Lesson of the Day: ‘Before the Liberation of Auschwitz, a March of Misery’

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Lesson of the Day: ‘Before the Liberation of Auschwitz, a March of Misery’

Now, reflect on what you heard:

  • What was your experience listening to the oral history recordings?

  • How was that experience different from reading about the death marches in a textbook or in another secondary account?

  • What are you left feeling or wondering about after listening to the oral histories?

Read the article, then answer the following questions:

1. The article starts with a description of a monument: “But there are only four names. Another 21 people are identified by their inmate numbers. And 17 have never been identified.” Why is this important? What does this illuminate about the struggle to piece together parts of Holocaust history?

2. Why has it been hard to document the death marches before liberation? What are some of the theories about why they occurred?

3. What does Zofia Posmysz remember about the time before and during the death march? What do Holocaust scholars observe about the memories of survivors?

4. What propelled Jan Stolarz, a retired miner, to lead a memory march?

5. What was Bernard Halat’s experience witnessing the death marches? What was the moment of hope that he remembered seeing?

Option 1: Reflect

The death marches of 1945 took place 75 years ago. The people who somehow survived those forced marches, as well as the people who witnessed them, are getting older. Perhaps most have already died. Mr. Santora writes:

Until recently, it would have been possible to find people who lived in the towns and villages along the route who could recall seeing the columns of starving and abused prisoners flanked by Nazi soldiers walking past their homes.

Their numbers, like the survivors, grow fewer every year.

And he ends the article with the following sentence:

For the millions who died during the Holocaust, including the thousands who did not die in the camps but along lonely stretches of frozen roads and snow-covered fields, their stories were buried with them long ago.

Does it matter that soon, as time passes, there will no longer be any firsthand witnesses who survived what happened during the Holocaust — or saw them? What does that mean for the purpose of recording history? What does it mean for the power of teaching future generations about a dark past? What relevance, if any, does that unavoidable reality have for preventing future genocides?