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.

Two extraordinary events demonstrate something important about Israel’s most fervent adversaries. One was a speech given at something called The People’s Forum (funded generously by Goldman Sachs), which stated, “When the state of Israel is finally destroyed and erased from history, that will be the single most important blow we can give to destroying capitalism and imperialism.”

The suggestion that this tiny state is the linchpin of a global, centuries-old phenomenon like capitalism goes well beyond anything resembling rational criticism. Even if Israel were guilty of genocide, apartheid, and oppression—which of course it is not—it would not follow that its destruction would help end capitalism or imperialism.

The other was an anti-Israel protest that took place in front of New York City’s Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center, deemed “complicit” in Israel’s evils. At organizers’ urging, participants shouted their slogans at kids in the cancer ward, who were watching from the windows. Given Hamas’s indifference toward the lives of Gazan children, such callousness toward non-Palestinian children from Hamas’s Western allies shouldn’t be surprising. The protest—like the abovementioned speech—deliberately conveyed the message that Israel is the ultimate evil and its destruction the ultimate good, cancer patients be damned.

The fact that Israel’s adversaries are almost comically perverse does not mean that they can be dismissed. If its allies fail to understand the obsessive and irrational hatred that it faces, they cannot effectively help it defend itself.