The hardest part comes now: to delve deeper into my soul to take out everything I carry inside in regards to World War II and how all that affects me in my current life. I don’t know how far I will get, but at least I try.
The visit to Auschwitz exhibition left me with a weird feeling, yes. My partner and I went to have lunch and he already noticed I was quieter than normal, though it wasn’t because the exhibition had notably impressed me. I heard a very young girl very close to me say to her girl friend that she felt about to cry and she didn’t mind doing it now and then for things like that. I also feel like crying... but my tears are of a different kind. I learned quite a lot in the forum Military Past Lives about Auschwitz concentration camp, reading the accounts of people who remembered to have been there as SS guards in a past life, describing with all detail how they used Zyklon B and how they felt doing it, then and now. That makes you reflect a lot, about reincarnation and about life in general, about the role that fell on you and the people around to play.
It wasn’t until I started putting two and two together and saw the relation between Katrina, Fritz and my current self, that I began to understand why I felt closer to dead Nazis than Jewish Holocaust victims. I had lived the postwar in Germany. I can’t say I witnessed how a country was invaded by the allied forces and how these allies divided it up like the pieces of a cake, as I was too young by then. But in my teenage years I was indeed aware I was living in a divided country in which you couldn’t talk about the past. Upon asking the elders the reasons for this situation, no one wanted to explain it to me. I saw how photographs were destroyed at my school, photographs that showed the old German splendor during the time of Hitler. Back then people felt pride, people had hope, and fought for a better future. I was slapped for giving the Nazi salute, when I didn’t even know what it meant. My maternal grandfather, a Nazi military man with numerous decorations, lived badly in a poor apartment, on a wheelchair, after spending some time in prison after the war. He still felt proud of having served his country, but he had been forgotten, he had even been despised. And I was unable to understand it.
But no, no one talks about that. There is a place in Germany filled with thousands of stone slabs in memory of the Jewish Holocaust victims, and you can’t say anything against it or you will be called an anti-Semite, but monuments (or rather tombs, as few monuments are left) dedicated to great Nazi officers are the target of vandalism acts every other day, as if those Nazi officers, regardless of their ideology, hadn't worked their fingers to the bone and many times even given their life to defend German people. And everyone knows —or believes they know— Auschwitz, but few people know how Berlin was left after its fall, or knows about women raped and murdered by the Soviet Army. They don’t know about the bombings in Dresden in February 1945. And the atomic bombs of Hiroshima and Nagasaki are little more than an anecdote compared to what evil Nazis did. They are not aware that each and every one of the persons that were involved in World War II carries irreparable wounds in their souls, for one reason or another.
Article by Kevin Alfred Strom
One of this century’s greatest crimes, and probably one of the greatest crimes against women in history, was the mass rape of the conquered women of Europe after the Judeo-Communist victory there in 1945. The rapists were mainly Red Army soldiers, some of them non-White troops from the Far East and Central Asian Republics of the Soviet Union. But I am sorry to say that many of the rapists were men of our own race, and some were Americans. They were brutes no doubt, but they were permitted and encouraged to indulge their lower than bestial urges by official “Allied” policies which incited hatred particularly against the Germans, but also against those of other European nationalities which were then allied with Germany in an anti-Communist bloc. One cannot contemplate this great mass orgy of rape, gang rape, and sexual slavery of innocent women and little girls without revulsion. It would be easy for you to toss this newsletter aside and pickup more pleasant or amusing reading. But if you want to know the truth about one of the darkest secrets of our present establishment, a horrible crime against women about which the Politically Correct feminists are strangely silent, then I urge you to read on. [...]
In Berlin stood a charity institution, the Haus Dehlem, an orphanage, maternity hospital, and foundling home. Soviet soldiers entered the home, and repeatedly raped pregnant women and women who had just given birth. This was not an isolated incident. No one will ever know how many women were raped, but doctors’ estimates run as high as 100,000 for the city of Berlin alone, their ages ranging from 10 to 70.
On March 24, 1945, our “noble Soviet allies” entered Danzig. A 50-year-old Danzig teacher reported that her niece, 15, was raped seven times, and her other niece, 22, was raped fifteen times. A Soviet officer told a group of women to seek safety in the Cathedral. Once they were securely locked inside, the beasts of Bolshevism entered, and ringing the bells and playing the organ, “celebrated” a foul orgy through the night, raping all the women, some more than thirty times. A Catholic pastor in Danzig declared, “They violated even eight-year-old girls and shot boys who tried to shield their mothers.”
https://justice4germans.wordpress.com/2012/11/13/a-memorial-for-the-millions-of-german-women-and-girls-who-were-raped-and-pillaged-by-the-wwii-allied-liberators/
"Thousands of innocent German residents were murdered in their homes by the Czechs, others were forced into interment camps where they were beaten and maltreated before being expelled. Bishop Beranek of Prague declared: 'If a Czech comes to me and confesses to having killed a German, I absolve him immediately'."
Shortly after, I guess I gather enough courage to tell the doctor, or perhaps I blurt it out when he says he is concerned about my performance. One day the doctor tells me to go and see him in his office at a given time. When I arrive, I see he is behind his table, the officer that abused me is in front of him, and on the other side of the room there are two soldiers as if they are keeping watch. I stay there paralyzed and scared to death, of course, I suspect the worst. In effect, the officer asks the doctor to leave us alone, what he has to discuss with me is of private nature.
Then I am sitting on a chair in the center of the room, trembling, with the two soldiers at my back or my side, watching me closely. I barely dare to look at the officer. I guess he doesn’t believe I have dared to talk, and he approaches me slowly saying he doesn’t understand how he didn’t make it clear to me what I shouldn’t do. I remember his knife, and his gun... however, as we are not alone, I don’t know to what extent he will dare to do something to me there. That’s why I think I get a bit surprised when suddenly he orders the soldiers, “Grab her”.
They get closer to me, they take me by some point (I suppose the arms). They threaten me, they beat me (I think kidney-high, and I’d say they are careful it’s not in visible areas), they put me against the wall. I think it is here where that scene in which I saw a soldier grabbing me by the arm and pushing me would fit. Finally they force me to lay face-down on the floor, they crush me against it, they immobilize me toughly. I am terrified, of course. The officer says he can’t believe my behavior, knowing what has happened to many of my compatriots. I remember very well, and I feel desires to cry. The officer takes out his gun, squats on my left and aims to my head, I don’t know where exactly, maybe he toys with it a bit. He repeats that if he asks for my services as a nurse, I must respond to his call, the same way I would do were I one of his soldiers. He says I have mistaken who has the authority here, not the doctor, but he. He says he can kill me if he wants, but perhaps it isn’t even worth, it is enough for him to say a word and I will be sent to rot in a work camp, for being a traitor, as happened to many of my compatriots. I think I complain the soldier is hurting me, but he says I will feel more pain if I refuse to please him, because then he will take me by surprise one day, he will rape me and make few of his men to do it as well... Then he commands them to release me. They don’t help me to get up. He lets me go.
(Regressions 1-8-2012 and 11-11-2014).
As Katrina, I fell into a depression so deep that I couldn’t get out of it. But, as every reincarnationist knows, depression doesn’t end with death. While I was processing what I had seen in the Auschwitz exhibition and put my thoughts in order to answer the questions in the thread of Foro Reencarnación, I noticed that I was entering brief past life mood periods now and then. I realized part of those feelings were of sadness. These were related to the depression that started with Katrina and reached my current life. But in addition to that, there was another relevant emotion in that past life mood: anger. I think this anger is part of the mourning process I had started as Katrina after Johann’s death. The problem is that as Fritz I wasn’t aware where it was coming from. These few last days I have been constantly finding myself somewhere between sadness and anger. But, as happened to me during my youth when I didn’t know why I felt depressed, I couldn’t identify the reason for that inner rage. What was really affecting me regarding the Holocaust? Was it only a certain guilty feeling, because in the past I also killed unarmed men, when I was a soldier? Was it resentment because, due to something only a few did, a whole generation of Germans had to pay the consequences? I searched for the answer, meditating. And the answer was, once more: my grandfather.
Part 3.