OpEd by Mike Robinson

The Nazi Barracks That Became My Post

In the mid-1980s, I was an Army officer stationed at Pinder Barracks, a former Nazi military base in Nuremberg, West Germany.

Built in 1938 the year my father was born, on orders from Hermann Göring, it had housed Luftwaffe anti-aircraft units before falling into U.S. hands in 1945. By the time I arrived in 1984, it was home to the 6th Battalion, 14th Field Artillery (155mm Nuclear), part of 1st Armored Division (“Old Ironsides”). My time there spanned three key roles: Fire Support Officer for 1st Battalion, 37th Armor; Battery Executive Officer in C Battery; and Battalion Maintenance Officer for our tactical nuclear artillery.

Each morning, I walked through archways built under the Third Reich, past parade grounds where Nazi troops had once drilled. One of the barracks still bore a swastika pattern in its brickwork—a relic of its dark origins. It was an eerie reminder that history is never as distant as we like to think.

At Pinder, I trained for Cold War battle scenarios—exercises designed to blunt a Soviet invasion. Yet even then, I couldn’t shake the irony: the Germans had worked relentlessly to denazify their society, while in America, we still tolerated symbols of a different kind of authoritarianism—Confederate flags, racist movements, and apologists for lost causes.

Now, nearly 40 years later, I find myself engaged in a different kind of war—this time against extremism not in Germany or Ukraine, but right here in Ohio and my home city of Cincinnati.

A Personal History of War, Tyranny, and ResistanceHistory has a way of looping back on itself. My grandfather, Clyde Stevens, was a B-24 pilot in World War II, flying missions south of Nuremberg to bomb Nazi targets. Four decades later, I stood on the same ground as a U.S. Army officer.

Even closer to home, my father-in-law fought in the last desperate months of Hitler’s doomed Reich, conscripted as an infantryman in the German Army. My landlord in Nuremberg had been a German soldier too—both were not ideologues but young men forced into a war they did not choose. I have even met former SS men who, late in life, admitted the folly of their youth. Many were simply survivors of an era where choice was an illusion.

But in contrast to my wife’s German family, my own American ancestors never had a choice at all. My family were slaves in Lisbon, Arkansas, toiling under a system that treated them as property. Others in my lineage fled Mexico during the Revolution of 1910–1920, escaping warlords and civil war. The same brutal forces that oppressed my ancestors—racist ideologies, militant nationalism, and white supremacy—are now reappearing under different flags, different slogans, but the same fundamental hatred.

We stood opposite to Soviet artillery and tanks in Europe. I have been to Ukraine to help Ukrainians resist Russian imperialism. And now, I find myself facing a threat right here in Ohio: the rise of neo-Nazis, white supremacists, and extremists in my own community.

Lessons from Ukraine: Fighting Extremism with Nonviolent ResistanceSince Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022, I have worked as volunteer Director of Radio Free Ukraine, a nonprofit supporting Ukrainian noncombatants and Territorial Defense Forces. Over the past two years, I’ve met hundreds of Ukrainian warfighters, aid workers, and ordinary Ukrainians resisting tyranny. Their battle against Putin’s revanchist empire has shown me what true resilience looks like.

The methods Ukrainians have used including —198 forms of nonviolent resistance—have proven powerful. From cyber disruption to community defense, these tactics have frustrated Russian occupation attempts. And just as Ukraine has developed irregular Minuteman-style defenders, I believe we in the U.S. must adapt these resistance techniques to fight white supremacist extremism at home.

It is not enough to simply oppose hate—we must actively counter it.

Here’s how:

• Public Exposure & Counter-Messaging: Extremists thrive in the shadows. We must track, document, and expose local hate groups operating under the radar.

• Economic Disruption: Just as Ukraine has undermined Russian logistics, we must cut off funding sources for extremists, targeting their supply chains, businesses, and backers.

• Community Defense Networks: Like the Territorial Defense Forces in Ukraine, local communities need to form irregular resistance groups—not paramilitaries, but civilians prepared to defend their neighborhoods against hate-driven violence.

• Strategic Protests & Civil Resistance: Ukrainians have used organized protests to disrupt Russian efforts. We can do the same against Confederate sympathizers, white nationalists, and extremist politicians enabling their resurgence.

• Political & Legal Countermeasures: Just as Ukraine fights Russian propaganda, we must push for stronger laws against hate groups and counter the normalization of extremist rhetoric.

These methods worked in Ukraine against Russian imperialism. There’s no reason they can’t work against neo-Nazi movements and white supremacists in America.

Germany’s Example vs. America’s Failure to Confront Hate

Germany made a deliberate choice after World War II: it outlawed Nazi symbols, criminalized Holocaust denial, and purged fascist ideology from public life. In America, we failed to do the same with the Confederacy—and now, we’re paying the price.

In Germany, you will never see Nazi flags on public buildings. In the U.S., Confederate battle flags still fly over state capitals.In Germany, open Nazi sympathizers are prosecuted. In the U.S., they run for office.

This failure has enabled the resurgence of American neo-fascism, from Charlottesville in 2017 to January 6, 2021, when Confederate and Nazi flags desecrated the halls of our Capitol. It is no coincidence that today’s far-right leaders, from Elon Musk to MAGA ideologues, play footsie with white nationalists. They are emboldened because we never properly buried our own hateful past.

Now, the fight has come to my doorstep. Ohio has become a hub for white supremacist organizing. Cincinnati, my home, is not immune. I see the same ideology we fought in World War II, the same twisted nationalism Ukraine fights today, re-emerging in my own community.But I did not spend my life fighting tyrants abroad just to surrender to them at home.

The Fight Continues

At Pinder Barracks, I walked through archways built by Nazis and trained under a roof where swastikas once adorned the walls. That swastika, faded but present, was a constant reminder that hate never truly dies—it waits in the shadows until society lets its guard down.

Today, America is at risk of letting its guard down. I will not.

Just as Ukraine fights for its freedom against Russian imperialism, we must fight for our democracy against white supremacy, neo-Nazism, and authoritarian forces here at home. Whether through counter-messaging, economic disruption, community defense, or direct resistance, I intend to use every tool I’ve learned—from my time in Germany to my work in Ukraine—to push back.

The Confederacy was defeated in 1865. Nazi Germany fell in 1945.

We must ensure their ideologies never rise again.

For my ancestors, for my community, and for the country I swore an oath to defend, I will fight this battle just as fiercely as I fought against America’s enemies overseas.The time for passivity is over. Resistance begins now.