9,000 Died. Listen.

In less than an hour, 9,000 perished.

The ship was built to accommodate about 1,900 people.

Worst maritime disaster in history and her story lost to the waves that swallowed her.

I have 2 degrees in history, the first of which required multiple European history courses to be taken at both Santa Monica College and UCLA, but it's only now, about 75 years later, I learned about the #1 worst maritime disaster in history. This is what "under rug swept" does.

I teach Rūta Šepetys's Between Shades of Gray - an historical fiction novel championed by Lithuanians because it's the first time a mainstream book was written to tell the story about the atrocities Lithuanians, Latvians, and Estonians among others suffered under Stalin. An act of genocide to which America turned a blind eye in order to unite with Russia to defeat Hitler. After so many years of teaching that book, I decided I should read something else by Šepetys. I read Salt to the Sea in one day and would be haunted by its story, this disaster, for days.

The ship, Wilhelm Gustloff, was originally built in the 1930s by Hitler to be used as a type of cruise ship for the German Labour Front program which subsidized leisure activities for German workers. One had to be chosen by the Nazi Party, however, to get to sail on her. All the rooms on the ship were built in equal size except, of course, for one; the one to be used solely by Hitler. By 1939, the Gustloff was mainly docked, and it wouldn't be until 1944 when it was to be used to carry injured German soldiers and refugees from East Prussia to Germany over the Baltic Sea.

Registration of the soldiers and refugees stopped on January 27th when the number count of passengers reached 7,956; however, witnesses say that another 2,000 people boarded the ship before she set sail on January 30, 1944. Remember, the ship was built for roughly 1,900 people and, for perspective, the Titanic lost 1,500 people in 1912.

A Soviet submarine had trailed the Gustloff for some time before firing 4 torpedoes. Only 3 would make a direct hit; the fourth had a problem in release and never fired off.

            A deep popping came from the ship. Its bones were snapping, breaking

            from the contortion pressure. The rounded stern sloped vertically

            toward the sky. People dangled from their railings, screaming. Others

            plummeted backward to their death. An explosion detonated from 

            within the boat under the water. Suddenly, the entire ship lit up...And

            then the lights vanished. The boat disappeared into the black...[as it

            sunk] to the bottom of the sea [with thousands still trapped inside.]

            A momentary quiet followed leaving nothing but the sound of the

            wind and waves. (pp. 350-351)

Silence.

For decades, silence.

It's unfathomable to me. These kinds of disasters don't fit into my brain. The sentence, "People dangled from their railings, screaming" reminds me of the people at the Twin Towers on 9/11, another unfathomable disaster 57 years later.

I'm haunted by all the cruelty we humans can inflict on each other and I'm haunted by the lies and secrecy these cruelties birth. The sinking of the Gustloff was silenced because Germany couldn't admit to a defeat. When people discussed it, they were immediately shut down or were told they were making it all up. I imagine, eventually, people just stopped talking about it. "Under rug swept."

I have never envisioned a utopian society. In fact, I have trouble seeing how that would even work successfully. But the level of hatred and the level of violence that groups of people can, and do, inflict on to the world hurts my heart. This hatred and violence that comes in various forms such as attacking a country, starting a genocide, or ostracizing a group based on skin color, sexuality, or gender identification starts with a seedling of self-hatred that grows and organizes with others who feel the same way. It's never admitted, though, this self-hatred. It just presents itself in hatred for another. If a person is comfortable with him/herself, then it wouldn't matter that the person next to him/her is wealthier or poorer, is of one religion or the other, or is part of the LGBQT+ community or not.

And truth will always prevail. Maybe not in one's lifetime, but it will. It seeks light. And it will prevail because someone, somewhere is connected to an incident and will feel inclined to tell the story. Yes, there have been movies made and books written about the sinking of the Wilhelm Gustloff, but, I think, it still remains mostly hidden. Šepetys found out that some cousins were supposed to be on that ship, but didn't make it on before she set sail. To Šepetys, the disaster became personal. And while I personally don't have a connection to this sinking that I know of, it is one more atrocity connected to World War II during which my grandparents were alive. There is a collective memory of the war that is very much alive. So, one can sweep all one wants, but the dust will never truly settle. Memories travel. Ever wonder why we're drawn to certain things, certain stories, certain parts of history more than others? 

This makes me think of epigenetics - the study of inheriting memories. Scientists have found, at least among animals, that memory seems to be inherited. This seems to be particularly present with phobias and trauma. I fully believe this could apply to humans too. If so, phobias and memories could be passed down which would mean that experiences family members had during WWII, for example, could very well be deeply ingrained in our psyche. I have always believed we are all connected in ways we cannot fathom. Scientists have long found that the way we think about situations affects our health. It's a reason there's such a push to be positive because our cells react positively to good thoughts. Scientists have also long found that when we're surrounded by a tremendous amount of negativity, it suppresses our immunity. Imagine what else it's probably doing to our bodies. Cells get altered. I don't see how that couldn't NOT affect any future offspring. Again, we are all connected in some way shape or form.

Here's a simplified example. Ever experience bad customer service? You don't know the employee, but your paths happen to cross on a day that, let's say, something bad happened to the employee. That person's negative attitude irritates you which makes you snap back. The employee gets deeper into a funk and now you're affected. This negative exchange sits with you long after you leave the place of business. You share it on Facebook and/or Twitter, you tell family, etc. Whatever happened in that employee's life affected you and you kept that negativity going with others. This is a simple example, but it's a way to show the interconnectedness that extends far beyond the bubble of what happened to the employee in his or her life. Imagine that on a global scale and with atrocities. Someone who survives a sinking, a concentration camp, a plane flying into a tower...the effects of such trauma changes a person all the way to the DNA level. I'm no scientist, yes, but I feel this in my heart to be true. We feel each other's joy and we feel each other's pain. Who's to say that all doesn't get passed down genetically?

No one can stop atrocities from happening, unfortunately. And none of us can change the past, but the least we can do is honor those who perished so senselessly on January 30, 1944. It is our duty as their future generations to pay respect to the lives they lived. One of the ways we can do that is by pulling back the rug and giving their story light. Let us take them out of hiding. Give them a voice.

This is my humble attempt to do just that.

Click here for a list of survivors and other details such as which ship rescued them, a list of those missing, and those who died.

Some other books about the sinking of the Wilhelm Gustloff: Death In the Baltic: The World War II Sinking of the Wilhelm Gustloff by Cathryn Prince and The Damned Don't Drown: The Sinking of the Wilhelm Gustloff by A.V. Sellwood, and The Cruellest Night: Germany's Dunkirk and the Sinking of the Wilhelm Gustloff by Christopher Dobson