I grew up for a few years in Germany in the mid-late 70's. I remember that even though WWII was 30+ years old at the time, it still seemed like not too long ago by many people there, Germans and Americans alike. I also noticed that the German people seemed to like Americans more the closer to Berlin you got...
...when I was 8 my dad took us to Dachau. I remember thinking it was a barracks or something, some kind of military thing. My dad explained to us as best you can, but it didn't sink in. I remember my brother and I running around playing and my dad telling us to knock it off. Somehow, he seemed very serious. We walked all over the camp, toured the barracks and the showers. I can honestly remember the SMELL of the place. It smelled like bleach, like somebody had been trying to clean up something that just could not be fully cleaned up. Lastly, I remember the sculpture in the yard, a metal sculpture of twisted bodies.
It became more eerie for me as I got older and learned about where we had been. But I can tell you, growing up there, seeing that...it made me an ardent patriot.
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Die Donks, DIE!!

Holy Crap fellas!!! We did it!!! THREE TIMES!!!