Escape from the concentration camp: How my great-uncle stood up to Nazi Germany

In the wrong place at the wrong time.

In 1944, my great-uncle, Pasquale Buccotti, was deported from Pavia (Italy) to Buchenwald concentration camp. Day after day, he fought for his life under the most adverse and inhumane conditions.

This is his story:

Born in 1924, he and his siblings lived in extreme poverty in a small town in northern Italy. With World War II looming, it was time to take a stand. As staunch opponents of rampant fascism, my ancestors refused to be swayed by the Duce’s empty promises and slogans.

At the age of 20, Pasquale was standing in the village square when the Nazi supporters marched in, grabbed him, and took him to Buchenwald. The pain, horror, and trauma he endured there can hardly be put into words.

Few details of his stay are known. Those to whom he had entrusted his story have long since passed away; only my mother still remembers some details.

Potato peels were a feast.

The worst torture was the maddening, constant drip of water on the head.

After some time, Pasquale was visibly weakened, but his will to live overcame the ongoing torture. When the concentration camp was looking for new temporary cooks, my great-uncle raised his right arm, supporting it with his left. Even though there was only a glimmer of hope left, he had to stand up to his tormentors.

One night, a guard approached him and pressed a bunch of keys into his hand.

“Now do something with them!” he said to him.

Pasquale managed to escape. He left Buchenwald behind, undertook the arduous journey through Poland, fell ill with typhus, cured himself with homemade alcohol to kill the bacteria, and reached his homeland more dead than alive. The months of torment had not left him unscathed. Completely emaciated and bald, he was able to recover in the circle of his family.

He first confided his impressions and experiences to his parents and siblings, and years later to my mother. After that, he vowed never to speak another word about the atrocities in Buchenwald. He died in 1990.

On Friday, August 22, 2025, after decades of unanswered questions, my fiancé and I set off on a journey to Buchenwald.

The remains of the concentration camp stand grimly on a hill in Weimar. The endless expanse, the dilapidated ruins, the cold that surrounds the entire complex, pierce you to the core. But Pasquale left the martyrdom behind.

Never forget!

Picture: front row, far left, seated, wearing a hat.

Impressions from Buchenwald (2025):