ktlight
14th August 2011, 09:29
FYI:
Until just a few weeks ago, an old man’s bones lay buried in a family grave in an impeccably kept cemetery in a Bavarian town called Wunsiedel. His name was Rudolf Hess. Born 1894, he suffered a mysterious death in 1987 at age 93.
Twenty-four years later, in the dark of the night of 20 July 2011, some ghouls dug up his remains, as well as the bones of his wife and his parents, and holocausted them.
Now who would want to do a ghoulish thing like that? Dracula? Some spiteful force beyond our comprehension that needs to drive a silver stake into the spirit of a man long gone – whose very memory still carries the pulse beat of an era we are not ever to investigate, much less to honor and respect?
David Irving, known even to his friends as the “reluctant Revisionist”, who, brilliant writer that he is, cannot resist to take a verbal swipe or two at twelve short years that ought to awe us at the very least with their scientific marvels, wrote this in introducing “Rudolf Hess: The Missing Years 1941-45”, Grafton Books, 1989:
“Semi-blind, his memory gone, he languished for 46 years in prison, and spent over half of that time in solitary confinement. At first, he was detained in cells with blackened windows, sentinels flashing torches on his face all night at half-hour intervals, and later in conditions only marginally more humane.
“Occasionally, mankind remembered that he was there: at a time when political prisoners were being released as a token of humanity, the world knew that he was there in Spandau, and timid souls felt somehow the safer for it. In 1987 the news emerged that somebody had recently stolen the prisoner’s 1940s flying helmet, goggles, and fur-lined boots, and fevered minds imagined that these, his hallowed relics of 1941, might be used in some way to power a Nazi revival.
“The prisoner himself had long forgotten what those relics had ever meant to him. The dark-red brick of Spandau prison in West Berlin was crumbling and decaying around him, and the windows were cracked or falling out of mouldering frames. He was the only prisoner left – alone, outliving all his fellows, his brain perhaps a last uncertain repository of names and promises and places, grim secrets that the victorious Four Powers might have expected him to take to the grave long before.
“The prisoner was Rudolf Hess, the last of the “war criminals.” In May 1941 he had flown single-handedly to Scotland on a reckless parachute mission to end the bloodshed and bombing. Put on trial by the victors, he had been condemned to imprisonment in perpetuity for “Crimes against the Peace.” The Four Powers had expected him to die and thus seal off the wells of speculation about him, but this stubborn old man with the haunting eyes had by his very longevity thwarted them.
“Few questions remained about the other Nazis. Hitler’s jaw bone was preserved in a Soviet glass jar; Ley’s brain was in Massachusetts; Bormann’s skeleton was found beneath the Berlin cobblestones; Mengele’s mortal remains were dis- and reinterred; Speer had joined the Greatest Architect. Dead, too, were Hess’s judges and prosecutors.
Hess himself was the last living Nazi giant, the last enigma, unable to communicate with the outside world, forbidden to talk with his son about political events, his diary taken away from him each day to be destroyed, his letters censored and scissored to excise illicit content. The macabre Four Powers statute – ignored, in the event – ordained that upon his death his body was to be reduced to ashes in the crematorium at Dachau concentration camp. The bulldozers were already standing by to wreck Spandau jail within hours of his decease, so that no place of Nazi pilgrimage remained.
“For forty years this Berlin charade was the sole remaining joint activity of the wartime Allied powers, a wordless political ballet performed by the Western democracies and high-stepping Red Army guards. Every thirty days the guard was rotated. Each time that the British or the American or the French came to hold the key, they could in theory have turned it and set this old man free. But they did not, because the ghosts of Churchill, Stalin, and Roosevelt were themselves the jailers. In the name of a Four Power agreement that had long since been dishonored, these ghosts kept Hess behind bars; and so Hitler’s deputy lived on in Spandau, mocking history and making a mockery of justice itself.
“Despite everything, he became a martyr to a cause. Mankind dared not turn the key to set him free, and mankind did not know why.”
In this essay, I will speculate why. I claim no certainty. What I am writing is strictly conjecture, stitched together from an intriguing pattern of clues. Conventional wisdom has it that the proposal that Hess tried to take to Britain in 1941 was Hitler’s more than generous offer to prevent the ominous bloodshed that would descend on Europe in years to come exactly as the Führer feared, and that even now enough geopolitical and financial investments are still at risk, embedded in the Order that we know, that would embarrass the Powers entrenched in London, New York, and Tel Aviv.
I offer an alternative guess – that Hess was kept from informing the world what he knew, was contained in the UFO files in his possession. His briefcase contained something else that is still being kept securely under lock and key. That “something” is widely believed to have been the secrets of Third Reich space exploration.
After all, Hess was the one who was in charge of Hitler’s Antarctic projects that were mysteriously stopped in 1938 when a curtain descended on what, exactly, was found or done beneath the ice – mind-boggling technical advances, raced with great fervor to production once World War II broke out, astounding inventions then known as Flying Saucers, called UFOs today. I speculate, as many do, that Hess might well have meant to offer to factions friendly to the Third Reich within the British government a roadmap to the stars.
Just who was Rudolf Hess?
source to read more
http://www.veteranstoday.com/2011/08/13/130485/
Until just a few weeks ago, an old man’s bones lay buried in a family grave in an impeccably kept cemetery in a Bavarian town called Wunsiedel. His name was Rudolf Hess. Born 1894, he suffered a mysterious death in 1987 at age 93.
Twenty-four years later, in the dark of the night of 20 July 2011, some ghouls dug up his remains, as well as the bones of his wife and his parents, and holocausted them.
Now who would want to do a ghoulish thing like that? Dracula? Some spiteful force beyond our comprehension that needs to drive a silver stake into the spirit of a man long gone – whose very memory still carries the pulse beat of an era we are not ever to investigate, much less to honor and respect?
David Irving, known even to his friends as the “reluctant Revisionist”, who, brilliant writer that he is, cannot resist to take a verbal swipe or two at twelve short years that ought to awe us at the very least with their scientific marvels, wrote this in introducing “Rudolf Hess: The Missing Years 1941-45”, Grafton Books, 1989:
“Semi-blind, his memory gone, he languished for 46 years in prison, and spent over half of that time in solitary confinement. At first, he was detained in cells with blackened windows, sentinels flashing torches on his face all night at half-hour intervals, and later in conditions only marginally more humane.
“Occasionally, mankind remembered that he was there: at a time when political prisoners were being released as a token of humanity, the world knew that he was there in Spandau, and timid souls felt somehow the safer for it. In 1987 the news emerged that somebody had recently stolen the prisoner’s 1940s flying helmet, goggles, and fur-lined boots, and fevered minds imagined that these, his hallowed relics of 1941, might be used in some way to power a Nazi revival.
“The prisoner himself had long forgotten what those relics had ever meant to him. The dark-red brick of Spandau prison in West Berlin was crumbling and decaying around him, and the windows were cracked or falling out of mouldering frames. He was the only prisoner left – alone, outliving all his fellows, his brain perhaps a last uncertain repository of names and promises and places, grim secrets that the victorious Four Powers might have expected him to take to the grave long before.
“The prisoner was Rudolf Hess, the last of the “war criminals.” In May 1941 he had flown single-handedly to Scotland on a reckless parachute mission to end the bloodshed and bombing. Put on trial by the victors, he had been condemned to imprisonment in perpetuity for “Crimes against the Peace.” The Four Powers had expected him to die and thus seal off the wells of speculation about him, but this stubborn old man with the haunting eyes had by his very longevity thwarted them.
“Few questions remained about the other Nazis. Hitler’s jaw bone was preserved in a Soviet glass jar; Ley’s brain was in Massachusetts; Bormann’s skeleton was found beneath the Berlin cobblestones; Mengele’s mortal remains were dis- and reinterred; Speer had joined the Greatest Architect. Dead, too, were Hess’s judges and prosecutors.
Hess himself was the last living Nazi giant, the last enigma, unable to communicate with the outside world, forbidden to talk with his son about political events, his diary taken away from him each day to be destroyed, his letters censored and scissored to excise illicit content. The macabre Four Powers statute – ignored, in the event – ordained that upon his death his body was to be reduced to ashes in the crematorium at Dachau concentration camp. The bulldozers were already standing by to wreck Spandau jail within hours of his decease, so that no place of Nazi pilgrimage remained.
“For forty years this Berlin charade was the sole remaining joint activity of the wartime Allied powers, a wordless political ballet performed by the Western democracies and high-stepping Red Army guards. Every thirty days the guard was rotated. Each time that the British or the American or the French came to hold the key, they could in theory have turned it and set this old man free. But they did not, because the ghosts of Churchill, Stalin, and Roosevelt were themselves the jailers. In the name of a Four Power agreement that had long since been dishonored, these ghosts kept Hess behind bars; and so Hitler’s deputy lived on in Spandau, mocking history and making a mockery of justice itself.
“Despite everything, he became a martyr to a cause. Mankind dared not turn the key to set him free, and mankind did not know why.”
In this essay, I will speculate why. I claim no certainty. What I am writing is strictly conjecture, stitched together from an intriguing pattern of clues. Conventional wisdom has it that the proposal that Hess tried to take to Britain in 1941 was Hitler’s more than generous offer to prevent the ominous bloodshed that would descend on Europe in years to come exactly as the Führer feared, and that even now enough geopolitical and financial investments are still at risk, embedded in the Order that we know, that would embarrass the Powers entrenched in London, New York, and Tel Aviv.
I offer an alternative guess – that Hess was kept from informing the world what he knew, was contained in the UFO files in his possession. His briefcase contained something else that is still being kept securely under lock and key. That “something” is widely believed to have been the secrets of Third Reich space exploration.
After all, Hess was the one who was in charge of Hitler’s Antarctic projects that were mysteriously stopped in 1938 when a curtain descended on what, exactly, was found or done beneath the ice – mind-boggling technical advances, raced with great fervor to production once World War II broke out, astounding inventions then known as Flying Saucers, called UFOs today. I speculate, as many do, that Hess might well have meant to offer to factions friendly to the Third Reich within the British government a roadmap to the stars.
Just who was Rudolf Hess?
source to read more
http://www.veteranstoday.com/2011/08/13/130485/