ZGram - 2/19/2002 - "A U.S. Prison Guard at one of 'Ike's Death Camps'" - Part IIPRISON GUARD AT ONE OF "IKE'S DEATH CAMPS"

[irimland@zundelsite.org]

Copyright (c) 2002 - Ingrid A. Rimland

ZGram - Where Truth is Destiny

February 19, 2002

Good Morning from the Zundelsite:

Herewith Part II of the confession of a former US Prison Guard at one of
Eisenhower's Death Camps, published in 1990 by Martin Brech, Adjunct
Professor, Philosophy & Religion, Mercy College; Ex-G.I., describing
himself as "Finally Free":

[START}

I originally did not intend to reveal the following incident, for it moves
into a realm termed "mystical". However, for me, it was an extremely
significant experience, changing my life, providing a light no darkness can
extinguish. It must be told, hoping it will foster understanding.

On May 8, V.E. day, I decided to celebrate with some prisoners I was
guarding who were baking bread, meager amounts of which the other prisoners
occasionally received. This group had all the bread they could eat, and
shared the jovial mood generated by the end of the war. We all thought we
would be going home soon, a pathetic hope on their part. We were in what
was to become the French zone, and I later witnessed the brutality of the
French soldiers when we transferred our prisoners to them for their slave
labor camps (see below).

 However, on this day we were happy.

 After chatting with them about the potentials of peace for the rest of our
lives, I decided to risk a gesture of trust that objectively would seem
foolish. I emptied my rifle and stood it in the corner. They tested me
further by asking to play with it, and I agreed. Intuitively I felt I could
rely on their sense of honor not to attack me, for they knew they too were
being tested. This thoroughly 'broke the ice', and soon we were singing
songs we taught each other or I had learned in high school German ("Du, du,
liegst mir im Herzen"). Out of gratitude, they secretly baked a small sweet
bread and insisted I take it, explaining it was the only possible gift they
had left to offer. Expressing my gratitude with a lump in my throat, I put
it in my tight "Eisenhower jacket" so I could sneak it back to my barracks.
I later found an opportunity to eat it outside.

 Never had bread tasted more delicious, nor conveyed to me a deeper sense
of communion while eating it. A wonderful feeling pervaded me, gently
opening me to an intimation of the Oneness of all Being. Through those
prisoners I sensed the ~cosmic presence of what has been called the Christ,
Buddha-nature, or, perhaps most aptly, the Ineffable: cosmically present,
but hidden and apparently separate, until revealed in the wholeness of the
giving of the self. Even within the horror humans had created, I was taught
a path to redemption may open by taking a first, tentative step in the
direction of love, understanding and forgiveness. This above all the
prisoners taught me: not only are we all potentially humane humans, there
is divinity within us waiting for us to dissolve the defensive shield of
ego. I was pleased to discover later the words of Matthew 25:34-46,
expressing the potential within prisoners and all who are at our mercy.

 Shortly after this experience I was plunged into even greater horror. Some
of our weak and sickly prisoners were being marched off by French soldiers
to their camp. The truck we were on first passed another truck picking up
bodies along the side of the road, and then came up behind a slowly moving
column of men. Temporarily we slowed down and remained behind, perhaps
because the driver was as shocked as I was. The French soldiers were
apparently incensed at the poor condition of our prisoners, not only for
labor but for marching to another camp. Whenever a prisoner staggered or
dropped back, the French clubbed him to death and then dragged him to the
side of the road. For many, this quick death might have been preferable to
their prolonged suffering. Even gas would have been more merciful than our
murder by neglect in our slow 'killing fields'.

 When I saw the German women held in a separate enclosure, I asked why we
were keeping them. I was told they were "camp followers", selected as
breeding stock for the S.S. to create a super-race. We provided them with
tents but they were extremely hungry. I spoke to some and must say they
were still spirited and attractive. However, I believe I was objective
enough when I told all concerned that I didn't think they deserved our
treatment.

 As an interpreter, I was able to prevent some particularly unfortunate
arrests. One somewhat amusing incident occurred during a pre-dawn raid we
conducted on a town to discover Nazis or arms. An old farmer was being
dragged away by some soldiers. I was told he had a "fancy Nazi medal",
which they showed to me. Fortunately, I had a chart identifying such
medals. He had been awarded it for having five or more children! Perhaps
his wife was somewhat relieved to get him "off her back", but I didn't
think one of our 'death camps' was a fair punishment for his contribution
to Germany. The soldiers agreed and released him to continue his "dirty
work".

 Famine was spreading amongst German civilians also. It was a common sight
to see German women up to their elbows in our garbage cans looking for
something edible -- that is, when they weren't chased away.

 When I interviewed mayors of small towns and villages, I was told their
supply of food had been taken away by "displaced persons" (foreigners who
had worked in Germany), who packed the food on trucks and drove away. When
I reported this, the response was a shrug or an expression of helplessness.

 Although the Red Cross coffee and doughnut stands were available
everywhere for us, I never saw any Red Cross in the prison camps or helping
the civilians. While my girlfriend had all the "contraband" doughnuts she
could eat, most Germans had to share their meager hidden stores and wait
until the next harvest.

 This hunger undoubtedly made many German women more "available", but,
despite this, rape was incredibly prevalent and often accompanied by
additional violence. I particularly remember a charming eighteen year old
girl who had several unsuccessful suitors and was "just friends" with me,
who had the side of her face smashed with a rifle butt and was then raped
by two G.I.s. The casual shooting of German civilians also continued,
usually by drunken soldiers who would tell of this as something amusing.
All too many G.I.s gave the impression they were 1ike animals released from
cages, free to do what they liked because they were dealing with yet a
lower species of animal, a reverse racism, inflamed by our propaganda.
However, even the French complained to me that our rape and drunken
destructive behavior in their country was excessive. When we had arrived in
Le Havre, we had been given booklets instructing us that the Germans had
maintained a high standard of behavior with French civilians who were
peaceful, and that we should do the same. In this we failed miserably.

 So what? we might still say. The enemies' atrocities were worse than ours.
Certainly my experiences were only of the last phases of the war, when we
were already clearly the victors. The Nazi opportunity for atrocities had
faded and ours was unleashed. But we might have learned the simple lesson
that two wrongs do not make a right. Perhaps we might even have broken the
cycle of vengeful retaliation and unbridled hatred, fed by racism, that has
plagued human history and blighted human potential all to long. Instead, we
committed our own atrocities and now are clinging to a cover-up. That is
why I am speaking out now, forty-five years after the crime. We can never
prevent individual war crimes, but we can, if enough of us speak out,
influence government policy. We can reject government propaganda that
depicts our enemies as subhuman and encourages the kinds of outrages I
witnessed. We can protest the bombing of civilian targets, which still goes
on today. (I will never forget the sickly sweet smell of rotting human
flesh rising from the shattered remains of the cities and towns I entered.)
And we can refuse ever to condone our government' s murder of unarmed and
defeated prisoners of war.

 I realized it's difficult to admit witnessing a crime of this magnitude,
especially if implicated oneself. Even G.I .s sympathetic to the victims
told me they were afraid to oppose so massive a policy that would surely
seek to cover its tracks. I never heard this directly from an officer, but
it was the belief of the rank-and-file G.I.s I spoke to that we were not to
"talk" because, first, no one would believe us, and second, we would surely
get into trouble. They all insisted it was better not to talk, and slowly I
too realized it would be futile and dangerous.

That is, until now, thanks to James Bacque and Pat Buchanan. This is not to
say the danger has passed. Since I "spoke out" recently, my mailbox has
been smashed and I have received threatening phone calls. But I believe it
is worth the risk. Writing about these atrocities has been a catharsis of
feelings suppressed too long, a liberation, and perhaps will remind other
witnesses and citizens -that "the truth shall make us free, have no fear."
And, in any case, "the truth shall out".

 We may even learn a supreme lesson from all this: Hate is
self-destructive; only love can conquer and evolve all as One.

[END]

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Thought for the Day:

"Isn't it amazing that so many laws are needed to protect the German people
from the truth?"

(Sent to the Zundelsite)