The Nazi Hunter

by Ari Bussel

A Nazi Hunter, now 89, was giving an account of his first exposure to the horrors of the Holocaust. This was probably the first public account of several daring missions he directed while at the Israeli Mossad. The decades have passed, the secrecy removed after some 50 years, but the real reason for this disclosure is two fold:

First, his generation is disappearing, and this is probably a last opportunity to give first hand testimony.

Second, the position of the Jewish people in 2011, 66 years after the end of the War, is probably more dangerous than in 1939. Humanity, apparently, has learned little and is ready to repeat past behavior.

There was great urgency in the story, as if it was entrusted into our hands to remember, to remind us of our motivation to go forward, to fight and to focus on the main goal, the survival of the Jewish people.

None of those present expected to hear the account of missions past, although most were not surprised at the disclosure. One of the attendees summarized it correctly saying this is a depository of memories, information and first hand account that must be recorded, so that future generations will be able to hear and see as they try to understand.

It was in the main square of an Austrian town. There was only one Jewish family in this town, and they were brought to that square.

The father was shot as his wife and daughter were made to watch. Then the daughter was murdered, for her mother to see. Finally the mother.

This was not an isolated instance, of course. Many other such instances included degrading the people, raping the women, while passersby either participated or went on about their business, seemingly oblivious to the horrors taking place in front of their eyes.

It was a father, a daughter and a mother, executed one after the other for the enjoyment of the town people just because they were Jewish.

I once used the adjective “animals” to describe Palestinian terrorists, and a reader was upset at the comparison. The Nazis’ behavior is not much different than the Palestinian terrorists who did exactly the same, some smashing the skulls of the children. The Palestinian society today takes particular pride in highlighting these “achievements” and retelling the glorified scenes to their Muslim fanatic followers.

Israel, regrettably, ended up freeing many of these terrorists in exchange for body parts or information of kidnapped and missing Israeli soldiers.

This is the real truth, the essence of the Middle East: Savagery of the worst kind vs. the pure innocence of goodness. Mistake not: The Israel Defense Forces is the supreme example of the highest morals — the very same ones we expect to be used against us but know this is not the case.

Clearly, would say many readers, this is propaganda of the worst kind. Israel, the Zionist Occupation Forces, is the worst of the worst. Israeli soldiers, it was “proven” by a graduate student at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem, do not rape Arab women since they view them as subhuman, thus not worthy of male-to-female attention.

Imagine the premise of the “study:” Soldiers (particularly of the Israeli kind) are commonly raping women. It is as contrived as the damning question, “When did you stop beating your wife?”

An Israeli Colonel heading a force of some 20,000 men and women in the reserves in the Southern Command in charge of Gaza is often on a speaking tour in the USA. He always ends his talk with a picture of his parents. His mother had a twin sister. Dr. Josef Mengele, the Angel of Death in Auschwitz-Birkenau, did experimentations on the twins.

The Colonel’s mother carried her twin sister, who was unable to walk, in the Death March. Starving, sick, without clothes to protect against the extreme cold, they marched hundreds of kilometers—and survived.

It is his mother’s story of heroism and survival that guides him as a Colonel in the Israel Defense Forces. Like him, many of us are either children or grandchildren of Holocaust survivors.

Ours is the only way to behave—even toward the most horrific of enemies.

As the Nazi Hunter was telling one story after the next of missions that remained secret to this very day, my mind wondered, unable to accept or process so much information at once.

My thoughts wondered to my grandmother, whom I never knew. She left the family’s hiding place one day never to return.

I was unable to focus, the image of the father, the daughter and the mother executed for the others to see, for the pure sadistic enjoyment, in the main town square.

Take the time to ask questions of those who still remember. Record their stories, so that we will have an account for future generations.

People already refuse to believe. What will happen when there will no longer be any survivors alive, no one to counter the lies, the revisions of history, and the new accounts being crafted by the Muslims and other Jew-haters?

There is a depository of memories and stories we must create for the benefit of future generations—and each of us must contribute. Use your iPhone, ask your son or grandson to use theirs, and do not be afraid to bring those memories back to the surface.

The pain will be shared, diluted by the intensity of the mission. Like the Nazi Hunter who realized his time is coming to an end and that he must transfer the burden to act on to others, so must you. Tell the stories, confront us all and demand we do what it takes to preserve this truth so that humanity’s darkest hour will not be repeated.