Thanks to those who commented on my previous blog, #114—Those Dastardly “Triggers.” Several comments were spot on and reminded me of things I’d forgotten. Here’s a few more shared “memories:”
- Totally agree brother, taking the time to remember is important for the soul. A very small percentage of Americans have been on a flight deck.
- Although mine were a little different, I will treasure them forever!
- Sound of an F-4 in the break.
- The first time I saw the opening sequence from “Top Gun,” I swear that I could smell that peculiar mélange of flight deck smells, sitting in the theater….
- Even just driving to the airport here in Ft. Myers, I catch a whiff of jet exhaust and for just a few seconds, I’m on the flight deck, heart increases. Gives me a little rush, here 45 years later.
- The best drinking fountain was in the island passageway. The coldest, and least likely to taste the JP-5…
“Granddad. Last week, you told me and dad about your Bronze Star Medal and Purple Hearts, and how you were wounded. My high school history teacher, Mr. Johnson, suggested I should ask what you did when the war ended.
“Specifically, where you were and if you remember anything about concentration camps? Did your division liberate any? What did you see? How many prisoners were there? What shape were they in? What… ”
“Hold on, hold on, Chris. One question at a time. World War II was years ago. My memory is not as sharp as it used to be. Let me think for a minute.
“I remember we came across several concentration camps. This would’ve been in April and May 1945. There had been rumors that the Nazis were killing prisoners and Jews en masse. We heard it from the local townspeople as well as several POWs who had escaped.
“What we didn’t know at the time—I don’t think anyone will ever understand the monstrosity we witnessed—was just how many hundreds of thousands of Jews the Nazis slaughtered in these camps. They were gassed, they were burned in incinerators, and they were tossed in mass graves.” Ed put his hands over his face and rubbed his forehead. “I can’t even begin to describe the horror.”
He took a deep breath, his voice fading as he lowered his chin.
“The big concentration camp that my division, the 80th, discovered was Buchenwald, just outside Weimar, Germany. It was the first concentration camp the Allies stumbled upon with a large population of prisoners still living. To this day, it’s something I’ll never forget—not the sights, the sounds, nor the smells. My God, how could anyone do these things to other human beings?”
Ed paused for a moment to regain his composure. Both Tom, his son, and Chris, his grandson, saw him tearing up. Neither spoke. The only sound in the room was his labored breathing.
Ed took a deep breath and continued in a quieter, more somber voice. He was rubbing his hands together, staring at them.
“When we first approached Buchenwald, we had no idea what we were about to discover. I distinctly remember several dozen men running toward us. We couldn’t tell if they were prisoners, Krauts, or what. We held our fire and spread out, forming a skirmish line, just in case they were Germans.
“When they got closer, they were as thin as I’ve ever seen a man. Their striped uniforms were torn and tattered and their hollowed eyes spoke volumes of monstrosities and inhumane treatment. It turned out they had overcome the guards the previous day and were fleeing the camp when they stumbled upon us. Apparently, the German guards knew the Allies were approaching. Most of them took off before we got there.
“These men in front of us were in horrible shape. They badly needed food, water, and blankets. We gave them what we had. As bad a shape as they were in, we were astonished that they each shared what we gave them with one another.
“One of them spoke broken English. When we asked if there were any more prisoners, they led us back down the hill to the camp.”
Ed shifted in his seat, his eyes focusing on Chris. He shook his head side to side as he spoke.
“We couldn’t believe our eyes. There were thousands behind the wire fence. The men that led us down to the camp were in far better shape than those still in the enclosure. Most were in rags, had hollowed eyes and drooping faces, and were nothing but skin and bones. Hundreds lay about on the ground… dead.”
Ed took a deep breath and strongly exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.
“We called Battalion, and they called Regiment. Within a few hours, dozens of supply trucks with food, blankets, and medics arrived. There were so many men to care for, we didn’t know where to begin.”
Tom and Chris were glued to Ed’s descriptions. Chris’ research revealed a little about concentration camps, but nothing this detailed. And to think, his own grandfather had been there and witnessed these horrors.
“Well, I thought that was bad,” Ed’s voice began to crack. He took a deep breath, sat on the edge of his seat, and continued. With his elbows on his knees, he rubbed his hands and stared at the floor.
“We began to explore the camp. That’s when we found the incinerators, and bodies stacked like firewood outside the building. We knew right then that the rumors were true. There were hundreds of wagons piled four-to-five high with dead men…” Ed had to pause before continuing “waiting to be incinerated. It was sickening. To this day, I can’t get the sight or the stench out of my mind.”
A tear ran down Ed’s cheek as he looked up, staring out the window. He reached around and massaged the back of his neck again, turning his head as if to rub out the memory.
Tom recalled his time in Vietnam, when he first saw the devastating results of what Napalm could do to a human being. The smell of burnt, decaying flesh is unforgettable to a combat veteran. He almost said something to let his father know he’d had similar experiences, but decided against it. He didn’t want to make this gruesome type of comparison.
Glancing over at Chris, Ed wiped his moist eyes and continued. “That’s why I didn’t cook out on a grill when your dad was growing up. It brought back too many horrible memories. Don’t get me wrong, I like a good steak. I just can’t watch it cook.”
# # #
The above excerpt is from my novel, NEVER FORGET.
It is a true account from a first-hand, front-line World War II combat soldier… my father, Lt. A. Z. Adkins, Jr. I took the liberty of paraphrasing some of the descriptions from his original diary. But even as I read these words today, tears well up my eyes. To know that my dad, and thousands of others like him, witnessed these war atrocities 77 years ago is heart wrenching.
We should never forget.
Becky & I visited Buchenwald in 2010 on a personal tour by a good friend of the 80th Division Veterans Association.
I can tell you that while most of the main buildings are gone, a few remain… reminders of the horrors from years ago. You can’t smell the stench of death, but seeing the brick ovens with the massive iron doors up close and personal… well, let’s just say it was something I’ll never forget.
Photo credit: Andy Adkins
How many concentration camps were there?
I don’t think anyone knows the exact number, but there are resources that indicate more than 1,000 concentration camps (including subcamps) were established during the history of Nazi Germany (1933 to 1945). During my earlier research for WWII book, “You Can’t Get Much Closer Than This,” I found a “map” of concentration camps. In case you’re interested, here’s the link [click here].
Historical records report about 1.65 million people were registered prisoners in the camps at one point.
It is estimated that one million died during their imprisonment.
It is not lost on me that my previous post, “Those Dastardly Triggers,” talked about the five human senses and how certain sounds, smells, or music takes you back to a particular time during your service. I know my dad experienced these “flashbacks.” I think most veterans do.
Like I mentioned earlier, this is not one of the “happy” blog posts for “A Veteran’s Journey.” But it is an important one, at least for this veteran.
Next time, I’ll lighten up a little.
Until we meet again,
Andy
Previous posts mentioned in this blog:
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Andy Adkins is a US Navy veteran (’73-77) and the author of several books. His newest novel, NEVER FORGET, is the story of A Vietnam Veteran’s Journey for Redemption & Forgiveness. NEVER FORGET is FREE (eBook, PDF) for all veterans and their families. Download your FREE copy HERE.
Andy,
Navy 1966 – 1974. Old AQ in Heavy Attack and instructor at Millington for five years. The first 15 minutes of Top Gun need a kerosene heater and large fan going to complete the memory. My triggers still are jet sounds. exhaust smell, diesel, flight deck announcements, and still GQ. They never go away!
Thanks for the comments. I’ve received several from other shipmates, many of whom are instantly transported back to the flight deck when they smell diesel or kerosene. I know I do, especially when there’s a brisk breeze blowing it all my way. Some things will never go away…
Andy, I so much appreciated reading of your Granddad, and of his experiences of seeing these atrocities. We owe him a debt of gratitude for carrying this horror his whole life. It is sad that any man must think of these things, but we in the generations that follow very much need to know to what depths man is capable. As the witnesses all go home to rest, it becomes so very obvious the place that you, his grandson, are playing in the documentation of this needed knowledge. We need the knowledge to counter the deniers, but more to put actually faces to those killed and to those who witnessed.
Thank you for the part you play in this. As a Christian observing Genesis 12:3, an American doing my duty as a responsible citizen and as a father who always hopes to add to the life of my adult son, I am very grateful for this resource. Blessings to you and yours. Keith Rhodes
Thanks, Keith.
Actually, this was my father I wrote about. Yes, they all witnessed these things that they carried with them to their resting place, no doubt. I was fortunate in that I don’t think my dad had too many issues, at least not that I could tell while growing up. I know I’ve talked with other baby boomers whose fathers did suffer from the war. Unfortunately, I think every generation will experience war. Sadly.
Thanks for your comments.
“Still stands thine ancient sacrifice, a humble and a contrite heart; Lord God of Hosts be with us yet, LEST WE FORGET, LEST WE FORGET!!!”
“At the going own of the SUN, an in the MORNING; WE WILL REMEMBER THEM, WE WILL REMEMBER THEM!!!”
Yours Aye: Brian CANUCK Murza, W.W.II /1939-1945 Naval Researcher-Published Author, Niagara Falls, Ontario, Canada.