Who Is Prisoner Ernst Zundel?
Judge For Yourself - Part 1
From Ingrid Rimland
A snippet from a German prison - from a kind and gentle man believed to be so "dangerous" to certain people's vested interests that three "democratic" governments felt obliged to kidnap him in Tennessee
Excerpt from a letter dated August 28, 2005
My dearest Ingrid -
Today is a beautiful Sunday in Mannheim! You would be amazed, my dear, with whom your husband rubs elbows in his new surroundings. The range is utterly incredible!
Yesterday, the Fred N. look-alike asked me to lend him my jacket because it was a very cool morning. I did, reluctantly. I hate it when people borrow my coats, caps, boots, etc. - as they did in Toronto. Anyway, he felt cold, so I lent him my jacket and made the rounds with an eighteen-year-old who looked more like a milquetoast 14-year-old kid - nice open face, blond, blue-eyed, but already smoking. He looked bewildered and shell-shocked, so I decided that a bit of Dienst am Volk [service for the people] was called for.
Guess why he was in here? He had damaged some cars, mirrors etc. Why, I asked. Oh, he had been drinking, was angry, enraged because his 17-year-old girl friend had chided him about something - and whammo!
Here he was in the slammer with murderers and was making his rounds with a 24-year-old unwholesome dope courier, callous and street-wise, defending the use of "the natural plant cannabis" versus "demon alcohol" - and the kid was all ears!
I hammered that creep's arguments to shreds, leaving that blue-eyed boy visibly shocked. I then separated that kid from this evil influence and worked the old Zundel Stare Magic. In the end he agreed that it was stupid what he had done. He certainly realized he was at a juncture in his life - he could attend this University of Crime, or he could decide that he had stared in the face of a worthless life, and that this German judge was giving him a bit of tough love and a reality check.
Chances are that I had a bit of a good influence on a worthwhile German boy.
Meanwhile, the Fred N. look-alike was nowhere to be seen. I spent the rest of an hour with a Black engineer from France, the son of a former Ambassador to the U.N., practicing my French.
My jacket was gone! It turns out the wearer, whose father just died with six - six, Ingrid! - heart bypass operations behind him, age 93, and he, the son, at age 61 working himself up to his third heart attack, was wearing my jacket to the Krankenrevier [sick bay]. Luckily, he did not die this time, so the guard left him behind but brought my jacket back.
One wizened old guy, a German, smoking his guts out, pulled me aside, wanting to talk to me - belongloses Zeug! [trivial stuff!] Yesterday, another disheveled, wild-haired, unkempt guy proudly showed me his identity card because it was his birthday. He, too, smoked his guts out! He, too, was a German!
I make every effort to stay away from these people's second hand smoke. But I must say that I am horrified by that destructive habit of public smoking. 480 Germans already died each day in 1990, according to an article I read.
That's 175,200 Germans killed in one year. In 15 years, that's like the city of Toronto being wiped out!
[Imagine] the costs to society, and the loss of their knowledge, experience, and skills!
I pine for our mountain top with its fresh breeze and remember every second up there, the magic when the sun set and the stars came out.
Ernst Zundel's Third Great Holocaust Trial will start November 8 in Mannheim, Germany. Stay tuned! Tell a friend!



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