I MADE UP THIS STORY BASED ON REAL FACTS.
The Good Soldiers
Dear Fuhrer,
My name is Himmler Von Strauss, Im a third generation German soldier, currently stationed just outside of southern Poland , near the Auschwitz concentration camp. I just received orders to establish a post outside the camp, and was commanded to shoot anyone who attempted to escape. Up until my second night on post I had never killed a man. I never thought that killing a Jew would feel so terrible. I was raised by a devoted Aryan family, my father taught me about the evil Jews when I was just a young boy. Hatred has always filled my heart for those who strive to corrupt the superior German race. Yet, I find myself feeling guiltier with each day that passes. It has been two weeks since my move to the camp and I have killed at least a dozen detainees. Survival has been difficult, constantly fighting illnes s because of meager rations and lack of rest.
Sometimes I feel like I�m going mad, unable to concentrate on simple task, my mind is always searching for my purpose in this war. I�m only 19 years of age, and as a low ranking German officer, I see little hope to escape this nightmare called a life. Rumors spread fast around the camp; my curious young mind catches word of activity inside Auschwitz . Instructed never to enter the camp unless advised by a superior officer, I found another way in. After bribing one of the entry guards, with two days worth of rations, I was able to buy myself an hour of access into the camp.
My fear of what I might see once inside the camp was a far cry for the reality that lied ahead. The stench was unbearable outside the camp; we were teased by our superiors that the smell came from the food cooked for prisoners, but most of us knew that there was something that they were not telling us. Like a cold chill, my body became covered with goose bumps, my heart began to pound, and I wanted to cry but knew that my emotion would give away my intentions. I asked myself over and over again, could we really be disposing of people like they were nothing more than a bag of garbage? All within an hour I witnessed the burning, gassing, shooting, and torturing, of prisoners. I suddenly became filled with rage, I wanted to run away from the camp and never come back, but I knew that my actions would most definitely lead to my own demise. So I scurried back to my post, resuming my position as the perimeter guard.
Another month would go by, before I was called by another officer inside the camp. He brought me into his office to discuss my role in the camp; at this point he began to question me about my loyalty to Germany . In the back of my mind I knew that he was only trying to prepare me for the duty of a soldier inside the camp. I respectfully answered with a triumphant �heil Hitler�! That�s all it took, he gave me pat on the back and directed me towards what I would later find to be known as the gas chamber. I was instructed to separate prisoners based on age, and gender. The older men were directed into one line, and the women and children into another. This line stretched for what seemed like miles, and my decision was only the first of many.
Eventually the line moved forward and some people were loaded on to trains to be deported for what was said to be work and others were sent through the chamber for cleansing. Nobody could see the other side of the chamber. So when a group was gassed it was quick and quiet, nobody had any suspicion of its true purpose. It was a grand illusion that puzzled me for months; I couldn�t understand how they thought we were going to bath their deathly bodies. As time passed on I began to feel more compelled that we were doing the right thing, I didn�t see people anymore, I only saw my duty. I was comfortably numb when it came to leading people to their, convincing myself that these scum stood in the way of German values. News of German victories outside the camp, helped get me through the day with a positive attitude. Talk of the war coming to end, and German power spreading across Eur ope , led us to believe that our efforts were strengthening the Fuhrer�s campaign.
It wasn�t until my birthday 21st birthday, did I feel the need to question my participation in the extermination of non-Aryan races. It had been almost two years since my entrance into the camp. I was just getting tired of war; the smell of death became all too familiar. Officers were getting exhausted with the tedious process of killing and exporting of individuals. Moral was down, and many officers began to fill the trains with more than usual quota for prisoners. I think it was easier to just get rid of the people by train than have to dispose of their bodies. Whether or not we were right or wrong with our actions, we continued to try and follow orders.
It hit me today that my life has been a complete waste, I have assisted in the killing of hundreds if not thousands of innocent people, and they were just human beings. It could have easily been me being directed into the gas chamber, I wish I could fight my mind into believing that what we were doing was right. I can no longer go on persecuting those who disagree with German beliefs, nor can I live in a nation that thinks killing innocent people is the best way to solve the problem. I haven�t the courage to carry out my own execution, so I plan to infiltrate and expose the truths of the Nazi campaign; which inevitably lead to my own death. It�s never too late to stop this madness; this war was your own personal vendetta against a race that wasn�t much different than you or me. If you can�t stomach a world with views that are different from your own, then you have no more right to life than those in which you have c hose to persecute. We were the good soldiers: we were just doing our job, we trusted you with our lives, and you lied to us. May God have mercy on your soul!

Yours truly,
http://www.senserely.com/referral/77777b95
Himmler Von Strauss