Priestblock 25487: A Memoir of Dachau. By Jean Bernard. Translated by Deborah Lucas Schneider. Zaccheus Press, 2004; translation copyright 2007.
The atrocities of the Holocaust are well known, but many aspects of the horrors of the concentration camps are much more obscure. Many people are unaware that during the Holocaust, many Christian clergymen, including Catholic priests, were thrown into concentration camps. Many priests were vocal opponents of Nazism, and as a result more than two thousand priests became prisoners.
One incarcerated priest was Father Jean Bernard, a Luxembourg-born critic of Hitler’s regime who was sent to the infamous “Priestblock” in Dauchau, consisting of over three thousand men of the cloth, of which two-thirds were Catholic priests and the other third were assorted Protestant clergymen. Bernard wrote short vignettes of his experiences, which were printed in the Luxemburger Wort soon after his release in 1945. The number “25487” was Bernard’s number in Dachau, meaning that he was the 25,487th person to be incarcerated there. Since at the time of his entrance there were about 12,000 inmates in the camp, and a few thousand people had probably been freed, that meant that by the time Bernard reached Dachau, approximately 10,000 prisoners had died inside the camp. In his forward, Bernard writes:
“I have agreed to make what I wrote then available in the present form, without any alterations, in memory of my fellow priests who died in Dachau– for we must never forget what happened there and in many similar places. Forgetting would be cowardice on the part of the people in whose name all these crimes were committed. It would be a flight from our own consciences and from the indictment of the world, showing an unwillingness to make reparations and to atone. And by not imputing such cowardice to them, we honor the German people.
Wanting to forget would also be weakness on the part of those who suffered. It would mean that even though they could endure suffering courageously, they now lack the inner strength to reflect on what they endured and to assess what it means for their own lives. That amounts to a wish to forget, in order to make forgiveness easier. And finally, it would be turning a blind eye to similar events taking place today, in full view, in many other parts of the world.
Yet we must forgive. We must forgive while remaining conscious of the full horror of what occurred, not only because nothing constructive can be built on a foundation of hatred– neither a new Europe or a new world– but above all for the sake of Him who commands and urges us to forgive, and before whom we, victims and executioners alike, are all poor debtors in need of mercy.” (xix-xx).
The members of the clergy originally were treated less harshly than the other prisoners, being spared the harsher tasks and being treated with a certain level of respect by some of the guards. Other guards, in contrast, treated the clergy with particular venom. Since the inmates did not have access to news from the outside world, rumors spread quickly as to what particular events might have inspired the guards to become particularly angry or vengeful. Bernard describes one such incident, writing that:
“None of us was ever able to say why the clergy block experienced this catastrophe, or to what was due. Some people said that the Pope had given a strong speech on the radio, and that the German bishops had issued a public protest. Something must have happened. It was in early October 1941.
It began with the usual shout, “Everybody outside!” We were hustled out into the barrack street. Everyone with the few possessions he was able to grab in haste…
We are herded around like cattle, and when an SS man turns up, he curses and hits out, giving orders and countermanding them, just to make us jumpy and anxious and keep us in motion, so it looks like something is happening…
As we stand in front of barrack 28, Camp Commandant Hofmann addresses us.
Dear Reader! To imagine this speech, take the most vulgar expressions you know, and put them in a pot with the greatest nonsense that you have ever heard a human being utter. Add a few insults to the Pope and the Church, lard the whole liberally with “clergy scum” and “pack of priests,” and you have a rough approximation of the context in which the only message that really mattered appeared: “The privileges you’ve had up to now are over.” (53-55).
Many much more disturbing passages follow. The terrible ravages of hunger are a recurring theme throughout the book, as the prisoners are forced to subsist on a fraction of a loaf of bread and a paltry measure of thin vegetable-based soup daily. Bernard discusses the struggle to survive on starvation rations, and how he rationalized his pilfering potatoes from the Nazis’ stores with the commandment “Thou shalt not steal.” Multiple instances of savage violence and bloody brutality are sprinkled throughout the memoir, along with the mental battles the guards waged in generally futile attempts to break the priests’ faith. Towards the end of the war, disease was rampant throughout the camps, and the hospital’s general policy was to take anyone who was seriously ill, shove them into a room filled with other sufferers, deny them treatment and wait for them to die. In many cases, mildly ill priests were denied treatment by special orders by the camp officials. When the sick people died, they received little respect. When Brachmond, a close friend of Bernard’s, died in the sorry excuse for a hospital, and Bernard wanted to see him, Bernard was told:
““The corpses aren’t gone yet. But Brachmond is lying at the very bottom of the pile, and you can’t see much of him at all.”
I didn’t even try to get up, since I already knew what a pile of naked corpses looked like. After their gold teeth had been knocked out, the dead of a given day were stacked like firewood in front of the barrack until the crematorium commando came with a cart to get them.” (158).
Priestblock 25487 was adapted into the acclaimed 2004 film The Ninth Day, with some fictionalized aspects added for the sake of dramatic effect and to explore the broader moral issues at play in a cinematic manner. The title of the movie stems in part from the highly unusual– and surprising– incident occurring in the middle of Bernard’s narrative. At one point, Bernard was set free for a ten-day leave in order to bury his mother. The first news Bernard had of her death was when he was temporarily released. Though Bernard was not under official surveillance when he was placed on this unprecedented temporary spell of freedom, he was obliged to return as soon as his time was up in order to ensure the safety of his fellow inmates. The title The Ninth Day refers to an imagined psychological and moral dilemma the protagonist (the priest’s name is changed in the film due to the multiple instances of artistic license) faces on day nine of his release.
In Night, Elie Wiesel’s famous autobiographical account of the Holocaust, there is a famous passage about how his concentration camp experiences “murdered [his] God” and crushed him mentally and spiritually. Intriguingly, Bernard and his comrades appear to have experienced a completely opposite effect from their hardships, with their faith fully intact. Bernard frequently mentions how much he misses performing his priestly duties, as well as the exhilaration and sense of renewal he feels on the rare occasions he is allowed to perform Mass in the camp, and during his extraordinary ten-day leave. Priestblock 25487 is a horrific story showcasing the worst of humanity, but it is also a portrait some very good men who are striving to protect their souls and their dignity while they are being treated in an inhuman manner.
– Chris Chan
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