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The World Of The Nazi Philosophy

Decent Essays

It was the spring of 1943 in Germany, and inside Hans Albrecht’s pub, the cruel officers of the Gestapo drank and talked with each-other. “You boys seem quite happy. What’s up?” I asked. “Well brother, we are rich! Rich with power!” Karl Albrecht bellowed. Herbert Kappler raised his glass and yelled out, “To the Führer!” They raised their glasses and clinked them together, their grey uniforms shining in the moonlight that seeped through the window. “The Final Solution is almost completed,” Karl grinned. “There is still much work to be done, but we have made very good progress,” Herbert replied. Ashamed, I turned away, knowing exactly what “The Final Solution” was. I never truly believed in the Nazi philosophy, in fact, I despised it. Of course I could never mention this, for uttering any words in outcry against the Nazis was a crime punishable by torture and often death. I couldn’t believe that his own brother Karl was in the Gestapo. The men of the Gestapo were some of the most foul scum that walked the earth at that time. Evil, hate-filled, murderers who roamed the streets beating and dragging innocent people from their homes. Despite all of this, I have to say I did a fine job of hiding my true feelings. Herbert Kappler, Karl’s fellow Gestapo officer, was the only one who seemed to ever think something was amiss with my loyalty to the Nazis. “We’ve received a tip about a family of Jews hiding in an attic, the Feiners was the name if I recall correctly,”

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