
The sun was shining brightly when we drove through the
countryside to just outside a small town where the camp was built. It was
actually referred to as a labor camp as those who were brought there (men
mostly followed by a few women as the years went on) were forced to work in the
large granite quarry where the camp was built.

Walking some steps up from the garage area, we found
ourselves standing in front of the entry gate. That was the first thing the new
prisoners would see as they were led up by foot from the village road below.
Looking through the gate as our guide spoke, I could imagine prisoners lined up
in the parade area between the barracks before us, shivering from the cold or
oppressed by the heat of the day.

The buildings across from the barracks were used as a
kitchen and a “medical building” among other things. The medical building was
where prisoners who could no longer work or make it up the “steps of death”
(186 steps that led up out of the quarry) with their hundred pound quarry rocks
on their back were taken. There was no return from the medical building. At
first those prisoners were sent to camps where their was a gas chamber or they
were killed by lethal injection. Eventually Mauthausen got their own small gas
chamber and crematorium to take care of their own.

One survivor of the camp was given a bicycle by nuns in
Linz. He did not want to wait for everything to be organized for his return to
his home in Poland. Together with two other survivors, they set off with the
bicycle on the long journey home. He kept the bicycle until the end of his life
as a memento of his trip and it was eventually donated to the museum.

The business of the camp was to send the granite mined from
the quarries up the river from there to where they would be made suitable for
sale to construct buildings and such. Basically the camp was economically
successful and lined the pockets of some of those in power.
Someone asked the question of our guide about what the
village of Mauthausen thought was going on here. While he said it was not an
excuse, he asked us to put ourselves in the shoes of those in the village at
the time. Most of the men were off fighting in the war which left women at home
trying to feed children. When the soldiers demanded food for the camp there was
little they could do to refuse. They needed to provide for and protect their
children. Thought provoking at the least.

As we stood looking at the 186 Steps of Death that led up
and out of the quarry and to the camp, our guide told us how he leads a tour of
teens from the high schools who come as part of their education. He first takes
them to the quarry and has them climb the steps to the camp. As kids do, he says
they start out heartily challenging each other to be first to the top. The
further they go, the harder it is, until they reach the top winded and tired
and usually ready to listen. That is when he begins the story of how a prisoner
with little food in his belly, a cramped space to share with three or four
other prisoners in a bed, and with thin clothing that did not protect from the
heat or cold would make that climb several times a day and with a huge rock on
his back. To stumble and fall could mean a death sentence.
The ride back to the boat was a bit quieter.
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