Neuengamme Concentration Camp

 

On a snowy day shortly before Christmas many years ago, my housemate and I drove to the Concentration Camp of Neuengamme in Northern Germany as part of my research for my mystery novel Murder on Insel Poel  Like most of my novels, there is a modern murder and a historical story.

So far the trip had been fun, as it usually is when J. and I go on adventure. We had spent the day before at the Insel Museum. Not only did I get the information about the sinking of the Cap Arcona, which would make up the historical part of my book, we had shared making Christmas decorations with the museum staff while gathering information -- a bonding of women from different countries. And of course, we were checking off our favorite German meals including the great breakfast buffet where we were staying.

This day was not going to be fun. The bad weather combined with the memories embedded in every brick of the camp was a reminder of the horrors that went on there produced a heaviness that is difficult to describe even for a writer.

There were tapes from survivors who told their stories of their lives before and in the camp. They had been translated into many languages, including images. I listened and listened. I suppose, I could have quit after one or two having enough for my book, but I must have listened to ten. If they survived such horrors, I could at least respect them by listening to their experiences. 

How wonderful it would be if that had that been the last war and peace existed throughout the world. 

It hasn't. 

Some are well known: Vietnam, Afghanistan, Iraq. If only those were the only ones. Wikipedia has a list of wars from 1945 to 1989. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_wars:_1945%E2%80%931989 One just keeps scrolling and scrolling. I didn't have the heart to research beyond 1989.

Now when I look at news broadcasts from various countries it is all about the horror of the Ukrainian war. Needless deaths of innocent people.

It is one thing to read about war or even see a film about it. It is another thing to be in the midst, to hear the bombs, watch your home disintegrate, have people you love killed. 

The camp is a reminder to those who forget, a lesson to those who never knew.