A good friend of mine had a wonderful grandfather. He was a young man in Germany in the late 30s. He told me stories that made me physically sick to my stomach. He was a woodcarver by trade and the things that they did to that man were beyond cruel, they were barbaric. His grandson, my friend, could recite each and every horror story as if he had lived it himself. My mother used to get very upset about this telling of the stories to young children until one day my dad took issue with her thinking. My dad was in the 101st Airbourne in WWII, after the Bulge he fought his way across the Rhein and liberated a Nazi death camp named Ubergammargau. It turns out that Abe, my friend's grandfather, was one of the ones he liberated. He then sat me down and told me the story of the liberation of the camp, I was 13 years old at the time, and I'll never forget it. My mother sat and cried as my father gave his account. When it was over my mother said, "Bud, you never told me this before". My dad replied, "Now it's time you know. It could have been us in there, it could have been our families in there. Everyone should know what the Krauts did, and they should shame them for the rest of time"! The old man was serious, he didn't much like Germans. Can you blame him?