Webcast of Rotunda Ceremony (2011 Days of Remembrance)

Uploaded by ushmm on 12.06.2011

[Music plays]
Announcer: Ladies and gentlemen, Tom Bernstein,
Chairman of the United States Holocaust Memorial Council.

Tom Bernstein: Good morning. As the procession of the liberating division flags begins, we
think about the extraordinary sacrifice of our soldiers who defeated Nazism. It is worth
recalling that even while they were embroiled in combat--well before the magnitude of the
extermination of the Jews was fully revealed--discussions began among the Allies about post-war justice.
With foresight and temperance, the victorious powers resisted vengeance in favor of the
law. A new legal precedent, they hoped, would extinguish the possibility of the world ever
facing these crimes again.
The International Military Tribunal at Nuremberg
codified a new law to protect civilians--crimes against humanity. And it prosecuted Nazi war
criminals for atrocities they committed not only against their own citizens, but those
of other nations. It rejected the long-standing doctrine of sovereign immunity, which exempted
heads of state from prosecution. And it rejected the doctrine which protected subordinates
from being prosecuted for crimes they committed under orders.

Among the men working with the prosecution team to prepare for the Nuremberg trials was
Raphael Lemkin, a Polish Jewish lawyer who had fled to the United States. Lemkin had
dedicated his life to creating legal protections for ethnic, national, and religious groups,
and in 1941 he had introduced the word "genocide" to give name to the systematic murder of targeted
groups. Lemkin managed to get the word "genocide" included in the indictment against Nazi leadership,
but the trial at Nuremberg failed to define it as a specific crime in international law.

After the war, Lemkin learned that forty-nine members of his family, including his parents,
had been killed in the Holocaust. Horrified and driven, he worked tirelessly to have the
newly-formed United Nations adopt the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime
of Genocide.
Relying on the standard set by Nuremberg,
the Convention created a framework in which nations could hold one another responsible
for crimes against civilian groups. But the decades that followed were marked by tragic
disregard for mass atrocities. It was not until the 1990s that, having failed to stop
devastating violence in the former Yugoslavia and Rwanda, the international community held
the first international tribunals since Nuremberg.
Later, the International Criminal Court was
established as the first permanent judicial body to try individuals for the crime of genocide.
And in 2005, the UN adopted the doctrine of "Responsibility to Protect" which affirmed
the fundamental idea of Nuremberg.
Guided by Nuremberg, our efforts to prosecute
perpetrators of these enormous crimes have certainly progressed. But the most meaningful
legacy of Nuremberg will come when our actions today invalidate the need for trials tomorrow,
and our ability to prevent genocide becomes real. So as the U.S. Army flags enter the
Rotunda, we recall not only our brave soldiers and their legacy of freedom, but also the
462 post-World War II American military trials and their legacy of justice--a legacy we need
to fully honor.
Thank you.

Announcer: Ladies and gentlemen, please rise for the presentation of the flags of the United
States Army liberating units, followed by the National Colors.

[Music plays]






[music ends]

Announcer: Ladies and gentlemen, please remain standing for the presentation
of the National Colors.
[Music and singing of the National Anthem]
Oh, say can you see by the dawn's early light What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming?
Whose broad stripes and bright
stars thru the perilous fight,
O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming?
the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof through the night that
our flag was still there.
Oh, say does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O'er the land
of the free and the home of the brave?
[Music ends]

Announcer: Ladies and gentlemen, please be seated.

Ladies and gentlemen, Ambassador Michael Oren of the State of Israel.

Michael Oren: Thank you.
To my friend and source of inspiration since
I was a teenager, to Elie Wiesel, to my other esteemed speakers this morning, Justice Breyer,
to distinguished Members of Congress and honorable representatives of the Administration, Holocaust
survivors and liberators, and our dear friends from the United States Holocaust Memorial
Sixty-six years ago this month, the war in Europe ended. My father, then serving
as a corporal in the combat engineer company that had landed on Normandy beach and fought
its way through the Battle of the Bulge, remembers looking up at a squadron of Allied bombers
flying overhead and releasing tens of thousands of leaflets over recently liberated territory.
"Nazis Quit!" That's what the leaflets said. And my father still has that leaflet, laminated,
hanging on the wall in his home.
The world was celebrating. People were dancing
in the street. But the Jewish people could not partake in those festivities. A third
of them were dead--six million of them had been shot and gassed and starved. And the
few hundred thousand survivors had been rendered homeless, still confined behind barbed wire
in displaced persons camps. The great majority of them did not want to remain in the countries
that had collaborated, either actively or passively, with the effort to destroy them.
Many wanted to return to their ancestral homeland, the Land of Israel. But that route, too, was
denied to them, and many who tried to escape were forced back to the scenes of their recent
The world rejoiced and we, the Jews, we lamented.
The world looked toward a happier future and we remembered an agonizing past. Today, V-E
Day passes almost unnoticed in the United States. But Holocaust Remembrance Day is widely
and profoundly marked. The memory of the suffering of millions, it seems, outlasts the fleeting
joys of victory.
We remember the GIs, some of whom honor us with their presence today,
who liberated the death camps. We salute their valor and pay homage to their humanity, as
they nurtured the starving and comforted those who were too sick to survive. We remember
the American volunteers who worked in those displacement camps and who, at great risk,
enabled some of those refugees to reach Israel. So, too, we remember you, the survivors who
found refuge in the United States--who rebuilt their lives and rebuilt their families and
who, in turn, immeasurably enriched America. And we remember the American people who, under
the leadership of President Harry Truman, made the United States the first nation on
earth to recognize the reborn Jewish state.
We remember all that was done, yes, but just
as crucially, we must remember what was not done. We must remember the refugee-laden ships
turned away from countless shores, including the shores of this country, and consigned
the slaughterhouses of Europe. We must remember those same Allied bombers that bombed targets
near Auschwitz but refrained from striking the camp itself or from striking the railways
that fed that camp. We must remember the world that remained silent while Jews were imprisoned
in Nazi-occupied Europe and the gates of the Land of Israel were locked.

We are obligated to remember, painful though it is, because the hatred that bred the Holocaust
still persists. We know that the Nazi plan to destroy us as a people was preceded by
a campaign to deny the humanity of the Jewish people, and today we witness efforts to deny
the legitimacy of the Jewish state. In Lebanon, Hezbollah glorifies the mass murder of Jews
and aims 50,000 rockets at our homes. Hamas, meanwhile, in Gaza, firing on our towns, on
school buses, and proclaims its goal of annihilating the Jews not just in Israel, but annihilating
the Jews worldwide. And Iran, the backer of Hezbollah and Hamas, denies the Holocaust
while swearing to wipe Israel off the map--to perpetrate another Holocaust while developing
the nuclear means for doing just that.
We need to remember but we must also learn.
We must acknowledge the genuine presence of evil in the world and the persistence of genocidal
hatred. We need to realize that evil is not defeated by goodness alone but by goodness
galvanized by action. Merely saying, "Never Again," will not suffice. "Never Again" means
shunning all passivity and blindness. Today, thank God, there is a Jewish state capable
of defending itself and preserving our people's future. Today, thank God, that Jewish state
is allied with the greatest and most powerful nation on earth. But we must never forget
a time when the State of Israel did not exist, when the Jews had neither shelters nor defenders.
We must remember the few who were saved and the millions who were not, those who rose
heroically and those who turned away. We must remember that hatred remains a scourge in
our world today, and that it is our responsibility--it is our duty--to defeat it.

Announcer: Ladies and gentlemen, Sara Bloomfield,
Director of the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum.

Sara Bloomfield: A few blocks from here, engraved on the walls of the Justice Department,
is this important reminder: "Justice in the life and conduct of the state is possible
only as first resides in the hearts and souls of its citizens."

Today, as we contemplate the meaning of justice, it is worth recalling that one of the first
things the Nazis did was to redefine the nature of citizenship, excluding Jews and others
from the protection of the law. And they did this through the law. In fact, in spite of
their revolutionary and violent nature, the Nazis often used the law rather than skirt
And judges, who were highly respected in
society, were among those inside Germany who could have effectively challenged the regime
and its hundreds of laws that restricted basic rights and freedoms. And yet, the overwhelming
majority of judges did not. For twelve long years, hearing countless cases, most interpreted
the law in ways that facilitated the Nazis' agenda. Their role was so instrumental that
after the war, Nuremberg prosecutor Telford Taylor, in commenting on the judges' trial,
said this: "The dagger of the assassin was concealed beneath the robe of the jurist."

Now when we think about the power these judges had and the enormous consequences of their
decisions, it is striking to compare their actions to those who were seemingly powerless--people
like Otto and Elise Hampel, a simple, working-class couple in Nazi Berlin. Elise was a domestic
with only an elementary school education. Otto was a factory worker, known for his reticence.
They had no history of political activity. And yet, in 1940, they decided to resist Nazism
by secretly dropping postcards all over Berlin calling for civil disobedience and workplace
sabotage. Because the Hampels were poorly educated, the postcards were written in terrible
handwriting with many misspellings and grammatical errors. Otto had to write all the postcards
because Elise could not print well.
These postcards said things like, "German people
wake up!" or "Hitler's Regime will bring us no peace." Another said, "Hitler's war is
the workers death." Germans who found them turned them into the police. But the Hampels
persisted. For almost three years they dropped hundreds of these postcards throughout Berlin.
An angry and confused Gestapo were convinced they were dealing with a large, sophisticated,
well organized resistance movement. But it was just one ordinary couple. In 1943 the
Hampels were caught and beheaded.
And there's one more thing to say about the
fate of the Hampels. Before they were executed, they were put on trial--in accordance with
the law. Such was Nazi justice.
So today, as we reflect on the nature of
true justice, we acknowledge our responsibility to do justice to the memory of millions of
innocent men, women and children. And let us also remember and be inspired by those
like the Hampels who paid with their life as they struggled to create a more just world.

Announcer: Ladies and gentlemen, Elie Wiesel,
Founding Chairman of the United States Holocaust Memorial Council.

Elie Wiesel: Among us, Hitler's many victims,
we rarely commemorate the law. It, too, was implicit, ridiculed and even outlawed, not
only by the regime but also by those who were supposed to uphold and defend it. The entire
judicial community swore allegiance to the Fuhrer. No judge was to look at innocent prisoners
with fairness and empathy. If attacked by an enemy, the Jew could not go to the police,
for the police was the enemy. Over the course of years, they were not there to offer help.

They felt not only abandoned but chained. Few citizens in Germany opened the door to
the fugitives. What these judges were missing was a sense of fairness, an individual conscience,
personal courage, and moral integrity. In those days, human compassion was out of fashion.
Today, in our cherished country, there are many fine judges. Among them, Justice Breyer
stands out. His words are certain to leave an imprint on history. He loves literature,
history, and philosophy. He speaks seven languages, but his true passion is the law. It is the
law that defines the intensity and greatness of a civilization. The Constitution is, to
him, what the Biblical commandments were to the kings of Judea. It transcended their political
power. The message from Justice Breyer has the ability to appeal to the nobility in all
of us.

The French writer, André Malraux, wrote that in ancient times the Jewish people
alone took God's word seriously. And now we may say that Justice Breyer lent the words
of the Constitution and the law, the strength, the spiritualty of morality, the epitome of
humanity’s noble aspiration. Thus it is with enormous admiration that I have the honor
to invite my friend, Justice Stephen Breyer to guide us to the painful universe of Remembrance.

Justice Stephen Breyer: Thank you, Elie Wiesel, that’s such an honor and so personally touching.

We're here today and we gather to remember the Holocaust. I come here as a Judge and
a Jew to participate in this annual ceremony--mandated by law--to speak about the law in the task
of recollection. As the Nazi atrocities fall further into past, direct recollection may
become more difficult. But it will not become less important. The Book of Exodus frightens
me and it frightens us when it says about a King, perhaps about an entirely new generation,
that it grew up and it "knew not Joseph." And the French writer Albert Camus elaborates
the same thought in a book that I find speaks to me, personally touching--The Plague, an
allegory of the Nazi occupation of France. His hero, Dr. Rieux, explains why he has written
the story down. It is because, he says, "the bacillus de la peste, the plague germ [a symbol
for the evil in human nature], never dies; it never entirely disappears; it simply goes
into remission, perhaps for decades, but all the while it lurks: in the furniture, in the
linen cupboards, in the bedrooms, in the cellars, in trunks, in handkerchiefs, in file folders,
perhaps one day to reawaken its rats, and then, to the misfortune or for the education,
of mankind, to send them forth once again to die in some once-happy city."

What role can the law play in helping us, through recollection, guard against that day
when that perpetual evil, analogous to the plague germ, might re-awaken? Let us consider
three different kinds of answers to that question that the law can provide. First, those who
work with the law can engage in certain classical, mundane legal tasks, like gathering and preserving
evidence and creating legal precedent. When I was honored to appear here several years
ago, I spoke of a man who engaged in just those tasks, Justice Robert Jackson, once
a Member of the Court on which I sit.
Sixty-five years ago, Jackson put aside his
work in Washington in order to serve as the Chief Prosecutor at Nuremberg. He later described
his Nuremberg work as "the most important experience of my life, infinitely more important
than my work on the Supreme Court or ... anything that I did as Attorney General." His object,
he said, was to make "explicit and unambiguous" in law "that to persecute, oppress, or do
violence to individuals or minorities on political, racial, or religious grounds ... is an international
crime ... for the commission [of which] ... individuals are responsible" and "can, and will be punished."

He began by telling the Nuremberg tribunal that--and I love these words--"The wrongs
we seek to condemn and punish have been so calculated, so malignant and so devastating,
that civilization cannot tolerate their being ignored because it cannot survive their being
repeated. That four great nations, flushed with victory and stung with injury, stay the
hand of vengeance and voluntarily submit their captive enemies to the judgment of the law
is one of the most significant tributes that Power has ever paid to Reason."

And then he built what he called a "drab case." He did not try, he said, to "appeal
to the press" or to the public. He understood his role as collecting hard evidence largely
built on the Nazis' own documents "the authenticity of which" he said could not be "challenged."
And it was not challenged. The nineteen defendants could not answer that evidence because there
was nothing to say.
Jackson collected the evidence, not simply
to convict the war criminals, but also to document the facts for history to remember.
"We must establish incredible events by credible evidence." And that evidence must be presented,
"with such authenticity and in such detail that there can be no responsible denial of
these crimes in the future and no tradition of martyrdom of the Nazi leaders can arise
among informed people."
So he and the other prosecutors brought to
Nuremberg one hundred thousand captured German documents. They examined millions of feet
of captured film. They produced 25,000 still photographs, "together with Hitler's personal
photographer who took most of them." And month after month, in over 17,000 transcript pages,
they assembled a mountain of evidence to which no response was possible. History was there
revealed. It remains revealed, for all the future to see.

Second, another thing law can do is that those who work with law can, through trials
that tell stories, help produce an emotional, as well as a factual, understanding of just
what occurred. Doing so was in significant part the object of another trial, which took
place fifty years ago in Jerusalem. It was the trial of Adolf Eichmann, the man in charge
of transporting millions of Jews to death camps.

In prosecuting the case against Eichmann, Israel's Attorney General, Gideon Hausner,
provided documentation. But he did something more. He sought out survivors of the Holocaust
to bear witness. About one hundred took the stand. They told their own stories about what
they saw, about what they endured, about what they survived, and about how they remembered
those who did not survive.
The audience was different from that of Nuremberg.
The trial was televised both in Israel and around the world. Millions in the United States
watched the proceedings. And for the first time many people heard the Holocaust survivors
tell their stories with their own voices. Hannah Arendt described, as we know, how the
trial did not just tell us, but it showed us, what she called the "banality of evil."
Historian Deborah Lipstadt tells us that those human stories, the stories of those involved,
"changed our perception of the victims of genocide."

Seen from the perspective of today's topic, which is remembrance, both trials had an important
role to play. We remember through facts, figures, rational argument; we also remember through
human stories that carry emotion and impact feeling. The documented record prevents history
from doubting what was done; the compelling personal stories help prevent the future from
forgetting the victims themselves, their stories and their humanity.

Now there is a third way that law can help. For today throughout the world many are at
work at another important practical task: building institutions that use law to protect
us against law's antithesis, the exercise of arbitrary power. Since the end of World
War II, ever more Nations have adopted democratic forms of government that, like our own, guarantee
basic individual rights, in part through constitutions that an independent judiciary seeks to enforce.
At the same time, the example of Nuremberg has helped to inspire the establishment of
tribunals, often international tribunals, with authority to protect basic human rights
and to pursue those who violate them. Consider the European Court of Human Rights, the International
Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia, the tribunal for Rwanda, and the International
Criminal Court. The lessons of the Eichmann trial also may have influenced other efforts
to prevent us from forgetting past violations, as when South Africa's Truth and Reconciliation
Commission through public exposure helped to inform the world about the human rights
violations of the apartheid era. In these and in related ways, we have seen nations
seek gradually to expand a rule of law designed to protect us against the re-emergence of
Camus' germ of the plague.
Unfortunately, however, we need only look
around today's world to understand that rights, rules, the obligations that the law sets forth,
all of them, are no more powerful than the human will to enforce them. Thus, the work
of developing an enforceable rule of law proceeds very slowly. Its product is imperfect. And
like the tapestry of Penelope, the legal cloth that we weave during the day is unraveled
during the night.
But that is all the more reason to remember,
to continue the work, to substitute, as Justice Jackson reminded us, the power of Reason for
the force of Power. The Talmud teaches us "it is not incumbent upon you to complete
the work. But neither are you free to evade it." Despite the terrible examples of evil
that the Holocaust Museum contains, I find its final room--a room that’s filled with
silence (for what is there to say) but also filled with light--I find in that final room
a symbol of hope.
Nuremberg can remind us that the Holocaust
story ended with a fair trial. And that trial, along with other ways in which law can further
the work of remembrance, also reminds us of our eternal aspiration for Justice. Aeschylus
wrote about that aspiration twenty-five hundred years ago in the Eumenides, when Justice,
overcoming the avenging furies, promises Athens that her seat, the seat of Justice, "shall
be a wall, a bulwark of salvation, wide as your land, as your imperial state; none mightier
in the habitable world." We too reflect upon that aspiration when we say, with the Psalmist,
"Justice and Law are the foundations of Your Throne."

Announcer: Ladies and gentlemen, Joshua Bolten,
Vice Chairman of the United States Holocaust Memorial Council.

Joshua Bolten: Today we mark the 50th anniversary of a pivotal moment in the history of Holocaust
remembrance: not merely the Eichmann trial, but the searing testimony there of 100 survivors
whose words--whose memories--echo across the ages from that courtroom a half-century ago
to this hallowed space today.
Deborah Lipstadt recounts that story in her
new book, The Eichmann Trial. Presenting the survivors' testimony was not an obvious decision
at the time. Some felt that the testimony would be prejudicial or unnecessary. But prosecutor
Gideon Hausner understood its extraordinary power. In his opening statement, he said:

"As I stand ... before you, I do not stand alone. With me in this place and at this hour,
stand six million accusers. But they cannot rise to their feet and point an accusing finger
towards the man in the glass dock and cry 'J'accuse.' .... Their blood cries out, but
their voices are not heard."
So Hausner ensured that many voices would
be heard.
One French survivor told of comforting Jewish
children whose parents had been deported. Often crying out in the night for their parents,
all they wanted to know was when would they see them again. He tried to reassure them,
knowing this was not to be.
A Hungarian woman brought to the trial a
letter from her husband. He had thrown it from a train, having written on it, "Blessed
be the hand which posts this letter." The letter read, "My dear wife and children .... I
shall bear my fate whatever it may be. I do not want to make you sad but I would want
very much to live in your midst. May God grant that we may be allowed to achieve that." His
wish would not be granted.
Another recalled seeing his wife and daughter
disappear into a massive crowd at Birkenau, recognizing them by his daughter's bright
red coat which got smaller and smaller, and then disappeared forever.

Unlike the Eichmann trial, the Nuremberg trials, as just now so thoughtfully and beautifully
described by Justice Breyer, were based largely on reams of German documents, not eyewitnesses.
Fifteen years later when many survivors would take the witness stand in front of Eichmann,
they did not speak of bureaucratic statistics, official memoranda, or train schedules. They
spoke about lives and deaths--not of faceless statistics, but of individual souls.

Today, by lighting these candles, so do we.
Assisting us in our candle lighting will
be Manal Elhak, a member of the inaugural class of the Stephen Tyrone Johns Summer Youth
Leadership Program, which was established by the Museum in memory of Officer Johns who
died heroically in 2009 while protecting Museum visitors and staff.

The first candle will be lit by Democratic Leader Nancy Pelosi of California, and Charles
Stein, a Museum volunteer who fled Austria after the Nazi takeover.

The second candle will be lit by Representative Henry Waxman of California, and Mania Sarna,
who survived a forced labor camp in Czechoslovakia.
The third candle will be lit by Senator Richard
Durbin of Illinois, and Nellie Wiesenthal Fink, a Museum volunteer who fled Nazi Germany
just before Kristallnacht.
The fourth candle will be lit by Senator
Susan Collins of Maine, and Simon Braitman, who survived a subcamp of Auschwitz.

The fifth candle will be lit by Senator Marco Rubio of Florida, and Helen Sternlight Jonas,
a survivor of a forced labor camp in Poland.
The sixth candle will be lit by Senator Joseph
Lieberman of Connecticut, and William Loew, a survivor of Auschwitz.
Announcer: Ladies and gentlemen, El Maley Rachamin, memorial prayer for the dead, will
be chanted by Cantor Josh Perlman. Israel Arbeiter, a survivor of the Holocaust from
Poland, will then lead us in recitation of the Kaddish. Please rise.

Josh Perlman [singing in Hebrew]:
El maley rachamim shocheyn ba-me'romim,
Hamtzey menuchah
al kanfey ha-sh'chinah,
Be-ma'alot kedoshim u-te'horim
Ke-zohar ha-rakiya maz'hirim et kol ha-neshamot shel shey'shet milyoney ha-yehudim, chale'ley ha-Shoah be-eyropah,

Sheh-nehergu, sheh-nish'chatu sheh-nisrafu ve'sheh-nispu 'al kiddush Ha-Shem,
ha-me'ratzchim ha-germanim ve'ozreyhem mi'sheh'ar ha-amim
Be'Auschwitz, Treblinka, Majdanek,
Mauthausen, Bergen-Belsen, Sobibór
U've-she'ar machanot ha-hashmadah, sheh'halchu le'olamam U'ba'avur sheh'kol ha-kahal mitpaleyl le'iluy nishmotey'hem.
La'cheyn ba'al ha-rachamim
Be'seyter ke'nafav le'olamim,
Ve'yitzror be'tzeror ha-chayim et nishmotey'hem,
hu nachlatam,
Bi'gan 'eyden te'hey menuchatam,
Ve-ya'amdu le-goralam le-keytz ha-yamin, Ve'nomar ameyn.

Israel Arbeiter:
Yitgadal v'yitkadash sh'mey raba
b'alma di v'ra chir'utey v'yamlich malchutey b'chayeichon uv'yomeychon
uv'chayey d'chol beyt Yisraeyl
ba'agala uviz'man
kariv, v'im'ru ameyn.
Y'hey sh'mey raba m'varach l'alam ul'almey al'maya.
Yitbarach v'yishtabach
v'yitpa'ar v'yitromam v'yitnasey
v'yit'hadar v'yitaleh v'yit'halal sh'mey d'kud'sha b'rich
l'eyla min kol bir'chata v'shirata
tush'b'chata v'nechemata, da'amiran b'alma, v'im'ru ameyn. Y'hey shlama raba min sh'maya
v'chayim aleynu v'al kol Yisraeyl, v'im'ru ameyn.
Oseh shalom
bimromav hu ya'aseh shalom
aleynu v'al kol Yisraeyl, v'im'ru ameyn.

Announcer: Ladies
and gentlemen, please remain standing for the singing of the Partisan Hymn [Never Say
You’re Traveling Down the Final Mile (Zog nit keyn mol)], led by Cantor Perlman.
Perlman [singing in Hebrew]:

Zog nit keynmol az du geyst dem letstn veg,
khotsh himlen blayene farshteln bloye teg. Kumen vet nokh undzer oysgebenkte sho,
es vet a poyk ton undzer trot—mir zaynen do!
Fun grinem palmenland biz vaysn land fun shney, mir kumen on mit undzer payn, mit undzer vey,
un vu gefaln s'iz a shprits fun undzer blut, shprotsn vet dort undzer gvure, undzer mut!
Es vet di morgnzun bagildn undz dem haynt, un der nekhtn vet farshvindn mitn faynt.
Nor oyb farzamen vet di zun in dem kayor, vi a parol zol geyn dos lid fun dor tsu dor!
Dos lid geshribn iz mit blut un nit mit blay, s'iz nit keyn lidl fun a foygl oyf der fray,
dos hot a folk tsvishn falndike vent, dos lid gezungen mit naganes in di hent!
To, zog nit keynmol az du geyst dem letstn veg,
khotsh himlen blayene farshteln bloye teg. Kumen vet nokh undzer oysgebenkte sho,
es vet a poyk ton undzer trot—mir zaynen do!

Announcer: Ladies and gentlemen, please
be seated while the liberating division flags are retired.

[Music plays]

Announcer: Ladies
and gentlemen, this concludes today's program. Thank you for sharing in our commitment to
Holocaust remembrance.