There would be nothing to see. Nothing to make a passer-by take notice. In this place where hundreds of thousands of people were murdered, nothing remains but trees, greenery, wind, and silence. Even these trace reveal nothing. Nothing but the solitude of the dead: brought here in boxcars, wasted away by years of ghettos, hunger and disease, feeling abandoned by God. Grouped into families, these men, women, children and elderly were packed into the gas chambers. Twenty minutes, sometimes an hour dying in agony. They were naked, destitute, choking on carbon monoxide from a running motor. Less than two hours after leaving their boxcars, their still-quivering bodies were tossed into a pit.
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