Revenge after liberation – What happened to the German SS soldiers when the concentration camps fell?

The final days of World War II marked the collapse of the Nazi regime. With Berlin burning and the Third Reich crumbling under the relentless assault from Allied forces, the world stood on the brink of liberation. But as the gates of the concentration camps swung open, revealing the horrors within, the question arose: what happens when justice is left to the fury of those who have been wronged?

As the Allied forces liberated concentration camps across Europe in the spring of 1945, they were met not with triumphant victory but with an unthinkable truth. Behind the barbed wire and prison gates, among the skeletal remains of millions, lay a deep and complex moral dilemma—one that would ignite an emotional reaction so powerful that it would blur the lines between justice and vengeance.

This is the story of what happened when the prisoners of war became the judges, and the Nazi SS guards—those who had once held absolute power—found themselves at the mercy of those they had tortured, dehumanized, and killed.

The Liberation of Dauchau

On April 29, 1945, the 7th U.S. Army advanced into the small Bavarian town of Dauchau, located just outside of Munich. Their mission was simple—secure a Nazi prison camp. But what they discovered was anything but ordinary. As they approached the camp gates, the soldiers were confronted with an unimaginable sight: a freight train, abandoned on the tracks just outside the camp, filled with over 2,000 corpses, stacked high like discarded cargo.

The stench of death was overpowering. The soldiers who had seen the worst of the war were stunned into silence, struggling to comprehend the magnitude of what lay before them. The bodies, starved, emaciated, and lifeless, had been abandoned by the retreating Nazis. The camp itself was no better. Over 30,000 surviving prisoners were crammed into narrow barracks that were designed for a fraction of the number. Most were suffering from typhus, starvation, and exhaustion. A few weighed less than 40 kilograms.

As the soldiers and medics rushed in, they could hardly process the horror of what they had just stumbled upon. But as the day wore on, one thing became clear: the real battle had just begun. It was not against the Nazis anymore—it was against the raw fury of the survivors, and the deep sense of rage that had been building for years.

Justice in the Chaos

For the survivors of Dauchau, liberation came with a strange and bittersweet taste. They had endured the unendurable, surviving the Holocaust’s most horrific conditions. Yet, as the gates opened, they were not greeted by the usual lines of soldiers ready to offer aid and comfort. No, the soldiers were just as shocked, just as disturbed by what they had seen. And what happened next was something the world would never forget.

Amidst the chaos of liberation, where relief collided with horror, a sudden wave of violence spread like wildfire. The SS guards, who had spent years tormenting and executing the prisoners, found themselves cornered, exposed, and at the mercy of the very people they had dehumanized. It was here, in this chaotic moment, that the true cost of blind obedience and absolute power was revealed. The prisoners, too weak to stand only hours before, now had the strength to take vengeance into their own hands.

In the coal yard, a group of American soldiers gathered around about 50 captured SS guards. According to later reports, the soldiers, overcome with a combination of fear, anger, and disgust, opened fire on the captured men. The officers, once untouchable and wielding immense power, were now reduced to targets. Somewhere between military orders and a primal urge for revenge, the line between justice and emotion became indistinguishable.

Later, additional SS guards were executed near the railway station. A few American officers witnessed the executions but chose not to intervene. The shots were fired without warning, without orders—just a raw, emotional reaction to the horrors they had just witnessed. In that moment, justice was no longer a matter for courts. It was a matter of immediate retribution, delivered on the spot by those who had lived through the unimaginable.

The Prisoners’ Vengeance

But the soldiers weren’t the only ones seeking justice. As the SS guards were rounded up, the surviving prisoners—those who had lived through the unimaginable and had seen the worst of human depravity—began to take matters into their own hands. The capos, the prisoners who had cooperated with the SS and abused their fellow inmates to survive, became the primary targets. The survivors dragged them out of the barracks, using ropes, metal rods, or whatever they could find to vent their rage. Some capos were hung, others were beaten to death, right there in the same camp where they had once held power.

What happened next was a moment of release for those who had endured years of suffering. The shackles of fear had been lifted, and in the absence of law, the survivors found their own sense of justice. In the days following liberation, the camp became a place of total reversal—a place where the victims became the judges, and where the former masters begged for mercy.

The Complexities of Liberation

The events at Dauchau were not isolated. Across other liberated camps, similar scenes of violence unfolded. The survivors, once powerless, now had the opportunity to right the wrongs done to them. In some cases, the American soldiers intervened, trying to maintain order. But in many instances, they stood back and allowed the prisoners to act as they saw fit. The rage was palpable. In some camps, those who had once held power were executed without trial, their fates sealed by the fury of those who had suffered under their cruelty.

Yet, even in the face of such violence, the soldiers knew that they were witnessing something that transcended military justice. The line between right and wrong had been blurred in the chaos of liberation. No one knew what justice should look like in such a moment. But for the survivors, there was no room for mercy—only retribution.

The Role of the Allies

The liberation of the concentration camps by the Allied forces was a moment of triumph, yes. But it was also a moment of reckoning. When General Dwight D. Eisenhower witnessed the conditions at Dauchau and other camps, he made the bold decision to document everything—photographs, films, and firsthand accounts of the atrocities that had taken place. This, he understood, was history. It was evidence of the evil that had been perpetrated and the truth that must never be forgotten.

In the aftermath, the Allies were faced with a difficult question: how should they respond to the atrocities they had witnessed? General George S. Patton, after reviewing the events at Dauchau, refused to prosecute the soldiers who had taken matters into their own hands. To him, they had acted not out of malice, but out of the raw emotion and humanity that had been awakened in them by the horrors they had encountered. “They simply reacted as human beings,” Patton concluded.

Conclusion: A Bitter Victory

The liberation of the concentration camps marked the end of the Nazi regime, but it also revealed the complexities of justice in the aftermath of unimaginable evil. The Allies had triumphed over the Third Reich, but the true cost of that victory was much more than military conquest. It was a moral reckoning that would haunt those who had witnessed the horrors for the rest of their lives.

In the days that followed, the world would come to terms with the atrocities of the Holocaust. But the question remains: how much of our humanity can we retain after witnessing hell itself? The liberation of the camps was not only a military triumph—it was humanity’s confrontation with its own darkest depths. The revenge carried out by the survivors of the camps was not just a matter of justice—it was a visceral, primal act of reclaiming dignity, a moment when victims became the judges.

And while the Allied forces were victorious, the true cost of that victory would echo throughout history as a reminder of the complexities of justice, vengeance, and human nature.