On either side of the train tracks were scores of these metal plates — a memorial to Holocaust victims. The plates included the date the train departed, the number of Jewish people packed into the cars, the city where they were being picked up, and the concentration camp to which they were delivered.
Like so many others, I have been haunted by the Holocaust for decades — since I read The Diary of Anne Frank. I will always be baffled by “man’s inhumanity to man.” Standing here on these train tracks was an emotional experience. There was an emptiness there, and I felt it in my soul.
These train tracks ran right behind a neighborhood. People could see the trains from their kitchen windows; their neighbors being forced to board with just the clothes on their backs. “That’s the thing,” our guide said to me. “It was all happening in plain sight.”