Today is the last day of this amazing experience before we begin the long journey home. It’s been great, educational, fun at times, somber at other, and overall – the professional trip of a lifetime. But, it’s time to go home and be with my family again.
We have two big events on the schedule for today – this morning we went to Treblinka (another killing center) and then this evening we have our final dinner and say our goodbyes.
Our bus ride to Treblinka (about 2 hours outside Warsaw) was typical for our Polish bus rides – sudden stops that throw us into the seat in front of us, sudden accelerations that throw us against the backs of our seats and constant weaving in and out of traffic. Sometimes we really miss our Israeli bus driver Bennie.
We finally arrived at Treblinka and like two other killing centers of Operation Reinhard, they were out in the middle of nowhere. The only thing linking them to the rest of Poland was a railroad line.
Path through the forest where the train tracks once were
We first went into a little house which stood on that site during the war, where they had built a very nice little museum with a model of the camp under glass. Since nothing remains of the original camp, it was interesting to see what it looked like and how it was set up.
When we left the museum it was raining again, pretty softly at first, but when we arrived at the open area of the camp (just a large clearing in the trees now, with the memorial) it really began blowing. They have had several tornadoes in the area in the last few days – we saw dozens of trees broken off and uprooted on the trip here. How fitting to see the traditional Jewish symbol of a life cut short – a broken tree – on our way to Treblinka.
This camp was another very small camp that did a very deadly business. Over 800,000 people were murdered in this camp in less than 18 months. The camp was carved out of the forest and like Mjdanek, very small.
There was a small work camp nearby, but this camp was nothing but a killing center. The people were taken off the trains, marched into the camp where they set down all their belongings. They were then beaten and herded through the “Road to Heaven” (the not-so-humorous Germans called it), a long, narrow chute, for lack of a better word, which ended up at the gas chamber. The building had a Star of David on the front and was called the “Place of David.” Yet another counterfeit, another deception by the Nazis to control their victims until they could do nothing to resist.
Model of the camp showing the "chute" through which the prisoners were herded, with the gas chamber building and "the grill" behond.
Here the Jews thought they had arrived to work. Unfortunately, they were killed in several gas chambers that used carbon monoxide from an old Soviet tank engine.
The bodies were then pulled out and cremated on “the grill”(a series of large metal rods about 100 feet long). The ashes were dumped into huge pits that had been dug by steam shovel. The only photographs from Treblinka are of the construction, the digging of those pits, and of the SS area.
Digging the mass graves
The camp was eventually shut down in 1943, the buildings were destroyed, and a farm planted on the site. A Ukrainian family was sent to live there to pretend it was a “normal” farm.
Word had gotten out, but most could not believe it. There is one picture that exists of smoke rising from the forest in the area. That would be the smoke from cremating bodies on “the grill.”
The memorial today is a series of huge concrete slabs that cover the mass graves of the victims. Each slab has large stones placed on it reminiscent of the Jewish tradition of placing a stone on the gravestone of a loved one when you visit a cemetery.
Janusz Korczak (the man who ran an orphanage in Warsaw and went with the children to the gas chamber) and the children of his orphanage were killed here. There is an inscription on one of the stones commemorating him and the children.
There is also a large pillar in the middle of the camp where we lit candles in memory of those who died. Some in our group read stories and poems written by survivors and victims. I was doing OK – somber, but OK – at that point. Then Elaine begins reading a letter that a mother and a father wrote to their daughter. They had given her to a Gentile family to raise as their own so she could survive. They wrote this letter for her to read when she was old enough to understand what had happened to her parents.
Another mass grave with a memorial above and pillar
It was heartbreaking. It was also very close-to-home for me. I write a letter to each of my children when they graduate from High School. I have written two letters and have two more to go. In these letters I tell them how much I love them and how proud I am of them. I explain my faith and encourage them as they continue to develop and expand their faith. I encourage them to be better than I was, or better than I am. I give them little bits of counsel so they can learn from someone who has made many mistakes.
When they are out at their all-night graduation party I place those letters on their pillows to find when they get home. I don’t know if they keep them or if they read them more than once – that is up to them. For me, it is important that I write them. Some things need to be said – at least once – and not just assumed or “hinted at.” These letters are a collection of the things that I believe need to be said.
As I listened to the portion of the letter written by the mother, I was a wreck. When Elaine began the part written by the father, I lost it. I couldn’t hear any more and quietly walked back several yards into the rain.
I wondered later, what kind of letter would I write to my children if I was going to die rather than on the occasion of their graduation from high school? I decided I would write exactly the same letter. These are the things that are the most important to me so I don’t think there would be anything to change.
After Elaine’s reading, Jason asked if he could sing Kaddish for the victims. We have read the Jewish prayer for the dead before, but this time Jason, a Jewish man with his kippa on his head, sang the prayer. It was beautiful, it was tender, it was the best memorial I could ever hope to see on such a site as this.
lighting candles at the memorial
Needless to say, I was a mess and hung back so as to walk alone on the way to the bus. All I could think of was, “That’s it, I’m done.” I don’t think I could handle any more experiences like for a while. On the bus I wrote down some things I wanted to remember and then I zoned out.
I never thought I could personalize and internalize these events to the extent that I have. I credit Elaine and her stories, her family history, her readings for doing this for me. I’m much more like Steven – all facts and figures – so to have the human side so tangible, so palpable, I think it’s changed me forever. I didn’t expect that.
I came here expecting to learn in the manner in which I usually learn academic matters and am leaving having learned the way I learn a spiritual matters. Each day has been a spiritual journey that I will miss, even though I think I need to get away from it for a while.
I think I’ll rest a bit before dinner and our “closing social” if I can call it that. More info on that later. . . . .
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