My Grandad was an engineer..
.. and was in charge of the fleets of trucks/tracked vehicles that kept the supply chains running. As such he was on the leading truck in the convoys that went to one of the concentration camps.

He never spoke about the war. It disturbed him too much. he did once say that he saw some live action... but that's all he ever told me. What I do know is that he was a photographer. As the trucks rolled in to the camps, he was snapping away: looking though the viewfinder apparently made it seem less real, and therefore less horrific.

Many of his photos appear in books and museums about the war. Stacks of bodies, charred remains, gas chambers, the lot. The hollowed faces and fragile frames of the survivors, the dead look in the eyes of the living.

He died in a nursing home. 100% compos mentis, having been pre-deceased 5 years earlier by his wife. Sadly after a fall he had shatter his hip and had become bed-ridden, and then sneezed and cracked his ribs. For the next 2 years he was incapable of moving and totally depressed. Nothing could be done to cheer him up.. he was simply waiting to die.

And still he was a bigger man than the "Celebs" of today.
( Humpty Dumpty was Pushed Is unaware of having any limits., Tue 21 Apr 2009, 7:33, Reply)