July 20, 1997

Good Morning from the Zundelsite:

About two years ago, a former Wehrmacht soldier, Reinhold Elstner, age 75, poured a flammable liquid over himself and burned himself to death on the step of the German "Feldherrnhalle" in Munich. He did so in protest against the incessant slander of Germany's World War II soldiers.

This was about the time I started constructing the Zundelsite, whose mission is, in part, to rehabilitate the image of the German soldier during World War II, and I tried in vain to get a picture of Elstner from his relatives.

I was told they were ashamed of him and did not wish him to be remembered and commemorated. The German media was vociferous in slandering and vilifying Elstner.

I understand it is forbidden to this day in Germany to put flowers on the steps where the self-immolation happened. It is considered in bad taste to remember what was to Reinhold Elstner a good and noble cause-for which he gave his life to jar us to our senses.

From the Hoffman Wire, July 11, 1997, came the following editorial, titled "A Presence in the Streets", here somewhat shortened:

". . . I will be handing out my 'Truth About the Talmud' flyer (assuming I raise the few hundred bucks it will take to print it), in downtown Spokane, Washington in the next few weeks. I will do so alone, if necessary.

I am truly fed-up with the extent to which we hide behind these computer monitors and expect them to work magic for us, like some latter day cargo cult.

Revisionist literature teams should be out on the streets of every large city in America every weekend giving away leaflets and selling magazines and tapes. (...)

I am not a latter-day "storm-trooper." I am a sovereign American who believes that we need the web AND we need a street presence for the in-your-face propagation of our views based on our Constitutional rights to assembly, press and speech.

There is no substitute for eye-to-eye contact with the public. (...) Too much of our movement is reclusive, sterile and unhealthy. We are people of the TV remote control and the keyboard.

Those things are sometimes okay, in their place, but given center ring they breed cranks, not commanders, and the public senses our furtiveness and responds in kind.

I won't be at all surprised if I am out on the streets of Spokane by myself. If so, I will put my life on the line for my beliefs and hope that my example will spark the necessary fire to get other people up and out there REGULARLY (and not just as an occasional "stunt").

These are dark days. Everyone must be prepared to give his life for our Cause. I am haunted by Reinhold Elstner. He managed to give his life without giving the Jewish media any atrocity to batten on. He was a great man. (...)

How weak and lazy we are when it comes to memory. We utilize almost no
video documentary for our cause and can't even create a memorial to one old Wehrmacht trooper who burned himself alive . . . to protest the relentless group libel of his comrades, who were the bravest and most honorable soldiers of WWII.

(T)he tiny handful like Elstner; and the millions of great people of the past who unselfishly shed their blood for (our) Cause; and for a future for my children and yours, (are) reasons enough to continue among the miserable dross of the present."

Now I will show you a glimpse of one of those brave and honorable German soldiers of WW II that Michael talks about. This happened in the very last days of the war - chances are, only within miles of where I found myself as a small child in what was left of Germany, already overrun by the Red Army two days before, with my own decimated German family.

Unfortunately, the following small excerpt did not come to me with a complete reference, only that it was published as a Letter to the Editor in a Canadian newspaper July 6, 1997 under the series title "Remarkable moments recalled by war pilots."

It was written by Royal Canadian Air Force POW, caught by the Germans and held in the same area, who said that the documentary series ". . . evoked a vivid and sorrowful memory that occurred to me during the dying days of World War II."

Here is what this former Allied soldier recalls:

"Our POW camp, 'Stalag 111A Luckenwalde,' just south of Berlin, was liberated by the First Ukrainian Army on April 22, 1945.

As a teenage Pilot Officer, I couldn't wait to get out from behind the
barbed wire and forage for eggs and bread, using for currency the
accumulated cigarettes from our Red Cross parcels.

I was in the middle of a farmer's field, when suddenly a low-flying
Focke Wulf fighter plane appeared. The pilot looked down at the
field, obviously searching for something. He spotted me and wheeled
around for another look.

As he banked over me, I thought he was going to machine-gun me, and there was no place to hide.

I was conspicuous in my RCAF blue uniform; I was just outside a prison camp that all the Luftwaffe pilots knew about, and, to him, I was a "Terror-Flieger" who had helped level his beloved homeland.

I did the only thing that was left to me: I waved to him.

To my astonishment, he threw me a half salute, half wave. It was the last thing he ever did.

A tremendous blast of anti-aircraft fire erupted from a group of trees
beside the farmer's house, and he blew up in front of my eyes.

A great shout rang out, and a group of Ukrainian girls, who had been
manning a concealed anti-aircraft battery, ran toward the flaming
wreckage.

Every Armistice Day, as I pay my respects to my fallen comrades at the City Hall Cenotaph, I include the unknown Luftwaffe pilot who had spared me when he was not."

Thought for the Day:

"Truth, crushed to earth, shall rise again --
The eternal years of God are hers;
But Error, wounded, writhes in pain,
And dies among his worshippers."

(William Cullen Bryant, 1794-1878).

Comments? E-Mail: irimland@cts.com

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