Execution of Erich Muhsfeldt – Nazi Psychopath who burned prisoners alive –


July 22nd, 1944, Soviet soldiers smash through the gates of a concentration camp in Poland and discover something so horrific that even battleh hardened warriors vomit at the site.

Piles of children’s shoes, mountains of human hair, and the smell, burning flesh that would haunt them forever.

But the real nightmare, the man responsible for burning prisoners alive, including children, would soon face the most brutal justice imaginable.

His name was Eric Moosefeld, and what happened to him will make your blood run cold.

Before we expose this monster’s crimes and witness how justice finally caught up with him, I need you to do something critical right now.

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Now, let’s reveal the horrifying truth about Eric Musfeld.

The Red Army soldiers advancing through German occupied Poland in July 1944 expected fierce resistance.

What they encountered instead was something far worse.

Maiden concentration camp standing virtually intact.

Its machinery of death preserved like a museum of human evil.

This liberation marked a watershed moment in human history as the full scope of Nazi extermination camps was exposed to the world with irrefutable evidence.

Soviet commanders summoned international journalists, Allied observers, and military officials to witness firsthand what the Nazis had built.

What they found was beyond comprehension.

Gas chambers designed to look like showers, crematorium ovens still containing human remains, and meticulous Nazi records documenting every murder.

Among the thousands who orchestrated this nightmare stood Eric Moosefeld, a man whose sadistic cruelty exceeded even the horrifying standards of SS Death’s head units.

Born February 18th, 1913 in Norick, Germany, Eric Moosefeld’s early life suggested nothing extraordinary.

He attended elementary school through 8th grade and by age 17 completed an apprenticeship as a baker.

He married, fathered a son, and seemed destined for ordinary obscurity.

But January 30th 1933 shattered any possibility of normaly.

Adolf Hitler seized power as Reich’s chancellor and Germany began its rapid descent into totalitarian madness.

Moosefeld eagerly joined the SA that same year.

By 1937 he transferred to the SS.

By 1939 he became a full Nazi party member.

The Baker from Newbrook had found his true calling in the machinery of genocide.

September the 1st, 1939 brought World War II’s outbreak when German tanks rolled across Poland’s borders.

January 1940 saw his induction into the SS Toten Cup for Benda.

The notorious Death’s Head units identifiable by Skull and Crossbones collar insignia.

These weren’t combat soldiers.

They were specially trained camp administrators whose sole purpose was running concentration camps and facilitating the final solution, the systematic extermination of European Jews.

Theodore Aika Dah’s first commonant established these units in 1934 with explicit instructions.

Treat prisoners as enemies of the state worthy only of destruction.

Guards received training emphasizing strict discipline combined with extreme cruelty.

Moosefelt absorbed these lessons perfectly.

August 1940 found Moosefeld stationed at Ashvitz serving as head of prisoner work commandos and block leader.

Here he learned the bureaucratic machinery of mass murder, how to efficiently move human beings from arrival to death, how to extract maximum labor before disposal.

The camp’s brutal hierarchy rewarded cruelty with promotions.

Moosefeld excelled at inflicting suffering, but Avitz served merely as his training ground.

His true descent into absolute depravity began with his November 1941 transfer to Maiden concentration camp where he assumed command of crerematorium operations.

Winter 1941-192 introduced a horrifying innovation.

Camp authorities began using cyclon B poison gas in makeshift chambers to murder prisoners deemed too weak for labor.

Initially experimental, these gassing operations became systematized by October 1942.

Continuing through late 1943, Maidonic eventually contained at least three gas chambers.

Two were cleverly disguised shower rooms, retrofitted with sealed doors and ventilation systems.

Guards would pack dozens of naked prisoners inside, promising them showers.

Once the doors sealed shut, SS personnel dropped cyclon B pellets through ceiling vents.

Death came within 15, 20 agonizing minutes.

The SS murdered tens of thousands of Jews at Maidonic through multiple methods.

Gassing, shooting, hanging, beating, deliberate starvation, and engineered disease.

Most victims arrived as forced laborers, then died when their bodies gave out from brutal conditions.

Moosefeld played a central role in Operation Harvest Festival.

Late October 1943 brought strange orders.

Jewish prisoners at Maiden, Poniataba, and Troniki camps were commanded to dig long, deep trenches.

Camp authorities claimed these were for air defense.

The prisoners knew better.

November 3rd through 4th, 1943 witnessed the largest single day massacre of Jews by German forces during the entire Holocaust.

Approximately 43,000 Jewish prisoners were systematically murdered over 48 hours.

Guards ordered victims to strip completely naked, then walk into the trenches they dug.

Once crowded inside, SS troops positioned along the edges opened fire with machine guns and rifles.

The killing continued for hours.

Loudspeakers blared music throughout the camps.

Marches, classical pieces, popular songs, all designed to drown the screams and gunshots.

Hinrich Himmler personally ordered this massacre following several Jewish prisoner uprisings.

Moosefeld stood among those pulling triggers that November.

Witnesses reported he seemed energized by the slaughter, enthusiastic about the body count.

Survivor testimonies paint Moosefeld as a twisted sadist who genuinely celebrated high body counts.

Constantly intoxicated, he carried a thick wooden trenchon everywhere, using it to beat prisoners unconscious for infractions, both real and imagined.

One survivor recalled how Moosefeld noticed a prisoner smiling at a wagon driver.

This minor expression of humanity enraged him.

He immediately approached, punched the man’s jaw with such force that teeth shattered, and the victim collapsed.

Then Moosefeld began kicking ribs, spine, skull repeatedly, methodically.

Another incident revealed even darker pathology.

After beating a prisoner with his fists until the man fell unconscious, Moosefelt grabbed a wooden shovel handle.

He forced open the unconscious man’s mouth and rammed the handle down his throat with such violence that it perforated internal tissues.

Then he walked away, leaving the dying prisoner lying there with the handle protruding from his mouth.

The man died slowly over several hours.

As crematorium chief Moosefeld terrorized the entire camp with chilling threats.

He would approach random prisoners and say, “I’m getting you soon.

I’m warning you.

I’m burning you alive.

” These weren’t idol threats.

They were promises he frequently kept.

One haunting account involves a young Polish woman in her late 20s who learned she was scheduled for gassing.

When Moosefeld came for her, she attacked him, scratching his face while screaming, “Why must I die?” His response, “You’ll be burned alive for that.

” He ordered guards to bind her hands and feet with wire, then tie her to the metal trolley used for loading corpses into crematorium ovens.

She was fully conscious, screaming when they pushed the trolley into the flames.

Long cues of condemned prisoners formed outside the crematorium daily, waiting to be hanged on metal hooks.

Moosefeld personally selected victims from among the weakest prisoners on days when natural death rates dropped.

Multiple witnesses testified that Moosefeld took particular pleasure, murdering Jewish children.

Holocaust survivor Yursi Lang provided chilling testimony about one repeated pattern.

Lang witnessed Moosefelt walking toward the crematorium, gripping two small Jewish children in each hand, four children total, none older than 8 years old.

Moosefelt would enter the crematorium building with them.

Moments later, revolver shots echoed out, then silence.

Then Moosefeld would emerge alone, sometimes whistling, sometimes laughing.

To drown out children’s screams during executions, camp personnel would start truck engines parked beside the crematorium.

These were the same trucks used for transporting corpses to forest burning sites.

When Soviet forces liberated Maidonic on July 24th, 1944, they found fewer than 500 Jewish prisoners alive.

Between 80,000 and 120,000 human beings perished at Maidan between October 1941 and July 1944.

May 1944 brought Moosefeld’s transfer back to Avitz Burkanau where he supervised crematorium operations during the liquidation of hundreds of thousands of Hungarian Jews.

Burkanau functioned as the primary Jewish extermination center.

Witnesses reported seeing his work crews beating women to death with metal rods.

Moosefeld’s specialty involved whipping prisoners across their backs with his leather riding crop.

Survivors testified he would smile while watching victims get pushed into crematorium furnaces, sometimes while still alive.

One incident involved Jewish boys from the Warsaw ghetto, ranging from 10 to 14 years old.

After being torn from their parents, they panicked and scattered during roll call.

After guards recaptured them, Moosefeld personally ordered every single child sent immediately to the gas chambers.

Dr.

Miklo Nisli, a Hungarian Jewish prisoner forced to work as camp physician, documented revealing interactions with Moosefeld.

Once after Moosefeld executed 80 prisoners by shooting each in the back of the head, he came complaining of severe headaches.

When Nisley suggested the executions might have caused stress, Moosefeld exploded in rage.

He insisted it made zero difference whether he killed one person or 80 people.

In an extraordinarily rare occurrence, a 16-year-old Jewish girl somehow survived the gas chamber.

When workers discovered her alive among corpses, Nicely examined her and found she would likely survive with medical care.

He pleaded with Moosefeld for permission to save her life.

Request denied.

Moosefeld personally shot her in the back of the neck while she was still barely conscious.

August 1944 sent Moosefeld to combat duty on the Eastern Front.

After sustaining injuries, he received transfer to Flossenberg concentration camp in early April 1945.

Conditions at Flossenberg exceeded other camps brutality.

Nazi authorities deliberately created such horrific conditions that prisoner suicide rates skyrocketed.

Guards regularly conducted arbitrary executions and forced prisoners through extraordinarily long roll calls lasting 6 or 8 hours.

The camp evacuated in midappril 1945 as American forces approached.

During the subsequent death march, witnesses saw Moosefeld personally shooting dozens of prisoners who collapsed from exhaustion.

For these atrocities spanning multiple camps, Nazi Germany awarded Eric Moosefeld the warmer merit cross secondass.

May 1945 brought Germany’s surrender.

Allied forces captured Moosefeld.

A US military court tried him in January 1947 for atrocities at Flossenberg.

Found guilty, he received life imprisonment, but Poland demanded extradition knowing his worst crimes occurred on Polish soil.

The Avitz trial commenced in Kov on November 24th, 1947, lasting one month.

Poland’s Supreme National Tribunal heard testimony from dozens of survivors.

During the war, Moosefeld once told a Polish political prisoner, “If you Poles weren’t such fools, we wouldn’t have to burn you in Crematoria.

” “Now those same Poles sat in judgment.

” December 1947 brought the verdict.

Guilty of crimes against humanity.

Sentence, death by hanging.

January 24th, 1948.

Montalupic prison.

Crocoff.

Eric Moosefeld, age 34, was brought to the execution chamber.

The method chosen was deliberately primitive.

Metal hooks mounted on the wall.

This was the same method he’d used to murder countless prisoners.

Guards placed moose felt on a wooden stool.

They fitted a rope noose around his neck, attached to a wall hook above.

Then they kicked the stool away.

He didn’t drop far enough for his neck to snap cleanly.

Instead, he strangled slowly, gasping and choking, legs kicking at air, taking several agonizing minutes to die.

Polish authorities made one final decision.

His body was delivered to medical students at Jagalonian University as anatomical study material for dissection practice.

According to post-war accounts, Moosefeld’s wife died in an Allied bombing raid and his son was sent to the Russian front where he presumably perished.

The monster left no legacy, nothing but a historical record of atrocity.

There were no tears shed for Eric Moosefeld.

None deserved, none given.

This is Veil History, where we uncover the truths others won’t touch.

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Thank you for watching and I’ll see you in the next episode where we continue revealing history’s darkest truths.

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Security Throws Elderly Black Man Off Plane — One Call Later, $4 Billion Vanishes – YouTube

Transcripts:
You don’t belong up here, old man.

Collect your things and move.

Those were the last words Diane Hartwell ever spoke as a Valor Airways employee.

She didn’t know that yet.

She was too busy feeling powerful to notice she was standing at the edge of a cliff.

An 82year-old man had boarded flight 311 from JFK to London Gatwick that Tuesday morning with a valid first class ticket, a confirmed seat reservation, and a bad hip that needed left side leg room.

He was quiet.

He was unhurried.

He wore a brown corduroy jacket with worn elbows and carried a canvas satchel that looked like it had survived several decades of honest use.

He didn’t look like a threat.

He didn’t look like a billionaire.

He didn’t look like the man who held the financial future of an entire airline in the inside pocket of that corduroy jacket.

And that was exactly why Diane Hartwell decided he didn’t belong.

Security officers grabbed him by the arms.

They marched him down the aisle past every watching passenger.

They pushed him through the terminal door.

He stumbled, his satchel fell, his paper scattered across the carpet of JFK Terminal 5 like confetti at the worst kind of party.

He dusted off his jacket.

He sat down in a plastic chair.

He unwrapped the sandwich he had packed from home and then he made one phone call.

That call lasted 4 minutes and 11 seconds.

Within 18 minutes of hanging up, Valor Airways had lost $4 billion in credit and its stock was in freefall.

Within 6 hours, the plane that had just thrown him out was impounded on a remote tarmac at Heathrow Airport, surrounded by police vehicles.

Within 24 hours, the CEO was escorted from his own office.

The lead flight attendant had been handed her own name tag in a sealed envelope with a single line written across it in red marker.

And the influencer who had laughed and filmed the whole thing was sitting on his suitcase in the London rain calling his mother.

That call cost $4 billion and every cent of it was worth it.

This is the story of the most expensive lesson in the history of American aviation.

And it began with one woman who thought she knew exactly who she was looking at.

Valor Airways Flight 311 departed JFK on a Tuesday morning that felt ordinary in every possible way.

The weather was clear.

A high pressure system had parked itself over the northeast, scrubbing the sky to a clean, unremarkable blue.

The kind of morning that asks nothing of you.

The kind of morning you don’t remember.

The cabin was full.

The crew was prepared.

The gate agent had processed 247 boarding passes without incident.

The coffee in the galley was hot.

Everything was exactly as it should have been.

Nothing about that morning suggested that by the time Flight 311’s wheels touched down at Heathrow, the airline that operated it would be bankrupt.

That its stock would have lost 61% of its value in a single trading session.

That its CEO would be packing a cardboard box in a Dallas office building while security contractors waited at his door.

That fuel suppliers in London would be refusing to pump a single gallon on credit because the credit no longer existed to pump against.

Nothing about that morning suggested any of it, except for one thing.

On the floor of Terminal 5, after the plane pulled back from the gate after the door sealed and the engines began their patient conversation with the runway, there sat a man in a brown corduroy jacket.

His canvas satchel was on the seat beside him.

His reading glasses, held together on the left arm with a rubber band, were pushed up on his forehead.

He was eating a turkey sandwich he had made at home that morning, wrapped in wax paper the way his mother had taught him 70 years ago.

He was not crying.

He was not shouting.

He was not calling a lawyer or flagging down a police officer or making a scene of any kind.

He was thinking.

He was calculating.

And the thing about Augustus Bowmont, the thing that Diane Hartwell could not have known because she had not bothered to look, was that when Augustus Bowmont sat quietly and calculated entire industries felt the result.

He didn’t look like danger.

He
had never needed to.

The number is $4 billion.

Not as an abstraction, not as a figure on a spreadsheet.

Think about what $4 billion looks like when it leaves a company in 18 minutes.

It looks like a stock ticker bleeding red faster than any algorithm can process.

It looks like a CFO in Dallas screaming into a phone that has already been disconnected.

It looks like fuel suppliers in three countries simultaneously deciding that a handshake agreement is not worth the paper it was never written on.

It looks like 140 aircraft sitting at gates across 12 cities going nowhere because the company that put them there can no longer afford to move them.

That is what $4 billion leaving a company looks like.

And the man who initiated all of it was sitting in a plastic chair in Terminal 5, finishing his sandwich, waiting for his 215 British Airways connection.

His name was Augustus Bowmont, and most people had never heard of him.

That was exactly how he preferred it.

Before we get into this, where are you watching from right now? Drop your city in the comments below.

I want to know.

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