SS-Leadership Special Issue 8

November 15, 1940

6th Year of the Leadership Journal

"I do not know how often the Napoleonic saying was uttered in the past that every soldier carries a marshal's baton in his knapsack. That was not to be taken literally at the time. For it was once unthinkable for an ordinary soldier to take this path. All of this has changed today, right up to the top. If once the highest order could only be given to an officer, today a brave non-commissioned officer or man can wear it just as proudly!

A world of prejudices has been dismantled, and it will become ever more natural in the course of the decades to live in this state. The tasks will become ever greater, and through them, we will increasingly educate our people towards one another, transforming them into an ever closer and more internal community. And if there are still some who resist under certain circumstances, then we will give them an honorable burial. These are the last representatives of a bygone era, and in that sense perhaps still interesting. But the future belongs to the young peoples, who will solve these questions. For a year now, they have taken up this resolution and will carry it through.”

The Führer on September 4, 1940

Ethnic Germans Returning Home

The most important task, however, is to establish a new order of ethnographic relationships, meaning a rearrangement of nationalities, so that, at the end of the development, better lines of separation will emerge than is the case today…

This was announced by the Führer after the victory over Poland on October 6, 1939. As with all sectors of national and state life, the Führer wants to reorder ethnographic relationships in the reconstruction of Europe and the world—this is also demonstrated by the new pact between Berlin, Rome, and Tokyo. The Reichsführer-SS was tasked in his capacity as the Reich Commissioner for the Consolidation of German Nationhood, to significantly assist in this new ethnic reshuffling. Several hundred thousand ethnic German compatriots were repatriated from the Baltic States, from Volhynia, and Galicia into the borders of the Reich. These days, 90,000 German farmers from Bessarabia and 35,000 Germans from northern Bukovina (North Bukovina) have returned, with tens of thousands more from southern Bukovina and the Dobrudja to follow. We traveled down to Bessarabia, to the land between the Prut and Dniester rivers, to help with the resettlement, and we were surprised to find such a large German community here on the Black Sea, firmly united in their own settlements. It is not very easy to get there today. When the Russians marched into Bessarabia in June of this year and took back the land that had been annexed to Romania after the World War, the Romanians literally burned all the bridges behind them upon their retreat; a pontoon bridge was specifically built over the Prut at Galați for the purpose of the Germans' return, over which all the Germans crossed who did not immediately board ships at Reni or Kilia, the Russian Danube ports, 28 of which took the repatriates upriver to Semlin or Prahovo.

Our work in Bessarabia took us to many parts of the country. In the southern third, the Budjak steppe region, most of the German villages are located. These villages are distinguished by their well-kept farmhouses, which show signs of prosperity, orderly layouts, and especially by the cleanliness of the inhabitants, which set them apart from the villages of the Moldovans, Bulgarians, and Russians. The roads, however, are equally poor throughout the country. Such a village road is 150 to 200 meters wide, sometimes with garden strips where sunflowers, flowers, and vegetables grow, or a ditch runs alongside, filled with water in the rainy season and winter. Otherwise, the road is without any solid surface, and rain makes it nearly impassable, as we experienced ourselves. The joy of the Germans was great when we arrived. They had been waiting for us for a long time, sitting by the radio, listening for any news about their resettlement. When we finally arrived, all doubts were dispelled; there began much packing, slaughtering, and celebrations in the homes.

It did not take long before the inhabitants of many villages were registered, had their resettlement cards, and were only waiting for the day when the journey would begin. Furniture and household goods were sold.

Magnificent People We Met

We met splendid people there, robust and cheerful farmers, whose fathers and they themselves had toiled honestly to transform the steppe into fertile land. Now they have productive fields, expansive houses, farm buildings, and stables full of horses. Like all farmers, they are deeply attached to their pride in these achievements, yet they said, "We do not want to stay here. Despite our standing, we have always been regarded as foreigners by the local people. We all gladly return to the German homeland from where our ancestors emigrated."

We heard heavy and diverse stories. It was not easy for the German immigrants who settled in Bessarabia in 1813 and later, having initially migrated to Poland a few years or at most two decades earlier, mainly from Pomerania or Mecklenburg, or directly from southwestern Germany, mostly Swabians. The first arrived in the autumn of 1813, following the call of Tsar Alexander I, and settled in the middle of the steppe. The Russian authorities had provided only a little wood for building houses, so many had to spend the winter in the primitive huts of the Moldovans or in dugouts, and a great dying began. The diligence of the Germans overcame the harsh years; villages flourished, fields expanded, and numerous children grew up on the farms. By the time immigration ended in 1842, the surplus sons from the first settlements—Tarutino, Borodino, Arzis, Alt-Posttal, Beresina—had moved out and founded daughter communities in the north towards Kilhia. Thus, to the 25 mother colonies with a population of 25,000 people in 1859, over 120 daughter colonies were added, and the total number of Bessarabian Germans today is about 90,000. Additionally, at least 25,000 have emigrated to the Caucasus region, America, or other areas. The birthrate of these Germans is remarkable. In 1859, there were 65.3 births per 1,000 people; in 1933, it was still 28.3. Despite often living under difficult conditions, the freedoms promised by the Tsar were not upheld, especially regarding cultural autonomy. During World War I in 1917, the Germans had already packed up because the Tsar had signed their deportation decree to Siberia, which was then averted by the outbreak of the Russian Revolution. Some farmers had been in the Caucasus, fled from there during the Soviet Revolution, some were in America, and returned out of homesickness. Now they hope to finally find peace in their homeland, in the Greater German Reich.

We are present early in the morning as the carriages in the village head towards the square where the moving columns are. Women, children, and older people climb into the vehicles, and their resettlement luggage is loaded. The men stay behind and later follow with the larger resettlement goods by tractor. A final handshake and calls of farewell, then the journey begins, covering many kilometers to the Danube. There, the German command men, Red Cross sisters, and NSV members are ready to assist.

Helping Compatriots

A large camp has been set up in Galați for those who are not immediately loaded onto ships. In Semlin and Prahovo, all transports are transferred from ships to railway trains. Such a camp, like Semlin, is a fine example of German organizational spirit. Here, the cooperation of all Germans has again been demonstrated. Without the selfless help of the ethnic Germans from Yugoslavia, the camp could hardly have been set up so perfectly. All this effort is dedicated to our returning compatriots from Bessarabia, who look up to us with grateful joy and are almost embarrassed by the amount of effort being made for them. It deeply moves a German from the Reich to see and feel this gratitude of the returnees. The Führer calls them, and they come. They leave their homeland, their own village, where their parents and grandparents worked, and they come without hesitation. They feel and express: "Our father has called us, he needs us." There is no more deliberation, only the thought of the Greater German Reich, the Germanic Reich, for whose ultimate consolidation the Führer needs every German. The returnees have deeply understood the current situation: The Führer builds the Reich!

H-Reporter Dr. Alfred Tho

Words from Alfred Rosenberg

Every National Socialist today, regardless of his position, must ask whether, after the victory of 1933, he has done everything to implement and represent the National Socialist idea in his person and at his workplace to the best of his abilities. Each must ask whether he has succumbed to various dangers of victory in the past seven years, whether he has maintained the necessary camaraderie and loyalty towards all compatriots and party comrades. If anyone finds that he has failed in this, he must now take the necessary steps to improve his attitude and always remember the slogans that stood at the forefront of our struggle and proved themselves in fourteen years of fighting experience. Every revolution and every state can only be preserved, if they want to maintain their character, with the means by which they were once created...

This entire struggle is also a worldview. For us, a worldview is not a sum of abstract doctrines, but the representation of a great ideal in life. This means not defending dogmas, but values of soul and character. We National Socialists have experienced these noble values of the German people beyond all human dimensions in recent decades, and we can proudly say that we have honestly served these values with all our might in the great struggle. Now the time has come to realize these values as we exemplarily defend them in the struggle.

Clausewitz died 109 years ago, on November 16, 1831. In addition to his great book "On War," he left us his confession, which remains valid for every German:

Confession

I renounce:

the frivolous hope of salvation through chance,

the dull expectation of the future, which a dull mind does not want to recognize;

the deceitful hope of appeasing the wrath of a tyrant through voluntary disarmament, through lowly submission and flattery to gain his trust;

the false resignation of a suppressed spirit;

the unreasonable distrust in the forces given to us by God,

the sinful neglect of all duties for the common good;

the shameless sacrifice of all honor of the state and people, all personal and human dignity.

I believe and confess:

that a people must esteem nothing higher than the dignity and freedom of its existence,

that it should defend these with the last drop of blood;

that it has no holier duty to fulfill, nor higher law to obey,

that the condition of a cowardly submission is never to be accepted.

that this poison drop in the blood of a people will pass to future generations and will paralyze and undermine the strength of later ages,

that honor can only be lost once,

that the honor of the king and the government is one with the honor of the people and the only palladium of its welfare;

that a people is invincible under most circumstances in the magnanimous struggle for its freedom;

that even the loss of this freedom after a bloody and honorable struggle ensures the rebirth of the people and is the seed of life from which a new tree with secure roots will one day grow.

I declare and affirm to the world and posterity:

that I consider the false prudence that seeks to evade danger to be the most pernicious thing that fear and anxiety can instill, that I would consider the wildest despair wiser if we were entirely denied the chance to face danger with a manly courage, i.e., with calm but firm resolve and clear consciousness—

that I do not forget the warning events of old and recent times, the wise teachings of whole centuries, the noble examples of famous peoples in the dizziness of our days' fear and would not trade world history for the pages of a lying newspaper—

that I feel myself free from any self-interest, that I can openly confess every thought and feeling before all my fellow citizens, that I would only feel too fortunate to find a glorious end in the noble struggle for the freedom and dignity of the fatherland!

His Happiest Day

It was already late when the elderly judge Frank Stolberg began his story, which had affected us all so deeply. "In the year 1910," he said with his resonant voice, "I made the acquaintance of the hero of this little story, a thin, pale boy who had not grown properly, whose large and restless eyes stood out in his face. I met the boy, Karl Hertenstein by name, during a time that appeared calm and prosperous. Only a few, who could look behind the facade of apparent contentment, knew it was different. Most people had no idea that they were psychologically sitting on a powder keg. The war would teach them otherwise, harshly enough. Now, you all know about that.

That twelve-year-old boy had five siblings. You can imagine that the Hertenstein family was not blessed with the world's goods. Instead, they knew well the hardship that no one wanted to hear about back then. The word itself was an insult to those who had banished it from their thoughts. During that time, when the growing children needed their father most, he became ill. The illness struck the weapon of honest, hard, and exhausting work from his hand in his prime. As often happens, the wife took on the heavily loaded burden of the family's existence, like a draft animal pulling an overburdened cart.

She managed the household as best she could. She tried her hand as a laundress. She delivered breakfast, milk, and newspapers. When she came home tired and worn out, she busied herself with the household and had to care for the sick husband. And indeed, the harder the burden pressed on her, the tighter she clenched her teeth, and the more she strained her tired limbs. That young boy, Karl, who I want to talk about, saw his mother's silent suffering with his large, restless eyes. One day he started to act, as children always do, feeling the sorrows of this world more keenly than they can bear. So, the boy went out, stood at the train stations, took the arriving travelers' luggage, and tried in his own way to help alleviate his mother's hardship.

In school, he began to be inattentive. Warnings and punishments rained down. But after just one week, he put his first self-earned three marks into his mother's purse, where the small sum seemed quite princely. One day, the boy was arrested. Why, they asked, did the boy have to carry luggage? Why did he have to compete with the porters? And a peculiar person came up with the equally peculiar idea that the boy was only earning money for smoking. The school was questioned. Yes, they replied, he was inattentive, lied, and was an entirely unreliable student. He had once been a good student, they added more leniently. They knew nothing about the boy's...

Meanwhile, the boy had become a capable person who wanted to spare his mother's hands, which had become calloused and sore from all the washing. The boy himself had said nothing to the many questions and numerous accusations that he was dishonest and deceitful. When the police handed the boy over to me, the boy still remained silent. Even towards his sick father, he had been just as silently reserved.

One day, the father said to me during an interview, "Yes, the boy remained silent. So, yes," he continued. "But for whom might the boy have done this hard work?" I asked the sick Hertenstein. "For sweets?" I added to my question. The father stared straight ahead.

Then the mother jumped up, her eyes glowing brightly. "For you, man," she cried, "he did it for you!"

"For me?" said the old Hertenstein.

"Yes," she said, and then began to tell how the boy had put three marks into the empty purse without saying a word.

I will never forget the expression on the mother's face and the sick Hertenstein's. The pale, distressed boy nodded happily.

"Six children," one of us listeners interjected, "That must be a terrible worry."

The storyteller shook his head.

"There has never been a better day for a father than when he heard this 'for you,' which still rings in my ears when people tell me about the worries children cause them. They simply don't see the happiness that children give. Was there ever a prouder mother than the haggard woman whose boy had been brought to me, the juvenile judge, accused of supposed dishonesty and misconduct? And such things," Stolberg said quietly, "happen every day. We just don't see it. Sacrifices made in our families from parents to child and from child to parents are all the greater, the more naturally they are made. They are components of the happiness that exists on this earth in no other form. That day, friends, was, in any case, my happiest day."

We nodded silently.

H. M. S.

The German character of the city of Krakow is best reflected in its architectural and artistic works. Our pictures show the German University and the courtyard of the castle in Krakow.

Dear Father,

We marched through Flanders, by day and in the night, and red fires glowed in the dark water of the moat. My hair was stuck together, dusty and gray was the landscape, my throat swollen from the arduous march, but it did not bother me.

Father! We stormed the villages along the way and far in the countryside, and saw old crosses in the heavy Flemish sand. My thoughts were often with you, because here your boot stepped and now your son walks the path, along with all the sons.

Father! We were at the Remmel, and saw Ypres lying in the evening glow, and drank captured wine. My dreams were quiet and bright like the wind in poplar trees, which here encircle the green, vast land like a protective cloak.

Father! We marched to war, clashed with a foreign army, it fled on land and boats into the marsh without return. Now we stand here, soldiers, fort and tower, and wait again for a word, for the command to attack.

Theodor Jacobs

The Last Command!

This is a true story. It is just one of many, arising everywhere around us, of the courage that lives in peoples who have remained young and valiant. Their fate was always so harsh that they could not despair. The story unfolded during the Ethiopian campaign, which imposed so much hardship on the fascist soldiers who had volunteered to conquer the empire.

A young fascist fighter had become separated from the fighting troop. Some might say he was scattered. They were forty men, young, in their prime, and others with gray hair, all volunteers from the great cities of the beautiful Apennine Peninsula. As the day, marked by fierce combat, faded into the tropical evening and unknown constellations silvered the blue sky of the former realm of the Queen of Sheba, the men made camp, exhausted. Their feet were sore from the long marches. Their bodies were bathed in sweat. Their hands trembled a little, having had to fend off attackers from ambush during the rest breaks. It was very quiet around the men now, as they lay exhausted on the ground.

The platoon leader was a young lieutenant named Beppone. He was the only man who did not immediately throw himself on the ground. He warned the men of the danger by pointing to the eerie-looking mountains, and his words found an audience among his men. They knew the enemy was treacherous. Against such a foe, only the utmost vigilance can help. Therefore, no one was surprised, however tired and battered the men in the black shirts were. They passed the time with conversations about home, wife, child, and sweetheart.

Suddenly, a hail of bullets interrupted the conversation conducted in whispers. The black weather had indeed settled in the mountains, and had seen the youth exhaustedly thrown down. It had meanwhile become deep night. The soldiers reached for their weapons, but they could not move in the complete darkness and the terrain completely unknown to them. However, they immediately returned fire on the invisible enemy. One after another, hit by the eyes of the Ethiopians sneaking from ambush and well-covered by the dark, some soldiers fell. Also lying heavily wounded was the young lieutenant on the furry ground. However, just as the black figures wanted to turn their treacherous attack into a victory when they emerged from the rocky slopes to pounce on the wounded platoon, the young officer drew his sword. Blood was flowing from his chest, yet he managed to issue one last command:

It read: "Present arms!" "Long live Italy!" rang out to the Ethiopian night sky.

A drum beat along with it. The next morning, the advancing company found only dead and wounded on the battlefield. The young lieutenant had died, the sword in his outstretched right hand. With arms presented, twenty-four Blackshirts went to their deaths near Gamba, fulfilling the pledge to fight as examples and to die as examples when there is no more battle. The rank of heroes was duly recognized with the Golden Medal of Valor, to be remembered as immortal in death.

British Methods

In the autumn of 1936, the Arabs of Southern Arabia decided to hold a demonstration against England in support of the oppressed Arabs in Palestine. The demonstrators issued calls to the civilian population not to participate in any demonstration to prevent England from using force against women and children. However, on September 12, 1936, 17 British bombers appeared over Southern Arabia and, within 15 minutes, completely destroyed three villages, two-thirds of three villages, and half of seven villages. Seventy-five women, elderly, and children were killed by the British bombs, and many hundreds were injured.

For eight weeks, England managed to conceal the heinous massacre. Then news of it reached Europe. In the British House of Commons, the English labor representative Lansbury asked the government if the rumors were true. He concluded his inquiry with the sentence: "I hope it's just rumors."

However, the then British Minister of War, Ormsby-Gore, stated on behalf of the government: "Our pilots did indeed drop bombs." In order to avoid unnecessary losses of our troops in street fighting with the rebels, we resorted to the most effective means of pacification." And so, the Minister of War concluded: "You must admit that in this regrettable case, the most effective method was also the most humane; peace was restored in a pleasingly short time, which some fanatics had robbed." The English minister deliberately refrained from identifying the fanatics more precisely. He should have said: the fanatical profiteers in London. For who else has robbed the Arabs of peace, which British bombers were supposed to restore? However, the Arab peace was not only to be found on the cemetery from then on.

Where are we heading?

The meaning of the present situation

Oh, how in the last four weeks the meaning of the present circumstances has never been made clear to us.

More and more, escalating in their effects, bombs fall on England's cities, industrial plants, ports, and airfields; the suffocating grip of the German economic blockade is increasingly felt, affecting entire supply trains, manifesting in the aggressiveness of our fleet even in the ocean bordering England's protective war fleet. Meanwhile, Italy's fleet in the eastern Mediterranean prevents the free maneuvering of English warships, rendering the Red Sea increasingly impassable for England's vital supplies of food and war materials, and the daring maneuvers of Italian aircraft threaten the last English oil sources in the Persian Gulf. In the Far East, the failed support to Inner China via the Burma Road has long been lost to Japanese bombers. Truly, the war demonstrates its harsh, unforgiving weight! But as never before, it reveals, in individual major events, its overarching purpose that transcends our personal actions, elevating our personal conduct beyond the horizon of the daily grind that confines our view.

The Three-Power Pact opened up significant global prospects from Berlin. Its significance becomes increasingly apparent. Germany, Italy, Japan all face the same existential challenge in the overcrowded, cramped space tightly held by adversaries. This has sparked an internal revolution to lay the foundation on which the struggle for the right and possibility of finally securing space for life is waged. Thus, the national revolutions expanded into a world revolution, bringing forth new principles and elements of a newly and stably ordered world, in which everyone is invited to participate in building. Of course, the invitation was overlooked. Immediately after the pact, the old game of intrigue began, aiming to break apart the huge Europa-Asia bloc. The response to this disruption from official quarters in Moscow was not absent; the attempts, even from the USA, to sow discord between Russia and Japan were met with the warm farewell of the former Japanese ambassador in Moscow and the immediate friendly conversation between Molotov and Japan's new ambassador upon his arrival in Moscow, as well as the reception of the Japanese by Galianin, who greeted a Japanese delegate for the first time since 1928. Behind all this lies on one side the unconditional willingness of both parties to reach an agreement, and on the other side, the inability to recognize the new order in Asia. In the meantime, developments in the Far East have progressed even further; if Asia is being ordered through agreements among the great powers that are part of the region themselves, then even Kuomintang China has no choice but to get involved. Therefore, one hears from the press and diplomacy that Chiang Kai-shek has already made contact with Moscow and a delegation is on its way to the Kremlin; one hears how Japan, previously opposed to the marshal, now urges him to join the front against foreign powers, thus reverting to his old national program. Indeed, the attempts to provide support to the marshal via the Burma Road have not worked out well for the British and Americans, quite apart from the fact that the promise of help once again serves English-American business and English-American-controlled.

Industry in Inner China is thriving. However, England, perhaps this time prodded by the USA itself, will have even less reason to indulge in overly optimistic hopes in the Far East, as its Indian hinterland is more restless than ever following Gandhi's call to passive resistance. The impending downfall of England in the Far East is not hindered by the Economic Conference in Delhi, where once again an attempt should be made to mobilize the industry in India, which has been suppressed for decades, at a time when sufficient materials cannot be sent from the motherland to the Mediterranean.

The second event that shed light on the meaning of the current situation was the meeting of the leader with General Franco at the Spanish border, which took place on October 23 after the long and intensive stay of Serrano Suñer in Berlin and Rome. On this occasion, the Spanish press expressed that the passivity of Spanish foreign policy, its slow suicide, was finally over. This period indeed spans 212 centuries, from the time of the Armada until now, characterized by constant humiliations, from which Spain could never rise thanks to the friendship of England and France. Gibraltar symbolizes this. Indeed, what tasks await Spain? Spain is the bridge from Europe to Africa, whose northern head is still held back by England, even after the return of Tangier to Spain. However, the Strait is also the gateway to the Mediterranean, which, if closed, can become the prison gate of British arrogance in the Mediterranean!

The third event in this context was the meeting of the leader with the French Marshal and Chief of State, Pétain! It was described in France as the most significant event since the armistice; Pétain called it France's first step out of darkness into a better future. This is indeed true. But the meeting means more. The meeting is profound in that the venerable Marshal, who has been called upon by his people time and again in adversity, this time transcended the resignation and bitterness of the vanquished to take the revolutionary step for France over a 212-century-old "feud" and close a different chapter, one he once fought for as an officer. It is certain that France is wronged and bears no small share of blame for war and defeat. Peace will have to confirm this someday. But greater and more fruitful than blame and defeat is the step taken by two men who accept the revealed judgment of history as the starting point for a new, shared future. Nothing has been published about the outcome of the meeting. Laval, who in 1936 sought a path with the young powers but then had to yield to the Jew Blum, became Foreign Minister. Churchill and the USA, who always have to inscribe the rapacious imperialism on their banner, sense that the continent is now losing even the slightest possibility of a backward revision: the USA requested a clear statement, Laval would not have been embarrassed to formulate it. Churchill forgot all sense of shame and issued an "appeal" to the "friend France": "When friends are in difficulty because they are attacked and separated by opponents, they should be careful not to quarrel with each other!" Churchill forgot centuries of English history toward France, which was good enough for him to be a mercenary, for example, for Canada's sake, for Africa's sake, for the sake of English world domination until Dunkirk, Dakar, and Dakar. How great must England's blind fear be! But Pétain will no longer ask about England, just as the rest of Europe acts without asking about England.

Four weeks of world history overturn centuries of European and English history and even in the midst of the warlike confrontation create the new world, in whose bright dawn there is no doubt and in which everyone is deeply involved in their personal destiny.

In the face of this monumental narrative that the leader with his encounters, whether it be the meeting with the Duce in Florence, undertook – how swiftly the old world is crumbling! How futilely the means are being sought to escape the fate long sealed. Pathetic the rush to the Orient, to avert fate with the methods already condemned to barrenness after their first application in and after the World War: The military initiative remains with the Orientals, the decision also lies with the resolute Egyptians who are not swayed by receptions. How pitiful then also the call for the Lenten sacrifice of the Norwegians. Time, military, secret service had long called for and prepared this sacrifice. Now fate has forestalled even this last attempt at a new Norway. How futile of England, after being disappointed in the Balkans, to lose not only petroleum interests but also every bit of prestige. Nothing illuminates the pathetic plight of the Empire more than the repeated attempts to play the high roller once again. The newly emerging military situation in the Mediterranean will also quickly put an end to England's military game here. And how pathetic England's stance at home itself, after squandering its last chances of salvation with dignity while acknowledging the opponent and the new world laws. It wavers between blood and lamentation. Lord Lothian, the ambassador in Washington, warns against the "strongman game"! Mr. Kennedy, America's ambassador in London, cannot return to America, at least not before the elections, because he knows the truth. Pathetic the scapegoat search: Chamberlain, the weak wise man, had to go. Halifax follows him, who has no chance in Moscow - who would have it from England? - but who is still the conscience of those in England who do not want to completely surrender to the adventurer Churchill, believing that there is still something and someday to save. Men of the Labor Party were also taken into the government, to divert the people's attention from the external and internal catastrophe with promises of social reforms - as in the World War. Only to realize perhaps here and there already that even reforms are just a new business for the rulers. That's why a literate like Priestley already refrains from his radio speeches: one must not really say what is going on. How pathetic, to even speak of a new order in Europe, for the establishment of which one is still welcoming the alliance of the Czech and Jewish army. As if one were still talking about them in Europe. What nonsense! Even a Churchill has become pitiful, rejecting every war goal except "that we at least come out of it alive!" How stupid and pathetic that then one suddenly trusts peace offers to the opponent.

From the revolution that has gripped the world and laid its foundations everywhere, only the downfall of England can emerge. That is the word of the leader. That is today our certainty for a new world of ultimate freedom and justice.