In early April, 1945, a transport of more than a thousand concentration camp prisoners came to a halt in Gardelegen, in Saxony. Allied bombing had destroyed the rail connections, and the U.S. army had pushed into the vicinity. The local Kreisleiter, eager to do his duty and keep the prisoners from escaping and rampaging through the countryside, had the transport housed at a military riding academy in the town. Then, on April13, he found enough manpower (in spite of the steady desertion of SS guards) to move the prisoners to a nearby barn. There, under orders to eliminate the prisoners, the rag tag of guards and others mobilized for the task doused the straw with gasoline, locked the prisoners inside, and set the barn on fire. Those who tried to break out were shot. 1,016 prisoners died in the massacre.
Over the past two years I’ve made several presentations about the massacre at Gardelegen. Visiting the village and the massacre memorial became an important motivation for me to return to Berlin this May. In the event, I did not plan the “tour” of Gardelegen very well. With two train I arrived right on time at the train station. But, I had no real idea how to find the memorial other than to check the map at the Bahnhof bus stop, and then to look for signs along the way. I did ask directions from a young man who clearly had never visited the memorial himself, and had only a general (incorrect) idea how to reach it on foot.
Walking to the site made sense, at least for me. I had wanted to have some sense of the distance traveled by the prisoners to the Isenschnibbe barn (Feldscheune). The country here is flat—really flat—and once outside the village you see that fields here are still turned over to farming. The approach to the scene is a long dirt road, tree-lined, that takes a 90 degree turn half a kilometer from the memorial site.
The memorial consists of the one remaining wall of the Isenschnibbe barn and the graveyard of murdered prisoners. There is also an educational center there, and some monuments built to commemorate and interpret the event. There is ample didactic material available so someone with no prior understanding could know what had taken place. But, with the open landscape, the memorial seems almost minimalist.
The memorial had its origin in military occupation. The 102nd Infantry Division arrived only hours after the massacre, and when military units were informed of the event and found the barn they also found bodies still smouldering. Major General Frank Keating ordered that partially buried bodies be given proper burials, and in the coming days imposed on the people of Gardelegen the maintenance of the cemetery and memorial.
Because I had the area almost literally to myself, I had time to think about the site and the events. I had not known that only one wall of the Isenschnibbe barn still stood. I’d seen photos of the cemetery but found it more extensive than I expected. Seeing one cross or Star of David after another marked “unbekannt” (unknown) impressed me more than anything else. There is a book of names, in stainless steel, at the cemetery. The names of fewer than half of the victims are known, but these are listed.
The only other visitors there that day was a German family from nearby Stendal. I threw myself on their mercy for a ride back to Gardelegen. I soon discovered that the mother had been an au pair in the U.S. and had visited Pittsburgh. Back in the village, I found nothing suggesting a connection to the massacre. I saw no references to the massacre while walking around (I admit, my visit was brief) and I could find no postcards featuring the memorial. In fact, I only found one that featured any scenes of Gardelegen.
So, in the end I’m struck by the contingency of historical memory. Without a clear appeal to some other force (patriotism, tourism) how does historical memory thrive?