There is a certain term that perfectly encapsulates the totality of human experience on April 23, 1945.
Giving credit where it’s due, I didn’t coin this phrase. I learned it secondhand through Dr. Christopher Mauriello, my friend and colleague who helped me research the American side of this story. The director of Holocaust and Genocide Studies at Salem State University, he was delivering a lecture to faculty about the American arrival in Schwarzenfeld in April 1945, and the events that ensued. A psychology professor numbered among the rapt audience, and he approached Chris at the end. “There was an entire matrix of trauma here!” he said.
Matrix of trauma. The term suggests a variety of individuals experiencing soul-scarring events at different intensities. What a perfect term for this day.
Just hours after their tank convoy left Schwarzenfeld, the 11th Armored halted in the road to discover a wall of human skeletons in white and gray stripes. They were survivors of the Flossenbürg Death March, including Mark Stern. Of the 14,000 Jews evacuated from the concentration camp eight days earlier, only 1,500 still lived. Some prisoners kissed the tanks, or collapsed before them in prayer. Others stood smartly and offered a salute. The Americans stood aghast—J. Ted Hartman among them. To them, these prisoners who had suffered unimaginable horrors embodied the cause that swept them to European shores.
Meanwhile in Schwarzenfeld, scouts from the 328th—the infantry unit assigned as a peacekeeping force after liberation—stumbled upon the gruesome remains of the train station massacre that had occurred four days earlier. To keep this post G-rated, I won’t go into details. I encourage you to pick up The Sower to get the full picture—and the emotional impact.
Bottom line, the sight that confronted the Americans surpassed all the horrors of the Bulge. It shoved them down that dark alley of the psyche where retribution seems the only logical recourse.
When you’re squinting through a haze of righteous rage, it’s hard to tell civilians from military combatants.
The American commander issued a devastating order that is forever etched in Schwarzenfeld’s history: the townspeople had to disinter 140 bodies, wash them, clothe them in donated clothing, construct coffins for all corpses, dig a grave trench in the town cemetery, and hold a Christian funeral—all in 24 hours. If they failed to complete the task in that time, every German man in town between 16 and 60 would be executed. (This age range targeted military-age combatants, plus boys and old men who would have been swept into the homefront militia.)
The Schwarzenfelders had suffered six years of mind-numbing fear and oppression at Nazi hands. They had welcomed the Americans and rejoiced when they captured fervent loyalists as POWs. Now they recoiled in horror as their liberators brandished weapons and compelled them to perform a grim task under the threat of death.
The matrix of trauma. Fr. Viktor perceived it clearly. Jewish pain. American pain. German pain. As a Passionist, he would have given this continuum of suffering a name, and beheld His visage in every face that turned his way.
To him, everyone he encountered that day was the Crucified Christ.
Useful reminders
This post is part of a month-long series reflecting upon historical events that contributed to my debut historical fiction novel, The Sower of Black Field. Visit the “Latest News” area on my website for a recap »
The Sower of Black Field is available in paperback, eBook / Kindle, and audiobook on Amazon. Get your copy »
To learn more about the American arrival in Schwarzenfeld—and other historical instances where American forces compelled German civilians to tend Holocaust victims, see Dr. Christopher Mauriello’s Book, Forced Confrontation: The Politics of Dead Bodies in Germany at the End of WWII. The book is available on Amazon. Get your copy »
