Garmisch

Our last leg of the journey home was spent in Garmisch, a town in Bavaria most well-known for its having hosted the winter Olympics twice. We've spent time in Garmisch before and always have always enjoyed our time there.

On the last morning of our stay in Garmisch, J went for a run and returned to the room quite excited telling me, "I saw something strange during my run, and I want to take you there. You'll love it." Thinking he'd found a vantage point from where all of Garmisch could be seen, I agreed to hike to this spectacular something he wanted to show me.

After about 1/2 an hour into the hike, I turned on the snaking path and called back to J that some sort of building lay ahead. J told me that this is what he wished to show me as earlier that morning during his run he'd witnessed and was surprised by what appeared to be two soldiers in Nazi uniforms exit a vehicle with a wreath while a female played a trumpet. I couldn't help but laugh at this as it's not the sort of spectacle with which one wishes to be associated, but two years' worth of research can do that to you. It seems to be my niche.

Approaching the building, I saw that it was in fact a church. I could also see what looked to be plaques on the church's outer walls. It was a church called 'Church on the Green' and it was a memorial dedicated to the fallen local soldiers of WWII. In short, it was dedicated to Nazis. I have never before seen such a thing: a blatant, unapologetic memorial. In our town, there is a small area of the cemetery dedicated to fallen German soldiers (WWII included), but the graves are nondescript and set off from the rest. The same can be said for the dozens of other German cemeteries I've visited; no one wishes to call attention to the graves of these men. Whether that wish for obscurity arises from shame, a desire to shield the graves from vandalism or offer privacy I can't say.

I unabashedly photographed some of the plaques and walked round the church's perimeter translating some of the dedications, poems and remarks about the men whom the plaques were meant to memorialize. There were other people visiting that afternoon (all Germans), and one elderly gentleman took to following me. Perhaps he didn't like the notion of an American visiting this place set deliberately apart from the town where occupying forces would have set up post-war camps. Perhaps he thought I'd mock those that died. At any rate, he seemed satisfied to let me be after he overheard my translation of a poem for J's benefit.

I couldn't help but pity the families of the fallen in some small way. Despite the skewed ideology of the party, a life was still lost. A life that one could not even openly mourn.

Some families did not wish for their sons to be honored as a Nazi soldier and instead depicted their loved ones as a civilian. I thought this one was particularly fanciful and adheres to the oft-used stereotype of Bavarians.

A wife lost her husband and only sons. Many of men who fell, fell in Russia though below, one can see that the husband died in Finland while the younger son died in France.