European prisoner (who were generally treated much better than their eastern counterparts…they were allowed to communicate with the outside world, receive aid packages from the Red Cross, etc.). These men were strong, tough, and stubborn…and when they died, they died probably figuring they just needed to rest against a wall for a minute, or…not having the strength to stand…collapsing to the ground. There was no "give up" in the faces of death that I saw.

Now, I've done some fairly hard labor before. Sometimes for several days in a row. After a week of clearing brush, chopping wood, or transporting heavy things, I'm completely drained, sore, exhausted…my hands are blistered…and I usually need at least another week to recover. Hard to imagine what I'd do if my life depended on my ability to get up every day, not complain, work myself ragged with little to eat for 16 hours at a time with no breaks, then come home to a straw-lined wooden bunk in a little room I shared with 50 other guys in the same position. It's hard to imagine…but at Dachau I had to try. Everyone is born with that instinct to survive, and those men had it more than most. More than me, I'm sure.

Anyway, enough of that. For me, the Concentration Camp at Dachau was the most moving part of our trip thus far. We walked around the camp for, probably, about 3 or 4 hours. It was an eerie, moving little slice of history. And to their credit, the German people did not pull any punches in their re-telling of the camp's history – there was a section that explained how the Americans, upon liberating the camp, forced every resident of Dachau to come to the camp and view the pile of bodies that were sitting out, waiting to be incinerated. Then the surviving members of the Nazi party were forced to dig the mass graves for those same bodies.

I spoke a couple of days ago about the unfortunate destruction of the amazing cathedrals in downtown Munich…how Allied bombing had damaged a large portion of historic Munich. Having visited Dachau, I can now understand why the German people can see that damage as more of a fait accompli than a travesty.

Having taken in as much as we were able we returned to the Dachau train station, had a quick lunch at a local bakery, then headed back into town. Once we were there, we decided to venture out solo for only the second time this trip (the other coming on our disastrous train disembarkation in Passing). It was strangely frightening – it's going to be odd getting back to Los Angeles, and not spending 24 hours together.

Our dinner was more amazingly prepared beer and meat – we got the chance to taste the beer from the monastery that we didn't get a chance to visit the night before…and although it still hasn't fixed my beer palate, it was definitely quite good.

Mentally and physically drained, we retired to the Hotel Uhland, and Erika fell asleep almost immediately. I stayed up for a bit (as I always do), read a Rolling Stone article about John McCain, watched some soccer on TV, and eventually fell asleep too.

Tomorrow we leave Munich…and honestly, I wish we could spend another week here. The hotel, the food, the people, the buildings…amazing. I'm going to miss this place. But we're off to Lucerne, which is going to be our "R&R" stop. Not a whole lot planned, and a smaller city than what we've been to…but a good break after our whirlwind through Paris and Munich, and a "recouping" before we're off to the mean streets of Rome. Should be a nice, relaxing time. Until then…