In April 1945, camera crews with the British and American armies entered the
Nazi death camps and filmed the horror they found there.
For decades, that film was stored in the archives of the Imperial War Museum in
London.
The documentary was unfinished, with missing soundtracks.
But the directors, including Alfred Hitchcock, had developed a script to go
with the pictures.
Tonight, Frontline presents that film unedited, as close as possible to what the
producers intended over a half century ago.
They made it as a document, to serve our collective memory.
Eleven million people died in Nazi Germany's death camps.
Six million were Jews.
Neat and tidy orchards, well-stocked farms lined the wayside, and the British soldier
did not fail to admire the place and its inhabitants.
At least, until he began to feel a smell.
It came from a concentration camp.
A waste ringed with barbed wire and overlooked by watchtowers.
Coming in from the flowering countryside, in spite of the frightful smell,
things didn't seem so bad at first.
Children smiled through the barbed wire, and women laughed and waved their hands.
But Belsen camp was last, and inside was a different story.
They had not eaten for six days, and every soldier's stock of food was
called into use.
Water, too, had been cut off.
And so the water cart was the most important thing to arrive.
Most of the people seemed to be listless beyond hope and astonishment.
Hunger had probably affected them that way.
We discovered that among this stench of disease and decay was something a bit
worse than hunger.
Moving vaguely on rickety skeleton legs, they were too ill to eat.
How grateful they were for a kindly word or gesture.
What misery to live amongst such unmentionable filth, with scarcely the
strength to pick the lice which inevitably swarmed over them.
They seemed accustomed to the smell and the horror.
They had seen all there was to see.
Huts were almost impossible to go near.
They were full of tangled masses of people who had died slowly and painfully of
starvation and disease, writhing in agony, helpless in puddles of excrement.
It was difficult to imagine those orchards now, those rich fields where the storied
cattle cropped the juicy grass.
For here, a few minutes away inside the barbed wire, was nothing but filth and
death.
Dead prisoners hurled out and stacked in twisted heaps.
Dead women like marble statues in the mire.
This was what these inmates had to live among, and die among.
The dead which lay there were not numbered in hundreds, but in thousands.
Not one or two thousands, but thirty thousands.
Here is a pit where the inmates, in order to earn food, had to drag the
bodies of their comrades.
But they were too weak to keep up with the rate at which they were dying,
so the pit remains only half filled.
The SS guards in charge of the camp were captured and lined up for examination.
Their papers were gone through to confirm their status, their authority.
Each with his death's head badge, each justified by German law.
They were unashamed, well fed, well dressed and cheerful.
There were women also on guard in Belsen, volunteers who came of their own free will
to do their bit.
Not sickly pale with hollow faces and hungry eyes, but well fed and well kept
with a strutting arrogance.
The commandant of the camp, Josef Kramer, was removed for trial as a war criminal by
an Allied military court.
There was an urgent need to get rid of as many bodies as possible, as quickly as
possible, so all the SS were set to work.
500 Hungarian troops, captured with the SS, were started on a grave digging
operation.
The SS themselves were made to do the unpleasant job they had forced the inmates
to do.
This, after all, was nothing to these men.
They, the master race, had been taught to be hard.
They could kill in cold blood and it seemed to the British soldier,
fit and proper, that the killers should bury the nameless, hopeless creatures they
had starved to death.
The faces of the bystanders showed just a little of the hate that Germany has
inspired and some of the anguish, too.
Meanwhile, back at the camp, those who were still living were being attended to.
Supplies of hot soup were prepared and those who could eat unaided were fed as
quickly as possible.
There had been no water supply for six days.
The Germans pleaded it had been cut.
We laid on water in a few hours and before twelve hours had passed, had sufficient to
enable them to wash.
Soap was provided, the first they had seen for months, and an orgy of washing ensued.
A mobile bath unit was set up and provided hot water for bath.
But the job of clearing up Felsen was a big one.
The Burgermeisters and civil officials of the neighborhood were brought to witness
the scenes that had been caused as part of the Nazi scheme of things.
This is not what they expected.
It had been happening for years.
But they shrugged their shoulders and beat their brows and tried to say it had been
none of their business.
But they were mostly silent.
The SS men are not so spick and span now.
Seven days of being shouted and cursed at and handling corpses by the hundred are
beginning to tell.
After seven dreadful days the funerals still go on.
There seems to be no end.
I was born on November 24, 1988, so 58 years old.
German from Romania.
And I speak today on April 24, 1945.
They were given an address by a British officer through a loudspeaker van.
Sie, wie Sie die Väter und Brüder der deutschen Jugend darstellen, sehen vor
Ihren Augen einige der Söhne und Töchter, die einen kleinen Teil der direkten
Verantwortlichkeit für diese Verbrechen tragen.
Ein kleiner Teil nur, und doch schwerer zu ertragen, als es der Menschenseele möglich
ist.
Aber wer prägt die wirkliche Verantwortung?
Sie, die Sie Ihrem Führer erlaubt haben, diesen himmelschreienden Wahnsinn
auszuführen.
Sie, die Sie sich über diese entarteten Triumphe nicht genug tun konnten.
Sie, die von diesen Lagen gehört hatten, hatten zumindest...
One might ask why all the inmates surviving were not removed out of the camp
altogether to a large town, for example, where there would be feeding and housing
facilities.
The answer is simply the dread word, typhus.
A mobile bacteriological unit and all medical aid possible, together with 90
medical students from London hospitals, were rushed to the spot to deal with it.
Lack of soap and water brought lice to the inmates.
And lice carry typhus.
To get rid of typhus, one must first get rid of lice.
So contaminated patients were removed from their huts and put through a laundry
process.
DDT was dusted over them and they were washed clean, wrapped in blankets and
removed in clean ambulances by teams working in relays in a miracle of relief
work.
Two miles away from the camp was found a large SS Panzer training school and
hospital, well stocked with medical supplies, strange that these should not
have been used by the Germans for the inmates.
Scores still died every day.
They were too far gone, many of them, to digest any food.
And there was a desperate shortage of nursing staff.
Still, one could be thankful that they were not simply being left to rot away
with neglect.
There were children too in Belsenkamp, though what crime they had committed was
difficult to imagine.
Most of them had been saved by the women inmates who gave up what little food they
could get to the children.
Meals for these children had always been few and far between.
So they ate what food we gave them with infinite care.
Nothing could be more dreadful now than to lose a piece of potato or a drop of soup.
Clothes was another urgent problem, so an outfitting department was set up and
clothes gathered from shops in the surrounding towns were soon being tried on
and gossiped over, as women loved to do.
There was something symbolic about new clothes.
New clothes meant renewed hope.
They donned them with pride.
Now he could look forward to growing up to useful manhood.
There were more than two hundred children under twelve years old found still alive
in Belsenkamp.
To these children, clean, dry clothes and kind words from a stranger were strange,
undreamed of, mysterious things.
Some had been born behind the barbed wire.
In what circumstances one dare not try to imagine.
Where are their parents?
Here, perhaps.
Or here.
Or down here in this pit.
Today is the 24th of April, 1945.
My name is Gunnar Ellingworth and I live at Cheshire.
I am present in Belsenkamp doing guard duty over the SS men.
The things in this camp are beyond describing.
When you actually see them for yourselves, you know what you are fighting for here.
Pictured in the paper, cannot describe it at all.
The things they have committed, well, nobody would think they were human
at all.
We actually know now what has been going on in these camps.
I know personally what I am fighting for.
I am the Reverend T.J.
Stretch.
Attached as Padre to the formation controlling this camp.
My home is at Fishguard.
My parish was at Holy Trinity Church, Aberystwyth.
I've been here eight days and never in my life have I seen such damnable
ghastliness.
This morning we buried over 5,000 bodies.
We don't know who they are.
Behind me you can see a pit which will contain another 5,000.
There are two others like it in preparation.
All these deaths have been caused by systematic starvation and typhus and
disease.
Which have been spread because of the treatment meted out to these poor people
by their SS guards and their SS chief.
We shall never know who they were or from what homes they were torn.
Whether they were Catholics, Lutherans or Jews.
We only know they were born, they suffered and died in agony in Belsen Camp.
And so they lie, Jews, Lutherans and Catholics, indistinguishable, cheek to
cheek, in a common grave.
The living have been taken to a cleaner place.
The typhus infected huts have set afire.
Soon the fire will die, the smoke and ashes will drift away and grass will cover
the place.
The barbed wire goes down, the striped livery goes with it.
Do not imagine this was the only black spot that was uncovered in Germany.
There were over 300 others.
No German can say he did not know about them.
The whole world had heard of Dachau, for it was publicized by the Nazis as a
model camp ever since its inception way back in 1933.
On the 28th of February of that year, the Presidential Emergency Decree
suspended the basic civil rights of the German people for an indeterminate period
and so eliminated legal safeguards against arbitrary imprisonment.
Here were 32,000 men of every European nationality, including 5,660 Germans.
From the outside one might at a casual glance have seen nothing remarkable or
horrifying, but Dachau was crammed with three or four times the number it was
designed for.
Here, as at Belsen, men knew hunger.
Men became weak.
Men fell sick until they died where they lay on the floor.
In Hut 30 alone there is recorded, for example, 72 deaths within 24 hours.
Every day the dead were taken from the huts.
Here, as at Belsen, there were many who were too weak to be saved, too sick to
eat.
Typhus was taking its toll and truckloads of wretchedness had to be somehow dealt
with in the already overflowing hospitals.
Dachau had its own brothel for the use of guards and favoured prisoners.
As the women died, they were replaced by a fresh contingent from the women's camp at
Ravensbruck.
This was not used as a bathhouse, but as a death chamber.
Batches of prisoners were marched in here to die.
When the chamber was full, the doors were shut and sealed.
A man at the controls let in the poison gas and another batch of helpless victims
screamed their lives out beyond the grill.
The gas chamber was conveniently placed next to the mortuary.
And next to that was the crematorium.
These great ovens were constructed exclusively for the burning of large
numbers of corpses.
In the last three months, official records show that 10,615 people were disposed of
here.
Their clothes were turned over to the Deutsche Textil und Bekleidungswerke GmbH,
a private corporation whose stockholders were SS officials, which reclaimed and
repaired the garments with the use of unpaid prison labour, and then resold them
to the camp clothing depot for the use of new prisoners.
The prisoners arrived often in railway trucks, but there had been no hurry to
unload this one.
They went away leaving the prisoners to die of hunger and cold and typhus.
We found them like this, frozen stiff in the snow alongside a public road.
By some miracle, 17 men were still alive.
All the rest, about 3,000, were dead.
Germans knew about Dachau, but did not care.
In Buchenwald, there were about 80,000 of whom 34,000 were employed outside the camp
in an armaments factory.
During the first week of April, 25,000 were removed by the Germans to
other camps because of the approach of the Allied forces.
When the camp was liberated on April 13th, 20,000 inmates remained.
African Negroes, Albanians, Austrians, Belgians, Brazilians, Bulgarians,
Canadians, Chinese, Croats, Czechs, Danes, French, Germans, British,
Greeks, Dutch, Italians, Yugoslavs, Latvians, Lets, Norwegians, Mexicans,
Poles, Romanians, Spaniards, Swiss, Americans, and Russians.
55,000 of them died because of this place.
People were tattooed across the belly with slave numbers and forced to work on
starvation diet.
People were coldly and systematically tortured.
Here, Schoker, the camp commandant, said, I want at least 600 Jewish deaths
reported in the camp office every day.
Thugs were appointed as overseers or block leaders.
There was no efficient distribution of food.
One prisoner collected the rations for 10 or 15 men.
Hunger and hopelessness turned some of them into beasts.
Sometimes a prisoner carrying rations back to the hut was waylaid and robbed by other
prisoners.
Sometimes he ate the best part of the food himself.
Sometimes he sold it.
Corruption was fostered for it gave another excuse for killing.
All this seemed so remote from humanity, so far beyond the behavior of man.
British members of Parliament came and saw and were sick at heart.
It had to be seen to be believed.
German citizens were brought in from Weimar.
They had to see too, to see what they had been fighting for and we had been fighting
against.
They came cheerfully, like sightseers to a chamber of horrors.
For here indeed were some real horrors.
If a prisoner had a curiously tattooed skin, it was taken from him.
We can only hope he was dead when it was done.
The skin was tanned and made into lampshades, etc.
These shrunken heads belonged to two Polish prisoners who had escaped and been
recaptured.
Some of the visitors did not care for the site and were assisted by ex-prisoners.
Ebensee is a holiday resort in the mountains.
The air is clean and pure, it cures sickness and there is a sweetness about
the place, a gentle peace.
In this place the Luftwaffe, or SS panzer officer on leave, relaxes, eats well,
breathes deeply, finds romance.
Everything is charming and picturesque.
But the concentration camp had become an integral part of the German economic
system, so it was here too.
They were able to see the mountains, but what use are mountains without food?
Prisoners of Dachau and Buchenwald dreaded being sent here.
To them this place did not mean recuperation, only starvation,
tuberculosis through slavery in an underground factory, and finally left to
cough one's life out, unaided and crowded in the filth and stench of a hut,
unfit for dogs that for some reason called a hospital.
The daily collection of corpses was disposed of through this chimney.
Mauthausen.
First used in 1938.
This camp was the center of a group of subsidiary camps.
Forty thousand people had died here since the beginning of the year.
Here, the gas chamber held two hundred at a time, and the crematorium dealt with
three hundred per day, every day.
Ludwigslust.
In the north of Germany it was the same story.
The few who remained alive were staggering on the verge of death.
They were the survivors and these were the rest, hurriedly murdered lest they be set
free to live a normal life.
The authorities in the camps took special measures to make sure that a man would
neither live normally nor die normally.
Neither should he sleep normally.
He was surrounded by barbed wire, and he had to sleep on barbed wire.
Ohrdruf.
Here was carnage and desolation.
Prisoners had been dragged from the sacks of straw in the hovels called hospitals,
shot and hastily disposed of by the first means to hand.
There must have been some feeling of guilt, or presumably there would not have
been an attempt to destroy the evidence.
In the outskirts of Leipzig an effort was made to prevent 300 forced workers in a
factory from being set free by advancing Allied troops.
300 were locked in a mess, hut and burned.
This is where it stood.
Some of the desperate screaming prisoners broke out.
Flamethrowers and machine guns were waiting to receive them.
This was a woman.
Some almost reached the barbed wire.
Some got there and stayed there, for it was electrified.
This was a Polish engineer.
Gardelegen.
American troops advancing did not know that in this barn the Germans had locked
1,800 prisoners and set burning straw alight to suffocate them.
In the morning before retreating they had poured petrol on the bodies in an attempt
to burn what remained.
It still smouldered when the American troops arrived.
This man was shot because he gasped for air, trying to escape while the rest of
him burned in the barn.
Auschwitz.
The most up-to-date institution was better equipped for killing.
Transports of prisoners from all over occupied Europe were sent for
extermination in one of the special Wernickstumschlager.
Here four million people were murdered.
As many men, women and children as you could pack into a great city.
The dead have been buried.
It remains for us to care for these, the living.
It remains for us to hope that Germans may help to mend what they have broken and
cleanse what they have befouled.
Thousands of German people were made to see for themselves, to bury the dead,
to file past the victims.
This was the end of the journey they had so confidently begun in 1933.
Twelve years?
No, in terms of barbarity and brutality they had travelled backwards for twelve
thousand years.
Unless the world learns the lesson these pictures teach, night will fall.
But by God's grace we who live will learn.