Holocaust survivor promised to kill his tormentor - what happened when they came face to face?

Martin Greenfield was only fifteen years old when he and his family were sent to Auschwitz and later Buchenwald. He endured brutal and horrific conditions, coming face with some of the worst Nazis of all time including Dr. Mengele. The Nazis beat him, starved him, and tortured him. To survive, he nearly lost his humanity.

At one point, while working for the local mayor, Greenfield stole the rotten food being fed to to the rabbits. When the mayor's wife found out, she had him beaten. He swore revenge, but something changed when they next came face to face. He shared the story with Glenn on his TV show Monday night.

"I worked in ammunition factory in Buchenwald, and then they took 15 people [to the mayor's house]. I was strong enough, so I was one of them, because the mayor’s house was bombed, that we should clean it up. So I went to work hard," he said.

Among the wreckage of the house, Greenfield came across live rabbits in cages that had survived the bombing.

"Carrying to the lady there with a baby, the mayor’s wife, I guess she was, to see, this is your white rabbit with the cage. A piece of crumb fell. We didn’t eat nothing. I survived maybe because I grew up on a farm. I knew what I could eat when I found grass or something that is edible. And I took the piece of thing to bite from the floor."

"She’s a Nazi. She tells the Gestapo I ate up the food from the rabbits instead of saying thank you for the rabbits," he said. Greenfield was subsequently beaten by the Gestapo.

Greenfield swore that he would kill the woman after what she did to him.

After the liberation, Greenfield and some other boys got a gun and went after her. But something happened when he saw her standing with her baby.

"When I came with a machine gun with my friend, and when I saw the kid and I saw her, all of a sudden that was when I became human again," Greenfield said.

"That was the day after the liberation where I became the kid that was brought up by my parents to believe in God, never to kill anybody, only to teach them and show them passion that was taught to me by God that I should never kill anybody. I never used a gun in my life."

"That day I was human again because of that woman."

Correction: This story originally referred to Martin Greenfield as Martin Green. It has been corrected. 

Read the transcript of the full interview below:

Glenn: Now, I want to introduce you to a man who chose hope in a completely hopeless situation and won. We were just sitting here in the break, and he was talking about how he is a servant at heart. He just wants to serve and make things better. His name is Martin Greenfield. He was 15 years old when his family was sent to Auschwitz, and he has a brand-new book out called The Measure of a Man. What a pleasure to meet you.

Martin: The pleasure is mine.

Glenn: Just a pleasure. The audience is going to be so excited to hear the rest of the story on your life, but let’s start at the beginning. You’re 15 years old. You met Mengele. You saw Mengele, and your family was separated. Can you tell me just a little bit?

Martin: I could tell you exactly what happened. When we arrived in Auschwitz from the ghetto at night on Saturday night locked in the cable car, you know, that we were with no bathrooms, nothing until we got there, the whole family together holding hands. My younger brother was four years old, and they sent me to put up as before I got there, so he held his older brother’s hand all night.

We got out, and I came in front of the man, and I looked at his boots, and I saw my picture, because you always as a kid look at the boots. Then I look up at the man, and the man moves me to the right. And then my mother and my brother she’s holding, he wants my mother to go to the right. My mother wouldn’t put down my brother. I let go of my brother’s hand. My mother took him to carry. My father to the right and everybody to the left, and I didn’t know nothing about Mengele or about ghettos. I was just barely 15 years old, not even 15, because it was March. August is when I would’ve been 15.

And I was a boy. I didn’t know about Gestapo or Mengele or the concentration camp, nothing. That was my feeling that minute. And then I was pushed to the right, and then my younger sister, she was blonde with blue eyes, and all of a sudden he put her to the right too. So three of us went to the right, and everybody, my grandfather, my grandmother, everybody on the left. I was on the right. Then we go to the right, and they take us to dress naked. And the guy comes over to shave my father and everybody when I was a kid.

And then they took us someplace, and they put the tattoos on my hand that I brought to show you anyway because I never let go of them. My number was 84406, no more name. My father was 84405, and my sister and they were so…but then I found out what Mengele did with the young blonde kids, that they practiced on them.

Glenn: So you go, you are in a horrific situation. Later…I hate to do this to your entire life. Please read this book, but let me just condense it down. There’s two things that I want to hit. One, you were at one point eating rotten food out of a rabbit cage, and the concentration or the mayor, his wife, caught you eating the food, correct?

Martin: Oh, you mean that was later the next in Buchenwald?

Glenn: Yes.

Martin: That was the worst thing that happened to me.

Glenn: And so you’re eating this, and she comes out.

Martin: Can you imagine? I work in ammunition factory in Buchenwald, and then they took 15 people. You know, I was strong enough, so I was one of them, because the mayor’s house was bombed, that we should clean it up. So I went to work hard. Me, they put in the basement to clean up the basement. It was bombed. The Americans bombed it because Roosevelt, whatever, because he made that deal with Stalin.

Glenn: Right. Right.

Martin: So I was there, and I cleaned up, and I find live rabbits. Can you imagine a boy saving, find something, like all of us know, saving any kind of life? Carrying to the lady there with a baby, the mayor’s wife, I guess she was, to see, this is your white rabbit with the cage. A piece of crumb fell. You know, we didn’t eat nothing. I survived maybe because I grew up on a farm. I knew which I could eat when I found grass or something that is edible. And I took the piece of thing to bite from the floor. She’s a Nazi. She tells the Gestapo I ate up the food from the rabbits instead of saying thank you for the rabbits. Can you imagine this, a woman, instead of saying you got my rabbits, so he should beat the crap out of me?

Glenn: Now here’s the turning point. There’s so much to this story that I really want you to please read this.

Martin: I’m going to tell you this whole story exactly what happened to me.

Glenn: We have to take a quick break, and I want you to tell me, because his life is truly amazing, and I want you to tell me the story, because you passed on an opportunity to hurt back, and then you’ve taken your life, and you have been with how many presidents now?

Martin: So you see this is what upset me a little bit.

Glenn: Hang on. Wait, don’t go into it yet. Just how many presidents have you been with?

Martin: I started Eisenhower liberated.

Glenn: Eisenhower.

Martin: Eisenhower liberated me in concentration camp. He came with his other general, and they saw the piles of bodies that they couldn’t burn. The Jews were on the bottom, and I was the only guy because the Czechs, they didn’t march me to death because of my Czech friends. They said you are a Czech. You’re not a Jew. Stay with us. So I was the only Jew the rabbi found. He was looking for a Jew. He said, “I’m a rabbi. Are you Jewish? I’m looking for a Jew.” I said I’m a Jew. I’m a Jew. Come over here, talk to me. So he came over and talked to me.

I said you’re not a rabbi. You’re Jewish. You’re a soldier. He says no, I’m a soldier rabbi. So I’m asking you one question. Can you do me a favor, not for me, for my 4-year-old brother that I know now that he was burned? Where was God? Not for me, because I might have sinned. Maybe I deserved to be here, but my four-year-old boy had no sins whatsoever. He didn’t live long enough. He could have been a rabbi like you. Why didn’t God help him?

He says I can’t answer you because I’m not prepared to answer your questions, so I started crying. I started crying because I said to him who am I going to ask? You’re the rabbi. You’ve got to help me, thinking because I believe in God, save me. So I’m not asking for myself. My brother could have been a rabbi like you. You don’t know what he would have become. God didn’t know yet because he didn’t sin yet. All of us maybe have a little sin. Whatever happened, God is a busy man. I understand that.

[break]

Glenn: We are having the greatest conversation. We’re going to have to continue this online because we have three and a half minutes, and you have to know what this man has done since, because he dresses the presidents. He dresses stars. He has made the suits for…I mean, this guy has gone on to do amazing things, but the best thing, let’s go back to the lady that when she had you beaten for stealing the food.

Martin: I am telling you that that lady that hurt me that I was going to shoot, I was going to kill, I was going to do everything—

Glenn: You threatened her.

Martin: But when I came with a machine gun with my friend, whatever, and when I saw the kid and I saw her, all of a sudden that was when I became human again. That was the day after the liberation where I became the kid that was brought up by my parents to believe in God, never to kill anybody, only to teach them and show them passion that was taught to me by God that I should never kill anybody. I never used a gun in my life.

I want to just deal with people and instill in them something that was taught to me to be a person that respects somebody else, not kill them, teach them how to become a person, believe in God like I do. And that day I was human again because of that woman.

Glenn: You went to her house. She was holding her baby.

Martin: I went to her, and I didn’t kill her. And I went a second time. The only thing I wanted to take her husband’s car, and I took the car. Who’s going to drive? I do everything. I found the car, and I drive it to the camp. It doesn’t matter. It’s just that I thank God that my parents brought me up the right way, and from then on, I educated myself, and I worked hard.

America, when I got that green card, I became an American like you and later a citizen. When I got my citizen papers, the guy questioned me with stupid questions, and I said can I ask you a few questions? He didn’t know about the Constitution. He didn’t know everything what I knew. I read every book about America. I says you’re supposed to work for me. I pay you. You should know more than me. I should have your job. You should have mine.

But this is what I became. This country, I thank the soldiers. I saw there that you read the letters, what I wrote in the post. I thank the soldiers. I wrote those letters. I wrote this letter about a woman. I wish other people would read the same thing and behave what I had the experience to go through.

Glenn: What happened to her? She died.

Martin: So thank you for having me.

Glenn: Oh my gosh, thank you. It is such an honor. It is really truly an honor.

Martin: The honor is mine.

Glenn: I want you to read this book, The Measure of a Man. You have to know this man’s story. We’ve only touched the surface. Thank you. God bless you.

EXPOSED: Why Eisenhower warned us about endless wars

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Donald Trump emphasizes peace through strength, reminding the world that the United States is willing to fight to win. That’s beyond ‘defense.’

President Donald Trump made headlines this week by signaling a rebrand of the Defense Department — restoring its original name, the Department of War.

At first, I was skeptical. “Defense” suggests restraint, a principle I consider vital to U.S. foreign policy. “War” suggests aggression. But for the first 158 years of the republic, that was the honest name: the Department of War.

A Department of War recognizes the truth: The military exists to fight and, if necessary, to win decisively.

The founders never intended a permanent standing army. When conflict came — the Revolution, the War of 1812, the trenches of France, the beaches of Normandy — the nation called men to arms, fought, and then sent them home. Each campaign was temporary, targeted, and necessary.

From ‘war’ to ‘military-industrial complex’

Everything changed in 1947. President Harry Truman — facing the new reality of nuclear weapons, global tension, and two world wars within 20 years — established a full-time military and rebranded the Department of War as the Department of Defense. Americans resisted; we had never wanted a permanent army. But Truman convinced the country it was necessary.

Was the name change an early form of political correctness? A way to soften America’s image as a global aggressor? Or was it simply practical? Regardless, the move created a permanent, professional military. But it also set the stage for something Truman’s successor, President Dwight “Ike” Eisenhower, famously warned about: the military-industrial complex.

Ike, the five-star general who commanded Allied forces in World War II and stormed Normandy, delivered a harrowing warning during his farewell address: The military-industrial complex would grow powerful. Left unchecked, it could influence policy and push the nation toward unnecessary wars.

And that’s exactly what happened. The Department of Defense, with its full-time and permanent army, began spending like there was no tomorrow. Weapons were developed, deployed, and sometimes used simply to justify their existence.

Peace through strength

When Donald Trump said this week, “I don’t want to be defense only. We want defense, but we want offense too,” some people freaked out. They called him a warmonger. He isn’t. Trump is channeling a principle older than him: peace through strength. Ronald Reagan preached it; Trump is taking it a step further.

Just this week, Trump also suggested limiting nuclear missiles — hardly the considerations of a warmonger — echoing Reagan, who wanted to remove missiles from silos while keeping them deployable on planes.

The seemingly contradictory move of Trump calling for a Department of War sends a clear message: He wants Americans to recognize that our military exists not just for defense, but to project power when necessary.

Trump has pointed to something critically important: The best way to prevent war is to have a leader who knows exactly who he is and what he will do. Trump signals strength, deterrence, and resolve. You want to negotiate? Great. You don’t? Then we’ll finish the fight decisively.

That’s why the world listens to us. That’s why nations come to the table — not because Trump is reckless, but because he means what he says and says what he means. Peace under weakness invites aggression. Peace under strength commands respect.

Trump is the most anti-war president we’ve had since Jimmy Carter. But unlike Carter, Trump isn’t weak. Carter’s indecision emboldened enemies and made the world less safe. Trump’s strength makes the country stronger. He believes in peace as much as any president. But he knows peace requires readiness for war.

Names matter

When we think of “defense,” we imagine cybersecurity, spy programs, and missile shields. But when we think of “war,” we recall its harsh reality: death, destruction, and national survival. Trump is reminding us what the Department of Defense is really for: war. Not nation-building, not diplomacy disguised as military action, not endless training missions. War — full stop.

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Names matter. Words matter. They shape identity and character. A Department of Defense implies passivity, a posture of reaction. A Department of War recognizes the truth: The military exists to fight and, if necessary, to win decisively.

So yes, I’ve changed my mind. I’m for the rebranding to the Department of War. It shows strength to the world. It reminds Americans, internally and externally, of the reality we face. The Department of Defense can no longer be a euphemism. Our military exists for war — not without deterrence, but not without strength either. And we need to stop deluding ourselves.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

Unveiling the Deep State: From surveillance to censorship

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From surveillance abuse to censorship, the deep state used state power and private institutions to suppress dissent and influence two US elections.

The term “deep state” has long been dismissed as the province of cranks and conspiracists. But the recent declassification of two critical documents — the Durham annex, released by Sen. Chuck Grassley (R-Iowa), and a report publicized by Director of National Intelligence Tulsi Gabbard — has rendered further denial untenable.

These documents lay bare the structure and function of a bureaucratic, semi-autonomous network of agencies, contractors, nonprofits, and media entities that together constitute a parallel government operating alongside — and at times in opposition to — the duly elected one.

The ‘deep state’ is a self-reinforcing institutional machine — a decentralized, global bureaucracy whose members share ideological alignment.

The disclosures do not merely recount past abuses; they offer a schematic of how modern influence operations are conceived, coordinated, and deployed across domestic and international domains.

What they reveal is not a rogue element operating in secret, but a systematized apparatus capable of shaping elections, suppressing dissent, and laundering narratives through a transnational network of intelligence, academia, media, and philanthropic institutions.

Narrative engineering from the top

According to Gabbard’s report, a pivotal moment occurred on December 9, 2016, when the Obama White House convened its national security leadership in the Situation Room. Attendees included CIA Director John Brennan, Director of National Intelligence James Clapper, National Security Agency Director Michael Rogers, FBI Deputy Director Andrew McCabe, Attorney General Loretta Lynch, Secretary of State John Kerry, and others.

During this meeting, the consensus view up to that point — that Russia had not manipulated the election outcome — was subordinated to new instructions.

The record states plainly: The intelligence community was directed to prepare an assessment “per the President’s request” that would frame Russia as the aggressor and then-presidential candidate Donald Trump as its preferred candidate. Notably absent was any claim that new intelligence had emerged. The motivation was political, not evidentiary.

This maneuver became the foundation for the now-discredited 2017 intelligence community assessment on Russian election interference. From that point on, U.S. intelligence agencies became not neutral evaluators of fact but active participants in constructing a public narrative designed to delegitimize the incoming administration.

Institutional and media coordination

The ODNI report and the Durham annex jointly describe a feedback loop in which intelligence is laundered through think tanks and nongovernmental organizations, then cited by media outlets as “independent verification.” At the center of this loop are agencies like the CIA, FBI, and ODNI; law firms such as Perkins Coie; and NGOs such as the Open Society Foundations.

According to the Durham annex, think tanks including the Atlantic Council, the Carnegie Endowment, and the Center for a New American Security were allegedly informed of Clinton’s 2016 plan to link Trump to Russia. These institutions, operating under the veneer of academic independence, helped diffuse the narrative into public discourse.

Media coordination was not incidental. On the very day of the aforementioned White House meeting, the Washington Post published a front-page article headlined “Obama Orders Review of Russian Hacking During Presidential Campaign” — a story that mirrored the internal shift in official narrative. The article marked the beginning of a coordinated media campaign that would amplify the Trump-Russia collusion narrative throughout the transition period.

Surveillance and suppression

Surveillance, once limited to foreign intelligence operations, was turned inward through the abuse of FISA warrants. The Steele dossier — funded by the Clinton campaign via Perkins Coie and Fusion GPS — served as the basis for wiretaps on Trump affiliates, despite being unverified and partially discredited. The FBI even altered emails to facilitate the warrants.

ROBYN BECK / Contributor | Getty Images

This capacity for internal subversion reappeared in 2020, when 51 former intelligence officials signed a letter labeling the Hunter Biden laptop story as “Russian disinformation.” According to polling, 79% of Americans believed truthful coverage of the laptop could have altered the election. The suppression of that story — now confirmed as authentic — was election interference, pure and simple.

A machine, not a ‘conspiracy theory’

The deep state is a self-reinforcing institutional machine — a decentralized, global bureaucracy whose members share ideological alignment and strategic goals.

Each node — law firms, think tanks, newsrooms, federal agencies — operates with plausible deniability. But taken together, they form a matrix of influence capable of undermining electoral legitimacy and redirecting national policy without democratic input.

The ODNI report and the Durham annex mark the first crack in the firewall shielding this machine. They expose more than a political scandal buried in the past. They lay bare a living system of elite coordination — one that demands exposure, confrontation, and ultimately dismantling.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

Trump's proposal explained: Ukraine's path to peace without NATO expansion

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Strategic compromise, not absolute victory, often ensures lasting stability.

When has any country been asked to give up land it won in a war? Even if a nation is at fault, the punishment must be measured.

After World War I, Germany, the main aggressor, faced harsh penalties under the Treaty of Versailles. Germans resented the restrictions, and that resentment fueled the rise of Adolf Hitler, ultimately leading to World War II. History teaches that justice for transgressions must avoid creating conditions for future conflict.

Ukraine and Russia must choose to either continue the cycle of bloodshed or make difficult compromises in pursuit of survival and stability.

Russia and Ukraine now stand at a similar crossroads. They can cling to disputed land and prolong a devastating war, or they can make concessions that might secure a lasting peace. The stakes could not be higher: Tens of thousands die each month, and the choice between endless bloodshed and negotiated stability hinges on each side’s willingness to yield.

History offers a guide. In 1967, Israel faced annihilation. Surrounded by hostile armies, the nation fought back and seized large swaths of territory from Jordan, Egypt, and Syria. Yet Israel did not seek an empire. It held only the buffer zones needed for survival and returned most of the land. Security and peace, not conquest, drove its decisions.

Peace requires concessions

Secretary of State Marco Rubio says both Russia and Ukraine will need to “get something” from a peace deal. He’s right. Israel proved that survival outweighs pride. By giving up land in exchange for recognition and an end to hostilities, it stopped the cycle of war. Egypt and Israel have not fought in more than 50 years.

Russia and Ukraine now press opposing security demands. Moscow wants a buffer to block NATO. Kyiv, scarred by invasion, seeks NATO membership — a pledge that any attack would trigger collective defense by the United States and Europe.

President Donald Trump and his allies have floated a middle path: an Article 5-style guarantee without full NATO membership. Article 5, the core of NATO’s charter, declares that an attack on one is an attack on all. For Ukraine, such a pledge would act as a powerful deterrent. For Russia, it might be more palatable than NATO expansion to its border

Andrew Harnik / Staff | Getty Images

Peace requires concessions. The human cost is staggering: U.S. estimates indicate 20,000 Russian soldiers died in a single month — nearly half the total U.S. casualties in Vietnam — and the toll on Ukrainians is also severe. To stop this bloodshed, both sides need to recognize reality on the ground, make difficult choices, and anchor negotiations in security and peace rather than pride.

Peace or bloodshed?

Both Russia and Ukraine claim deep historical grievances. Ukraine arguably has a stronger claim of injustice. But the question is not whose parchment is older or whose deed is more valid. The question is whether either side is willing to trade some land for the lives of thousands of innocent people. True security, not historical vindication, must guide the path forward.

History shows that punitive measures or rigid insistence on territorial claims can perpetuate cycles of war. Germany’s punishment after World War I contributed directly to World War II. By contrast, Israel’s willingness to cede land for security and recognition created enduring peace. Ukraine and Russia now face the same choice: Continue the cycle of bloodshed or make difficult compromises in pursuit of survival and stability.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

The loneliness epidemic: Are machines replacing human connection?

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Seniors, children, and the isolated increasingly rely on machines for conversation, risking real relationships and the emotional depth that only humans provide.

Jill Smola is 75 years old. She’s a retiree from Orlando, Florida, and she spent her life caring for the elderly. She played games, assembled puzzles, and offered company to those who otherwise would have sat alone.

Now, she sits alone herself. Her husband has died. She has a lung condition. She can’t drive. She can’t leave her home. Weeks can pass without human interaction.

Loneliness is an epidemic. And AI will not fix it. It will only dull the edges and make a diminished life tolerable.

But CBS News reports that she has a new companion. And she likes this companion more than her own daughter.

The companion? Artificial intelligence.

She spends five hours a day talking to her AI friend. They play games, do trivia, and just talk. She says she even prefers it to real people.

My first thought was simple: Stop this. We are losing our humanity.

But as I sat with the story, I realized something uncomfortable. Maybe we’ve already lost some of our humanity — not to AI, but to ourselves.

Outsourcing presence

How often do we know the right thing to do yet fail to act? We know we should visit the lonely. We know we should sit with someone in pain. We know what Jesus would do: Notice the forgotten, touch the untouchable, offer time and attention without outsourcing compassion.

Yet how often do we just … talk about it? On the radio, online, in lectures, in posts. We pontificate, and then we retreat.

I asked myself: What am I actually doing to close the distance between knowing and doing?

Human connection is messy. It’s inconvenient. It takes patience, humility, and endurance. AI doesn’t challenge you. It doesn’t interrupt your day. It doesn’t ask anything of you. Real people do. Real people make us confront our pride, our discomfort, our loneliness.

We’ve built an economy of convenience. We can have groceries delivered, movies streamed, answers instantly. But friendships — real relationships — are slow, inefficient, unpredictable. They happen in the blank spaces of life that we’ve been trained to ignore.

And now we’re replacing that inefficiency with machines.

AI provides comfort without challenge. It eliminates the risk of real intimacy. It’s an elegant coping mechanism for loneliness, but a poor substitute for life. If we’re not careful, the lonely won’t just be alone — they’ll be alone with an anesthetic, a shadow that never asks for anything, never interrupts, never makes them grow.

Reclaiming our humanity

We need to reclaim our humanity. Presence matters. Not theory. Not outrage. Action.

It starts small. Pull up a chair for someone who eats alone. Call a neighbor you haven’t spoken to in months. Visit a nursing home once a month — then once a week. Ask their names, hear their stories. Teach your children how to be present, to sit with someone in grief, without rushing to fix it.

Turn phones off at dinner. Make Sunday afternoons human time. Listen. Ask questions. Don’t post about it afterward. Make the act itself sacred.

Humility is central. We prefer machines because we can control them. Real people are inconvenient. They interrupt our narratives. They demand patience, forgiveness, and endurance. They make us confront ourselves.

A friend will challenge your self-image. A chatbot won’t.

Our homes are quieter. Our streets are emptier. Loneliness is an epidemic. And AI will not fix it. It will only dull the edges and make a diminished life tolerable.

Before we worry about how AI will reshape humanity, we must first practice humanity. It can start with 15 minutes a day of undivided attention, presence, and listening.

Change usually comes when pain finally wins. Let’s not wait for that. Let’s start now. Because real connection restores faster than any machine ever will.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.