Editor’s Note: Ernst and Ingrid Rimland Zundel will never be forgotten by VT. They both died within the same year, after sharing a long-distance marriage that required them to meet in Mexico due to the restriction that Ernst was banned from the US.
Ingrid’s tribulations began with being expelled for Russia as the red horde rolled west toward Germany. Germans who had lived in western Russian were forced to walk all the way with whatever they could roll or carry, being abused, pillaged, and murdered along the way with less than a third surviving.
Ingrid has a piece in the archive about being holed up in a barn one night with her mother and grandmother and other refugees, with Russian soldiers entering all night long and gang-raping the woman, including her mother. Her grandmother kept her head under a blanket trying to hide her.
I had a memorable morning with her in Atlanta once, when she came to see the German consulate there about Ernst being judicially shanghaied back to Germany and prison. US authorities had held a hearing and did not bother to notify Ernst or his lawyer, and the result was the marshals showing up at the door to expel him to Germany.
I sat quietly, while his eyes glanced over at me now and then until he finally inquired who I was and why I was there, which gave me a great opening.
My response was that I was a friend of Ernst and Ingrid, a member of the Military Order of World Wars and the Association for Former Intelligence Officers.
I said that ‘our’ concern was, to see someone judicially kidnapped and expelled to an awaiting prison with no due process, that my people considered the act a national security risk to all Americans, and I wanted to be able to report first hand what the German government’s position was.
When we left, the first thing Ingrid said was, “Did you see the look on his face when you told them that”… It was priceless?” It was a Pyrrhic victory, of course. They lost, but at least the German government knew that we knew what they did and we would spread the word, which we did.
Ernst’s lawyers prevented his flight to Germany with almost a year of litigation, but eventually, he was sent back to Canada, undergoing a legal battle there for a year or two before finally being shipped to Germany…a tremendous fight but one for which he had prepared himself for many years.
Ernst and Ingrid rest in peace, but we do not. We have much word work to do.
We are combing through the VT archives now, looking for the gems, re-tagging them so they are easier to find, so we can keep them fresh by republishing, our “screw you” to those that think they can erase the memories of these people.
Google can break the links all it wants, but when we republish, that creates a new link to be found and read, copied and saved, and passed on by others with new links.
We are easy to harass but hard to kill, and fortunately, we have a big reptile file, which grows and grows. The last time we used it was getting Nana out of prison in Turkey in 24 hours after she was tagged with a terrorism charge … Jim W. Dean ]
Rudolf Hess: The Fuhrer’s Deputy
What secret did he take to the grave?
by Ingrid Zundel for VT
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, a brilliant writer that he is, cannot resist taking 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 moldering 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 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, and what 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, which 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?
Born to a wealthy merchant family of German background in Egypt, Hess grew up in palatial surroundings.
He enjoyed the finest classical education that money could buy in those years, part of it through private tutoring in Egypt, later on in Switzerland and Britain, where he was privileged to mingle with the English-speaking upper crust, even as a youngster fascinated by astronomy.
He was described as “a man of excellent breeding, moral rectitude, and industry, upright, courageous,” a “moral compass for others”. His mentor Professor Haushofer said that his strength was not so much intelligence as heart and character.
Hess became Adolf Hitler’s closest comrade, though by temperament and background they were of a different shade. Hitler was of an iconoclastic nature that had the force of a volcano.
Hess was a man of quiet but flawless discernment. Hitler was a pragmatist politically yet utterly uncompromising at the core as to his aims and visions; Hess knew only the rule of his heart.
This is not ever acknowledged today in politically correct society, but Hitler in his early reign projected a seductive warmth of spirit through impeccable manners that were the envy of the rulers of his time, whereas Hess remained reticent and private by nature, not a man out to woo attention and favors for himself.
In a staid and placid world, Hess might well have been the Führer’s superior by virtue of social position alone, but in the Twenties and the Thirties, in a Europe coming apart at the seams, there was never a question in either man’s mind who was the leader called by destiny.
Hess might have been described as the finest specimen that centuries of culture and sophistication had brought forth, but Hitler was the avatar, on a trajectory like every immense persona who is guided from within, and Hess was his disciple.
After hearing Hitler speak in the spring of 1920, Hess joined the National Socialist movement as member # 16. He knew that he had met a man of a gigantic strength of will combined with a magnetic radiance.
The trust in each other these two young men enjoyed as political comrades were total. Maybe Hitler never had another friend like Hess whom he could trust utterly. For his part, Hess saw in Hitler the Messiah against Satan threatening his mother country in the guise of bestial Bolshevism from the East.
Likewise, Hess’s moral standing in the hearts of Germans of his time was absolute. He was commonly referred to as “the Conscience of the Party.”
In the Third Reich’s hierarchy, Hess stood third in the chain of command as the leader of the NSDAP, the Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei. Only Field marshall Hermann Goering enjoyed higher ranking.
Common experiences bound Hess and Hitler as well. Both had honorably served in battle.
Both participated in an awkward uprising that history remembers as the Munich Beer Hall Putsch, a coup d’état against the Weimar Republic that landed them briefly in Landsberg prison, where conditions were relaxed for dissidents.
There, acting as Hitler’s private secretary, Hess volunteered as stylist and copy editor for Hitler’s book, Mein Kampf, for which world Jewry would never forgive him. Much nastiness has been claimed, then and since, about the Nazi leadership in general, but I have never read a single word of hate against Hess from his own inner circle. He was feared and persecuted with an inexorable hatred by Jewry.
He was kept isolated from human interaction for more than half of his life, beset and tormented like few other men on this earth. Why?
What did this man know?
What did he try to convey to the world – and was prevented from sharing? Expanding his background, Rudolf Hess’s path in life was tragedy writ large.
In 1941, On the eve of war with the Soviet Union, Hess flew solo to Scotland on a private peace mission in an attempt to ward off the horror to come.
Instead, he was arrested by the British government and held incommunicado until the war was over.
After the guns fell silent, Hess was handed over to the Nuremberg Tribunal, tried in a political show trial where white became black, found “not guilty of crimes against humanity” but “guilty for conspiring against peace”, and sentenced to life internment at Spandau Prison.
He was in captivity for almost 4 years of the war and thus he was basically absent from it, in contrast to the others who stood accused at Nuremberg.
He was 52 years old when he set foot in Spandau. He lived another 41 years. He died mysteriously in 1987, as widely advertised, by suicide, which was even more widely believed to have been by murder.
Allegedly, the magnanimous peace offer he had in his briefcase, were it to come out, would embarrass the Brits to his day.
I belong to a handful of skeptics who suspect he was about to offer something vastly more important, which would have made short shrift of the prevailing political order based on expensive energy provided by the industries we know.
Metapedia, the dissident counterpart website to Wikipedia, describes this failed peace mission as follows:
“Hess planned to meet the Duke of Hamilton and Brandon. He believed Hamilton to be an opponent of Winston Churchill, whom he held responsible for the outbreak of the war. His proposal of peace included returning all the western European countries conquered by Germany to their own national governments, but German police would remain in position. Germany would also pay back the cost of rebuilding these countries. In return, Britain would have to support the war against Soviet Russia. (…)
“Churchill turned down the proposal for peace and held Hess as a prisoner of war in the Maryhill army barracks. Later Hess was transferred to Mytchett Place near Aldershot. The house was fitted out with microphones and sound recording equipment.
Frank Foley and two other MI6 officers were given the job of debriefing Hess —” Jonathan”, as he was now known. Churchill’s instructions were that Hess should be strictly isolated and that every effort should be taken to get any information out of him that might be useful.
“Controversy surrounds the case of whether Hitler knew of Hess’s plans to make peace with Britain. It is known that Hess had been getting flying lessons in a personalized Messerschmitt aircraft in the early stages of this preparation. He was accompanied by Hitler’s personal pilot, Hans Baur.
Lured into a trap?
“There is circumstantial evidence which suggests that Hess was lured to Scotland by the British secret service. Violet Roberts, whose nephew, Walter Roberts was a close relative of the Duke of Hamilton and was working in the political intelligence and propaganda branch of the Secret Intelligence Service (SO1/PWE), was friends with Hess’s mentor Karl Haushofer and wrote a letter to Haushofer, which Hess took great interest in prior to his flight.
“According to data published in a book about Wilhelm Canaris, the head of German intelligence, a number of contacts between England and Germany were kept during the war. It cannot be known, however, whether these were direct contacts on specific affairs or an intentional confusion created between secret services for the purpose of deception. (…)
“Certain documents Hess brought with him to Britain were to be sealed until 2017 but when the seal was broken in 1991-92 they were missing. Edvard Bene_, head of the Czechoslovak Government in Exile and his intelligence chief Franti_ek Moravec, who worked with SO1/PWE, speculated that British Intelligence used Haushofer’s reply to Violet Roberts as a means to trap Hess.
“The fact that the files concerning Hess will be kept closed to the public until 2016 does allow the debate to continue since without these files the existing theories cannot be fully verified.
In his final statement to the court on August 31, 1946, after his conviction, Hess declared in words that are sheer poetry in German but can only be an approximation in English:
“I had the privilege of working for many years of my life under the greatest son my nation has brought forth in its thousand-year history. Even if I could, I would not wish to expunge this time from my life. I am happy to know that I have done my duty toward my people, my duty as a German, as a National Socialist, as a loyal follower of my Führer. I regret nothing. No matter what people may do, one day I shall stand before the judgment seat of God Eternal. I will answer to Him, and I know that He will absolve me.”
After having served in prison for 20 years with other leaders of the Reich, the last two prisoners, Baldur von Schirach and Albert Speer were released. Hess remained. He was the sole remaining inmate of Spandau Prison for yet another 21 years.
“Keeping one man in Spandau cost the West German government about 850,000 marks a year. In addition, each of the four Allied powers had to provide an officer and 37 soldiers during their respective shifts, as well as a director and team of wardens throughout the entire year. The permanent maintenance staff of 22 included cooks, waitresses, and cleaners.
“In the final years of his life, Hess was a weak and frail old man, blind in one eye, who walked stooped forward with a cane. He lived in virtually total isolation according to a strictly regulated daily routine. Regulations stipulated that prison officials could not ever call Hess by name. He was addressed only as “Prisoner No. 7.”
During his rare meetings with his wife and son, Hess was not allowed to embrace or even touch them. Why this inhuman cruelty?
Of the four powers that had won the war against Germany, three – the U.S., Russia, and France – proposed that he be released on humanitarian grounds due to his age. The British government balked. Thatcher was Prime Minister of Britain, and Chancellor Kohl – some call him Cohn or Cohen – was heading Germany.
On 17 August 1987, Hess died while under Four Power imprisonment at Spandau Prison in West Berlin. At 93, he was one of the oldest prisoners in the world. He was found in a summer house in a garden located in a secure area of the prison with an electrical cord wrapped around his neck. His death was ruled a suicide by self-asphyxiation, accomplished by tying the cord to a window latch in the summer house.
Prison guards who knew him in his last years say that he was so crippled by arthritis that he could not lift his arms above his shoulders. No way could this old man have strangled himself.
Hess was buried in Wunsiedel, and Spandau Prison was subsequently demolished to prevent it from becoming a shrine. Instead, his grave became exactly that.
“Every year after Hess’s death, nationalists from Germany and the rest of Europe gathered in Wunsiedel for a memorial march. Similar demonstrations took place around the anniversary of Hess’s death. These gatherings were banned from 1991 to 2000 and nationalists tried to assemble in other cities and countries (such as the Netherlands and Denmark). Demonstrations in Wunsiedel were again legalised in 2001. Over 5,000 nationalists marched in 2003, with around 7,000 in 2004, marking some of the biggest national demonstrations in Germany since 1945. After stricter German legislation regarding demonstrations by nationalists was enacted in March 2005 the demonstrations were banned again.
It has often been said that a people defeated, besieged from all sides but not neutered, will keep its myths alive. I have been told a few. One of them has it that the Führer is said to have insisted that there would be one “Last Battalion” that would come back after certain defeat and would finish what he himself could not do. That “Last Battalion” would be German.
Nazi UFO technology is legendary. Cold hearts insist that Nazi UFOs are wishful thinking. What I am telling you below is things that I heard, saw, and read. I also claim, for my own protection, that as a novelist, I am attuned to lyric tapestries that translate and record things that may not pass rigorous checks but make sense by conjecture and inference and leave you with a question mark. What I am recording below is what I was told by Ernst Zundel and others.
Things that go bump in the night?
Please understand that in the sixties, seventies, and even eighties, it was still possible to speak of Hitler and his times nostalgically if not respectfully, just as it is okay today to recount the battles of, say, General Lee who fought heroically for his beloved South but lost to overwhelming power from the North.
People need models of hope, and such models live on in their hearts. Among many myths that survived, there lives the myth that the best of the bravest escaped, among them the Führer and his scientific-minded friends.
In Ernst’s circles, people would often joke about the “Last Battalion” and claim that the Führer escaped to Antarctica where he and his comrades continued his work and were busily plotting a comeback.
Why not call that as myth and keep snoozing the sleep of the righteous? Can Germans not even honor their dead by embossing the life that they lived?
On one of our trips, Ernst shared a glimpse of his young days in Canada. He claims he once saw one of those crafts, in broad daylight, rising like a phantom out of the waters of Lake Ontario. He had his two young sons in his car; they saw it, too. He was traveling in one of the middle lanes on what is called the QE2 in honor of the Queen of England. It was glistening and blinking like a Hollywood production, and by the time he could pull over, the tantalizing UFO was gone.
In the late 1990s, Ernst and I were traveling through the Southwest and stopped at the Roswell Museum. There, under glass, were tiny replicas of what was allegedly found – a saucer with a swastika!
A few tin soldiers surrounded their craft, and those toy soldiers were likewise painstakingly adorned with swastikas.
On that long trip, Ernst told me yet another story out of his young and reckless years that might bring a smile to your face but will be frowned upon by Zundel foes, who spook easily.
Have you ever heard of Hacienda Dignidad? My Spanish is a bit rusty, but I believe the name translates loosely into “Ranch of Honor” or “Plantation of Pride.”
Hacienda Dignidad is a mysterious place, deep in the Chilean mountains. Allegedly, it is a trading post for Nazi UFOs.
In 2004, when Ernst was already in prison in Canada, courtesy of the American Patriot Act, my friend Jeff Rense asked me about the place. I said I would ask Ernst.
Please find Ernst’s full letter posted on Rense:
The Hacienda Dignidad myth is only a small piece of a puzzle that is much larger, much more mysterious, encompassing people all over the globe for at least 60, maybe even 70 or 75 years.
When I was young, I stumbled upon it because of my interest in space exploration and space journeys to the near planets – to the Moon, to Mars, Venus and, beyond, to Orion and Sirius. It did not take long for me to make all kinds of interesting contacts in Canada, America, Germany, Austria, Spain, and, especially, South America – and, strange as it may seem, Japan of all places.
My first encounter with Japanese interests in space came in 1967 when I met the CEO of what was then a sizeable conglomerate of Japanese corporations worth well over US$250 million, all involved in the most diverse business fields. That man, let’s call him the Chairman, was a Japanese Naval Attaché in Germany during World War II. He was ultimately taken to Japan by a German submarine in late 1943 with a secret cargo apparently involving jet planes.
The Germans were far ahead of the Japanese, even the British and the US in that field, having had operational jets, several different kinds, by different manufacturers and designers since 1938. If you go and look at my UFO books, you will find the story of just such a submarine which carried nothing but mercury, which the Japanese apparently needed in war production.
Incidentally, I corresponded with some of the crew of Captain Schäfer’s sub which landed in Argentina long after Germany’s surrender in Europe. There is also the story of a German sub using an uninhabited island in the Falklands/Antarctic/South Atlantic region. That island could still not be visited in the 1970s because it seems the Germans used a mine barrier at the lagoon entrance to prevent the Allied ships from landing there.
This Chairman was the one who told me over a slow meal of many courses that Japan was at war with America. He pointed to an attaché case and said, “This time we will defeat [America] with this (meaning commerce) and not with tanks, ships, or planes.”
He said in part that Japan would never forgive the Americans for dropping the atomic bomb and for making Japan lose face before other Asians, especially Koreans and Chinese. That was a big deal with him, as were the humiliations and executions by hanging of Japanese leaders via the Tokyo war crimes trials and tribunals. He was far less forgiving than the Germans! (…)
My UFO booklets were in those days only used by me to generate interest for more serious interviews on the post World War II lies of the “death camps” like Auschwitz, a concentration camp that was, in fact, a war production center. I was beginning to concentrate on far more serious topics involving Holocaust revisionism.
I would imagine that it must have been in ’78 or ’79 when a reporter finally made arrangements to come over from Japan to interview me at length.
Money seemed no object with this Japanese reporter, who arrived with a photographer/sound man with state of the art tape recorders in tow. They parked their stretch limousine, chauffeur, and all, in a “no parking, no stopping” zone outside my house. The bored white driver would sit there for hours, pulling away once in a while because Toronto police told him to move on.
Meanwhile, we talked and looked through my UFO/Nazi Secret Weapon/Antarctica file, only interrupted by lunch, tape changes, and coffee breaks. Later on, we went out to the CN Tower where I was treated to one of the most expensive dinners in my life.
The two came back the next day, and this time they seemed quite interested in talking to one of my male secretaries, Sepp. He and I used to horse around a lot, talking of olden times, and I used to call him my “Adjutant”, for Sepp had an illustrious past. He had served as an aide-de-camp and interpreter for Field Marshall Kesselring in Italy during the latter part of the war. We were young and brazen then.
We thought we would supply some visual aids for our Japanese guests, so for the occasion, we dressed Sepp up in a spiffy Nazi uniform of an officer of the communications section – visor’s officer’s cap, the works! The photographer just loved that man and his uniform! I could see why – it would lend authenticity to the story being told for a magazine or television special.
Then my Japanese guests left, loaded with UFO- as well as anti-Holocaust literature, which was of course discussed at great length, once the UFO stuff was out of the way, which did not interest me all that much anymore.
In the months that followed, I helped them gain entry to some circles and installations, such as the former German submarine base and bunkers in Bergen, Norway, which operated undamaged until after surrender on May 11th, 1945 – not May 8th! The Norwegians used those facilities, along with the most modern German subs, into the 1970s.
My guests also visited the Hydrographic Institute in Hamburg and looked into the thousands of air photos taken over Antarctica and its German bases, established by the Ritscher Expedition under the protection of Hermann Goering, with Rudolf Hess as the liaison for the project.
They went camping Dora in the Harz Mountains and to the bunker complexes in the Alpine Redoubt, which figured large in the Allied propaganda in ’44 and ’45. They sent me many postcards from those places. Unfortunately, the 1995 arson claimed all of those files.
In the wake of those visits, UFO orders for books, spotter charts, and investigator passes began to pour in from Japan. We even sold frisbees resembling UFOs. The first articles appeared, and true to his word, the writer/reporter had included the 206 Carlton Street address, and we did a brisk business for a while with Japan in that period. Many of my subsequent Holocaust trials were partially paid for by UFO trinkets and donations by fervent supporters who believed in those Nazi UFO stories. In fact, some believe them deeply to this day.
Then one day, I received a call from our Japanese writer. He was in the US, in Los Angeles. Could he drop by? He wanted to make me a proposal for a research trip.
Sure, said I. Come on up.
He arrived within a week and suggested that I accompany him to Latin America, together with another Japanese tape recorder man and photographer, using my trusty German aide – minus Nazi uniform, I insisted! – on the trail of the Nazi UFOs. The expedition was to last from 4 to 7 weeks.
I was still a hands-on graphic artist at that time. I ran a lucrative graphic arts studio, along with my publishing house, and I had important contracts with some of Canada’s largest corporations. There was no way I could stay away that long without losing my business. So we made a compromise. I would not go, but I would lend him my German “Attaché”.
The trip to Chile
My contact there was a man by the name of Mattern, a German who had emigrated to Chile in the 1920s as a professional photographer. In time, he became the official photographer for all the presidents and most of the military big wigs in Chile in the early 1930s and thereafter. He was in and out of the Presidential Palace, the military academies, the Parliament – he simply knew everybody! Chile’s military was thoroughly Prussian, having adopted Prussian drills, ethos, code of honor, WWII German uniforms, helmets – even the goose steps! – which, by the way, they have kept to this day. Just recently, a young Revisionist sent Ingrid a video of such a parade.
The Chilean army under Pinochet was like an extension of the World War II German Army in looks, behavior and feel, as well as in outward appearance. Exclusively German marching bands and German marches were, and are, still played to this day by that time warp Chilean army!
Only a few times, Mattern told his guests, did he think that he saw strange aerial activity going on [in Hacienda Dignidad] by even stranger craft. He was never told what it was, and it was clear to him that the host was unwilling or perhaps under orders not to expand on those strange noises and those odd goings-on.
My man on the scene spoke five languages. As a German military officer on Field Marshall Kesselring’s staff, Sepp had served as a liaison to Benito Mussolini’s government, and as such he had participated in all the high-level meetings, including the ones concerning Mussolini’s liberation by German commando leader Otto Skorzeny at the Gran Sasso. But that’s a different story for a different time.
Sepp had memorized the map at the mayor’s office. A decision was made to head out into the general direction of those colored/shaded areas. Sepp was certain it had to be the Hacienda’s location, going by the description of the landscape Mattern had given them in his briefings. Sepp was confident that he could find the Hacienda by asking local people in the foothills.
By now it had begun to rain, and as they were climbing steadily, it was getting colder and darker. Quickly, they left civilization behind. Telegraph poles and electric wires ended. Farmers’ fields gave way to bushland, poor soil, and the odd Indio shack made of corrugated metal roofs, old leftover wooden pallets, crates etc. with run-down or broken down cars strewn in the fields. The road got progressively worse, and the asphalted surface had long given way to potholes and gravel, which made for a bouncy ride as they wound their way ever higher into the foothills.
It was a miserable afternoon drive. The Japanese wanted to turn back. Sepp wanted to press on, and since he was the driver and navigator, German stubbornness won out. With his cold and grumbling passengers getting wearier by the minute, things were heading for a crisis, when suddenly the rain stopped just as they came to an area of clearly man-planted, 25-year-old conifer trees on either side of the road. They could see a light flicker in some hut on a hillside in the distance.
They hit upon a paved road, and soon they found themselves on a driveway with a cut lawn on each side. They could see a white stucco gate, Latin American style, with a high wrought-iron fence on either side and then a long, heavy wire security fence, metal links with barbed wire continuing on into a distant, man-planted forest. They were, in fact, in a turn-around, circular driveway area, and there was even an electric bell.
By the street lamp, they could see some metallic reflections in some high birch trees inside the fence behind the large gate, which had a smaller gate for pedestrians on the side of it. This road carried on behind the gate into a well-kept landscaped area, dotted by majestic 25-35 year old coniferous, German-type blue spruce, or Norwegian pine trees familiar to people in Central Europe, the Black Forest, and the Alpine regions. There was a winding path up to the blinking light shack a few hundred meters up a steep bank.
It began to drizzle again. The Japanese were lightly clad, shivering and uncomfortable, sitting huddled in the car. Sepp had a waterproof ski jacket and offered to investigate the light, while the others waited. He decided to take a shortcut and climb straight up the hill. It was slippery and rough going – when, suddenly, a car horn sounded, and as he turned around and looked down, he saw several men in non-descript raincoats surrounding the Volkswagen Beetle.
Hastily, he slid down the hillside to get there faster, getting himself wet and muddy by the rain-covered high vegetation. The men had started questioning the Japanese who did not speak Spanish and were clearly at a loss as to what to do next. One of the strange men, to Sepp’s surprise, wore a forage cap used by German mountain troops in World War II, the famous Gebirgsjäger of Oberst Dietl in Narvik, Murmansk, and later the Caucasus when they climbed the highest mountain, Mount Elbrus, and planted the Swastika flag on the peak, creating a worldwide sensation at the time.
The German spread-eagle insignia and the Edelweiß had been neatly removed from the cap, but one could still see the outline in the sun-bleached material. This man was muscular, bronzed, blue-eyed, and blond. More yet, he spoke heavily accented Spanish with a clear Bavarian twang, familiar to my south Tyrolian born Sepple! Sepp knew he was in the right place. He knew that was no local Indio or Chilean.
Sepp addressed him in German; however, the man refused steadfastly to answer in German. In Spanish, he asked the team what they wanted, (…) and requested that they hand him their passports, airline tickets, cameras and tape recorders. He then motioned them inside the gate which opened electrically, although no wires or high poles were visible anywhere. He motioned them to drive down the driveway, while the rest of the “reception committee” followed them in their own, four-wheel-drive military-type vehicle.
After 300-400 meters, they came to a series of typically German type buildings – sturdy masonry with baked-tile roofs, stone, and stucco Alpine-style architecture. They were told to park their car. Politely, they were assisted with their luggage. They entered a large office/reception type room, tastefully decorated, again Alpine type, and were asked to make themselves comfortable. It was a building with all modern amenities, electric lights, flush toilets, washbasins, typewriters, office desks, office lamps, clothes racks, etc. It had the feel of a military officers’ quarters.
By now, it was pitch dark outside.
They were given sandwiches, hot herbal tea, some dessert, and then the interrogations began – at first, separately in different rooms by different people, some of whom spoke English with the Japanese. With Sepp, they insisted on speaking Spanish, an odd situation. They could not be persuaded to speak German – even though they were clearly Germans.
No one answered any questions as to where they were, what the place was called. No one admitted that this was indeed Hacienda Dignidad.
The interrogations lasted several hours, and about 10 p.m. they were all brought together again. They were told that they had penetrated a restricted military area without authorization and that this was a serious offense – that a military police escort was on its way from Parral to pick them up, and that it would be up to the military to decide what to do with them once they got there. Their passports, cameras, tape recorders, films, and luggage would be turned over to the military.
It was suggested that they could get some rest in a room that had some bunk beds and blankets, and they were warned not to try anything foolish. They could use the restroom but not leave the building for any reason.
The Japanese seemed pretty upset by all this and wondered what they had gotten into. Their ardor had considerably cooled by then, and they felt it was wiser not to press their luck and instead beat it back to Parral, get their passports back and get out of the jam they were in! They were satisfied that out in nowhere, cut off from civilization, there obviously were people living with all the accouterments of civilization, European no less, who had video surveillance cameras, electricity, flush toilets, heating systems, paved roads, tall metal wire fences, automatic electric door openers, as well as a facility where there were multilingual people working in shifts, people connected somehow with the military or at least the federales, the police, who had the power to take people’s passports.
Everybody was tired, and soon all were asleep, only to be wakened in the early morning hours by truck motors howling, doors being slammed, loud voices in Spanish. They were introduced to the head of their military escort – a whole convoy of trucks and jeeps! After a short breakfast, they headed out into more rain and fog, making visibility difficult. Even so, they could make out numerous European type buildings in the distance which looked like part of a community with neatly cut lawns, garden flowers, and all asphalt roads everywhere they looked!
The trip back to Parral was slow and rocky. The team was taken to an army or federal police compound where they were herded into a large room and, once again, separately interrogated. They were told what they already knew – that they had entered a restricted military area without authorization, for which they could be jailed for a substantial period, but seeing that they were foreigners and that their press credentials and stories checked out, they were only going to lose their undeveloped film, same with the tape recordings.
They were told to take their rental car, drive it all the way to Santiago, check at the federales’ posts along the way, have their expulsion orders stamped at each place – and be out of the country in 72 hours! Pronto!
A decade later, I was invited to Princeton University for a lengthy series of Nazi UFO-related interviews, which were aired on prime time Japanese TV in a remarkable if sensationalized UFO special with superb computer animations of realistic Nazi UFOs. (…)
From other sources, such as El Mercurio, a left-leaning mass-circulation Chilean newspaper, as well as from the German weekly, Der Stern, and the German news magazine, Der Spiegel, the following story emerges:
Hacienda Dignidad is a colony totally self-sufficient in everything, technologically equipped with the very latest amenities. The community has its own schools, teachers, hospital, medical staff, technical people. It is claimed that mysterious testing of some sort is being carried on at the Hacienda for the Chilean military. Even Chilean senators and parliamentarians find all their efforts blocked, usually by courts, the police, and the military.
The German Embassy reports that numerous Germans receive their World War II army, air force, and other pension checks, which are sent to a collective address in the town of Parral, where they are deposited into a joint account.
The El Mercurio newspaper reported already in the late ’40s and ’50s that one of their reporters, in fact, did penetrate the Hacienda terrain via back roads through the mountains, using pack horses, and that he did observe strange flying craft taking off and landing in some remote area of a valley away from the actual community – which is what Mattern reported seeing during his one and only visit in the 1950s or 1960s – I don’t remember now exactly just when his visit took place.
The latest report about Hacienda Dignidad I read in the late 1990s in Der Spiegel. There was talk that the community was run by an autocratic leader. It was described almost like a semi-religious cult, but that there were married couples with children there. After his visit to what he certainly believed had been Hacienda Dignidad or a similar enterprise in the remote foothills of the Chilean mountains, Mattern was of the view that this place was a supply base for fresh fruit and vegetables picked up by “flying saucers”.
He also felt that the colony served as a rest/recuperation and medical facility for German-staffed UFO bases further to the South like Tierra del Fuego and even Antarctica proper.
The story of the El Mercurio reporter, except for Mattern the only other human being claimed to have visited Hacienda Dignidad, is in one of my booklets in excerpted form. It was a bestseller in its time and is still widely quoted, as is the hastily organized Admiral Byrd Expedition to the mysterious continent of Antarctica in 1947.
The most extensive photographic documentary is to be found in an exhaustive article in one of the National Geographic Magazines, replete with maps and flight paths of the Byrd overflights, leaving out the far more sensational revelations supposedly contained in Byrd’s private diary, which was forbidden to be published by U.S. authorities – or so it is alleged. Its content was leaked by Admiral Byrd’s son, who himself came to a rather bizarre and mysterious end.
Can you blame me for feeling intrigued? And shouldn’t you be, too?
I know someone who functions as a European diplomat at the UN – who is a firm believer in the existence of German UFOs. He told me to keep a close watch on what happens on earth, in the skies, and deep in the oceans.
Here’s what your mainstream media reports:
“The US nuclear submarine USS San Fransisco en route to Brisbane Australia, for a port visit, came up all standing on Saturday, the 8th of January 2005, when it ran into an underwater mountain about 350 miles south of Guam. One sailor died and 24 were injured.”
Then there was that strange “earthquake”, remember, in Indonesia, causing a gargantuan tsunami that mysteriously spared Diego Garcia? I read somewhere that there is no marine life at the epicenter of that “quake”. It’s probably just wicked conspiracy talk – don’t you think?.
And now we have Japan. Was that really an “earthquake”? Inquiring minds want to know.
I claim no certainty. I just put two and two together. I tell myself: If those darn, wicked Nazis could technically achieve what they achieved in 12 short years – six of which were blood and gore and human suffering beyond description – imagine what they could achieve while working undeterred and undisturbed off-earth?