My Remembrance of the Place

Lindsay Bregman, 14 years old, was part of a group of
students from Cold Spring Harbor High School, who
visited Eastern Europe this April on an EF tour. One
of the sites she visited was Auschwitz-Birkenau in Poland.

As I walked through the death-marked gates and saw the signs of sheer terror, I felt as though a piece of my innocence was lost. The warm breeze was deceiving. I walked into the first barrack and saw horrible displays of destruction. I felt physical and mental sickness go through every ounce of my body. I wondered why some people even bothered living. I was disgusted by the horrible display of hatred. My limbs went numb. I saw pain stricken faces on the walls and shoes, worn by people who were forced to die disgusting deaths because one man convinced millions they were evil.

When I saw the mounds of human hair piled halfway to the ceiling, I felt like crying for those innocent people. I saw with my own eyes hatred, destruction, and corrupt behavior so immense that I will never be the same again. I walked through corridors lined with torture chambers. I recalled stories that were told to me by my grandmother and the ones I heard from survivors. I thought I understood what happened to Jews and other people, but there was no way in my wildest dreams I could have known or understood what it was like.

I walked into the gas chambers where thousands of people were murdered for reasons that I cannot and never will understand. The stories of these people never seemed so real. I realized how vulnerable and gullible we really are. These people were led to believe that they were to take a shower; meanwhile they were living their last moments, breathing their last breaths, and saying their last goodbyes although they did not even know it. I saw children's clothes that had been worn by the children who died. I saw photographs of children who were ruined by Dr. Joseph Mengele. I saw the intense faces on the walls of the people who entered the gates and never returned. My sadness grew with every step I took in that horrible place. It is difficult to imagine people, humans, hating other people so much that they would murder millions of them.

There is no one feeling that can describe my time inside the Auschwitz-Birkenau concentration camp. I cannot picture people standing in an open space, naked, awaiting their deaths. I can only thank God that my family was not hurt or killed during this time. I saw piles of crutches and artificial limbs on top of each other. I walked up the steps where thousands of people once stood. I saw where men, women, and children were kept for days, months, and years. I could not fathom any kind of solid train of thought while walking through the rooms. It all seems so horrible and unreal that I almost cannot believe that this place exists. It frightens me that all this, the Holocaust, happened only fifty years ago.

Although it seems ancient, the Holocaust was quite recent. One day, I will be telling my grandchildren about my experiences in this terrible place.