oconnor.383 | Transnational History of World War II

Willkommen, Bienvenue, Welcome

June 3, 2017 at 10:10pmJune 3, 2017 by oconnor.383

Beautiful Berlin! We finally made it to the place where it all began. The city bears the evidence of its recent history, with remnants of the Third Reich visible alongside the wall that made West Berlin an island and shrouded East Berlin in Soviet-era silence. It is fascinating to see how the city has bounced back from being riven by the world at large.

One thing I noticed specifically about the portrayals of WWII was both how detailed and objective every museum we visited was. The German Historical Museum, The German Capitulation Museum, and Wannsee House were all incredibly thorough in their treatment of the war. I would argue that these museums were the most objective of any we have visited so far. I suspect this is because Germany, in trying to move past their actions from WWII, does not want to be accused of downplaying facts or being misleading in their presentations. They want to acknowledge what happened while also acknowledging that they are a completely different country now.

It was very apparent how much Germany has changed while walking through the Reichstag, home of their parliament. The same building that was set on fire in 1933 and allowed Hitler to declare martial law, Germany’s democratic representation is complemented by a chamber that is visible from almost everywhere in the building, modern architecture mixed with the surviving structure. They also preserved the graffiti Soviet soldiers left during the Battle of Berlin. Their perspective on their history stands in contrast to the triumphant narrative of the Allies.

It’s strange to think how short this trip was and yet how long it feels. It was less than a month ago we arrived in London, and we’re already finished. In this time, I have witnessed so many representations of World War II, from the Normandy beaches to Auschwitz. I also forged friendships with incredible people that will last beyond study abroad. Though my time on the program is over, it will not leave me as I move on to Amsterdam and Rome, and through the rest of this long and adventurous life. I am so grateful for the opportunity to have gone on this trip, and look forward to what the future brings.

Signing off, permanently this time,

Patrick

At the Reichstag

Checkpoint Charlie

At the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe

The Berlin Cathedral

The “Bridge of Spies”, where the Soviets and Western powers did prisoner exchanges. Also what the Oscar-winning film is based on

The Olympic Stadium, where Ohio State alum won gold during Hitler’s 1936 Games

Oświęcim

June 3, 2017 at 9:59pmJune 3, 2017 by oconnor.383

I really didn’t know what to expect from Poland. This was the first country on the trip I hadn’t been to before, and I felt out of my element. Upon arrival, Morgan did a very good job describing just how ruthless the Nazis were in destroying civilian populations of both Jews and ethnic Poles throughout the bloodlands of Eastern Europe. I felt we witnessed an accurate representation of the circumstances the Poles suffered while walking through the Oskar Schindler Museum. While the museum was nominally about factory owner Schindler working to save the Jews who worked for him, it also painted scenes of daily life under occupation, with forced labor, extreme rations, and black market trade.

The most moving part of Poland, and what I believe is the main reason we came here, was the tour of Auschwitz. We learned about the atrocities undertaken at this camp through personal accounts through Spring Semester, but on visiting the idea of the extermination camp changed from an almost myth-like quality to something very real that murdered more than a million people. We started in Auschwitz I, moving through the main gate through rows of huts. I was struck by the disparity between the natural setting, with bright sunshine, beautiful flora, and the sounds of birds chirping, and the nature of what happened in these dim brick huts.

We continued into the exhibit, moving through the buildings and seeing various displays about the camp. In one rosy-tinted room we walked into, one wall was entirely glass, with mounds and mounds of human hair resting behind it. The number of people represented here is estimated around 32,000, but is unknown. I continue to be bothered by this, that innumerable women could be represented in these remains. Our guide explained that the Nazis shaved women’s hair for use as textiles sold back in Germany. After killing them in the gas chambers, they would also remove metal tooth fillings and loot the clothes of valuables. After cremation, they spread the ashes in fields for use as fertilizer. The idea of human remains being used as fertilizer sickens me. As our guide said, “everything was valuable to the Nazis except for human life.”

After Auschwitz I, we moved on to Auschwitz-Birkenau II. This was the largest section of the camp, where prisoners got off the train and were selected for forced labor or immediate gassing. Just outside Birkenau, a man in a car passing by gave me a Nazi salute. I feel acid in my chest when I think about just how disgusting and inappropriate his actions were. Inside Birkenau, we saw a replica car of those used to transport hundreds of thousands of prisoners to their deaths. We also walked along the “march of death” and saw one of the now-destroyed crematoria.

I don’t have words, really, to describe what I’m feeling. I continue to feel that it was important to witness what systematic destruction man has wrought upon each other. It reminds of how important it is to consider other points of view, and how the acts of dehumanization that lead to genocide are not grand, sweeping gestures, but small efforts to undermine the perceptions of the “other.” Be conscious of your actions and whether you work to improve the lives of others.

See you all in Germany, where all of this started.

Signing off,

Patrick

The front gate of Auschwitz I

Looking down the train track towards the main gate of Auschwitz II-Birkenau

The reverse view

The remains of Crematorium II

French Riviera? Wrong Beaches…

June 3, 2017 at 9:53pmJune 3, 2017 by oconnor.383

France has been a wild ride from start to finish. I was initially struck by the sight of Sword Beach from our ferry to Caen, with storm clouds rolling over the sea as we approached. As we drove to Bayeux, I was struck by the rolling countryside we saw. It is strange to think that the Allies bombed these idyllic farms to liberate the people living here, an idea discussed in every French museum we visited about the war. While we as Americans tend to think about how grateful the French are for our role in their freedom, it’s important to remember the bombing killed 20,000 French civilians and destroyed homes and livelihoods in the effort to ruin Nazi access to French rail lines.
The beaches were the most meaningful part of our visit to France. It took us 45 minutes to reach Utah Beach, and I didn’t realize just how far the Americans had to traverse through the bocage to reach populated areas like Cherbourg. Walking out to Utah Beach, not even fully at low tide like when the Americans landed, and looking back at the hills and seeing the distance our soldiers had to traverse through machine gun and artillery fire… it’s mind-boggling. I can’t even imagine being my age, joining the military, and being shipped off to invade another continent. I got a similar impression from the cliffs at Pointe du Hoc that the Rangers scaled.
It was also strange to see Omaha Beach covered with villas and restaurants, and being used by the locals. I wasn’t expecting to see Omaha being used as a real beach rather than solely a memorial to the Normandy invasion. It’s surreal to imagine this pristine beach, at one time covered in the blood of dead soldiers, with people laughing and enjoying the beach.
I also thought it interesting how the different countries represented their dead in Normandy. We began with the German cemetery, which featured a large cross on a hill and dozens of bronze plaques in place of headstones. Each tomb had at least two soldiers in it. This cemetery felt very stoic and contemplative, with the view from the top serving as witness to the destruction the Germans faced. It seemed like the Germans sought penance for their actions, like they were asking for respect for their dead even if not for their caused. This was followed up with the American cemetery. These graves were very uniform, with either crosses or the Star of David, the unit they served in, state of origin, and birth and death dates. The rows of crosses form a striking visual when looking out, the cemetery flanked by the Atlantic Ocean. In the front is a monument to the Spirit of American Youth. These soldiers are all united in death, having given their lives to win the Good War for America. Finally, we visited the British Cemetery. The graves here were all individual headstones, with quotes from loved ones on many of them. Soldiers of all different faiths and nationalities are buried in this cemetery, echoing the British belief that each soldier deserves a respectful burial. Benches are placed around the site, encouraging visitors to sit down and contemplate the names and stories they bear witness to. Each cemetery is fitting to the narrative of their respective countries.

France has been exciting, and I’m looking forward to what’s to come.

Signing off,

Patrick

Looking down the main street of Bayeux

Pegasus Bridge

At Utah Beach

On Utah Beach

The German Cemetery

Pointe du Hoc

A relative found at the American Cemetery

The British Cemetery

“We are masters of the unsaid words.” – Winston Churchill

May 18, 2017 at 4:39pmJune 3, 2017 by oconnor.383

Hello from England! My time here in London has been incredible, and I have seen so many different cultural landmarks it’s making my head spin. I have noticed in London that the concept of silence has recurred. It caught my attention during my visit to Westminster Abbey on the first day. Walking into the cathedral, I was struck by the grandeur of the Gothic architecture. The flying buttresses and enormous stained glass windows were impressive. But I was also caught by the ban on photography in tandem with the quiet emanating through the entryway. The other visitors set an example by staying quiet and respectful of the dead buried in the structure, honoring the impressive names buried there. Sitting in a huge chamber with vaulted walls, I would have expected to hear many echoes of conversation. I was caught off guard by the silence in such a popular tourist destination.

Later in the week, The Churchill War Rooms also reminded me of silence. These bunkers were where Winston Churchill went to work during he Blitz after 10 Downing Street was hit by a bomb. These cramped concrete corridors exemplify the struggle of Londoners during the Blitz, with furtive work done in 12 hour shifts underground. Churchill himself demanded complete silence throughout the structure, to the point that the analysts used special typewriters that didn’t clack during use. I can’t even imagine working in a dark, silent concrete bunker underground, without the opportunity to see the sun for weeks at a time. A guest speaker who lived through the Blitz reinforced the idea that Churchill knew the power of his words, reinforcing British morale during the war and keeping hopes high.

The site that most exemplified silence to me was Bletchley Park. A pleasant hour train ride from London and midway between Oxford and Cambridge, Bletchley became the center of British intelligence during WWII. ULTRA was based here, as well as the cryptanalysis efforts that cracked Enigma. Many wooden huts were built on this former family estate, each housing a different unit of military intelligence or cryptanalysis. Those employed here were sworn to secrecy, only allowed to tell each other which hut they worked in. The secrets of Bletchley were first revealed in 1974, 30 years after the war ended. Many employees took the secret to their graves. The silence of these tireless workers demonstrates both their recognition of the importance of their work and their respect for the war effort. Seeing the huts they worked in reinforced my understanding of their experience.

I experienced other silences in London. The quiet of the Tube as Londoners returned home from work. The contemplative silence while walking through the Holocaust Memorial in the Imperial War Museum. The gaggles of tourists in awe at the sight of the London Eye and Big Ben lit up at night. Silence was a strong component of my time in England, and I feel it served as a nice contrast to the loud and effervescent America I am used to. I look forward to what comes, in Bayeux and beyond.

P.S. Here are some of the pictures I took in London: