Born in the town of Hildesheim in 1922, Guy (né Günther) Stern had a fairly typical middle-class German Jewish upbringing. His family was lucky enough to relocate to St. Louis after the Nazis seized power, and Stern eventually joined the U.S. Army, which put him and other refugees to work interrogating Germans. He recounts his experiences in an interview with Jeffrey Gedmin and Sean Keeley:

[U]ntil the Nazis came to power, [my family and I] were under the impression that [Hildesheim] was an . . . ecumenical living environment. . . . I felt in those first years, [even in] 1932 or 1933, absolutely no antagonism. . . . And then either that illusion was crushed, or people became unable or unwilling to continue contact with their Jewish neighbors, . . . when the Nazis came to power at the end of January 1933. . . . [E]ven close friends who were non-Jews made a sort of retreat from us. The parents of my fellow students in Hildesheim sometimes . . . told their children that it would be dangerous or would hurt their careers if they continued to be good friends to us. . . .

[After coming to the U.S. and joining the army], I had my basic training in Camp Barkley, Texas. Then I was suddenly transferred to Camp Ritchie, Maryland—hence the “Ritchie Boys” nickname [given to the unit]. There we had intensive training for about nine weeks in all aspects of intelligence work. [Then] many of my fellow Ritchie Boys and I were shipped to England, where we awaited the invasion [of France]. I was assigned to be one of the early arrivals at Normandy three days after D-Day. Ten minutes after our arrival, I had my first prisoner. At that time, staying close to the shore, we were asked to provide tactical information. Where were artillery units stationed? What were their guns? What was the immediate plan of the enemy? . . .

I was absolutely devoted to my duties in the Army, with whatever strength I could supply. So there was no real conflict in fulfilling my duties as an American. I was absolutely convinced of the superiority of the American democratic system, and I still hold to that.

Stern, now ninety-seven, had a long career as a professor of German literature after the war.

While it is commendable that administrators of several universities finally called upon police to crack down on violent and disruptive anti-Israel protests, the actions they have taken may be insufficient. At Columbia, demonstrators reestablished their encampment on the main quad after it had been cleared by the police, and the university seems reluctant to use force again. The school also decided to hold classes remotely until the end of the semester. Such moves, whatever their merits, do nothing to fix the factors that allowed campuses to become hotbeds of pro-Hamas activism in the first place. The editors of National Review examine how things go to this point:

Since the 10/7 massacre, Columbia’s Jewish students have been forced to endure routine calls for their execution. It shouldn’t have taken the slaughter, rape, and brutalization of Israeli Jews to expose chants like “Globalize the intifada” and “Death to the Zionist state” as calls for violence, but the university refused to intervene on behalf of its besieged students. When an Israeli student was beaten with a stick outside Columbia’s library, it occasioned little soul-searching from faculty. Indeed, it served only as the impetus to establish an “Anti-Semitism Task Force,” which subsequently expressed “serious concerns” about the university’s commitment to enforcing its codes of conduct against anti-Semitic violators.

But little was done. Indeed, as late as last month the school served as host to speakers who praised the 10/7 attacks and even “hijacking airplanes” as “important tactics that the Palestinian resistance have engaged in.”

The school’s lackadaisical approach created a permission structure to menace and harass Jewish students, and that’s what happened. . . . Now is the time finally to do something about this kind of harassment and associated acts of trespass and disorder. Yale did the right thing when police cleared out an encampment [on Monday]. But Columbia remains a daily reminder of what happens when freaks and haters are allowed to impose their will on campus.