Program Notes:

The horrifying stories and testimonies from prisoners in the Nazi death camps became known only gradually, reported to the Allies by survivors, intelligence agencies, and local residents near the camps. It is hard to believe that the world, even as it was immersed in the problems of war, could not grasp the scale of the tragedy unfolding at the death camps, and when it did, it did not act decisively.

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Could the Allies have done anything? It is true that the British people had to endure the Blitz and defend their country's existence, while the Americans, following the attack on Pearl Harbor, found themselves engaged on multiple fronts. When exhausted armies struggled to preserve their nations, when food was scarce and blood was spilled in every major European city—could anyone have had the means and resolve to halt the mass murder of six million Jews, half a million Gypsies, at least 250,000 mentally or physically disabled individuals, and over three million Soviet prisoners-of-war?

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Did the Allies know what was happening in the camps? The answer is yes, but awareness came in stages. Initially, only a few intelligence reports mentioned the killings in Eastern Europe. Later, testimonies from fortunate escapees from the Nazi inferno arrived, yet these were often dismissed as exaggerated or delusional. There was also a phase of denial: although corroborating testimonies indicated that the publicly declared Nazi goal—extermination of all Jews—was being actively pursued, few comprehended the full extent of the figures, horrors, and inhumanity. This denial persisted even among Jewish communities in the United Kingdom, the United States, and the future state of Israel.

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At the outset of the war, Allied armies were indeed unable to reach Eastern Europe. However, from August 1944 onwards, Allied aircraft frequently flew over the death camps, which continued to operate at full capacity. Despite thousands of bombs falling on Germany and hundreds of appeals flooding the war departments of the British and US armies, why was no order given to bomb the Auschwitz rail tracks and other camps, not to mention the gas chambers and crematoria? Such actions might have prevented thousands of deaths. Survivors' reports even mention their desperate hope to be bombed by Allied planes, seeing it as preferable to the certain death awaiting them in the gas chambers. Why was nothing done?

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With these questions in mind, I began researching various archives, examining authentic letters, memos, telegrams, protocols, and other forms of Allied communication. Many of these documents had previously been classified as "secret" or "confidential." The findings were shocking. The slow wheels of bureaucracy, indifferent diplomats and decision-makers, officers in remote offices treating victims and refugees as mere statistics on a page, responding to matters of life and death with bureaucratic detachment—all contributed to inaction. In some cases, particularly within the British Colonial Office handling refugees, officers at all levels obstructed, delayed, and redirected refugees, thereby condemning many to death. While Allied high command often expressed sympathy for refugees in emotional statements, subordinate actions rarely reflected this compassion.

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These bureaucratic documents, written in a robotic and self-serving manner, contrast starkly with another form of "efficiency"—the chilling bureaucratic correspondence of the Nazis: train schedules detailing origins, destinations, times, and numbers of "passengers." Upon return, these trains traveled empty, adhering strictly to schedule. For me, trains have always symbolized freedom—discovering new landscapes, movement, and optimism. Here, however, these trains represent horror, with eighty to one hundred people crammed into cattle cars without water or food, traveling for days or weeks, standing on the bodies of the deceased, headed towards an "unknown destination."

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And yet, behind all this cold correspondence, the real suffering belongs to individuals. Through my research, I uncovered hundreds of testimonies—from those trapped in the trains to camp escapees, adults recounting childhood experiences, witnesses to Allied planes flying over Auschwitz, and even a woman who miraculously survived the gas chamber. I found heart-wrenching letters and farewell notes hidden in barracks' crevices by prisoners on their final days. This personal side to official inaction and vicious action stands in stark contrast to the dry, mechanical bureaucratic communications.

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Thus, And the Trains Kept Coming… juxtaposes these heartbreaking documents with the cold, calculated ones, gradually revealing the tragedy. Structured as a series of unstaged scenes, the work changes rapidly, each contributing a new perspective to the broader narrative. Unlike an opera where each singer typically portrays one character, the vocal soloists, narrators, and choir embody multiple roles, often conflicting with each other. The distinction between good and bad blurs—a sentiment echoed by many survivors. The choir, for instance, serves as the voice of the people, akin to a Greek chorus, propelling the plot forward. The entire work unfolds in one movement, progressing chronologically through historical developments.

While And the Trains Kept Coming… focuses on the Holocaust and its profound impact, it also reflects humanity's capacity to turn a blind eye to the suffering of others, a phenomenon that persists to this day—from genocide in Darfur to crises in the Middle East to homelessness alongside local drugstores.

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I extend my gratitude and credit to the following individuals and institutions:

- Evan Fallenberg – Hebrew to English translations, English text consultant
- Carola Emrich – German translation
- Blanka Bednarz – Polish consultant
- Markus Goessl and Inge Huhn – assistance with German documents
- Yad Vashem Archives, Jerusalem, Israel
- Central Zionist Archives, Jerusalem, Israel
- Joseph Wulf Bibliothek, Wannsee, Germany
- The MacDowell Colony, Peterborough, NH, USA

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And the Trains Kept Coming… was commissioned by the Cantata Singers, David Hoose, Music Director, in Boston, MA, 2007. It is the third work in the Cantata Singers' Slavery Documents series.

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