I celebrated Memorial Day, Nine Days early this year – and in Germany, in the Rhine-Westphalia. I did it on what would’ve been my father’s ninety-fifth birthday and dedicated it to him. Memorial Day, like all of the adulterated holidays celebrated in this world, had always been something of an issue for me. I admire and venerate the warrior spirit and its heroic nature; I have issue with the fact that most of the sacrifices being celebrated around me were committed by those fighting either on the wrong side of wars or in wars that never should have been fought in the first place. My father and all of his four brothers fought (or were in training for) WWII, a war that never should have been fought in the first place. All of them survived. Again, their experiences and courage were noble, but they were used. I have in the past on this Day celebrated the sacrifice of the one ancestor I know of for sure who died in a war fighting for the right cause; my great-great-grandfather who was killed fighting for the CSA (Tennessee) at Chickamauga.
This year, drawn by fate and as if my accident, I was able to go deeper. On my just-completed trip to Germany (via London), I had booked a room in the university town of Paderborn, in the Rhine-Westphalia, and arranged a rental car to visit Wewelsburg castle – the beginning of the holy center of Himmler’s SS – and the Externsteine, the ancient stone formation in the Teutoburgerwald. Having completed these excursions both on the first day, I went on the Hermanndenkal or the Herman Memorial, also celebrating the victory of the Saxons over the Romans in 9 A.D. The next day, having no plans, my friend informed me of the location of the Sachensehain – a now abandoned but still extant memorial to the forty-five hundred “Pagan” leaders who were murdered by Charlemagne in 782 AD, after being lured there under the context of a peace conference. It is located about two hours by car from Paderborn, in Verden north towards Bremen.
I continue to try to understand the Demiurgic magic, for want of a better name, at work in Germany that keeps its people enslaved and asleep, or deeply buried. I have wondered, many times, why Wewelsburg, the training and ceremonial center for the SS, the center of an intended complex whose construction was halted by the War effort in Germany beginning in 1941 and never completed, still stands, while so much was destroyed. I needed to walk there myself, to see the chambers in the North Tower, and to try to perceive the influences at work.
Next to Wewelsburg, in what was the guard building, is a museum supposedly dedicated to some Jews who supposedly suffered there – although such suffering would have been restricted to the inmates of the nearby Niederhagen concentration camp, who were employed to build at Wewelsburg. Nevertheless, the museum is a treasure trove of SS memorabilia. I have many pictures.
For some reason, despite every opportunity, I decided to honor the request or rule that no pictures be taken in the North Tower, which was the SS ceremonial chamber. Many others have done so, and it’s hard to say why I didn’t. The answer was a feeling – first of being watched, and not by the museum staff; it is indeed a metahuman entity at work at Wewelsburg. There are two chambers open at Weweldsburg and I’ll leave the reader to study their functions; but the upper chamber is the location of the great disk in the floor known as the Black Sun. Why has it been left there, but desecrated? I say desecrated, because it is clean and clearly visible; I leaned over to touch with my hand its smooth surface. In fact, one could walk on it, which is perhaps the point. It is covered and surrounded by hideous orange bean bags and white plastic tables bearing binders containing nothing significant. Some diseased magic or antimagic is clearly at work here, some attempt to twist and nullify the power of the seal which would not be accomplished by destroying it.
I don’t know how to refer to this magic, which I feel all over Germany – the magic of the oppressor, of the destroyer, what I don’t want to call dark magic because my dark magic carries a Luciferian redemption. I could call it Demiurgic magic, although I begin to question the identity of the Disease, the corrupter who took the name Jehovah or Yahweh, and think of it as a much later phenomenon than the Gnostic concept. It is a magic of chaos, of densest materiality, of disintegration, destruction and endless suffering. It works all over this land, in Germany, to keep most of the people blind, enslaved and afraid. I do what I can, instinctively to counter or neutralize it as I go.
To wit: On entering the upper chamber and perceiving the corruption of the desecration, I also found myself being compelled to circle the chamber counterclockwise. Upon reflection and perception of this, I deliberately circumnavigated in the other direction before leaving, feeling that in having done so, I tied off a great knot. Something was sealed there so that the corruption did not continue to leak out. I do not know on what level of personal vs universe experience this occurred.
My visit to Wewelsburg honored those soldiers of the SS who fought the losing battle against the Demurgic forces of the Allies, who were its dupes.
The Externsteine, up north of Paderborn in the Teutoburgerwald itself, is a different matter. It is a standing stone shrine to our older gods which still exist, also mysteriously, and although it has been cheapened as a tourist attraction and its true nature denied, it is still accessible. The solar functions are still visible. I was able to place here, the photographs of Savitri Devi and Miguel Serrano spending the night. From its heights, like those of the Hermanndenkal, one gets a good view of the Teutoburgerwald; in fact I think it’s only about a ten-kilometer hike from one to the other. There is a feeling of exaltation here, of nature triumphant (and I was blessed by good weather on both of these days).
Having completed my Externsteine visit, I decided to drive the five miles up the road to the Hermanndenkal (the memorial to “Arminius”). Although it was built in the nineteenth century, it’s reassuring to know that the Germans were still honoring their ancestors there. If not for Herman, after all, the Roman conquest may have been complete; there may never have been a Germany. At any rate, I was most pleased to find a memorial to Bismarck, still standing though unheralded, on the grounds!
These three monuments completed my Memorial Day. I felt it appropriate to dedicate to my father on his birthday; he was a Seaman First Class in the Coast Guard, which essentially became part of the US Navy during the War, and served on a firefighter ship in the Pacific Theatre. He was injured (his ship was rammed during a battle by a Japanese ship) and VJ Day took place while he was in the hospital at Pearl Harbor. He never thought about why the US was in the War. He did his best. Those who perform to the best of their abilities are always worthy of honor.
On the following today, it was suggested to me by a friend that I might visit the Sacksenhain, the existence of which I was not aware. It’s actually quite a way from Paderborn, in Verden, but I drove on up to see it. It was only by direction of the gods that I found it at all; not only was this monument built by the NSDAP to the Pagan leaders murdered by Charlemagne, in the name of the Church and in the service of the Demiurge Yahweh no longer a monument, it’s on private property belonging to the Evangelischen Jugendhof (some sort of church-run youth camp). I’m still not sure if I was supposed to be there. It’s a lovely, mile or so(?) circle walk around smooth stones. The spirits of the martyred Pagan leaders were whispering to me.
I have not tried, in this short essay, to convey the historicity of the monuments included, but merely to state that I have walked among them and am proud to have done so, in loving tribute to those of our ancestors who fought and died again the robot soldiers of the true Enemy. It moved me and changed me. I will write more on these subjects.