A poem on him I found. Don't you just hate it when they start out nicely, but after you read more lines, the demonization begins. :(
by Barbara Wind
Onkel, the twins call him.
He brings them toys, lemon drops.
These two feel blessed
So much terror here
But this great man is their protector.
They do not know
They are the next experiment.
Soon they will be
Stitched back to back.
Their cries of pain will be carefully
Charted, no medicine will be
Administered for relief.
The wounds will swell, suppurate.
The patients will be left to lie in pus
But their blood and urine will
Be analyzed. Photographs will be
Taken each step of the way,
The doctor has ordered it for today.
They are bathed, hair neatly combed
The little girl's in two dark braids.
Onkel winks and clicks his Leica
Watch the birdie, children,! Smile!