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Everybody should read this and know that this is why we fight our disgusting enemies.This article was written by Ingrid Rimland. This article can be found at
http://www.rense.com/general39/allied.htm
"Good Morning from the Zundelsite: The ZGram below is one that probably few people ever forgot who read it on May 31, 1996 when I first sent it out. In the wake of what Truman said about the cruelties of certain people in power who care not at all about others, it certainly merits a repeat. Brace yourselves - it is not pleasant reading. Yet this is the kind of sadism I saw with my own eyes as a child, and this is why so many of the World War II generation so bitterly resent what is being claimed over and over about them.by their detractors. There was unbelievable, truly satanic suffering in Europe in those years - and much of it happened long after all shooting had stopped. Here is my ZGram I sent around the world more than seven years ago: Good Morning from the Zundelsite: May 31, 1996 Some months ago Ernst asked me to do a report on Allied atrocities during and after World War II, and toward that end, he sent me some information, among them a book in German title, "Alliierte Kriegsverbrechen" - Allied War Crimes. I started reading it and underlining certain passages, but not for long-because I realized that I was getting nauseated. It was a compilation of first-person testimony as to what happened when the Allies (particularly the Red Army) started to carve up a prostrated and defeated Germany. I made several attempts to finish this assignment, but I couldn't do it. I simply couldn't do it. Even now, I feel a moral obligation to finish it, but even thinking about it makes my palms clammy and my heart race. People in the West have simply no idea what went on in Europe after the Allies began to push the Germans back - from 1943 on! I have given the material below a lot of thought as to whether or not I should send it to my ZGram readers. It isn't pretty reading. It was published recently in Der Freiwillige, June 1995, pages 10-11, under the title In Their Terror All Were Alike, written (or edited) by Hans Koppe. ". . . Since the same old stories of war crimes allegedly committed by the Germans are being parroted over and over again in prayer-wheel fashion, particularly by the younger generations who are too lazy (or deliberately unwilling) to obtain a real grasp of the subject through the study of documents from the archives of our former enemies' documents which are both accessible and irrefutable - we wish to call to mind the following report which first appeared 30 years ago in the Deutschland Journal of April 23, on p. 7 of issue 17. It is supplemented with the eyewitness report of an armoured infantryman who recorded his impressions on March 7, 1995. P. 7, issue 17, April 23, 1965 (Deutschland-Journal). Report of the German-Brazilian citizen Leonora Geier, nee Cavoa, born on October 22, 1925 in Sao Paulo, Brazil. Before the expulsion she lived in Hirschberg, Bahnstrasse 8. Present at the writing of this report: Bernhard Wassmann, born on May 10, 1901, Bautzen, Senftenberger Strasse 15; Reiner Halhammer, born on February 3, 1910, Bautzen, Sterngasse 2; Manfred Haer, born on April 9, 1929, Gorlitz, A.Bebel-Strasse 1; Kyrill Wratilavo, born on March 3, 1918, Bautzen, Karl-Marx-Strasse 25. The witnesses present confirm that the aforementioned, Leonora Geier, made this report without any coercion, threats or other outside influence, motivated solely by the need to make the terrible events of the time of the German Reich's collapse known to posterity since she has received permission to emigrate to Brazil. The report was drawn up on October 6, 1955 and discusses the events of February 16, 17 and 18 1945, which are already partially known. At that time the witness was employed as typist in Camp "Vilmsee" ofthe RAD), the Women's Labour Service. Being a Brazilian. she was considered by the Russian Army to be an ally put to forced labour in the .service of the National-Socialist state. These prerogatives were attested to by a document which she presented here and which bears the rubber stamp of the First White Russian Army. Since the present report disregards existing moral standards and sexual taboos, it must under no circumstances be made available to underage persons. All events are recounted in a plain, straight-forward manner in order to document historical accuracy. Nothing has been added, nothing was withheld. Bernhard Wassmann and Manfred Haer were members of the Infantry Artillery and Training Company I. G. 81 and were assigned to rescue operations in the aforementioned camp when the city of Neustettin was occupied following the temporary retreat of the First White Russian Army: "On the morning of February 16 [19451 a Russian division occupied the Reich Labour Service camp of Vilmsee in Neustettin. The Commissar, who spoke German well, informed me that the camp was dissolved and that, as we were a uniformed unit, we were to be transported immediately to a collecting camp. Since 1, being a Brazilian, belonged to a nation on friendly terms with the Allies, he entrusted me with the leadership of the transport which went to Neustettin, into the yard of what used to be an iron foundry. We were some 500 girls from the Women's Reich Labour Service. The Commissar was very polite to us and assigned us to the foreign workers' barracks of the factory. But the allocated space was too small for 11 of us, and so I went to speak to the Commissar about it. He said that it was, after all, only a temporary arrangement, and offered that I could come to the typists' office if it was too crowded for me, which I gladly accepted. He immediately warned me to avoid any further contact with the others, as those were members of an illegal army. My protests that this was not true were cut off with the remark that if I ever said anything like that ever again, I would be shot. Suddenly I heard loud screams, and immediately two Red Army soldiers brought in five girls. The commissar ordered them to undress. When they refused out of modesty, he ordered me to do it to them, and for all of us to follow him. We crossed the yard to the former works kitchen, which had been completely cleared out except for a few tables on the window side. It was terribly cold, and the poor girls shivered. In the large, tiled room some Russians were waiting for us, making remarks that must have been very obscene, judging from how everything they said drew gales of laughter. The Commissar told me to watch and learn how to turn the Master Race into whimpering bits of misery. Now two Poles came in, dressed only in trousers, and the girls cried out at their sight. They quickly grabbed the first of the girls, and bent her backwards over the edge of the table until her joints cracked. I was close to passing out as one of them took his knife and, before the very eyes of the other girls, cut off her right breast. He paused for a moment, then cut off the other side. I have never-heard anyone scream as desperately as that girl. After this operation he drove his knife into her abdomen several times, which again was accompanied by the cheers of the Russians. The next girl cried for mercy, but in vain, it even seemed that the gruesome deed was done particularly slowly because she was especially pretty. The other three had collapsed, they cried for their mothers and begged for a quick death, but the same fate awaited them as well. The last of them was still almost a child, with barely developed breasts. They literally tore the flesh off her ribs until the white bones showed. Another five girls were brought in. They had been carefully chosen this time. All of them were well-developed and pretty. When they saw the bodies of their predecessors they began to cry and scream. Weakly, they tried desperately to defend themselves, but it did them no good as the Poles grew ever more cruel. They sliced the body of one of them open lengthwise and poured in a can of machine oil, which they tried to light. A Russian shot one of the other girls in the genitals before they cut off her breasts. Loud howls of approval began when someone brought a saw from a tool chest. This was used to tear off the breasts of the other girls, which soon caused the floor to be awash in blood. The Russians were in a blood frenzy. More girls were being brought in continually. I saw these grisly proceedings as through a red haze. Over and over again I heard the terrible screams when the breasts were tortured, and the loud groans at the mutilation of the genitals. When my knees buckled I was forced onto a chair. The Commissar always made sure that I was watching, and when I had to throw up they even paused in their tortures. One girl had not undressed completely, she may also have been a little older than the others, who were around seventeen years of age. They soaked her bra with oil and set it on fire, and while she screamed, a thin iron rod was shoved into her vagina until it came out her navel. In the yard entire groups of girls were clubbed to death after the prettiest of them had been selected for this torture. The air was filled with the death cries of many hundreds of girls. But compared to what happened in here, the beating to death outside was almost humane. It was a horrible fact that not one of the girls mutilated here ever fainted. Each of them suffered mutilation fully conscious. In their terror all of them were alike in their pleading; it was always the same, the begging for mercy, the high-pitched scream when the breasts were cut and the groans when the genitals were mutilated. The slaughter was interrupted several times to sweep the blood out of the room and to clear away the bodies. That evening I succumbed to a severe case of nervous fever. I do not remember anything from that point on until I came to in a field hospital. German troops had temporarily recaptured Neustettin, thus liberating us. As I learned later, some 2,000 girls who had been in RAD, BDM and other camps nearby were murdered in the first three days of Russian occupation." (signed) Mrs. Leonora Geier, nee Cavoa Copy of a handwritten report: "I read the account of an eyewitness, Mrs. Leonora Geier. The bestiality she experienced, and described in her account, is 100% true and a typical reflection of the fantasies and exhortations of the Soviet propagandist and chief ideologist Ilya Ehrenburg. This bestiality was a tactical measure intended to force the German population to flee from the Eastern regions en masse, and was the rule rather than the exception all the way over to the Oder River. What I myself witnessed: I was an armoured infantryman and had been trained on the most modern German tank of those days, the Panther. Survivors from tank crews were reassembled in the Reserves at Cottbus and kept ready for action. In mid January, 1945, we were transferred to Frankfurt on the Oder River, into a school building. One morning we were issued infantry weapons, guns, bazookas and submachine guns. The next day we were ordered to march to Neustettin. We traveled the first 60 miles or so by lorry, and after that some 90 miles per day in forced marches. We were to take over some tanks that were kept ready for us in a forest west of Neustettin. After a march lasting two days and nights, some ten crews reached the forest just before dawn. Two tanks were immediately readied for action and guarded the approach roads while the other comrades, bone-weary, got a little sleep. By noon all tanks, approximately 20, had been readied. Our orders were to set up a front-line and to recapture villages and towns from the Russians. My platoon of three tanks attacked a suburb that had a train station with a forecourt. After we destroyed several anti-tank guns the Russians surrendered. More and more of them emerged from the houses. They were gathered into the forecourt about 200 sat crowded closely together. Then something unexpected happened. Several German women ran towards the Russians and stabbed at them with cutlery forks and knives. It was our responsibility to protect prisoners, and we could not permit this. But it was not until I fired a submachine gun into the air that the women drew back, and cursed us for presuming to protect these animals. They urged us to go into the houses and take a look at what (the Russians) had done there. We did so, a few of us at a time, and we were totally devastated. We had never seen anything like it utterly, unbelievably monstrous! Naked, dead women lay in many of the rooms. Swastikas had been cut into their abdomens, in some the intestines bulged out, breasts were cut up, faces beaten to a pulp and swollen puffy. Others had been tied to the furniture by their hands and feet, and massacred. A broomstick protruded from the vagina of one, a besom from that of another, etc. To me, a young man of 24 years at that time, it was a devastating sight, simply incomprehensible! Then the women told their story: The mothers had had to witness how their teen and twelve-year-old daughters were raped by some 20 men; the daughters in turn saw their mothers being raped, even their grandmothers. Women who tried to resist were brutally tortured to death. There was no mercy. Many women were not local; they had come there from other towns, fleeing from the Russians. They also told us of the fate of the girls from the RAD whose barracks had been captured by the Russians. When the butchery of the girls began, a few of them had been able to crawl underneath the barracks and hide. At night they escaped, and told us what they knew. There were three of them. The women and girls saw parts of what Mrs. Leonora Geier described. The women we liberated were in a state almost impossible to describe. They were overfatigued and their faces had a confused, vacant look. Some were beyond speaking, ran up and down and moaned the same sentences over and over again. Having seen the consequences of these bestial atrocities, we were terribly agitated and determined to fight. We knew the war was past winning; but it was our obligation and sacred duty to fight to the last bullet . . ." Don't ask me why I do what I do for the Zundelsite. The bestiality of World War II, caused largely by the Jew named Ilja Ehrenburg, Stalin's main propagandist whose private papers and files were donated by him to Israel before he died, and who whipped the Russian Army into a frenzy of destruction, was worse than anything a sane mind can imagine - and it is coming our way unless courageous men and women stop it. Ingrid Thought for the Day: "God cannot alter the past, but historians can." Samuel Butler" - End of Excerpt.
If you managed to stomach this, here is another excerpt. http://www.scribd.com/doc/118339889/In- ... -Brech-ihrThis information can be found at
http://www.saveyourheritage.com/eisenho ... mps.htmU.S. and Allied War Crimes in World War IIIn 'Eisenhower’s Death Camps': A U.S. Prison Guard RemembersMartin BrechIn October 1944, at age eighteen, I was drafted into the U.S. army. Largely because of the “Battle of the Bulge,” my training was cut short, my furlough was halved, and I was sent overseas immediately. Upon arrival in Le Havre, France, we were quickly loaded into box cars and shipped to the front. When we got there, I was suffering increasingly severe symptoms of mononucleosis, and was sent to a hospital in Belgium. Since mononucleosis was then known as the "kissing disease," I mailed a letter of thanks to my girlfriend.By the time I left the hospital, the outfit I had trained with in Spartanburg, South Carolina, was deep inside Germany, so, despite my protests, I was placed in a “repo depot” (replacement depot). I lost interest in the units to which I was assigned, and don't recall all of them: non-combat units were ridiculed at that time. My separation qualification record states I was mostly with Company C, 14th Infantry Regiment, during my seventeen-month stay in Germany, but I remember being transferred to other outfits also.In late March or early April 1945, I was sent to guard a POW camp near Andernach along the Rhine. I had four years of high school German, so I was able to talk to the prisoners, although this was forbidden. Gradually, however, I was used as an interpreter and asked to ferret out members of the S.S. (I found none.)In Andernach about 50,000 prisoners of all ages were held in an open field surrounded by barbed wire. The women were kept in a separate enclosure that I did not see until later. The men I guarded had no shelter and no blankets. Many had no coats. They slept in the mud, wet and cold, with inadequate slit trenches for excrement. It was a cold, wet spring, and their misery from exposure alone was evident.Even more shocking was to see the prisoners throwing grass and weeds into a tin can containing a thin soup. They told me they did this to help ease their hunger pains. Quickly they grew emaciated. Dysentery raged, and soon they were sleeping in their own excrement, too weak and crowded to reach the slit trenches. Many were begging for food, sickening and dying before our eyes. We had ample food and supplies, but did nothing to help them, including no medical assistance.Outraged, I protested to my officers and was met with hostility or bland indifference. When pressed, they explained they were under strict orders from “higher up.” No officer would dare do this to 50,000 men if he felt that it was “out of line,” leaving him open to charges. Realizing my protests were useless, I asked a friend working in the kitchen if he could slip me some extra food for the prisoners. He too said they were under strict orders to severely ration the prisoners’ food, and that these orders came from “higher up.” But he said they had more food than they knew what to do with, and would sneak me some.When I threw this food over the barbed wire to the prisoners, I was caught and threatened with imprisonment. I repeated the “offense,” and one officer angrily threatened to shoot me. I assumed this was a bluff until I encountered a captain on a hill above the Rhine shooting down at a group of German civilian women with his .45 caliber pistol. When I asked, “Why?,” he mumbled, “Target practice," and fired until his pistol was empty. I saw the women running for cover, but, at that distance, couldn't tell if any had been hit.This is when I realized I was dealing with cold-blooded killers filled with moralistic hatred. They considered the Germans subhuman and worthy of extermination; another expression of the downward spiral of racism. Articles in the G.I. newspaper, Stars and Stripes, played up the German concentration camps, complete with photos of emaciated bodies. This amplified our self-righteous cruelty, and made it easier to imitate behavior we were supposed to oppose. Also, I think, soldiers not exposed to combat were trying to prove how tough they were by taking it out on the prisoners and civilians.These prisoners, I found out, were mostly farmers and workingmen, as simple and ignorant as many of our own troops. As time went on, more of them lapsed into a zombie-like state of listlessness, while others tried to escape in a demented or suicidal fashion, running through open fields in broad daylight towards the Rhine to quench their thirst. They were mowed down.Some prisoners were as eager for cigarettes as for food, saying they took the edge off their hunger. Accordingly, enterprising G.I. “Yankee traders” were acquiring hordes of watches and rings in exchange for handfuls of cigarettes or less. When I began throwing cartons of cigarettes to the prisoners to ruin this trade, I was threatened by rank-and-file G.I.s too.The only bright spot in this gloomy picture came one night when. I was put on the “graveyard shift,” from two to four a.m. Actually, there was a graveyard on the uphill side of this enclosure, not many yards away. My superiors had forgotten to give me a flashlight and I hadn't bothered to ask for one, disgusted as I was with the whole situation by that time. It was a fairly bright night and I soon became aware of a prisoner crawling under the wires towards the graveyard. We were supposed to shoot escapees on sight, so I started to get up from the ground to warn him to get back. Suddenly I noticed another prisoner crawling from the graveyard back to the enclosure. They were risking their lives to get to the graveyard for something. I had to investigate.When I entered the gloom of this shrubby, tree-shaded cemetery, I felt completely vulnerable, but somehow curiosity kept me moving. Despite my caution, I tripped over the legs of someone in a prone position. Whipping my rifle around while stumbling and trying to regain composure of mind and body, I soon was relieved I hadn't reflexively fired. The figure sat up. Gradually, I could see the beautiful but terror-stricken face of a woman with a picnic basket nearby. German civilians were not allowed to feed, nor even come near the prisoners, so I quickly assured her I approved of what she was doing, not to be afraid, and that I would leave the graveyard to get out of the way.I did so immediately and sat down, leaning against a tree at the edge of the cemetery to be inconspicuous and not frighten the prisoners. I imagined then, and still do now, what it would be like to meet a beautiful woman with a picnic basket under those conditions as a prisoner. I have never forgotten her face.Eventually, more prisoners crawled back to the enclosure. I saw they were dragging food to their comrades, and could only admire their courage and devotion.On May 8, V.E. Day [1945], I decided to celebrate with some prisoners I was guarding who were baking bread 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 were going home soon, a pathetic hope on their part. We were in what was to become the French zone [of occupation], where I soon would witness the brutality of the French soldiers when we transferred our prisoners to them for their slave labor camps.On this day, however, we were happy.As a gesture of friendliness, I emptied my rifle and stood it in the corner, even allowing them to play with it at their request. This thoroughly “broke the ice,” and soon we were singing songs we taught each other, or that I had learned in high school German class (“Du, du, liegst mir im Herzen”). Out of gratitude, they baked me a special small loaf of sweet bread, the only possible present they had left to offer. I stuffed it in my “Eisenhower jacket,” and snuck it back to my barracks, eating it when I had privacy. I have never tasted more delicious bread, nor felt a deeper sense of communion while eating it. I believe a cosmic sense of Christ (the Oneness of all Being) revealed its normally hidden presence to me on that occasion, influencing my later decision to major in philosophy and religion.Shortly afterwards, some of our weak and sickly prisoners were marched off by French soldiers to their camp. We were riding on a truck behind this column. Temporarily, it slowed down and dropped back, perhaps because the driver was as shocked as I was. Whenever a German prisoner staggered or dropped back, he was hit on the head with a club and killed. The bodies were rolled to the side of the road to be picked up by another truck. For many, this quick death might have been preferable to slow starvation in our “killing fields.”When I finally saw the German women held in a separate enclosure, I asked why we were holding them prisoner. I was told they were “camp followers,” selected as breeding stock for the S.S. to create a super-race. I spoke to some, and must say I never met a more spirited or attractive group of women. I certainly didn't think they deserved imprisonment.More and more I was used as an interpreter, and was able to prevent some particularly unfortunate arrests. One somewhat amusing incident involved an old farmer who was being dragged away by several M.P.s. I was told he had a “fancy Nazi medal,” which they showed me. Fortunately, I had a chart identifying such medals. He'd been awarded it for having five 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 M.P.s agreed and released him to continue his “dirty work.”Famine began to spread among the 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, if they weren't chased away.When I interviewed mayors of small towns and villages, I was told that 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. I never saw any Red Cross at the camp or helping civilians, although their coffee and doughnut stands were available everywhere else for us. In the meantime, the Germans had to rely on the sharing of hidden stores until the next harvest.Hunger made German women more “available," but despite this, rape was prevalent and often accompanied by additional violence. In particular I remember an eighteen-year old woman who had the side of her faced smashed with a rifle butt, and was then raped by two G.I.s. Even the French complained that the rapes, looting and drunken destructiveness on the part of our troops was excessive. In Le Havre, we’d been given booklets warning us that the German soldiers 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?” some would say. “The enemy's atrocities were worse than ours.” It is true that I experienced only the end of the war, when we were already the victors. The German opportunity for atrocities had faded, while ours was at hand. But two wrongs don't make a right. Rather than copying our enemy's crimes, we should aim once and for all to break the cycle of hatred and vengeance that has plagued and distorted human history. This is why I am speaking out now, 45 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 kind of outrages I witnessed. We can protest the bombing of civilian targets, which still goes on today. And we can refuse ever to condone our government’s murder of unarmed and defeated prisoners of war.I realize it’s difficult for the average citizen to admit witnessing a crime of this magnitude, especially if implicated himself. Even G.I.s sympathetic to the victims were afraid to complain and get into trouble, they told me. And the danger has not ceased. Since I spoke out a few weeks ago, I have received threatening calls and had my mailbox smashed. But its been worth it. Writing about these atrocities has been a catharsis of feelings suppressed too long, a liberation, that perhaps will remind other witnesses that “the truth will make us free, have no fear.” We may even learn a supreme lesson from all this: only love can conquer all.--------------------------------------------------------------------------------Martin Brech lives in Mahopac, New York. When he wrote this memoir essay in 1990, he was an Adjunct Professor of Philosophy and Religion at Mercy College in Dobbs Ferry, New York. Brech holds a master’s degree in theology from Columbia University, and is a Unitarian-Universalist minister.This essay was published in The Journal of Historical Review, Summer 1990 (Vol. 10, No. 2), pp. 161-166. (Revised, updated: Nov. 2008)For Further Reading James Bacque, Crimes and Mercies: The Fate of German Civilians Under Allied Occupation, 1944-1950 (Toronto: Little, Brown and Co., 1997)James Bacque, Other Losses: An investigation into the mass deaths of German prisoners at the hands of the French and Americans after World War II (Toronto: Stoddart, 1989)Alfred-Maurice de Zayas, Nemesis at Postsdam (Lincoln, Neb.: 1990)Alfred-Maurice de Zayas, A Terrible Revenge: The Ethnic Cleansing of the Eastern European Germans, 1944-1950 (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1994)John Dietrich, The Morgenthau Plan: Soviet Influence on American Postwar Policy (New York: Algora, 2002)Ralph Franklin Keeling, Gruesome Harvest: The Allies’ Postwar War Against the German People (IHR, 1992). Originally published in Chicago in 1947.Giles MacDonogh, After the Reich: The Brutal History of the Allied Occupation (New York: Basic Books, 2007)John Sack, An Eye for an Eye: The Story of Jews Who Sought Revenge for the Holocaust (2000)Mark Weber, “New Book Details Mass Killings and Brutal Mistreatment of Germans at the End of World War Two” (Summer 2007)( http://www.ihr.org/other/afterthereich072007.html ) None of these words are mine and I have no ownership of the above.
http://www.rense.com/general39/allied.htm
"Good Morning from the Zundelsite: The ZGram below is one that probably few people ever forgot who read it on May 31, 1996 when I first sent it out. In the wake of what Truman said about the cruelties of certain people in power who care not at all about others, it certainly merits a repeat. Brace yourselves - it is not pleasant reading. Yet this is the kind of sadism I saw with my own eyes as a child, and this is why so many of the World War II generation so bitterly resent what is being claimed over and over about them.by their detractors. There was unbelievable, truly satanic suffering in Europe in those years - and much of it happened long after all shooting had stopped. Here is my ZGram I sent around the world more than seven years ago: Good Morning from the Zundelsite: May 31, 1996 Some months ago Ernst asked me to do a report on Allied atrocities during and after World War II, and toward that end, he sent me some information, among them a book in German title, "Alliierte Kriegsverbrechen" - Allied War Crimes. I started reading it and underlining certain passages, but not for long-because I realized that I was getting nauseated. It was a compilation of first-person testimony as to what happened when the Allies (particularly the Red Army) started to carve up a prostrated and defeated Germany. I made several attempts to finish this assignment, but I couldn't do it. I simply couldn't do it. Even now, I feel a moral obligation to finish it, but even thinking about it makes my palms clammy and my heart race. People in the West have simply no idea what went on in Europe after the Allies began to push the Germans back - from 1943 on! I have given the material below a lot of thought as to whether or not I should send it to my ZGram readers. It isn't pretty reading. It was published recently in Der Freiwillige, June 1995, pages 10-11, under the title In Their Terror All Were Alike, written (or edited) by Hans Koppe. ". . . Since the same old stories of war crimes allegedly committed by the Germans are being parroted over and over again in prayer-wheel fashion, particularly by the younger generations who are too lazy (or deliberately unwilling) to obtain a real grasp of the subject through the study of documents from the archives of our former enemies' documents which are both accessible and irrefutable - we wish to call to mind the following report which first appeared 30 years ago in the Deutschland Journal of April 23, on p. 7 of issue 17. It is supplemented with the eyewitness report of an armoured infantryman who recorded his impressions on March 7, 1995. P. 7, issue 17, April 23, 1965 (Deutschland-Journal). Report of the German-Brazilian citizen Leonora Geier, nee Cavoa, born on October 22, 1925 in Sao Paulo, Brazil. Before the expulsion she lived in Hirschberg, Bahnstrasse 8. Present at the writing of this report: Bernhard Wassmann, born on May 10, 1901, Bautzen, Senftenberger Strasse 15; Reiner Halhammer, born on February 3, 1910, Bautzen, Sterngasse 2; Manfred Haer, born on April 9, 1929, Gorlitz, A.Bebel-Strasse 1; Kyrill Wratilavo, born on March 3, 1918, Bautzen, Karl-Marx-Strasse 25. The witnesses present confirm that the aforementioned, Leonora Geier, made this report without any coercion, threats or other outside influence, motivated solely by the need to make the terrible events of the time of the German Reich's collapse known to posterity since she has received permission to emigrate to Brazil. The report was drawn up on October 6, 1955 and discusses the events of February 16, 17 and 18 1945, which are already partially known. At that time the witness was employed as typist in Camp "Vilmsee" ofthe RAD), the Women's Labour Service. Being a Brazilian. she was considered by the Russian Army to be an ally put to forced labour in the .service of the National-Socialist state. These prerogatives were attested to by a document which she presented here and which bears the rubber stamp of the First White Russian Army. Since the present report disregards existing moral standards and sexual taboos, it must under no circumstances be made available to underage persons. All events are recounted in a plain, straight-forward manner in order to document historical accuracy. Nothing has been added, nothing was withheld. Bernhard Wassmann and Manfred Haer were members of the Infantry Artillery and Training Company I. G. 81 and were assigned to rescue operations in the aforementioned camp when the city of Neustettin was occupied following the temporary retreat of the First White Russian Army: "On the morning of February 16 [19451 a Russian division occupied the Reich Labour Service camp of Vilmsee in Neustettin. The Commissar, who spoke German well, informed me that the camp was dissolved and that, as we were a uniformed unit, we were to be transported immediately to a collecting camp. Since 1, being a Brazilian, belonged to a nation on friendly terms with the Allies, he entrusted me with the leadership of the transport which went to Neustettin, into the yard of what used to be an iron foundry. We were some 500 girls from the Women's Reich Labour Service. The Commissar was very polite to us and assigned us to the foreign workers' barracks of the factory. But the allocated space was too small for 11 of us, and so I went to speak to the Commissar about it. He said that it was, after all, only a temporary arrangement, and offered that I could come to the typists' office if it was too crowded for me, which I gladly accepted. He immediately warned me to avoid any further contact with the others, as those were members of an illegal army. My protests that this was not true were cut off with the remark that if I ever said anything like that ever again, I would be shot. Suddenly I heard loud screams, and immediately two Red Army soldiers brought in five girls. The commissar ordered them to undress. When they refused out of modesty, he ordered me to do it to them, and for all of us to follow him. We crossed the yard to the former works kitchen, which had been completely cleared out except for a few tables on the window side. It was terribly cold, and the poor girls shivered. In the large, tiled room some Russians were waiting for us, making remarks that must have been very obscene, judging from how everything they said drew gales of laughter. The Commissar told me to watch and learn how to turn the Master Race into whimpering bits of misery. Now two Poles came in, dressed only in trousers, and the girls cried out at their sight. They quickly grabbed the first of the girls, and bent her backwards over the edge of the table until her joints cracked. I was close to passing out as one of them took his knife and, before the very eyes of the other girls, cut off her right breast. He paused for a moment, then cut off the other side. I have never-heard anyone scream as desperately as that girl. After this operation he drove his knife into her abdomen several times, which again was accompanied by the cheers of the Russians. The next girl cried for mercy, but in vain, it even seemed that the gruesome deed was done particularly slowly because she was especially pretty. The other three had collapsed, they cried for their mothers and begged for a quick death, but the same fate awaited them as well. The last of them was still almost a child, with barely developed breasts. They literally tore the flesh off her ribs until the white bones showed. Another five girls were brought in. They had been carefully chosen this time. All of them were well-developed and pretty. When they saw the bodies of their predecessors they began to cry and scream. Weakly, they tried desperately to defend themselves, but it did them no good as the Poles grew ever more cruel. They sliced the body of one of them open lengthwise and poured in a can of machine oil, which they tried to light. A Russian shot one of the other girls in the genitals before they cut off her breasts. Loud howls of approval began when someone brought a saw from a tool chest. This was used to tear off the breasts of the other girls, which soon caused the floor to be awash in blood. The Russians were in a blood frenzy. More girls were being brought in continually. I saw these grisly proceedings as through a red haze. Over and over again I heard the terrible screams when the breasts were tortured, and the loud groans at the mutilation of the genitals. When my knees buckled I was forced onto a chair. The Commissar always made sure that I was watching, and when I had to throw up they even paused in their tortures. One girl had not undressed completely, she may also have been a little older than the others, who were around seventeen years of age. They soaked her bra with oil and set it on fire, and while she screamed, a thin iron rod was shoved into her vagina until it came out her navel. In the yard entire groups of girls were clubbed to death after the prettiest of them had been selected for this torture. The air was filled with the death cries of many hundreds of girls. But compared to what happened in here, the beating to death outside was almost humane. It was a horrible fact that not one of the girls mutilated here ever fainted. Each of them suffered mutilation fully conscious. In their terror all of them were alike in their pleading; it was always the same, the begging for mercy, the high-pitched scream when the breasts were cut and the groans when the genitals were mutilated. The slaughter was interrupted several times to sweep the blood out of the room and to clear away the bodies. That evening I succumbed to a severe case of nervous fever. I do not remember anything from that point on until I came to in a field hospital. German troops had temporarily recaptured Neustettin, thus liberating us. As I learned later, some 2,000 girls who had been in RAD, BDM and other camps nearby were murdered in the first three days of Russian occupation." (signed) Mrs. Leonora Geier, nee Cavoa Copy of a handwritten report: "I read the account of an eyewitness, Mrs. Leonora Geier. The bestiality she experienced, and described in her account, is 100% true and a typical reflection of the fantasies and exhortations of the Soviet propagandist and chief ideologist Ilya Ehrenburg. This bestiality was a tactical measure intended to force the German population to flee from the Eastern regions en masse, and was the rule rather than the exception all the way over to the Oder River. What I myself witnessed: I was an armoured infantryman and had been trained on the most modern German tank of those days, the Panther. Survivors from tank crews were reassembled in the Reserves at Cottbus and kept ready for action. In mid January, 1945, we were transferred to Frankfurt on the Oder River, into a school building. One morning we were issued infantry weapons, guns, bazookas and submachine guns. The next day we were ordered to march to Neustettin. We traveled the first 60 miles or so by lorry, and after that some 90 miles per day in forced marches. We were to take over some tanks that were kept ready for us in a forest west of Neustettin. After a march lasting two days and nights, some ten crews reached the forest just before dawn. Two tanks were immediately readied for action and guarded the approach roads while the other comrades, bone-weary, got a little sleep. By noon all tanks, approximately 20, had been readied. Our orders were to set up a front-line and to recapture villages and towns from the Russians. My platoon of three tanks attacked a suburb that had a train station with a forecourt. After we destroyed several anti-tank guns the Russians surrendered. More and more of them emerged from the houses. They were gathered into the forecourt about 200 sat crowded closely together. Then something unexpected happened. Several German women ran towards the Russians and stabbed at them with cutlery forks and knives. It was our responsibility to protect prisoners, and we could not permit this. But it was not until I fired a submachine gun into the air that the women drew back, and cursed us for presuming to protect these animals. They urged us to go into the houses and take a look at what (the Russians) had done there. We did so, a few of us at a time, and we were totally devastated. We had never seen anything like it utterly, unbelievably monstrous! Naked, dead women lay in many of the rooms. Swastikas had been cut into their abdomens, in some the intestines bulged out, breasts were cut up, faces beaten to a pulp and swollen puffy. Others had been tied to the furniture by their hands and feet, and massacred. A broomstick protruded from the vagina of one, a besom from that of another, etc. To me, a young man of 24 years at that time, it was a devastating sight, simply incomprehensible! Then the women told their story: The mothers had had to witness how their teen and twelve-year-old daughters were raped by some 20 men; the daughters in turn saw their mothers being raped, even their grandmothers. Women who tried to resist were brutally tortured to death. There was no mercy. Many women were not local; they had come there from other towns, fleeing from the Russians. They also told us of the fate of the girls from the RAD whose barracks had been captured by the Russians. When the butchery of the girls began, a few of them had been able to crawl underneath the barracks and hide. At night they escaped, and told us what they knew. There were three of them. The women and girls saw parts of what Mrs. Leonora Geier described. The women we liberated were in a state almost impossible to describe. They were overfatigued and their faces had a confused, vacant look. Some were beyond speaking, ran up and down and moaned the same sentences over and over again. Having seen the consequences of these bestial atrocities, we were terribly agitated and determined to fight. We knew the war was past winning; but it was our obligation and sacred duty to fight to the last bullet . . ." Don't ask me why I do what I do for the Zundelsite. The bestiality of World War II, caused largely by the Jew named Ilja Ehrenburg, Stalin's main propagandist whose private papers and files were donated by him to Israel before he died, and who whipped the Russian Army into a frenzy of destruction, was worse than anything a sane mind can imagine - and it is coming our way unless courageous men and women stop it. Ingrid Thought for the Day: "God cannot alter the past, but historians can." Samuel Butler" - End of Excerpt.
If you managed to stomach this, here is another excerpt. http://www.scribd.com/doc/118339889/In- ... -Brech-ihrThis information can be found at
http://www.saveyourheritage.com/eisenho ... mps.htmU.S. and Allied War Crimes in World War IIIn 'Eisenhower’s Death Camps': A U.S. Prison Guard RemembersMartin BrechIn October 1944, at age eighteen, I was drafted into the U.S. army. Largely because of the “Battle of the Bulge,” my training was cut short, my furlough was halved, and I was sent overseas immediately. Upon arrival in Le Havre, France, we were quickly loaded into box cars and shipped to the front. When we got there, I was suffering increasingly severe symptoms of mononucleosis, and was sent to a hospital in Belgium. Since mononucleosis was then known as the "kissing disease," I mailed a letter of thanks to my girlfriend.By the time I left the hospital, the outfit I had trained with in Spartanburg, South Carolina, was deep inside Germany, so, despite my protests, I was placed in a “repo depot” (replacement depot). I lost interest in the units to which I was assigned, and don't recall all of them: non-combat units were ridiculed at that time. My separation qualification record states I was mostly with Company C, 14th Infantry Regiment, during my seventeen-month stay in Germany, but I remember being transferred to other outfits also.In late March or early April 1945, I was sent to guard a POW camp near Andernach along the Rhine. I had four years of high school German, so I was able to talk to the prisoners, although this was forbidden. Gradually, however, I was used as an interpreter and asked to ferret out members of the S.S. (I found none.)In Andernach about 50,000 prisoners of all ages were held in an open field surrounded by barbed wire. The women were kept in a separate enclosure that I did not see until later. The men I guarded had no shelter and no blankets. Many had no coats. They slept in the mud, wet and cold, with inadequate slit trenches for excrement. It was a cold, wet spring, and their misery from exposure alone was evident.Even more shocking was to see the prisoners throwing grass and weeds into a tin can containing a thin soup. They told me they did this to help ease their hunger pains. Quickly they grew emaciated. Dysentery raged, and soon they were sleeping in their own excrement, too weak and crowded to reach the slit trenches. Many were begging for food, sickening and dying before our eyes. We had ample food and supplies, but did nothing to help them, including no medical assistance.Outraged, I protested to my officers and was met with hostility or bland indifference. When pressed, they explained they were under strict orders from “higher up.” No officer would dare do this to 50,000 men if he felt that it was “out of line,” leaving him open to charges. Realizing my protests were useless, I asked a friend working in the kitchen if he could slip me some extra food for the prisoners. He too said they were under strict orders to severely ration the prisoners’ food, and that these orders came from “higher up.” But he said they had more food than they knew what to do with, and would sneak me some.When I threw this food over the barbed wire to the prisoners, I was caught and threatened with imprisonment. I repeated the “offense,” and one officer angrily threatened to shoot me. I assumed this was a bluff until I encountered a captain on a hill above the Rhine shooting down at a group of German civilian women with his .45 caliber pistol. When I asked, “Why?,” he mumbled, “Target practice," and fired until his pistol was empty. I saw the women running for cover, but, at that distance, couldn't tell if any had been hit.This is when I realized I was dealing with cold-blooded killers filled with moralistic hatred. They considered the Germans subhuman and worthy of extermination; another expression of the downward spiral of racism. Articles in the G.I. newspaper, Stars and Stripes, played up the German concentration camps, complete with photos of emaciated bodies. This amplified our self-righteous cruelty, and made it easier to imitate behavior we were supposed to oppose. Also, I think, soldiers not exposed to combat were trying to prove how tough they were by taking it out on the prisoners and civilians.These prisoners, I found out, were mostly farmers and workingmen, as simple and ignorant as many of our own troops. As time went on, more of them lapsed into a zombie-like state of listlessness, while others tried to escape in a demented or suicidal fashion, running through open fields in broad daylight towards the Rhine to quench their thirst. They were mowed down.Some prisoners were as eager for cigarettes as for food, saying they took the edge off their hunger. Accordingly, enterprising G.I. “Yankee traders” were acquiring hordes of watches and rings in exchange for handfuls of cigarettes or less. When I began throwing cartons of cigarettes to the prisoners to ruin this trade, I was threatened by rank-and-file G.I.s too.The only bright spot in this gloomy picture came one night when. I was put on the “graveyard shift,” from two to four a.m. Actually, there was a graveyard on the uphill side of this enclosure, not many yards away. My superiors had forgotten to give me a flashlight and I hadn't bothered to ask for one, disgusted as I was with the whole situation by that time. It was a fairly bright night and I soon became aware of a prisoner crawling under the wires towards the graveyard. We were supposed to shoot escapees on sight, so I started to get up from the ground to warn him to get back. Suddenly I noticed another prisoner crawling from the graveyard back to the enclosure. They were risking their lives to get to the graveyard for something. I had to investigate.When I entered the gloom of this shrubby, tree-shaded cemetery, I felt completely vulnerable, but somehow curiosity kept me moving. Despite my caution, I tripped over the legs of someone in a prone position. Whipping my rifle around while stumbling and trying to regain composure of mind and body, I soon was relieved I hadn't reflexively fired. The figure sat up. Gradually, I could see the beautiful but terror-stricken face of a woman with a picnic basket nearby. German civilians were not allowed to feed, nor even come near the prisoners, so I quickly assured her I approved of what she was doing, not to be afraid, and that I would leave the graveyard to get out of the way.I did so immediately and sat down, leaning against a tree at the edge of the cemetery to be inconspicuous and not frighten the prisoners. I imagined then, and still do now, what it would be like to meet a beautiful woman with a picnic basket under those conditions as a prisoner. I have never forgotten her face.Eventually, more prisoners crawled back to the enclosure. I saw they were dragging food to their comrades, and could only admire their courage and devotion.On May 8, V.E. Day [1945], I decided to celebrate with some prisoners I was guarding who were baking bread 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 were going home soon, a pathetic hope on their part. We were in what was to become the French zone [of occupation], where I soon would witness the brutality of the French soldiers when we transferred our prisoners to them for their slave labor camps.On this day, however, we were happy.As a gesture of friendliness, I emptied my rifle and stood it in the corner, even allowing them to play with it at their request. This thoroughly “broke the ice,” and soon we were singing songs we taught each other, or that I had learned in high school German class (“Du, du, liegst mir im Herzen”). Out of gratitude, they baked me a special small loaf of sweet bread, the only possible present they had left to offer. I stuffed it in my “Eisenhower jacket,” and snuck it back to my barracks, eating it when I had privacy. I have never tasted more delicious bread, nor felt a deeper sense of communion while eating it. I believe a cosmic sense of Christ (the Oneness of all Being) revealed its normally hidden presence to me on that occasion, influencing my later decision to major in philosophy and religion.Shortly afterwards, some of our weak and sickly prisoners were marched off by French soldiers to their camp. We were riding on a truck behind this column. Temporarily, it slowed down and dropped back, perhaps because the driver was as shocked as I was. Whenever a German prisoner staggered or dropped back, he was hit on the head with a club and killed. The bodies were rolled to the side of the road to be picked up by another truck. For many, this quick death might have been preferable to slow starvation in our “killing fields.”When I finally saw the German women held in a separate enclosure, I asked why we were holding them prisoner. I was told they were “camp followers,” selected as breeding stock for the S.S. to create a super-race. I spoke to some, and must say I never met a more spirited or attractive group of women. I certainly didn't think they deserved imprisonment.More and more I was used as an interpreter, and was able to prevent some particularly unfortunate arrests. One somewhat amusing incident involved an old farmer who was being dragged away by several M.P.s. I was told he had a “fancy Nazi medal,” which they showed me. Fortunately, I had a chart identifying such medals. He'd been awarded it for having five 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 M.P.s agreed and released him to continue his “dirty work.”Famine began to spread among the 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, if they weren't chased away.When I interviewed mayors of small towns and villages, I was told that 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. I never saw any Red Cross at the camp or helping civilians, although their coffee and doughnut stands were available everywhere else for us. In the meantime, the Germans had to rely on the sharing of hidden stores until the next harvest.Hunger made German women more “available," but despite this, rape was prevalent and often accompanied by additional violence. In particular I remember an eighteen-year old woman who had the side of her faced smashed with a rifle butt, and was then raped by two G.I.s. Even the French complained that the rapes, looting and drunken destructiveness on the part of our troops was excessive. In Le Havre, we’d been given booklets warning us that the German soldiers 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?” some would say. “The enemy's atrocities were worse than ours.” It is true that I experienced only the end of the war, when we were already the victors. The German opportunity for atrocities had faded, while ours was at hand. But two wrongs don't make a right. Rather than copying our enemy's crimes, we should aim once and for all to break the cycle of hatred and vengeance that has plagued and distorted human history. This is why I am speaking out now, 45 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 kind of outrages I witnessed. We can protest the bombing of civilian targets, which still goes on today. And we can refuse ever to condone our government’s murder of unarmed and defeated prisoners of war.I realize it’s difficult for the average citizen to admit witnessing a crime of this magnitude, especially if implicated himself. Even G.I.s sympathetic to the victims were afraid to complain and get into trouble, they told me. And the danger has not ceased. Since I spoke out a few weeks ago, I have received threatening calls and had my mailbox smashed. But its been worth it. Writing about these atrocities has been a catharsis of feelings suppressed too long, a liberation, that perhaps will remind other witnesses that “the truth will make us free, have no fear.” We may even learn a supreme lesson from all this: only love can conquer all.--------------------------------------------------------------------------------Martin Brech lives in Mahopac, New York. When he wrote this memoir essay in 1990, he was an Adjunct Professor of Philosophy and Religion at Mercy College in Dobbs Ferry, New York. Brech holds a master’s degree in theology from Columbia University, and is a Unitarian-Universalist minister.This essay was published in The Journal of Historical Review, Summer 1990 (Vol. 10, No. 2), pp. 161-166. (Revised, updated: Nov. 2008)For Further Reading James Bacque, Crimes and Mercies: The Fate of German Civilians Under Allied Occupation, 1944-1950 (Toronto: Little, Brown and Co., 1997)James Bacque, Other Losses: An investigation into the mass deaths of German prisoners at the hands of the French and Americans after World War II (Toronto: Stoddart, 1989)Alfred-Maurice de Zayas, Nemesis at Postsdam (Lincoln, Neb.: 1990)Alfred-Maurice de Zayas, A Terrible Revenge: The Ethnic Cleansing of the Eastern European Germans, 1944-1950 (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1994)John Dietrich, The Morgenthau Plan: Soviet Influence on American Postwar Policy (New York: Algora, 2002)Ralph Franklin Keeling, Gruesome Harvest: The Allies’ Postwar War Against the German People (IHR, 1992). Originally published in Chicago in 1947.Giles MacDonogh, After the Reich: The Brutal History of the Allied Occupation (New York: Basic Books, 2007)John Sack, An Eye for an Eye: The Story of Jews Who Sought Revenge for the Holocaust (2000)Mark Weber, “New Book Details Mass Killings and Brutal Mistreatment of Germans at the End of World War Two” (Summer 2007)( http://www.ihr.org/other/afterthereich072007.html ) None of these words are mine and I have no ownership of the above.
