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First posted Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Jae is always good-humoured and dependable. She gets a honk from many passing truckers too, and deserves at least two honks from me.

[Previous Radical's Diary]  

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Thursday, March 3, 2011
Savannah, Georgia -- Columbia, South Carolina (USA)

WE GO OUT for a meal as soon as we arrive in Columbia but Jaenelle's chosen restaurant has no bread bowls. She has worked very hard during the afternoon, so I give her space and doze in the car on the parking lot from five until seven pm. The full crowd turns up and we do a reasonable job at the meeting.


Friday, March 4, 2011
Columbia, South Carolina -- Raleigh, North Carolina (USA)

UP at 8:15 a.m. after an appalling night; my head is thumping and throat swollen and I can barely speak. I assume the draught on my head all night has done it.

Jessica emails, she wants me to buy an EasyJet ticket for her to Malta in July, although regular airlines are cheaper. Her friends have bought EasyJet tickets, hence the problem. But EasyJet are crooks.

We arrive at the Raleigh hotel after four hours of driving. My appetite is low, but Jaenelle's is undiminished.


AT this evening's little meeting I suspect one gentleman asks too many friendly questions about next meetings, guests, etc., and is probably a Fed. A Good Guy. I don't mind. Jaenelle [left] does sterling service once again. It strikes her that he calls her "Jae", which is not usual. We have just about sold out of Hitler's War; the rest have been stolen from the warehouse by Frickensmith. Their lack will cause us major losses; it was our biggest seller until now, she says.


Saturday, March 5, 2011
Raleigh, North Carolina -- Richmond, Virginia (USA)

A MAJOR supporter, G.J., tells me: "Apparently the Institute of Historical Review has taken it upon themselves to show 'Nazi' films in California next month. . !"

I reply:

I did advise Mark Weber that Ich Klage An is a very hardcore Nazi propaganda film which may well attract further calumny on the Institute.

The Richmond function goes well. My throat is now very sore, my tongue scarred and very painful from the broken tooth, and I have a head heavy with a virus infection. Chip has invited us to a meal at an Irish pub in a very sleazy part of the city. I skip dinner in the pub as I am tired, and wait in the car. The sidewalks are shimmering with hookers wearing the shortest skirts I have ever seen; all of them are Blacks. And their big fat Black pimps.

Feeling low, I go upstairs to my bedroom at Chip's at once. There is a heavy antique pendulum clock in the room, and it soon reveals that it chimes all the hours once every hour, loudly.

We have a problem -- a print bill to pay before we can print any more of my Classic Series books, which we shall need for the next stage of the tour. I must find somebody to inject $6,900 on suitable terms. Lance's pilfering of our stock has caused a headache dwarfing my own.


Sunday, March 6, 2011
Richmond, Virginia -- Washington, DC (USA)

WE SET OFF around midday from Richmond and arrive in Washington DC at three pm. We are both very tired, and we take it in turns to drive in the pouring rain. The winter sunshine of Key West is but a memory.

Into the restaurant at Tyson's Corner at five pm; our many dinner guests arrive at six pm, and we stay until ten pm.

My story of what Heinrich Himmler did to get his older brother Gebhard to dump his fiancée Paula (see painting, left) is well received. I always wondered why Gebhard introduced his wife to me as Mathilde, and not Paula, when I visited them in June 1971.

J. has done brilliantly both today and all week. She is understandably popular, not least with me. My laptop looks even more beaten up. It slipped out of the rental Chrysler onto the blacktop by the restaurant when the car's sliding door automatically opened. It won't last much longer. My head cold is retreating.

A Chilean attorney, Juan A., writes me from Holland:

I finally finished your book "Hitler's War". The ending almost brought me to tears. The struggle of the Germans to at least manage to escape from the Soviet massacres, and the constant "Innocenticide" of which you talk about are truly disturbing.

As I read your book I also couldn't help but notice that the people who call you a holocaust denier or an antisemite simply haven't read it. You make very clear mentions of Jewish massacres, Hitler's orders regarding some of the camps, etc. However, if you read your critics' claims, you'd get the impression that the book is nothing but a neo-Nazi pamphlet in which you go out of your way to praise Hitler. Well, what else can be expected from the "traditional enemies of free speech"? As long as you repeat a lie for enough time, people will eventually believe it. . .

In a few words, Thank You for writing this book. Decades from now, when people want to learn about what happened, and how 100 million people were willing to follow this man even in the face of imminent defeat, they will turn to your work. When I go to the UK again, I'd be more than glad to buy you dinner.

How kind. I reply: "Dear Juan: I am so glad you liked Hitler's War. It is thirty years of my life. I am now in the United States researching, but perhaps we can meet when I speak in Amsterdam on May 19."


Monday, March 7, 2011
Washington, DC (USA)

I have received many messages like this in the last few days, e.g., from Paul G.:

Anti-Racist Action posted this notice about your current speaking tour of the US., and they plan to make trouble for you. I just thought you should know this.

I reply that we shall be waiting for them with some rather unpleasant surprises.

Larry Coty writes: "David, sorry to hear of the trouble with Lance. . . I cannot believe he has acted this way. I have seen the books you mention in Michael Kelly's PZG mailings."

I reply: "Lance has gone off the rails, and solved his problems at our expense. A common occurrence. We have asked Michael K to stop selling our stolen books, and he appears to ignore our request. Fine friends."


JAENELLE took a photo when we went down to Higgs Beach for an hour at the end of our stay. That day the waterline was littered with thousands of Portugese men-of-war, as there was a strong wind blowing in from the Atlantic. That is the stretch of sand where my daughter Jessica learned to walk.

Jaenelle has been an inspiration throughout this tour; she is always good-humoured and dependable. A hero, for putting up with me. She gets a honk from many passing truckers too, and deserves at least two honks from me.

I set out with Jae to find a Western Union to send cash to Jessica and Bente in London. All is well and she is in a brilliant mood. We discuss what use to make of her in the days remaining before she returns to Indianapolis. I say researching in the National Archives and Holocaust Museum, and a renewed visit to Sw., if he has not moved. At a K-Mart in Annandale, they claim as usual that their Western Union system is down; we have yet to find a K-Mart which does not tell us this fib. Jae finds a Bloom's superstore where they have Western Union, and I send the money to London.

What next? On to lunch at a Panera. I comment on the gorgeous spring sunshine and totally clear blue sky. She brings her own lunch to the table, a sandwich, and a bread bowl with tomato soup for me. Hers seems like the usual American garbage, but she patriotically disputes that word. Thrown onto the defensive, I say that the bread looks like a wad of Kleenex, and the rest is only artificial cheese and "reconstituted" ham. In fact I am rather dismayed by the poor quality of her lunch (she has become unnecessarily weight-conscious these last few days).

In the evening I watch a Charles Laughton film, Hobson's Choice (director David lean, 1953), with Ned. A bit slow and stagey for modern tastes.


Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Washington, DC -- College Park, Maryland -- Washington, DC (USA)

CAN'T read e-mails, as I have no Internet connection now that Jae has gone home.

Peter Rushton informs me further about The Observer's odious top reporter, who turns out to be Jewish:

David Leigh (right) was the reporter for a British television documentary (Panorama or World in Action?) that featured the Fred Leuchter meeting at Chelsea Town Hall [November 1991]. It's a shame that Leuchter's shocking treatment that day isn't on YouTube. He also wrote a book called The Wilson Plot, denouncing the anti-semitism of those few retired generals and security/intelligence officers who dared to take exception to the British prime minister's close association with Jewish fraudsters such as Lord Kagan, Sir Eric Miller et al.

Then on to the National Archives, on the other side of DC. Alas, John Taylor is dead now two years. The research consultant recognizes me from across the room, and calls out in mock surprise, "The United States let you in, then?"

There is another English author there researching Operation FABIUS, the pre D-Day invasion manouevre in May 1944. I described that in The War Between the Generals. I suggest he goes out to Abilene, Kansas; he had no plans to.

Jae has surely deserved her rest, her nerves were getting frayed; but I cannot afford to pause. I spend the afternoon reading the CIA and OSS Name File indices again but do not find much new in the first, or anything at all in the second. On Thursday I will read the Nuremberg and other interrogation reports on my target personalities, on microcopies M1270 and M1019. I hope to establish incidentally whether that charlatan Professor Peter Longerich was ever in this archives building; I suspect that, like Germany's star historian Joachim Fest, he was not.

I inquire of Jessica: "Hi Jessica. I hope you picked up the cash okay, you did not confirm that. Jae has gone home three days early. But the last few days of the tour went well. I am now in Washington for a few weeks."

In the evening I watch Witness for the Prosecution with Ned; it is a vintage Agatha Christie movie, with Charles Laughton as the barrister. What a splendid actor he had now (1958) become, with an appealing leonine roar from the bar, and a leering sideways look when things seemed to be going well. The Old Bailey film set alone must have cost a fortune to reconstruct.

The murderer turns out to have been Mr Vole, played by American heart-throb Tyrone Power -- filming only a few months before he died in Madrid of a heart attack. In my draft memoirs chapter "Burning Bright" I write of my period as a clerk-stenographer with the U.S. Strategic Air Command on their Madrid air base hospital in 1960: "This was the hospital where Tyrone Power briefly lay after he died filming on location in Spain in 1958. She [Anne, my pool boss there] had sneaked into the morgue for a look, and spoke in awe of how handsome he was in death. I was more taken by her IBM electric typewriter; it was the first I had ever seen."


Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Washington, DC (USA)

I DRAFT an email to booksellers etc., like Michael Kelly:

I am disappointed that you have not responded substantively to our complaint that you are selling stolen property, namely works by me which we have clearly identified as being stolen from our warehouse stocks at Bement, Illinois.

Since these items were identifiably stolen from us, we are asking that you confirm to us how many of these books you took from World War II Books and refund to us their face value, which we have thereby lost. You must look to Mr. Frickensmith for reimbursement.

It is of course not your fault that you took these items off him; but the fact remains, they were and still are our property.

To Albert in Key West I write:

Re: Bikes, again: I have been having worried evenings about the bikes, and Jae says I am foolish. I am prepared to let your New York firemen use them, but they MUST be left in identical or better condition.

I say this because when I arrived in September last, I found my bikes padlocked with a new lock, my old one having been forced, and I had to spend $167 dollars having the badly bent front wheel on mine straightened and everything else that had been damaged fixed by the bike shop. That bike is my only means of transport in Key West.

Very chilly here in DC. Getting my broken tooth fixed in an hour's time, which should remove the source of any recent grumpiness.

David Irving



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