John sack : an eye for an eye — 4 — other books by john sack the butcher from here to shimbashi report from practically nowhere m lieutenant calley. An Eye For an Eye Item Preview. John Sack : An Eye for An Eye. John Sack : An Eye for An Eye JOHN SACK AN EYE FOR AN EYE The Story of Jews Who Sought Revenge For the Holocaust Revised, Updated and Illustrated First published : 1. Internet AAARGH 2. John Sack : An Eye for An Eye ISBN 0o- 9. Fourth Edition Some of this book first appeared, in much different form, in California and The Village Voice. First edition, 1. Basic. Books, a division of Harper. Collins. Second edition, 1. An Eye For an Eye : John SACK : Free Download & Streaming : Internet Archive. How about the several hundred thousand German civilians that suffered horribly and perished in a REAL holocaust at Hamburg and Dresden? AN EYE FOR AN EYE — 4 — OTHER BOOKS BY JOHN SACK THE BUTCHER FROM HERE TO SHIMBASHI REPORT FROM PRACTICALLY NOWHERE M LIEUTENANT CALLEY. An Eye For An Eye By John Sack PDF - Free Ebook Download - ebookdig.biz is the right place for every Ebook Files. We have millions index of Ebook Files urls from around the world. Basic. Books. Third edition, 1. Compu. Serve. This edition do not seem to be online. Fourth edition (revised, updated, illustrated - - The present edition), 2. John Sack. In other words, no publishing company was willing to publish this book. Since the author's death in 2. ISBN 0- 9. 67. 56. AAARGH The website was founded in 1. The Quarterlies of AAARGH http: //revurevi. Conseils de revision. Gaette du Golfe et des banlieues. The Revisionist Clarion. Il resto del siclo. El Paso del Ebro. Das kausale Nexusblatt. O revisionismo em lengua portugues. Armenichantage. Books (2. AAARGH on Internet http: //vho. Documents, compilations, AAARGH Reprints http: //aaargh. Free subscribe: (e- mail) . I'd have been about twelve years old. Like other boys then, I'd have been wearing a drab gray suit and a flat gray . As it happened, I didn't go to Auschwitz until ten years ago, when I was almost sixty and it was safe to do so. I stood on the wide concrete platform and stared at the tracks where the train would have been, but I couldn't picture myself getting off it. I'd read about Auschwitz, and I knew that Mengele would have been on this platform that day, and I went to where he'd have stood. I knew he'd have told my mother and father, . I went to the ruins of the dressing room- -the undressing room- -then of the cyanide chamber, which now had no roof and was full of old roof- components, of dirt, grass and dandelions, and (as I looked closely) of tiny white chips of bone that, in the 1. Again, I tried to picture my sister and me in this cyanide chamber, undressed, our two bodies touching and one thousand people around us, all screaming, the gas coming down upon us, and I simply couldn't see it, my mind had no hook that could hold it, I might as well have been groping for ? The people who say it are fools, maybe worse, but I can commiserate with them. The thought the Holocaust did, indeed, happen is too enormous for one little volleball . I'd come to Auschwitz and this part of Poland to research this book. I had heard of a Jewish girl, Lola, who, after onc- and- one- half years at Auschwitz, had turned the Holocaust upside- down by becoming the commandant of the big prison for Germans at Gleiwitz, thirty miles away, and in some ways by imitating the SS women at Auschwitz, and I wanted to write about her. Lola wasn't in Poland anymore, but as I spoke to Jews, Poles and Germans about her and as I studied documents in a cobwebbed cellar in Poland and a concrete castle over the Rhine, I slowly became aware that the truth was much, much larger than Lola. When the Holocaust ended, I learned, a lot of Jews became commandants like Lola. I understood why, but the Jews were sometimes as cruel as their exemplars at Auschwitz, and they even ran the organization that ran the prisons and- -as I learned- -the concentration camps for German civilians in Poland and Poland- administered Germany. Once again, I felt that I was confronting something too big for one little three- pound brain, for I was learning that, yes, the Holocaust happened, the Germans killed Jews, but that a second atrocity happened that the Jews who committed it covered up: one where the Jews killed Germans. God knows the Jews were provoked, but I learned that in 1. Germans: not Nazis, not Hider's trigger men, but German civilians, German men, women, children, babies, whose . Through the wrath of Jews, however understandable, the Germans lost more civilians than at Dresden, more than, or just as many as, the Japanese at Hiroshima, the Americans at Pearl Harbor, the British in the Battle of Britain, or the Jews themselves in Poland's occasional pogroms: so I now learned, and I was aghast to learn it. This was no Holocaust of the moral equivalent of the Holocaust, but I knew that if I reported it, I'd be exhibiting, well, call it chutzpah, for I could guess what the world would say, but I felt I'd be doing the righteous thing both as a reporter and as a man who's a Jew. I'm not a Biblical scholar, but I went to Saturday school (I was voted the . The men (and the woman, a scholar says) who wrote the Torah didn't cover up Jewish misdeeds. Even when Abraham, the father of the Jewish people, sinned- -- God told him to go to Israel, but he went to Egypt instead- -the Torah reported it. It reported that Judah, whose name is the source of . The people who wrote the Torah (or according to Orthodox Jews, the God who wrote it) believed that we Jews couldn't proclaim, . I suspected that some Jews would ask me, . To write a whole formal history such as the Germans wrote, from the German viewpoint, omitting all mention of Jews, in a three- volume work in the 1. I decided that in An Eye for an Eye, I woulddt report that a Jew had beaten a German, tortured a German, or killed a German until the reader could understand why the Jew had done it and even could think, If I'd been him, I'd have done it myself, and I hope with all my heart that I've succeeded. I also decided that An Eye for an Eye wouldn't just be about the Jews who strayed from the Torah but also about the Jews who prevailed upon them to return, and I hope I've succeeded here too. In the end, I hope that An Eye for an Eye is something more than the story of Jewish revenge: that it's also the story of Jewish redemption. A word to those readers who, in the 2. The people in An Eye for an Eye are real. The events in An Eye for an Eye really happened. The conversations in An Eye for an Eye, with three minor exceptions that I describe in the Notes, are not . At the end of An Eye for an Eye are twenty- five thousand words of Notes and Sources, and among these is the documentation for the number of Jews in the German- imprisoning organization, the positions that the Jews held, the number of prisons for Germans and concentration camps for Germans, and the number of Germans who died inside them and Germans who died all in all. If, despite this, a reader still feels that he or she is standing on some strange platform in Poland thinking, . When the noise stopped, the Germans who weren't dead were like punch- drunk people, the blood coming out of their ears, noses, and open mouths as Russia's three million soldiers rolled over them. On the Russian tanks were the painted words NA BERLIN! Six days later, the Russians had rolled a hundred miles west, and now their shells shook the windows of the House of the Armed SS in the willow- filled town of Oswiecim, or Auschwitz. Inside were the men and women of Hitler's private army, the SS, who for years had been feasting on pork, pike, duck, roasted hare, and red cabbage, washing them down with Bulgarian wine and Yugoslavian schnapps. After dinner the SS men had pulled out the chairs from under the SS women's popos, the women plopping onto the floor, roaring, the men vomiting onto the Persian rugs, betting that the next vomiter would be Hans, whoever, the fat and red- fleshed women roaring along with the men. As the Russians got closer, though, the SS had rolled from the House moaning, . What clemency could an SS man or, worse, an SS woman in Nuit dc Paris perfume expect from the Russian infantry? Nor was the SS soothed by the orders of Himmler, its Hitler- mustached leader in Berlin, to flee to Gross . What worse impediment to any hell- bent retreat than the slow, stumbling feet of its sixty thousand slaves? But cursing them, the SS snapped on its hats with the jolly- roger insignias and by boot, bike and motorcycle descended on the vast stables where the sixty thousand lived, two or three dozen to every stall. To avoid their lice, the SS didn't touch anyone except with a boot, strap, bullwhip, or, in one woman's hand, a whip with a bead- encrusted handle. She was not quite twenty- four. It was ten below on the road to Germany. It was snowing, the snow congealing to ice on Lola's eyebrows. Not far behind her, the Russians had copies of Pravda inside their boots, the SS was using the Abendpost but Lola was walking in two left shoes, her feet killing her, her knees knocking one another, becoming raw, and the blood dripping an inch or two before freezing on Lola's bare legs. Behind her, the Russians in fur- lined coats from America muttered, ! The cold crept through it, through skin, through bones, till the only ember was Lola's heart. Her family was all she thought of. Born twenty miles away in Bedzin to a father and mother versed in the Torah, Lola had had ten older brothers and sisters: a boxer, a foreman, a CPA, a couturier, a pop band leader whose hottest song was Blue Skies (Smiling at Me), a philologist and a pilot among them. But when, in 1. 94. Germans smashed in her familys door shouting, ! The rest were selected by Mengele, the SS's whistling doctor, to be gassed (or in one case hanged) and be cremated in the ovens whose sickening smell had the SS sneering at Auschwitz as Anus Mundi. Among the condemned was Lola's daughter, age one. And now, one- and- one- half years later, as sixty thousand people moved like the Doomed, as SS in black woolen cloaks cried, ! Straggling beside her, Ada and Zlata, the wives of two of her brothers, were to her knowledge her only surviving relatives. She had kept them alive at Auschwitz by spooning the ill- smelling soup (was it turnip? At Auschwitz, Lola had yelled like a drill instructor in her determination that the Potok family should survive. They need me, Lola told herself, for her will to live depended on her two sisters- in- law. At dawn the black became gray. The air and the earth were the same cardboard color, and the homes by the road were just darker blotches.
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