It still bothers me, as it would any emotionally healthy person, how do I reconcile my love for the scientific achievements of a man whose work killed so many. The answer, I assume, lie in the methods and scientific validity of his work.
After reading and watching so much about it over the years it doesn't feel real until you're physically there, amid the bleak smokestacks and barbed-wire fences sprawled over hundreds of acres of barren land.
My father sometimes talked of uncles who disappeared. "They were in France at the beginning of the war," he said, "but they weren't there at the end". They must have disappeared 'in the camps', was how we grew to know about such things..