*** First letter from EZ out of Germany ***

zgrams at zgrams.zundelsite.org zgrams at zgrams.zundelsite.org
Thu Mar 17 08:23:15 EST 2005





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Yesterday I received my first letter from Ernst since he was deported 
back to  Germany - what a relief!  I did not know what to think or to 
expect - I must say that this letter has pretty much succeeded to put 
my mind at lease.


I am translating portions of it for my readers as best as I can, but 
this is not a word-for-word translation - I don't have time for a 
careful translation, and could not do a good job in any case, having 
only a limited grasp of idiomatic German.  I just wanted to let my 
readers know how they can now contact Ernst - and what the rules and 
regulations are so that he does not get in difficulty over careless 
correspondence.


I kept private comments out.  I noted above all that there is not a 
word about Ernst's legal situation, and I assume he has been told he 
can't discuss aspects of his upcoming trial.  Please respect that - 
and refrain from any sensitive political comments.  Keep your letters 
strictly on a personal level, just to be on the safe side. 


But do let Ernst know that he is not alone and not forgotten - that 
millions care about him and watch every move his enemies will make to 
somehow do him in. 


You will be able to read much between the lines in this letter, as I 
have.  When I think about how he was taken in style to Europe after 
the hell-hole of Toronto and the abuse he had to endure in Canada, I 
for one draw a conclusion or two.  I am sure you will, too.  If you 
have comments about that, send them to me - not to him!


Here is Ernst's letter.  Read on:


[START]

My temporary address:

Ernst Zundel
JVA - Mannheim
D-68169 Mannheim
Herzogenried Strasse 111
Germany

March 4, 2005


My dear Ingrid -


I write to you in German, even though I know that you prefer and are 
more fluent in English, but the judge has explained to me that 
letters in foreign languages take longer until they are read by the 
censors because there is a dearth of (in our case) English-language 
prosecutors.  Germany is not a classical immigration country like 
Canada or America where you find foreign speaking people on every 
corner and in every walk of life. 


Also, dear Ingrid, try to write your letters in German.  You don't 
have to be embarrassed if you make mistakes because our destiny does 
not hinge on such mistakes except in cases of court documents.  In 
that case, send them to [our lead attorney] because the rules for 
correspondence are very, very strict.  Also, no inserts in letters!


I don't want to have any mistakes happening because here we have 
different laws and habits.  Speaking of correspondence, Toronto was a 
dream compared to what is NOT allowed here - save your Priority Post 
missives until further notice.  Listen carefully to [the attorney's] 
advice because I want to feel my way first [until I know what is 
allowed and what is not.]


Listen and read carefully, Ingrid!  (underlined)


If I understood the judge correctly, while I am still in 
investigative detention, I am not allowed to telephone with anybody - 
not even you or [my sister], or my boys. The kind of lively 
correspondence I enjoyed in Toronto is impossible here for the time 
being.  Please, Ingrid, tell that to my siblings and friends, also 
impress upon them to add nothing [no inserts] in their letters.  An 
exception are three [European] postage stamps for standard letters, 
but no more.  Otherwise, they will get confiscated, and no one is 
helped that way. 


Now you will want to know what happened to me since we talked for the 
last time the evening before my departure.  A dramatic story that 
fits perfectly into the snow storms of my dreams and into the movie 
[you are working on].


While I was still in the Detention Center in Toronto, everything 
dissolved without a hitch, very efficiently, thanks to [one of] the 
security chief[s] who fussed over me like my mother and treated me 
with courtesy.  Even my pencils, big and little, colors and all, were 
allowed to be taken out by Joe [a friend] and Paul Fromm.  Please 
request them immediately via registered letter, as well as all those 
torn envelopes and addresses from all corners of the world received 
during the week preceding my departure.  I received correspondence 
from Mongolia, Egypt, Tahiti, and even Reunion, a small island near 
Madagascar.  The letter from Mongolia was from an international 
businessman who described how he had done a program about my case in 
Seoul, South Korea, where the business community hadn't heard about 
it yet. 


My being kicked out of Canada was not without its high points.  I had 
spent the entire weekend with letters and calls saying good-bye.  I 
called all attorneys from coast to coast, in Canada and in America - 
even our "hillbilly" attorney.  [Private joke!]  Be sure to thank him 
again!  In case there are legal questions, have Anneliese [our 
translator] take care of that because our cases in the US and Canada 
will proceed as planned.  According to our attorneys, our chances are 
still excellent there. 


I had not been told what time I would be picked up.  I worked 
throughout most of the night and even had somebody wake me after only 
two hours of sleep so I could continue writing letters.  I knew that 
both Lufthansa and Air Canada were leaving about 19:00 p.m. and 
therefore I assumed I still had time until noon.  Well, as my mother 
always said, we plan and God steers!


At five o-clock in the morning there stood two uniformed guards in 
front of my door to take me to the security chief for good-byes. 
They kept hurrying me, but I wasn't ready!  Thereupon, several of my 
guards who had taken care of my needs for these past two years 
telephoned the chief and told him that I needed additional time - and 
even helped me pack - and away we went to check out!


The day before, of the captains had unleashed a rumor that I was 
going to be deported back to the United States, which of course, I 
did not believe, even though apparently the gullible ones did.  Only 
at that point did I realize that something strange was going on - my 
additional body guards were all in civilian clothes! 


Outside there raged a typical Canadian blizzard.  Only with 
difficulty did we move along the road in several vehicles.  I was in 
a mini-bus with three civilian-clad officials. When I saw that we 
passed the regular airport and aimed for the government/ministers' 
planes and charter/executive jets, even several Lear jets - the kind 
the CIA uses to fly its victims to the torture chambers - I made a 
weak joke to my RCMP companion:  "This looks as though we are talking 
about an Arar-type rendition" - and at that point a big, 
impressive-looking man, mid-fifties, informed me that for security 
reasons the government had rented a two-turbo executive jet [?] for 
the enormous sum of $50,000.  That's right!   You read right! 
Including two pilots and a Purser [?] who was responsible for food, 
drinks etc.


Normally these smallish bomber-jets [?] , 35 seats, are in regional 
service and have a Europe-wide reach.  For the convenience of 
government executives there are built-in club-type swivel chairs, 
more beautiful and convenient than first-class airline seats, with 
two pull-out couches, a bar, television, DVD and CD players for 
approximately 12 persons. 


The plane flew flawlessly, without any noise.  After two years, I had 
my first real, heavenly coffee, lavish, magnificent food, everything 
top notch, big fat strawberries, grapes as big as plums, all kinds of 
southern fruit, chocolate, cakes, pies - it was just like 
Schlaraffia!  The Chief of the Canadian Deportation Department, a Mr. 
Morris, as well as Mr. Mitchell, and an RCMP official, Shawn, who had 
accompanied me often on the way to court as Chief of my seven-head 
body guards, were present.  The atmosphere was harmonious.  We had 
fine conversations.  They all knew of my case.  I was known to them 
since childhood, or they had learned of me in high school and at 
university where my freedom of speech case was part of the 
curriculum.  They had all heard of me and studied me - there was no 
lack of conversation topics.  One of them mentioned that he would 
tell his children and grandchildren that he was the one who had 
accompanied me to Europe. 


We landed.  Mr. Morris thanked me that I had caused no trouble being 
picked up and boarded, whereupon Shawn, the RCMP man, added that I 
had told the judge I would leave Canada under my own steam, should 
the government decide against me.  Awe all around!  Averted eyes and 
uncomfortable silence!  I took that opportunity to make a little 
speech, thanked them for their considerate treatment of me and shook 
everybody's hand, holding their glance and giving them one last, firm 
what you call the "Zundel Stare."


Looking out of the window, I saw police cars and 
"Bundesgrenzschutzautos" [?] blue lights flashing, encircling and 
surrounding the jet from every which direction.  I was given a piece 
of paper from the JVA Mannheim with the following:  Zundel, Ernst. 
24.4.39.  Sex:  Male.  Religion:  None.  Family status:  Married. 
Nationality:  Germany.  Profession:  None.  I tried to add, 
"Professional Prisoner", but that was not accepted.  "Retired" didn't 
count either.


I was arrested on the soil of the Frankfurter Airport on March 3, 
2005 - one minute after midnight, one step removed from the airplane 
ladder, again away from the main terminal, in the area where the 
expensive executive planes are parked.  Off we went, with blue lights 
flashing, to the immigration screening area which I already knew from 
previous experience - with one exception:  most of the male and 
female officials could have been my children or even grandchildren. 
Through my decades-long activism on behalf of my homeland I have 
become a part of living history. 


There was much media attention.  Everywhere there was filming and 
photographing.  Throughout, the officials conducted themselves 
correctly - I would say even solicitously.  I spent my first night in 
a cell at the Mannheim Police station, a building with a magnificent 
entry and an enormously hefty wood and iron door, reminiscent of an 
old German castle.  Generally, the architecture is wide-ranging and 
you can easily infer which buildings were constructed before World 
War I and even before the turn of the century, 1880-1910, to which 
this prison belongs as well.  The style of architecture is very close 
to my grammar school in the Black Forest, which was started 1898 and 
finished 1902.  I assume that this prison was built around that time. 


The building itself is huge and massive, of sandstone, and so 
precisely done in masonry that it is a joy to see such solid German 
craftsmanship.  The roofs are of tiles.  Entryways are beautifully 
enhanced and decorated, as are door and window frames.  A feast for 
the eye, which I enjoyed this morning during my one-hour walk in the 
yard.  Prima!  Finally to be once again able to breathe fresh air 
outside on a sidewalk framed on both sides with lawn!  A relief in 
comparison to the cement and steel of the past two years - only it 
was bitterly cold!


A few pointers as to my accommodations.  My cell - here it is called 
a "holding room" - is as large as it was in Toronto, with one 
magnificent difference - the window can be opened wide!  I can really 
air out my room!  Magnificent!  I have a white porcelain commode with 
a plastic cover, like in a private German home.  I have a huge 
porcelain sink.  Unfortunately only cold water.  There is a real 
mirror, not the barely functional strip of stainless steel in the 
shower in Toronto.  I have a real tooth brush with a real handle, I 
have regular soap, a wash cloth, towels on hooks, my own shaving kit, 
even my own shaving soap (just like in my youth, I shave cold) and I 
have a curtain enclosing my toilet.  It's not like in Toronto or the 
USA where there was no privacy whatsoever.  Also, apparently there is 
no peeping hole where one could be observed 24 hours a day like an 
animal in a cage!   What I have seen so far here in the JVA - I would 
say that the Americans and Canadians might take a lesson from the 
Germans!  I would think that it could get very hot in the summer, for 
I have not seen any air conditioning; however, the walls are almost 
three feet thick  and ought to help to keep the place cool.  Fred 
Leuchter was imprisoned here for four weeks and was extremely unhappy 
because of the old condition of the building.  I must say that went 
on my nerves even then, because old buildings are part of one's soil 
and culture, and if one has to adjust a bit, I would say that is 
preferable to the hodge-podge match box buildings of America or 
Canada!  


As the police were taking me through the city, I observed easily more 
than one hundred different designs and styles - architectural gems - 
across doors, gates, windows and even corners.  Even different styles 
in churches and an architecturally beautiful train station.  All that 
is for diversion.


They have strange habits here about the food.  For breakfast you 
don't get coffee, tea, bread - nothing.  All that is handed to you 
the evening before.  Most of the prisoners have a little gadget to 
heat the water in a pot of stainless steel, about a pint in size. 
Twice a month you can buy your own coffee and tea and, I assume, 
condensed milk, and then you make your own breakfast.  Since there is 
no refrigeration, it is reminiscent of my childhood and youth after 
the war.  Even the closet that holds my clothes and the few food 
items looks a  bit like the furniture I remember used by us poor 
folks in those times.  Many spoiled city clickers might not like 
that, but for me it adds a touch of nostalgia. 


Lunch is interesting as well.  It is being served, again like in the 
war, in stacked stainless steel containers that keep everything 
nicely hot - my first hot meals in two years.  For supper we get 
wheat or multi-grain bread, cheese, sausage - unfortunately no 
greens.  However, in ten days I can go shopping.  I brought some 
Euros along;  they suffice for now;  and I read in the prison paper 
that one can buy carrots etc. 


Regarding medical treatment:  I was told that I will get the same 
high blood pressure pills.  Regarding my periodontal problems, the 
prison doctor immediately prescribed the herbal products [I  wanted]. 
That means that within 16 hours I was given something that I could 
not get in two years in the US and Canada.  I was even allowed to 
take it with me to my cell.  That was a relief! 


Fax this letter to my sons and siblings, Dr. F., Yvonne, Klaus, etc. 
Save your time!  I think of you!  Steadfast in loyalty! 


Ernst Zundel


[END]



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