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This picture always struck me, because unlike so many photos of the time, it's so relaxed and unposed - just a bunch of coworkers, having fun. But this is a resort called Solahütte. It was built for these people, and it was 18 miles from where they worked, a place called Auschwitz. It was built to give them a break from their very important work.
These smiling, happy people were on their day off from putting Jews in ovens.
A lot of times people will say they look at the faces in photos like these and try to understand. But I don't need to try. I understand these people thoroughly. Those two on the left in the front? They were besties, party girls, just waiting for the war to be over so they could get down to the business of finding husbands and enjoying their twenties. Blonde boy behind them? A bit awkward but always up for a laugh. The guy with the accordion learned it from his grandpa, but never had any intentions of playing professionally - it was good for parties, though.
They had their fun out there in the woods - it's good sometimes to get away and just leave your worries behind, isn't it? - and then they got back in their cars and they rode back to the camp and they got on with the business of genocide. The party girls, they were in charge of noting down every possession they took from the incoming as they went through processing. Blondie? He told the children, sternly but not unkindly, how important hygiene was, as he led them to the showers. Herr Accordion? A laboratory assistant to Doktor Mengele, absolutely marvelous at keeping the equipment clean and organized - that was his real skill, not just laying down a rousing chorus of "Horst Wessel" when the beer was flowing, and he was much valued for it, and the fact that he always remembered your birthday and asked about your family. That's important when you're stationed far away from them, isn't it? To have someone who reminds you of normal life, just waiting on the other end of the Allied surrender.
Of course. That's exactly who they were. And absolutely none of it negates the fact that the nice people in this photo were fucking monsters, many of whom ended their war at the end of a rope or in front of a firing squad. And you know what? I bet they did it crying, begging, screaming that it wasn't fair, that they had a job to do, that's all, they were given a job and they were expected to do it, and what would you have done in their place?
That, right there, is the most important question you have to ask yourself. It's one I've pondered my entire life. And I know my answer: I would never allow myself to be put in the position of finding out. I'd rather run or die. The lesson I learned from these people was to never put myself in a position where I was required to do evil in the name of following orders. And I have very little sympathy for those who choose otherwise.
There are not good people on both sides. There are party girls and weekend polka players everywhere, people who are kind to their children and bake extra cookies for their neighbors, but some people choose to be the instruments of horror and others do not, and history is rightfully merciless to the former.
So when you tell me that some of the people in America espousing the same madness that these people in this picture committed atrocities for are really not that bad if you get to know them, that there are good people on both sides, I don't believe you.
Because I do know them. And I do not care. -JZ Ellis
These smiling, happy people were on their day off from putting Jews in ovens.
A lot of times people will say they look at the faces in photos like these and try to understand. But I don't need to try. I understand these people thoroughly. Those two on the left in the front? They were besties, party girls, just waiting for the war to be over so they could get down to the business of finding husbands and enjoying their twenties. Blonde boy behind them? A bit awkward but always up for a laugh. The guy with the accordion learned it from his grandpa, but never had any intentions of playing professionally - it was good for parties, though.
They had their fun out there in the woods - it's good sometimes to get away and just leave your worries behind, isn't it? - and then they got back in their cars and they rode back to the camp and they got on with the business of genocide. The party girls, they were in charge of noting down every possession they took from the incoming as they went through processing. Blondie? He told the children, sternly but not unkindly, how important hygiene was, as he led them to the showers. Herr Accordion? A laboratory assistant to Doktor Mengele, absolutely marvelous at keeping the equipment clean and organized - that was his real skill, not just laying down a rousing chorus of "Horst Wessel" when the beer was flowing, and he was much valued for it, and the fact that he always remembered your birthday and asked about your family. That's important when you're stationed far away from them, isn't it? To have someone who reminds you of normal life, just waiting on the other end of the Allied surrender.
Of course. That's exactly who they were. And absolutely none of it negates the fact that the nice people in this photo were fucking monsters, many of whom ended their war at the end of a rope or in front of a firing squad. And you know what? I bet they did it crying, begging, screaming that it wasn't fair, that they had a job to do, that's all, they were given a job and they were expected to do it, and what would you have done in their place?
That, right there, is the most important question you have to ask yourself. It's one I've pondered my entire life. And I know my answer: I would never allow myself to be put in the position of finding out. I'd rather run or die. The lesson I learned from these people was to never put myself in a position where I was required to do evil in the name of following orders. And I have very little sympathy for those who choose otherwise.
There are not good people on both sides. There are party girls and weekend polka players everywhere, people who are kind to their children and bake extra cookies for their neighbors, but some people choose to be the instruments of horror and others do not, and history is rightfully merciless to the former.
So when you tell me that some of the people in America espousing the same madness that these people in this picture committed atrocities for are really not that bad if you get to know them, that there are good people on both sides, I don't believe you.
Because I do know them. And I do not care. -JZ Ellis
