The Liberation of Dachau

Clubmobilers are some of the first to see the camp

My Mother and Audie Murphy Ch. 68

In the 1970s she organized a writers group at the Yakima Senior Center where she worked. The group published a chapbook, Leaves of Sage, in which two of her stories appear. Then she was finally able to write about her experience. Here is her story.

Holocaust 1945

By Florence Martin

The long struggle to free the world of Hitler and his horrors was coming to an end; it was 1945 and Munich had fallen. The US Army’s famous Third Infantry Division, which had pursued the Nazis relentlessly through North Africa, Sicily, Italy and southern France into central Germany itself, had figured prominently in the capture of Munich and the liberation of the infamous concentration camp at Dachau. Armed with captured Zeiss-Ikon cameras, the four Red Cross Clubmobile gals, attached to the Third Division since Anzio in Italy, were eager to shoot scenes of the city which had been a Nazi stronghold and of the concentration camp prisoners, some of whom could still walk away from this 20th century torture chamber.

We had not reckoned with the results of the swiftness of the Allied attack which had prevented the Nazi jailers from destroying the evidence of their hideous and unspeakable atrocities to Semitic citizens of Germany whose only crime was being a despised JEW. Left behind were literally stacks of human bodies–piled up like so much cord wood–only skin covering their skeletons. A year on the battlefields of Italy, France and Germany had toughened us to these sights of violence and death, and we almost calmly focused cameras on the neatly stacked corpses. I had snapped several views and was focusing on the bottom “layer” when I caught the movement of a human hand through the camera’s viewfinder. Thinking that my imagination was playing tricks on me, I moved closer to the subject, only to confirm that some of the skeletons did indeed still contain life and that several arms and legs were still moving. Sickened and horrified, my sudden scream brought the others running toward me.

Although there was still some movement, it was, of course, too late to resuscitate or rescue anyone. With revulsion we left the whole hellish scene. Later as I retched in a nearby ditch, I wondered how many potential Mendelsohns and Einsteins were there among those wretched skeletons, and if, perhaps, the great Goethe might be turning in his grave about this modern and depraved Mephistopheles, Adolf Hitler, and what he had done to Goethe’s Germany. 

Postscript: this is a true experience; The pictures that were taken that day were somehow conveniently lost in development in a German photoshop–only these shots among several rolls of film were missing, and it was not until television elaborated the Holocaust more than 30 years later that my personal experience could be proved. 

Ch. 69: https://mollymartin.blog/2025/11/07/with-the-30th-infantry-in-salzburg/