Be of Good Courage - Part
1
Well it looks like the fight is warming up and will soon begin.
It appears that the Jews and their elitists lap dogs like Ted Turner; the
Judeo-Christian clergy, degenerate, perverted, traitors like: Jim Bakker
(Jew), Mike Evans (Jew), Billy Graham (Jew), Kenneth Copelan (Jew), Robert
Schuler, Oral Roberts, Jimmy Swaggart, Pat Robertson, Jerry Falwell (A
so-called Christian Zionist), John Hagee, V.W. Grant, Larry Buricett, Paul
Crouch, Skip Heitzig, Hal Lindsey (Jew), Chuck Missler, Mark Eastman, David
Hocking, Jack Van Impe, Binny Hinn (Jew), Frank Peretti, Chuck Smith, Toni
Eareckson Tada, Tom Cloud, Ted Bachr, John McDowell. Many others could
be added to this. Such as all of those on TBN, the 700 Club and others.
"And what the land is, whether it be fat or lean, whether there
be wood therein, or not. And be ye of good courage, and bring of the fruit
of the land. Now the time was the time of the firstripe grapes." (Numbers
13:20; Deuteronomy 31:6-7; Joshua 1:6, 9, 18, 25; 2 Samuel 10:12; I Chronicles
19:13; 22:13; 28:20; Ezra 10:4; Psalm 27:14; 31:24; Isaiah 41:6)
Time after time Yahweh tells us to be of good courage, while the
lying Judeo-Christian clergy tell their flocks that they are to lay down
and let the enemy run over them. That they must not judge. They know this
is a lie but they teach it because they would rather please their Jewish
masters than to serve Almighty God. But rest assured that these deceitful,
false prophets will get their in the end.
"Many will say to me in that day, Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied
in thy name? and in thy name have cast out devils? and in thy name done
many wonderful works? And then will I profess unto them, I never knew you:
depart from me, ye that work iniquity." (Matthew 7:22-23)
They will be destroyed along with their false teachings and doctrines
right along with the Jews and their abominations.
Yet God tells us again and again and shows us that we are to take
courage.
"And when Asa heard these words, and the prophecy of Oded the
prophet, he took courage, and put away the abominable idols out of all
the land of Judah and Benjamin, and out of the cities which he had taken
from mount Ephraim, and renewed the altar of the LORD, that was before
the porch of the LORD." (2 Chronicles 15:8; Acts 28:15)
Have you ever wondered why what was believed to be a very strong
patriot, but when he/she was arrested, soon afterward spilled their guts
about everyone and everything they knew. Well the answer is in how the
Russians (Jewish Communists) can break a man's spirit without ever once
laying a hand on him. As Paul Harvey, a media government suck off says;
this is the rest of the story.
When the Red army took Berlin in May 1945, it captured a man who
during the next year was to learn one of the most baffling secrets of the
Communists. The man was Hans Fritzsche, a Nazi radio propagandist. The
secret was the Communists' method, or at least one method, of obtaining
"Confessions" from political prisoners — "Confessions" which they exploit
in the political trials they stage for world publicity. Hans Fritzsche
lived for months in a Russian prison and was made to "confess." Then, as
events developed, he came up for trial not in a Communist court but at
N�rnberg, before the international tribunal for war criminals. Thus
he was in the virtually unique position of appearing before a non-Soviet
court after having been hammered into shape in the Soviet pattern.
The hammering was done by the Soviet secret police, then known
as the NKVD. Their "processing" had the desired effect on Fritzsche, who
was broken to do what was wanted — without even being beaten or drugged.
He was not blackmailed by threats against his family, nor was he softened
by the Dostoevskian pangs of conscience that can make an errant old-guard
Bolshevik repent. Nevertheless he signed a "confession" which would have
permitted a Soviet tribunal "legally" to condemn him to death.
It was a remarkable experience and Fritzsche used the ample leisure
of his stay in N�rnberg prison to record the details. His notes, recently
published in Switzerland in book form (Hier spricht Hans Fritzsche, Interverlag
A.-G., Zurich), plus his statements before the N�rnberg tribunal make
up one of the most revealing documents of our times; a case history of
how one man, perhaps typical of many, was broken.
Fritzsche, a high-placed Nazi who was freed at N�rnberg but
is now serving nine years in prison camp by order of one of the Germans'
own denazification courts, is perhaps not the most reliable or objective
witness in the world. But on this subject he has spoken and written with
a calmness that gives credence to his story. Apparently Fritzsche bears
the NKVD no grudge; indeed as a through going Nazi he seems to have acquired
a sincere, albeit morbid, admiration for the NKVD methods.
Fritzsche was taken by the Russians on May 2, 1945 and imprisoned
in a basement in a Berlin suburb. He kept track of time by scratching marks
on a wall, so he knows it was on the night of June 20, 50 days later, that
the Russian police came for him and put him on a plane for Moscow. His
final destination was the notorious Lubinanka prison.
There he was stripped naked for a physical examination. The first
examiner was a silent man in uniform. Dazed by long confinement, Fritzsche
was not quite aware of what was going on. A hand was put in his mouth and
he felt a series of sudden, nerve-wracking pains. While he reeled back
against the wall, the examiner calmly studied three gold teeth he held
in his hand and then put them on a table beside the gold fountain pen which
he had taken from Fritzsche earlier.
Still naked, Fritzsche was then given a thorough medical examination
from head to foot. The doctor was a woman. Afterward he was taken to a
cell that was 3 feet long and 3 feet wide. The furniture consisted of a
miniature table and a miniature stool. It was what in German concentration
camps was known as "a standing coffin." In it a prisoner could never lie
down. He could only stand up or crouch in a folded-up position like a partially
opened jackknife. There was no window, but an electric light bulb which
remained lit at all times. After a few hours in such a cell the prisoner
begins to feel that the walls are pressing against his face. After a few
days the mental terror becomes many times more powerful than the physical.
This cell was Fritzsche's home for what he thinks was probably several
weeks. He could not tell exactly because he could not distinguish between
day and night.
After several hours of the first day the door to Fritzsche's cell opened
and a silent guard beckoned him to come out. Hands crossed on his back,
the grip of his escort around his arm, Fritzsche started on an endless
trip through rubber-carpeted, soundless, empty corridors past endless rows
of cells as silent as tombs. When he coughed it sounded like an explosion
in the vast stillness, and the guard poured out a stream of invectives
and admonitions to be quiet, all in whispers. Nobody ever raises his voice
in the Lublanka.
Be of Good Courage - Part 2
The grip around Fritzsche's arm tightened shortly before they
reached the first intersection of their corridor. The guard stopped him,
bent forward, peered left and right and then dragged Fritzsche back. The
corridors of the Lubianka are dotted with cages resembling telephone booths.
Fritzsche was shoved into one of them, face toward the wall, and held there
while another prisoner and his guard passed somewhere in the distance.
It is an iron rule that there must be no encounters between prisoners on
their journeys through the corridors. The main corridor intersections are
guarded against this danger by traffic lights whose flickering is the only
sign of life the prisoner sees. The same precautions were taken at the
next corner and at all which followed. At one corner there was no booth.
Fritzsche was turned toward the all and the guard's hand pressed, almost
crushed, his face against it.
The passage from the prison block of the Lubianka to the office
building led through a door guarded by a uniformed woman. She held out
a sheet of metal with an oval hole, revealing paper underneath. A pen was
pressed into Fritzsche's hand: he was to sign his name in the oval. He
whispered that he could not sign a paper which he was not permitted to
see. The woman whispered back: it was merely a list with names which everybody
who passed through had to sign; naturally one could not let him see the
other names. His guard whispered, "What's the matter, hurry!" Fritzsche
tried to be obstinate. Very well, said the woman, then he would not pass.
She could wait and when she went off duty; this was said quite sweetly,
another guard would take her place, and this one too could wait. All the
time the traffic lights over the door kept flickering, other parties of
prisoners were drawing near, the whispering of the guard became desperate.
Fritzsche singed.
The Disappearing Cigarets: On the other side of the door Fritzsche
found himself in a world of normalcy, civility, almost equality. The room
was immense and luxurious. Fritzsche was seated in a comfortable chair
and offered a cigaret."Please, keep the package," he was told. A friendly
civilian asked pleasantly if he had any idea why he had been brought to
Moscow? Fritzsche answered boldly: probably to be hanged, beheaded, or
drawn and quartered in the Red Square in honor of the anniversary of the
German invasion of Russia. The commissar laughed, "What ideas of the Soviet
Union you have, Herr Fritzsche. We are not after your blood!"
Thus began a long, genial, rather scholarly conversation about
the origin of the German-Russian war. Fritzsche had sense enough
not to defend his F�rer. As for himself, he had not known a thing
Hitler had not asked him, he was no accessory to German aggression. The
commissar seemed offended at such modesty; he himself did not mind admitting
that Russia had planned all along to attack Germany in 1942. But this trap
was a little too obvious and Fritzsche kept hedging. Well, perhaps he would
like to put his ideas down in writing? The tone was so friendly that Fritzsche
found the courage to say with some energy that he could not do that in
his standing coffin. Certainly not, answered he commissar, but he was thee
only for the moment. Soon he would get a better cell.
The guard conducted
Fritzsche back to his standing coffin; and took the cigarets from him.
Soon Fritzsche began to realize that he was very hungry. He had been without
food for a long time, perhaps 24 hours. His frightened speculation about
starvation methods in Russian prisons was finally interrupted by a dazzling
apparition in white, a kitchen chef with cap and apron who solemnly brought
one slice of black bread and a cup of crystal-clear hot water, described
as tea. This, as Fritzsche was to learn, would be practically his only
fare for the next two months.
He could not tell whether it was morning, noon or evening when
this happened. It may have been later that day or perhaps the next day
when the chef in white reappeared with another slice of bread and another
cup of hot water, this time called soup (it was indeed less clear than
the "tea"). Fritzsche was unable to tell how often he was fed his bread-and-water
diet, but he was sure that he did not get it in regular intervals.
Nor had he any idea at what time of the day he was taken to the
combined toilet and washroom. This was an establishment of Spartan simplicity,
and he was allowed exactly four minutes. A prisoner with digestive troubles
might apply; through a sergeant who was there for such purposes, for a
few additional minutes. At least 12 hours would pass before the request
was granted. A doctor; often a woman, followed the prisoner into the toilet
to make sure that he was not simulating trouble.
The genial commissar had told him that he would be examined by
quite a lot of specialists. When he was called out again there was the
same trip through the ghostly corridors but a different room and a different
commissar. At first all Fritzsche could see was the wooden chair on which
he was seated and a blinding light that shone in his face. Out of the dark
came the voice of the commissar, then that of an interpreter. Where was
the gold of the Reihsbank, where had G�ring hidden his stolen art
treasures, who were the members of the fifth column in Russia? The questions
were fired one after the other with the rapidity of a machine gun. Then
there was silence behind the light. Fritzsche was quite flattered that
he was supposed to know so many secrets.
The Japanese Surrender: Russian Version: The examination was definitely
not in the same class with the first interrogation. Nor were the many that
followed. Fritzsche was not plunged into a weird world based on Soviet
dialectics. His inquisitors would try to catch him in a lie by asking him
trick questions, often childish. On which leg did Dr. Gobbets limp? Then,
no mater whether the answer was left or right, there would follow a flood
of abuse. To Fritzsche the Russians' invariable victory in abutment was
stunning. Their cocksureness was unshakable. The superiority of everything
Russian was the rock on which their mental world was built. In three years
America and England had not been able to defeat Japan; Russia stepped in,
and the enemy collapse in three weeks. See?
The unmitigated contempt of the Soviet dialecticians for any different
opinion would have been naive in other surroundings; here it was crushing.
Abuse and invectives, belittling the mental capacities of the prisoner,
flowed freely. The word durak (idiot) was used with a generosity unknown
in Western countries.
One feature of the interrogations never changed. Every interrogator
promised Fritzsche that he would get a better cell very soon. Slowly he
began to understand that a chance was being offered to him. Surprising
as it sounds, a prisoner of the NKVD has rights, and his supreme right
is to give the right answer. It is hammered into him that in the last instance
his fate is in his own hands.
One would not think that a Lubianka prisoner would dare to go
on strike, much less succeed, but that is what Fritzsche did. After the
promise of a better cell had been broken countless times, he simply refused
to answer further questions. He was not beaten to a pulp but transferred
to a cell that measured 3 by 6 feet. There was no window or bed, and he
went on staving as before. But he could stretch. This progress made a deep
impression on Fritzsche. It showed that give and take existed even in this
inferno and that his torturers wanted to make this clear to him.
Be of Good Courage - Part 3
It became obvious that his condition was carefully watched and
that the intention was to push him as close as possible to the breaking
point but not beyond. Weakened by hunger, exhausted by lack of sleep, hypnotically
confused by the always glaring light and numbed by loneliness, Fritzsche
was nearing a nervous breakdown, perhaps insanity. The NKVD must have feared
this, which would have meant the loss of a valuable source of information.
At any rate he was transferred to a larger cell which he shared with five
other prisoners.
This first concession; and others which he saw later, appeared
to Fritzsche as signs of profound wisdom on the part of the NKVD authorities.
He began to believe that if they made a bargain with him it might be kept.
He attributed the shrewdness of the NKVD to the fact that the Bolshevik
leaders know form their own experiences what life in prison is like. Certainly
many of the commissar and guards are nervous nonenties loaded with self-importance
and always afraid of committing that frightful thing which the deceptively
soft Soviet parlance calls a "mistake." This is probably the reason why
the guards are rarely spontaneously brutal. Fritzsche says he could count
on the fingers of one hand the Soviet guards who ever overstepped their
limits; and on the fingers of one hand the Western guards in the N�rnberg
jail who did not.
A current of fear streams down through the whole system, coming
from those on top, and the prisoner is in it over his head before he knows.
Even his so-called rights do not necessarily make life easier for him.
In the cell Fritzsche shared with five others, a sergeant appeared every
day with a note pad and asked if the prisoners had any wishes or complaints.
A request for a toothbrush or a cake of soap was always refused. When Fritzsche
asked for something to read, he received books in no less than three languages,
including Shakespeare, Robinson Crusoe and the writings of Lenin. A short
time afterward a guard came in and took away his glasses, making reading
impossible.
The inmates of the cell were mostly Russian: a general who was
under a cloud, a recalcitrant engineer, and so on. Most of them swore that
they were faithful Communists. As a rule the other prisoners were friendly;
despite his scanty Russian, Fritzsche was treated to much high-level Marxist
propaganda in the best Russian-intelligentsia style. The favorite topic
was: does God exist? The Russians professed to deny it, but apparently
they never tired of discussing the question.
Fritzsche learned to understand a fundamental difference between
East and West: Western prisons are filled with people who feel guilty.
(One might add, jailers included). Fritzsche's Russian coprisoners had
learned their lesson. They spoke in whispers and did not cough. They took
it for granted that a Lubianka prisoner sees no lawyer and received no
mail, and that his family does not know where he is. In the beginning he
wanted desperately to find out what his fate will be; later he is grateful
to learn simply when the decision will come. The more favored among the
prisoners; those in a large cell with a half-shuttered window, learn that
half-darkness means day outside, a sudden flood of light means night. Then
they have to be in bed, hands folded over blankets, face turned toward
the door.
In the middle of the night a key might grate in the lock, the
door open, a guard enter. Everybody is still on his back, wide-awake but
with eyes closed, trying to simulate sleep by calm breathing, although
the heart goes wild; the speed of a dynamo. The guard approaches the first
bed, lends down, whispers: Your name? The prisoner whispers back. The guard
shakes his head and goes to the next bed; the scene is repeated. At the
fourth or fifth bed the guard nods, the prisoner jumps up silently, rushes
into his clothes, and is taken away. The others know they will never see
their comrade again. They know (as they told Fritzsche that a mysterious
tribunal of three men sits once or twice a month in the Lubianka. These
judges never see the accused, nor do they hear witnesses. They study documents,
mostly so-called confessions. The prisoner called out in the night may
be on his way to a labor camp in Siberia by now, or in an even more dreadful
place. Or he may be free.
So Fritzsche learned that a confession could set the tribunal
in motion. Unfortunately, it was clear to him what he was expected to confess.
The questions gave him no lead: Did German soldiers steal children's dolls
in Russia? Had Fritzsche planned, in case of victory, to speak over the
Moscow radio? But he began to listen more sharply for the overtones in
his debates with the commissars. He became a victim of Lubianka psychology,
furiously trying to guess what kind of answer would satisfy the commissar.
Not that he had already made up his mind to "confess." But he
had come to the point of acing the problem. And still he had suffered no
beatings. He asserts that he never even heard of any. This is certainly
a high tribute to the suggestive powers of a scientific horror treatment.
There is enough testimony for hideous torture in NKVD dungeons, especially
in the Lefortoyo prison in Moscow and in the Lubianka itself. But the majority
of cases may run more of less like Fritzsche's.
After a short stay in the cell for six, Fritzsche's condition
was somewhat better and he was sent back o a single cell, back to absolute
isolation. His hunger became terrible. He began to lose the ability to
concentrate, and he stumbled when walking to the interrogatories. He was
now too weak to climb stairs. Here NKVD humaneness showed itself at its
best. His escort gave him a helping hand like a good Samaritan, and permitted
him to use an elevator. But the starvation diet continued. It was not until
the middle of August, as he learned later, that he began to get more food.
Unfortunately the law was satisfied with a few spoonfuls of kacha, a kind
of porridge which he now got every day in addition to his bread and water.
It was a pitifully slight improvement.
They Can Always Shout Louder: The final showdown, along toward
the middle of September, came as a shock. The whole procedure took four
sessions. The first caught him completely off guard. It was a wild, screaming
lecture of one and a half hours, crammed with horrible facts about German
atrocities. Fritzsche swears that the gruesome details of the death camps,
the gas chambers, the execution vans, the horrible number of victims were
new to him and seemed to him unbelievable then. The N�rnberg tribunal
later accepted his defense that he was not aware of the exterminations
in the East; at least there was no evidence to show that he was. But the
commissar in Moscow accepted nothing. He treated Fritzsche; for the first
time, like a criminal. Fritzsche got hysterical and shouted, "it isn't
true, it isn't true!" But the commissar shouted louder.
At the next interrogation the tone changed again, completely.
No more accusations and no discussion either; only small talk. Casually
the commissar asked what the conditions were under which Fritzsche lived
in the Lubianka. Still solitary confinement, and still a bread and hot
water diet, plus that little kacha? The commissar, one Colonel Letschev,
was surprised and shocked. Why, this was impossible, there must be an error.
Fritzsche did not belong in that category; he was not a criminal!
The commissar went on: all this would change immediately. In two
days Fritzsche would leave the Lubianka and be transferred to a nice country
place, a so-called datcha outside of Moscow. There he would live with three
other German prisoners of honor, almost a free man. There was only the
little mater of signing a final protocol.
At last!
Be of Good Courage - Part 4
The protocol that was now laid before Fritzsche was his own confession:
he had been Dr. Gobbets' chief collaborator and one of the masterminds
of German propaganda: he had fomented hatred of foreign nations; he had
helped prepare for an aggressive war; he had instigated the German people
to kill the Jews and other minorities, and so forth. It was quite a record
for somebody who allegedly was "not a criminal."
The statement was not entirely concocted out of hot air. It was
actually an acid condemnation of dozens of mild and cautious factual statements
which Fritzsche had made during two and a half months. Of course he had
not denied that he had been head of the radio department in the German
propaganda ministry. The protocol made him say, "I was the chief collaborator
of Gobbets in his criminal propaganda for wars of aggression." The obvious
fact that he had made many speeches against Communism had been turned into
a confession that he had fomented hatred against the Russian people, for
Communism and the Russian people were the same, said the commissar. Fritzsche
had admitted an error in figures in one of his broadcasts; the protocol
made him say: I used false data.
In fabricating this "confession" Colonel Letschev had acted as
a true and , in his way, honest Bolshevik. As is so often done in Soviet
proceedings, he had deduced his facts form some sacred theory; in this
case that gobbets was the real guiding genius of Nazism and Fritzsche his
top lieutenant. On that premise he made Fritzsche say things he must have
meant and should have said. Fritzsche's importance in the Nazi set-up was
highly overrated by Letschev, but the mistake was part of the basic Soviet
views about all things Nazi, and it was no business of Letschev's to question
them. He had dutifully acted like a fend to get his result, and now, like
an honest fool, he believed it.
Fritzsche said boldly that for him to sign the document was out
of the question. "I prefer not to have heard this anew," said the commissar.
"What's wrong with the protocol?" "It is no protocol at all," said Fritzsche,
"but the product of somebody else's labor and imagination." "Well, you
must learn that this is the way of setting up a protocol according to Soviet
law. You cannot deny that these are your own statements?" "No," answered
Fritzsche, "I said it quite differently." "Well, let's see, how did you
say it?"
Still thinking he was protesting, Fritzsche plunged into the work
of helping the commissar improve the protocol. He pointed out that no sensible
person would believe the confession because it was not in his style. He
was told that they would be glad to have his suggestions about a better
style, and everything else, because they wanted the whole piece to be genuine.
Good Boys Get Their Tooth Back: Then followed three nights of
arguing, protesting and revising. Fritzsche says that he got about 15 items
changed, but the whole document remained a grave self-accusation. Colonel
Letschev cracked the whip, cajoled, promised and lied considerably. We
abhor Gestapo methods, said he virtuously, but did Fritzsche not see that
the protocol really exonerated him, since he had done everything only on
order from Gobbets? (As Fritzsche suspected at the time, Russian authorities
were not going to consider this an adequate excuse at all) The day after
tomorrow he would move to the datcha. He would get all the food in the
world. He would even get his gold teeth back. Yes, if the three-man tribunal
agreed, thought Fritzsche. This mysterious authority, sitting unapproachable
somewhere in the hidden recesses of the Lubianka, had become his obsession.
The fact that a major war crimes trial would soon begin in N�rnberg
was carefully concealed from him. If he had known about it he would not
have believed that he would be involved, for he was not that sort of big
shot. All he knew was that he had to make his fateful decision for the
benefit of the mysterious three men here and now. They might indeed think
it fitting to stand by Colonel Letschev's promises, or at least by part
of them. Or they might not, but this chance had to be taken, for the whole
thing was a gamble anyhow. It was the only way to get out of solitary confinement
and perhaps avoid death by starvation. On the third night he signed.
No "Gestapo methods" had been applied, no hypnotism, no drugs.
This is one of the several explanations Fritzsche later gave for his collapse:
"Western psychologists don't see the simple fact that hope is stronger
than fear. Therefore hope is more willing to make concessions." He thinks
that victims of the NKVD are sometimes right to hope. He claims to know
that Dora Kaplan, who in 1918 shot at Lenin and probably caused his deadly
illness, is still alive and works as a librarian in a Moscow prison.
He still objected to the style, to the breast-beating, self-accusing
adjectives and adverbs. It was still not his protocol, and he said so,
he claims, in rather strong words. But he said also that he wanted Colonel
Letschev to have his document for the secret tribunal. He would never deny
his signature, Colonel Letschev was satisfied.
Soon afterward Fritzsche's cell door opened and an officer and
a guard entered, carrying a huge tray with a loaf of white bread, a big
piece of butter, two eggs, sardines, sausage, cold meat, ham, caviar, cheese,
cakes, coffee and cigarets. The two men rushed at the prisoner, shook hands,
patted his back, laughed, congratulated him, and ordered him to eat. This
would be his fare from now on, Five times per day. Fritzsche obeyed against
his better conscience, ate, and be came sick immediately. But he recovered,
and from then on he lived better than he had done for years in Germany.
He received soap, a towel, a clean shirt and a toothbrush. He got properly
shaved. His solitary confinement came to an end. He was treated as "one
of us."
Things moved fast after that, so fast indeed that the datcha had
to be skipped and the three gold teeth were never found. One morning a
plane took him back to Berlin. Life was even more pleasant there. He lived
in a luxurious villa in one of the most swanky suburbs, slept in his own
private room, had a hot bath every morning and a bottle of Moselle wine
with his meals. He took walks in the street and went on automobile excursions.
His guards bowed before they spoke to him.
Then he learned that he would soon go on trial in N�rnberg
as a war criminal. No reason to be worried, said Colonel Letschev, who
had come along. Nothing would happen to him if he stuck to the protocol
which he had signed in Moscow. For there it was stated, clearly and beyond
doubt, that he had only acted under orders; remember? In no case would
he go back to jail; during the trial he would "live with us," in Russian
custody, comfortably. Would he stick to the Moscow protocol?
Fritzsche decided that this was not the moment to be frank. He
looked at the Colonel and answered: he would never deny his signature,
and he would always speak as he had spoken in Moscow. Colonel Letschev
probably did not recall the talks in Moscow in the same way that Fritzsche
did, and the answer seemed to satisfy him.
The General Insulted: But Fritzsche was transferred to what was
practically an American military prison. From the dock he watched for months
a judicial procedure that was essentially Anglo-American (Jewish).The N�rnberg
trial, according to Soviet standards, got out of hand. It developed along
lines which had not been foreseen when Colonel Letschev made Fritzsche
sign that protocol in Moscow. When General Rudenko, Soviet chief prosecutor,
started reading Fritzsche's signed confession, Fritzsche interrupted him
and said, "Mr. Prosecutor, that is not correct, I know that I signed this
report in Moscow, but I stated: if you publish it no intelligent person
will believe it because this language is not mine. Not a single one of
the questions contained in this report was put to me in that same form,
and not a single one of the answers was given by me in that form."
Be of Good Courage - Part 5
General Rudenko was not used to being spoken to in that way. Did
Fritzsche, asked he, now deny his statements? Fritzsche said, "Yes." Only
his signature was true. All right, then, General Rudenko would go through
the whole document phrase by phrase. Would Fritzsche deny that Gobbets
valued him highly as a National Socialist, as a trustworthy link in the
German propaganda machine; would he deny that? When Fritzsche started to
speak, General Rudenko said, "Just a minute, please. I am going to remind
you..."
Fritzsche wavered, "Yes, General," he said, "I admit that, I admit
these facts." "Well, then the quotation was correct, was it not?" "Yes."
There followed another exchange of questions and answers, and General Rudenko
asked again, "You are not going to deny it? Your admit it? "I will not
confirm your quotation," said Fritzsche, "but I will confirm the contents
which you have just summarized again."
Lord Justice Lawrence, the British president of the tribunal,
had been listening with obvious amazement. General Rudenko had just started
another of his questions, when he was interrupted by Lord Justice Lawrence.
"One moment. What is it you are saying, defendant? Are you saying that
you did not sign this document, or that you did?"
Fritzsche got new courage and repeated that he had signed the
document although it did not contain his real statements. "Why did you
do that?" the Lord Justice wanted to know.
The defendant declared, "I signed it after very severe solitary
confinement which lasted for several months. One of my fellow prisoners
with whom I once came in contact had told me that every month a court pronounced
sentences based merely on outside records and without interrogation. I
hoped that in this manner I would at least achieve being sentenced and
thus terminate my confinement." Fritzsche added hastily, "So as not to
be misunderstood I should like to emphasize that no type of force was used
and that I was treated very humanely, even if my detention was very severe."
But from now on the Soviet spell was broken. After more questioning
General Rudenko left him alone, and in the end Fritzsche was acquitted.
Before a court in Moscow he would no doubt have stuck to his "confession"
and would have been convicted.
Had he been beaten or drugged into making his "confession" it
would be only another horror story of our time. The peculiar thing about
the NKVD is that it aims not only at confession but also at conversion.
This is the spirit of the whole system. The monster wants to be loved by
its victims, and in Fritzsche's case, as in many others, it had its way.
Fritzsche wants us to believe that the Lubianka is not a torture chamber
but rather something like a "severe region institution for the breeding
of fanatics." He says this after having nearly died from starvation. An
individual's surrender before power could not be more complete.
Fritzsche says that he knows the names of many "foreign" (i.e.
Germans) who went through the dreadful purgatory of the Lubianka and then
entered the service of the Soviet Union "with out bitterness." He might
easily have done the same, and very likely the Soviets would have taken
him.
But this is not what God wants of His Israel people, we are to
be of good courage and to face the enemy, and try with everything that
we posses to destroy him. With guns, knives, bats, clubs, axes; anything
that we can get to defend ourselves and our families. Destroy the enemy
that is what God has told our ancestors, and they did not and we are suffering
today from their lack of faith and dedication.
So never NEVER let the enemy tell you that it is not Christian
like to take up arms, throw the lie in his face, and stand strong in the
faith and try to destroy the enemy. Because everyone you get rid of is
one less that your children or grand children will have to contend with.
Fight for God; fight for Country; fight for Family; fight for
Honor; fight for Dignity; fight to show yourself a warrior for our God.
Be prepared to join His army when He destroys the enemy totally and completely.
But He requires for you to fight to the very best of your ability.
Remembering that He does not want the fearful (cowards) in His
Kingdom.
"But the fearful (Cowards), and unbelieving, and the abominable,
and murderers, and whoremongers, and sorcerers, and idolaters, and all
liars, shall have their part in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone:
which is the second death." Revelation 21:8)
Stand up and be counted, stand up and fight like God's Israel
people are supposed to do. We will win the victory for our God is stronger
than all.
