Tattooing numbers at Auschwitz

Transcript of the podcast

Auschwitz was the only German concentration camp where tattooing of numbers was applied to prisoners. Dr Wanda Witek-Malicka of the Auschwitz Museum Research Center talks about why and when such a system was introduced, and whether all prisoners of Auschwitz were tattooed.

Auschwitz was the sole German concentration camp where prisoners were not only assigned numbers but also permanently tattooed. However, let's begin by discussing the numbers, as they offer substantial information about a specific prisoner. What sort of information is it?

The situation regarding the use of numbers at Auschwitz is unique. Unlike other concentration camps, the numbers were not reused after a prisoner's death. Each new arrival was given a new number in the series. This has proven extremely helpful for researchers as each number represents a distinct identity of a prisoner. Thus, we can identify specific individuals, determine their personalities, and gain basic information about their fate based solely on their number. The number also reveals when a particular prisoner arrived at the camp. The conditions in Auschwitz in 1940 differed dramatically from those in 1944. The year or a month a prisoner arrived at the camp was a crucial factor in determining their chances of survival and the fate that awaited them. The camp number assigned to a prisoner indicated the year of their arrival, which could provide insight into what was likely to happen during their stay in the camp. The camp number is a crucial identifier that helps us determine the type of transportation used to bring the prisoner to the camp and the place from where the transport departed. This information is of immense value for researchers studying the fate of the victims.

The fact that new numbers were assigned to each new prisoner and not reused is an important detail that also helps us determine the total number of registered prisoners in Auschwitz. Additionally, this information can provide insights into various factors, including the mortality rate. Hence, these numbers are of immense significance for us in the context of research. Moreover, they are also crucial for the descendants of the victims as they can use these numbers to locate information about their loved ones. In various camp files and documents, information is not always preserved under the names of prisoners. Instead, it is often preserved under their registration numbers. These numbers enable us to furnish such people with information on the fate of their loved ones.

What, then, was the rationale behind the camp authorities' decision to depart from the usual procedure of assigning prisoners a number and instead resort to tattooing the numbers onto their bodies?

It is a fact that the use of tattoos to identify prisoners was unique to Auschwitz. However, the reason behind the introduction of this practice remains unknown as there are no surviving German documents that directly explain its purpose. Our understanding of this marking system is based solely on accounts from survivors and certain events and cause-and-effect relationships that occurred at Auschwitz. Two hypotheses were used to explain the purpose of the Auschwitz tattoos. The first hypothesis suggested that the tattoos were used to help identify prisoners who had escaped from Auschwitz. The tattoo was a permanent mark that indicated the person's camp history and that they were an Auschwitz prisoner. Nevertheless, this hypothesis is not the sole justification for the tattoos. If that were true, the telegrams about prisoner escapes would have contained information about the tattoos. Such telegrams were sent to police stations containing information on a escaped prisoner. If these telegrams were to help identify the escapee, in would have been standard practice to include the camp numbers. During the analysis of surviving telegrams sent between January 1943 and July 1944, it was discovered that only four of the 120 telegrams contained the escapees camp numbers in the "special marks" section. These four telegrams pertained to collective escapes where two or more prisoners had escaped together. It's important to note that none of these four telegrams were signed by Rudolf Höss, who was in charge of the camp when the tattoo system was introduced. It's also worth mentioning that in most of the other telegrams, there were no notes under the "special marks" section despite the prisoners already having the numbers tattooed. It can be inferred that the intention behind introducing tattoos was not to identify escapees and share their information. This is because other camps also had prisoners who escaped, yet tattoos were not introduced there. So, what was the purpose behind introducing tattoos for Auschwitz camp prisoners? In my opinion, the main reason was the numerous inaccuracies and chaos in the prisoners records, which came to light after the escape of Zofia Biedawa in February 1943. It was discovered that there were significant inaccuracies in the records. The commandant was responsible for keeping track of the number of prisoners and their identities. Therefore, tattoos were introduced to aid in record-keeping. It was important to maintain accurate lists of prisoners. However, identifying prisoners in the event of their death posed unique challenges. Survivors and documents provide us with information that it was indeed difficult to identify corpses. Kazimierz Smoleń reported that it was particularly problematic to identify prisoners who died while working in external commandos. These commands were numerous, involved heavy physical labour, and had high mortality rates. In these work units, there were instances where a prisoner would pass away or be killed, and if they were not wearing a striped uniform, it was difficult to identify them. This was because there were so many prisoners, and the kapo or vorarbeiter could not remember all their names, let alone their numbers. Naturally, the question that comes to mind is why these bodies had no striped clothes. How could this have happened? A similar phenomenon was documented in the camp for Soviet prisoners of war. If a prisoner perished, fellow inmates would sometimes acquire their belongings, such as clothing and footwear, if they deemed them to be of higher quality than their own, simply claiming them for themselves. The act of taking the deceased's property was a means of ensuring their survival. As previously mentioned, the lack of identification markings on the deceased individuals was particularly evident within the Soviet POWs. This was primarily attributed to the poor physical condition in which the Soviet POWs arrived at the camp, as recalled by commandant Rudolf Höss. Many of them were in such a state of extreme exhaustion and extreme emaciation that they often died even before they were registered at the camp. Analyzing the records of Soviet POW deaths, we found that, on average, about 58 individuals perished each day. This indicates a significant mortality of POWs, frequently resulting in the inability to ascertain their identities. It was common for prisoners of war to have special badges on their uniforms, including POW badges. However, if a prisoner passed away, their clothes were often taken by those still alive. Prisoners also sometimes took their deceased colleagues' POW stamps as memorabilia or to pass them later to their families. This caused difficulty in identifying the deceased, as some prisoners had multiple stamps or none. Accounts from prisoners employed in record-keeping and registration units confirm this. Moreover, the death records of POWs include entries that provide evidence of the inability to ascertain the true identity of certain individuals. The high mortality rate among Soviet prisoners of war is further supported by the presence of a POW camp at the main camp from October 1941 to March 1942. The prisoners of war were moved to Birkenau in March 1942. During this period, out of the 10000 prisoners of war deported to and registered in the camp, only a little over 600 remained alive in March. These groups experienced a significantly high mortality rate, which likely prompted the implementation of tattooing. At first, the tattoo was administered to a group of Soviet prisoners of war, and later, it was extended to the most malnourished and gravely ill prisoners in the camp hospital. According to the survivor Erwin Olszówka, when a prisoner was admitted to the hospital, their camp number would be written on their chest using a carpel pencil. Upon admission to the camp hospital, prisoners were required to exchange their striped clothes for hospital clothes that did not bear their identification numbers. In the unfortunate event of a prisoner's death, their identification number would be inscribed on their chest. Conversely, it was common knowledge that writing such a number in pencil would result in smudging and illegibility. And then, if the prisoner died, it was tough to establish their identity. What does high mortality or increased mortality mean in relation to Auschwitz? We have a document that gives us an idea of the extent of this higher death rate. In his text "The SS garison of Auschwitz," Piotr Setkiewicz provides a summary report on the mortality rates in the concentration camps. This report focuses on the typhus outbreak in Auschwitz during August of the year ‘42. Well, and precisely of increased mortality with this period. By comparison, the report reveals that in August of the year ‘42, the number of deaths in the Buchenwald camp reached a total of 74. In the Flossenburg camp, a total of 66 prisoners died. At the same time, Auschwitz saw the deaths of 6,829 men and 1,525 women. These figures can still be compared with the death registry book of Auschwitz. In this case, the figures are even higher, with around 150 more individuals. Nonetheless, the figure we're referring to exceeds 8,000 deaths in just one month.

In this case, we are only referring to registered camp prisoners.

Yes, these are only registered prisoners. This does not include Jews who arrived in RSHA transports and sent directly for extermination. Burning large numbers of corpses poses serious challenges. Occasionally, the bodies of dead prisoners were taken to the morgue. Were numbers also written on the chest with a pencil. However, the numbers faded if the bodies had to wait for a long time to be taken out by the so-called Leichenkommando or the corpse-bearing kommando. The identification of corpses in the concentration camps presented a major problem, leading to confusion in the records. Consequently, there were instances where the dead were recorded as alive and the living as dead. This chaos created a mess that the authorities could not afford. However, it is worth noting that the introduction of the tattoo system, despite the confusion it caused, had some positive consequences for the prisoners in certain situations. We are familiar with cases of prisoners who saved themselves by taking advantage of the fact that corpses could not be identified in any other way except by the tattooed numbers. This applies to prisoners who arrived at the camp with death sentences. They knew they were in a perilous situation, with difficult cases and political charges against them. They were condemned to death and had no hope of leaving the camp alive. However, some prisoners managed to save their lives by swapping identities with dead prisoners. They changed into the clothes of the deceased and assumed their identity. Marian Kołodziej was one such prisoner who saved his life by adopting this tactic. He remained in the camp for the rest of his life, living under the identity of the dead prisoner. The introduction of the tattoo in the camp somewhat stiffened the system. Prisoners who were sent to the camp with a death sentence had drastically decreased chances of survival.

It should be noted that the implementation of tattooing in Auschwitz was not an immediate or one-off occurrence. The process of introducing tattoos transpired for more than a year, not just a few months. Can we attempt to systematise the timeframe for introducing tattoos for particular groups of prisoners?

While it is possible to make a broad estimation, it is crucial to acknowledge that it remains an approximation. The main reason is the absence of German documents that could establish regulations and offer information on specific dates or causes. On the other hand, we do have prisoners' accounts, which are a precious source of information. We have evidence that Soviet POW’s have been getting tattoos since the fall of 1941, possibly starting in November. The second group of prisoners who underwent systematic tattooing were those who were moved from the hospital in the main camp to the hospital in Birkenau. Most of these individuals were Polish political prisoners, the majority of whom were severely malnourished and not expected to live much longer. They were relocated to the barrack number 7, in the Birkenau area, the so-called Isolation Station. The situation over there was truly dramatic. They were deprived of any medical care. The mortality rate in that particular barracks was shockingly high. Those interested in this specific part of history should check out Adolf Gawalewicz's memoir, "Reflections from the Waiting Room to the Gas." He offers a unique perspective as one of the few prisoners who survived their time in this block.

This was March 1942.

The transfer of these prisoners occurred on the exact date of March 13, 1942. Starting in the spring of 1942, the camp began systematically labelling all Jews who were registered from RSHA transports, which were explicitly intended for mass extermination. The exact date when this rule of tattooing all new arrivals was introduced is uncertain, but it was likely in April. Based on accounts, we are aware that the people who arrived to the transport from France on the final day of March 1942 did not yet have tattoos at the time of admission. Here the tattoos were made few weeks after registration. But the people in the transport from Slovakia on 13 April 1942 were tattooed at the moment of arrival. The account of Alfred Wetzler, a prisoner of this transport, confirms that the prisoners were tattooed immediately upon their arrival. Jewish women started getting tattooed during the registration process in April of 1942. However, those who were part of earlier transports from 26 March 1942, when the women's camp was established, were only tattooed after the women's camp had already been moved to the Birkenau site in mid-1942. The Soviet prisoners of war were the first to be tattooed, followed by the prisoners in the hospital, then the Jews. By the end of 1942 and the start of 1943, all newly arrived prisoners, regardless of their nationality or political affiliations, received tattoos. However, based on our current knowledge, some women were already subjected to this procedure in the autumn of 1942. Generally, prisoners would undergo tattooing upon reception, particularly during the registration process for a new transport. Conversely, there were instances where such tattooing would occur at a later time, often after several days. Regardless, prisoners were mandated to receive tattoos before finishing their quarantine period and embarking on their work assignments. At that time, the only remaining issue was that of those prisoners who had arrived in the camp earlier. During the spring of 1943, a one-off action was taken to tattoo all the prisoners already in the camp. This process involved the permanent tattooing of numbers on their forearms. From my analysis of the chronology, dates, and prisoners' recollections, it becomes apparent that the implementation of the tattoo was a deliberate and systematic procedure. However, it was a somewhat ad hoc procedure. Tattooing became a common practice for prisoners, initially proving successful with Soviet prisoners of war. It was then expanded to include hospitalized prisoners who were believed to be too frail to make a full recovery. Subsequently, the system proved so good that all Jews began to be tattooed. Eventually, this routine was expanded to include all inmates. It is apparent that these decisions were made in response to the current needs. It was somewhat of a trial-and-error method.
The introduction of tattoos was a dynamic process, and the tattooing technique varied. Procedures were performed on different areas of the body with various instruments. Can you explain how prisoner numbers were tattooed?
The method of tattooing provides evidence of insufficient planning from start to finish, only somewhat refined. It is now customary for us to associate the camp number with a numerical representation etched on the left forearm. In the beginning, tattoos were executed on prisoners differently. Soviet prisoners of war and hospital prisoners (including the first Jews brought in) were tattooed with special stamps. These stamps were most likely the same ones used for marking pigs. By comparing the surviving stamps and early photographs of tattoos from 1941 and early 1942, it becomes evident that these tattoos were created using the same stamps found in pre-war catalogues of veterinary instruments. While perusing a catalogue of the Haupner company in Berlin, I stumbled upon a depiction of veterinary instruments between 1857 and 1907. Remarkably, these instruments bear a striking resemblance to the ones in our collection. Within the camp, it is known that livestock and farms were present. Hence, it is probable that the prisoners fashioned unique stamps for on-site tattooing, utilizing numerators from the tattoo machines designated for livestock. Based on the accounts of prisoners, we have a clear understanding of the visual representation of these tattoos. To emphasize this, I believe it is most effective to include a relevant quotation that depicts the tattooing of Soviet prisoners of war. During the tattooing procedure, everyone had to lean against the wall because the prisoner used a numbering device that packed a solid punch to make the puncture evenly and clearly visible. We later found out that the wound had been deliberately stained with ink. The number became a permanent mark under the skin and stayed visible for many years.
Even today, prisoners' numbers are often distinct and easily readable. It was a one-time process. Initially, such tattooing was done for the malnourished prisoners, but it was soon replaced by using a needle to tattoo the left forearm. Similar to the introduction of tattooing, the specifics of when and why it was implemented remain unknown. Alfred Wetzler, who arrived in mid-April, as I previously mentioned, had his number initially tattooed with stamps, while the forearm tattooing was carried out on those who arrived from 23 April and later. Ludovic Eisenberg, well-known from the book "The Tattooist of Auschwitz", specifically mentions tattoos on the forearm, highlighting the swift transformation that occurred within a short period. Were there any attempts to do some tests while changing to the new tool? Unfortunately, our knowledge is limited on this matter, but it is probable that tattooing using only this needle method was employed from May of the year ‘42. To illustrate what this process looked like, I think it is worth using the account of a survivor, Jerzy Chronowski, in the camp under the name Baran. His account is preserved in the collection of our archives. "The tattooing process involved the prisoner stretching the skin of their left forearm with their right hand while the tattooist quickly punctured the skin with a needle attached to a wooden handle to create a number. This process only lasted for about a dozen seconds. Afterwards, I was instructed to rub ink into the punctured area of my arm and wait for the ink to dry."

Can we explain the reason for this change from tattooing on the chest to tattooing the number on the forearm?

The survivors’ accounts merely consist of suspicions and suggestions. Most importantly, a numerical tattoo on the forearm was much easier to inspect. Put simply, whenever a prisoner had to report to an SS man, they were obligated to reveal their assigned number by unbuttoning their shirt and displaying the tattoo on their chest. This procedure was time-consuming and somewhat troublesome, particularly in winter. However, it was much faster and more convenient to show the forearm. Furthermore, based on the accounts, the use of stamps proved problematic due to the initial step of leaning the tattooed prisoner against the wall. Here, one had to apply quite a lot of force to hammer this numbering device into the body. The experience was quite agonizing. Prisoners also remembered that with Soviet POWs, who were extremely malnourished and thin, it was challenging to locate a sufficiently muscular area on the chest for inserting these numbers. The needles almost touched the ribs, making the tattooing process very arduous, problematic, and agonizing. In contrast, tattooing on the forearm using a needle was significantly easier. Furthermore, the use of any specialized tools was unnecessary. Unlike stamps with numbering devices, which require the possession of specific numbers for alteration, tattooing with a needle only requires the presence of a needle. One of the prisoners mentions that these were ordinary needles - the kind used for sewing. It is unclear if these were also medical needles, such as those used for injections. We don't have detailed information here, but most mention that it was just an ordinary needle. Rubbing the ink into the wound eliminated the need for an ink dispenser, thus simplifying the process.

Were the numbers on the prisoners' forearms tattooed using a standardised template or some set of rules, or is there a degree of randomness when a particular inmate gets a tattoo without specific instructions about its size and precise appearance?

The rule was that the number had to be clear and legible. In fact, that was the only thing that mattered. So, these numbers differ in many ways. First of all, they differ in what is included in that number. Most prisoners had a standard number consisting of a sequence of digits, while some had additional symbols. For instance, some Soviet prisoners of war had the letters AU tattooed next to their number. The symbol was used to identify and target prisoners who were seen as devoted communists. Unfortunately, the majority of these prisoners were killed in the camp, making the symbol an additional indication of their perceived threat and the desire to prevent their return or escape from the camp. Also, when tattooing, the number series were marked with letters because there were several such number series in the camp. Upon their arrival in ‘44, Jews were assigned to distinct number series A and B, with the letter also being prefixed to the number. The Roma people were assigned the number series Z during registration, also marked next to their tattoos. And we also know from the accounts of just a few female prisoners that sometimes Jews were given a triangle under their number. We are unsure of the rationale behind this decision. It is unclear why only a few selected prisoners were given this additional marking. It is not uncommon for a prisoner to have the tattoo placed in a different location. As I mentioned earlier, some prisoners had it on their chests. However, we are aware that during the latter part of 1943, a proportion of prisoners from a transport, approximately between the 155,000 and 165,000 in number, were marked with tattoos on the inner side of their arm, just above the elbow. Once again, we lack understanding of the motive behind this action. We do not know why this decision was made. However, certain survivors do possess such tattoos. Additionally, newborns and infants registered in the camp had their tattoos etched in a different area. It is important to note that initially, infants born in the camp were systematically killed, whereas starting in mid-1943, non-Jewish newborns were permitted to live, meaning they were not immediately murdered but instead registered. It can be inferred from the camp files that they were not registered on the day of birth, but instead, they waited a few days. If they did not die immediately after birth, then such a child was registered and given a numerical designation on their thigh. This was because the thigh was too small to fit such a number. Speaking of exceptions like these, some prisoners had two numbers tattooed on them. Naturally, those with tattoos on their chests were also given a number on their forearms. An interesting case comes to mind regarding the previously mentioned prisoner, Jerzy Chronowski, who had two numbers tattooed on him. The reason behind this is that he was released from the camp before the introduction of the tattooing regulations. He ended up in the camp again when tattooing was already a routine part of the admission procedure. He was marked with a new number tattooed on his forearm. However, his fellow campmates, who recognized him, suggested he report and request his previous number. The reason for this was that prisoners with lower numbers in the camp were regarded with a certain level of respect, as they were seen as survivors who had endured so much. According to the testimonies, even the SS men sometimes showed more leniency towards such prisoners, considering a low number as a form of distinction. Following the advice of his colleagues, he went to the chancellery and successfully got his old number back. The new tattoo on his forearm was crossed out, and the previous number was tattooed on it. Given that the tattooing was performed manually and on many prisoners, it is logical to assume that errors were inevitable. For instance, it is known that many women were accidentally assigned numbers beginning with 30000 instead of 20000. The mistake was corrected by crossing out the number 3 again and tattooing the number 2 above it. We are aware that several errors were made in numbering tattoos. However, regarding the standard prisoner number, its appearance generally depended on the ability, skill, or experience of the prisoners who tattooed it. Aesthetics were also important because some prisoners considered removing the number in the future. Therefore, they believed that the smaller the number was, the easier it would be to get rid of it in the future. Prisoners often asked skilled tattoo artists among them to create small and neat numbers, as stated in their accounts. These prisoners were rewarded with an extra portion of bread as a token of gratitude for tattooing appropriate numbers in small sizes. However, this did not apply to the prisoners who were tattooed as part of a regular procedure soon after they arrived, but to those who were already in the camp and were aware that the process of tattooing numbers had begun and they would eventually have to get their number. These prisoners often went to extremes to locate a skilled tattoo artist who could beautifully and artistically ink their identification numbers. The aesthetics of tattooing numbers present a unique scenario in this case. As I mentioned, most prisoners wanted the number to be as small as possible. Nonetheless, Paweł Solecki, a survivor of Auschwitz, remembers being pressured and, in certain instances, compelled to affix his signature to the Volksliste during his internment. He, of course, refused to do so, and an SS man threatened him that if he did not sign, a number would be tattooed on him. The prisoner showed great humility and honour when he deliberately sought out a fellow prisoner skilled in tattooing. He asked the prisoner to tattoo a significant, shaded, and decorative number on his forearm, which he considered an act of rebellion. The story sounds very improbable, but it is also confirmed by the account of another prisoner who was a friend of Paweł Solecki's in the camp and after the war. He claims that he kept this large, distinct number after leaving the camp, and while it would be an exaggeration to say he wore it proudly, he saw it as a symbol of his resilience and determination.

The prisoners performed the tattoos. What do we know about this work unit, their training, and their place in the camp administration structure?

To begin, I want to address a common misconception that there was a single tattooist at Auschwitz responsible for tattooing all the prisoners. Upon closer examination, it becomes clear that this is untrue. While we know the identities of a few individuals involved in tattooing fellow prisoners, it's important to note that these tattoos were not only made by those officially designated to do so. I want to bring your attention to the fact that the role of a tattoo-maker or tattooist was only mentioned in one out of over 3,500 survivors accounts. This mention comes from an account by Kazimierz Smoleń, a member of the Aufnahmekommando - the kommando responsible for registering new arrivals. The term "tattooist" is found only in one camp document, which is the employment list of the Birkenau men's camp inmates. Nevertheless, it is important to highlight that this specific position was only documented in the lists produced between mid-April 1944 and May 1944, which barely translates to a month and a half. What is particularly intriguing is that the one or two tattooists mentioned there are not listed as members of the Schreibstube and the Kommando Politische Abteilung, which was in charge of tattooing, but as hospital staff members. I find it challenging to explain the rationale behind their classification. According to Ryszard Kordek's account, when tattooing became compulsory in the autumn of 1942, only prisoners working in the infirmary - specifically, orderlies - were authorized to carry out this activity. However, some other prisoners also claim that camp nurses tattooed them. It was initially logical for orderlies to carry out the task since only seriously ill prisoners were initially titled. However, there was an inconsistency in the fact that Soviet prisoners of war were tattooed by prisoners employed at the registry and not orderlies. Over time, the Aufnahmekommando took over entirely the responsibility of tattooing. The Aufnahmekommando was a reception kommando comprising prisoners responsible for the entire registration process of the prisoners, including tattooing. It was a relatively constant staff supervised by the Politische Abteilung. As the camp grew, the number of members in the Aufnahmekommando increased, but there were generally more of the same prisoners working there. The Aufnahmekommando were considered privileged because they were not subject to the same dangers as those working in heavy construction or carrying building materials. They were not in danger of dying on the job, exhaustion, or brutality from the kapo. They had relatively light and safe work, allowing them to move around the camp premises, providing opportunities to organize and get food. We lack detailed information regarding the numbers and compositions of these kommandos. It is well-documented that in the summer of 1944, the men's camp in Birkenau housed kommandos of around 30 prisoners. These were not kommandos limited to just one or two individuals. The prisoners in these kommandos were, as I mentioned, in charge of registration, and among them were selected prisoners who were engaged in tattooing. It goes without saying that these prisoners were not provided with any formal training; instead, they honed their abilities through practical experience. Various registry units operated in different sections of the Auschwitz complex. Specifically, an independent unit existed in the main camp, another in the women's camp situated within Birkenau, and another in the men's camp there. The main principle was that the Aufnahmekommando of each camp was responsible for serving the prisoners registered in that camp. However, in practice, as we know, there were situations where women were registered and tattooed by men. There were circumstances where women tattooed men upon their arrival. We have these kinds of accounts. Based on the circumstances, it seems that the actions of these kommandos were primarily driven by present needs. Essentially, these individuals were tasked with assigning titles to the newcomers. However, based on the available accounts, it is evident that a certain degree of improvisation was involved, particularly during the introduction of the tattoo. The situation was completely different in the various sub-camps and in the Monowitz camp. As an illustration, one instance involved the presence of a kommando and prisoners who carried out on-the-spot tattooing. Additionally, in the Gliwice sub-camp, Polish political prisoners from the main camp's Aufnahmekomando were specifically assigned to tattoo the prisoners there. We can't state definitively that there is a rule in this situation. Certain inmates claim that German officials were responsible for the tattooing. There are stories of prisoners who requested tattoos and others who tattooed themselves. One prisoner had the skill to make himself a tattoo, so he did it to ensure it looked how he wanted. He did it so well that other prisoners asked him to do theirs, which he did for extra bread. Another survivor recalls that those who did the tattooing were not professionals, as evidenced by the poor quality of his tattoo. He regretted having such a large number tattooed on his forearm, as later prisoners with six-digit numbers took up as much space as his three-digit number. This shows that aesthetics were essential to prisoners, even in such a situation.

It is evident from our previous discussion that, just like no single prisoner was responsible for all the tattoos, there was no specific space in the camp where these numbers were tattooed. Tattooing was carried out by different kommandos throughout Auschwitz, but it is worth mentioning that there was no designated space exclusively for this purpose.

We can pinpoint specific locations where we know that tattoos were undoubtedly carried out on prisoners. These locations include the buildings where new arrivals were registered. For instance, Soviet prisoners of war were tattooed in block twenty-four of the main camp. Sick individuals, during the initial phase of the tattooing process, were tattooed in the prisoners' hospital. New arrivals in the main camp were tattooed in block 25, while in Birkenau, the tattoos were done in the Washraums or camp baths. Later, in the second half of 1943, tattoos were done in the Central Sauna, located at the back of the Birkenau camp. This location is frequently mentioned in records as a place for tattooing. However, it's worth noting that the process was dynamic, and regulations were not rigid. In the spring of 1943, many prisoners were tattooed simply inside their blocks. Newly registered prisoners were sometimes tattooed during quarantine, which was done in the quarantine block. Tattooing tables were sometimes set up outdoors near the buildings where new prisoners were received. Police prisoners housed in block number 11, who were incarcerated in the camp as political prisoners of Auschwitz by a summary court sentence, were tattooed on the ground floor of this block, mainly in the corridor. Some individuals also mention that the hall where the hearings before the summary court were usually held was also used for this purpose. As noted, this needle tattooing did not require any special preparation, special tools or a particular space. Prisoners were tattooed in every possible place. Notably, some prisoners mention that after the tattooing procedure, there was redness and sometimes severe infections due to a lack of hygiene measures.
Adding further complexity to the story, the introduction of prisoners numbers as tattoos in Auschwitz was a highly diverse process. Interestingly, there were prisoner groups in the camp who were not tattooed at all.
Germans, namely Reichsdeutsche, Volksdeutsche, and Austrians, were excluded from receiving tattoos. Prisoners with EH numbers, who were classified as re-educational, were also not tattooed. However, we know of at least two documented exceptions to this rule. Upon admission to the camp hospital, one re-education prisoner received a tattoo of their camp number on the forearm. This was in line with the principle that prisoners who were ill and not expected to survive should be tattooed in order to identify their corpses later. The other exception was a prisoner who received a tattoo as punishment for a camp offence. Generally, though, these prisoners were not tattooed. Police prisoners were also not tattooed unless they were transferred to the camp as political prisoners by a summary court sentence. In that case, they were given numbers in the general registry and marked with a tattoo. The numbers of people deported from insurgent Warsaw were not tattooed, and it is unclear why. It is possible that these people were meant to be sent to another camp later, so they were not given tattoos at Auschwitz. We also have memories from Bogdan Bartnikowski. In his book "Childhood Behind the Barbed Wire", he writes that the old prisoners had such decent numbers tattooed on them, while he had a shabby-looking one written down on a piece of paper. Furthermore, he states that he inscribed this number on his arm using a graphite pencil. Thus, from his perspective as a child during that period, possessing such a number may have served as evidence of his affiliation with the camp community. Another group that was not tattooed were the Jews incarcerated in the transit camps. These were Jews who had undergone the selection process and were briefly held in Auschwitz before being transferred to camps within the depths of the Reich, where they were assigned to different types of work. The children born in the camp, who were deemed racially valuable and could be Germanized, were not given any tattoos. This was quite obvious. When children were selected for Germanisation, every effort was made to eliminate any evidence of their past, thus making it impossible to discover their true identity. Having a tattoo would have been clear proof that a child in Auschwitz was born to a mother who was not German, so they didn't tattoo numbers on these children.

Is the notion of tattoos as a stigma or symbol frequently mentioned in accounts or conversations? How do these individuals articulate their thoughts on the camp marking, and what significance do they attribute to it today?

There is no question that opinions vary greatly in this specific context. After their release from the camp, some prisoners opted to get rid of their numbers right away, interpreting them as a sign of humiliation, dehumanization, the infringement of their rights, or the violation of their physical well-being. It serves as a reminder of a humiliating experience they wish to erase from memory. Various techniques were employed to take out the number. Some individuals underwent professional surgical removal performed by doctors. Some people chose to conceal their concentration camp identification numbers with a different tattoo. However, this method was not always possible, especially for women. Back then, a woman with a tattoo would have created a commotion, which could have led to an adverse outcome in this case. However, a lady who gave an account in our archive mentions that her husband, who was a prisoner, just hid his camp tattoo under another tattoo after the war, and it went unnoticed because he was a sailor and so had a lot of tattoos. In this case, this method proved to be effective. Some prisoners were so determined to get rid of their camp numbers that they resorted to self-mutilation. Some mentioned that they removed the number or cut it out. A man continuously rubbed salt on the number until it turned into a wound, and even after the wound healed, he repeated this process until the number became illegible. It is evident that, in certain situations, there was a strong and overwhelming urge to erase the number. Indeed, the situation of escaped prisoners was entirely different, as they knew that any inspection would quickly reveal their camp identification number. Therefore, they attempted to remove this number to feel safe during the war and protect themselves from being identified. One survivor remembers that when he participated in the uprising, he sustained an injury to his hand and required surgery. During the surgery, the surgeon removed his camp identification number. There were various methods for removing this stigma, both overtly and covertly. However, it's important to emphasize that some survivors began to view this number differently, especially as time passed. One notable case is Paweł Solecki, who had a large, shaded number tattooed on his body and considered it a sign of his patriotism – which we already described. For many survivors of the war, the number became a kind of proof of their experiences, a testament to what they had been through and a crucial part of their identity. For example, Ruth Kluger saw the number as evidence of her past, while Stella Muller-Madej and Thomas Bergenthal felt a duty to testify about their experiences as part of their generation. For some ex-prisoners, the number reminded them of their participation in a significant historical event, and its significance grew over time. Even long after the war, ex-prisoners would recall and recite their camp identification number from memory when engaged in educational projects or interviews with young people or journalists. They regarded it as a solid and palpable symbol of their unique experience. For many of them, this number became part of their identity. A considerable proportion of ex-prisoners define their identity by referring to themselves as "former Auschwitz prisoners." When sociologists conduct studies on the sense of identity and ask: "Who are you?", well, the ordinary person answers all sorts of things: daughter, mother, wife, worker and so on. A typical response among survivors was, "I was a prisoner at this camp." They viewed this as a defining characteristic of who they were, and the value of this number became increasingly meaningful to them. Notably, as far as the number was concerned, in the case of infants, it played a vital role in the search for their roots. In other words, the children who were born or arrived at a very young age in the camp and had no recollection of their past only had this number as tangible evidence of their origins and future. Occasionally, if it was readable or someone had recorded it while it was still legible, this number became the starting point for a search. As I stated earlier, the numbers contain relevant information about the arrival and origin of a specific prisoner in the camp. So, for the war orphans who didn't return to their families and wished to locate them, this number served as their starting point in the search. So, it is something fundamental from that point of view. Originally intended to dehumanise prisoners and rob them of their individuality, the numbers eventually became a means of restoring the identities of the victims. I am referring here to the examples of nameless graves along the route of death marches. Numerous prisoners perished during the evacuation marches. The local community buried the bodies of these individuals in mass graves. To preserve their memory, they documented the camp numbers of these individuals. Once the war ended, plaques featuring numbers were put up at the burial locations. Gradually, it became clear that it was these numbers, often accompanied by the gender of the deceased, that enabled the discovery of the victims' identities and the individuals in these graves. With the use of numbers, it became possible to identify their corresponding names. They made it possible to identify these people, which was extremely important for their families, who sometimes searched for these graves for years. Today, the camp number is a powerful and unmistakable symbol of Auschwitz, alongside the stripe uniforms, barbed wire, the gate with the inscription "Arbeit Macht Frei", or the gate at Birkenau.