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First posted Thursday, February 14, 2013
They no longer wear the jackboots and armbands, but the heels still click compliance, and they still jail people on orders from above.
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[Previous Radical's Diary]  


Tuesday, January 1, 2013
Eton, UK.

THE cold sunshine is sweeping the meadow behind this house. It has been raining solidly since I came back from Florida. I only really resumed the writing of Himmler when I settled into Key West last month at the end of the second US tour.

I wonder if J. is happy in Australia, and whether it will stay that way. The baby will provide her with a solid axis for her next few years.

My fan base has grown through my activism, and my closing timetable of life appears to be on track, provided God has no earlier plans for me. I should get the last three books (Himmler, Churchill vol. III and memoirs) off the stocks and down the slips into the public stream before the stoplight turns to red. I do not forget brother John's warning words a few years back: "You thought you could do it but when the time comes you'll find that you can't" -- meaning that energy and brain batteries have drained too far. I shall not lose sight of the goal, provided that I don't fall short of it.

I might even get down to Australia this year; I shall start wheels moving in a few days. . . I shall carry Jessica back to University, and stay here until the end of January.

I inform Albert: "I fly to Miami Jan 31 arriving 6:20 pm; I have booked the ticket today."

I spend much of the evening drafting a letter to the Australian prime minister Julia Gillard, who is unfortunately known however to be heavily influenced by Israel. Her husband is a lobbyist for that sh*tty little country (to quote the French ambassador).

I have been reading interrogation reports, all day. This Himmler task is never-ending. Without the financial support from around the world the book could never make economic sense. No historian can otherwise afford to work fifteen, now sixteen, years on one man's life. Over one-third as long as it took Himmler actually to live it.


Wednesday, January 2, 2013
Eton, UK.

A long dreamladen night. I was in Germany, looking for locations for future meetings.


Thursday, January 3, 2013
Eton, UK.

I WRITE to the Imperial War Museum:

back in the 1990s the IWM acquired (as a gift I think) from a friend of mine, a wealthy American, Stanley H., the roll(s) of negative 35mm film taken by Hitler's Luftwaffe adjutant Nicholas von Below, found in the ruins of the Berghof in 1945. Mr H. showed me some prints when he visited me in the West End in 1985 and I advised him that the IWM was a suitable repository.

Can I come and review those images please. . . I will probably be able to identify a lot of the characters for you, the generals and staff etc., many of whom I personally knew. I am curious to see whether Himmler was at Hitler's famous August 22, 1939 "plain clothes" meeting, one of the subjects of Von Below's images, as his own 1939 diary (which I found and which I suspect is wrong) has him in Berlin that day, not Bavaria.

3:45 p.m. I pick up Jessica from Kensington Church Street. We spend three happy hours shopping, strolling through Harrods, and at the Cadogan. Not been to Harrods since I took J. there in 2009. . . At one point Jessica says without prompting she is really happy.


Friday, January 4, 2013
Eton, UK.

THE letter to Julia Gillard goes in final form as follows: "Dear Prime Minister Gillard,

Today I applied to your Minister for Immigration and Citizenship for a visa to enter Australia in order to conduct seminars, research in your national archives, and visit my daughter who is an Australian citizen and lives with her husband and my two grandchildren in Brisbane; all are Australian citizens. . .

I conducted successful nationwide tours of Australia and New Zealand until 1992. I continue to lecture in other countries including the United States where last year I drove 24,000 miles and spoke in a hundred cities including some universities. . .

During my second tour of Australia and New Zealand, in 1986, my famous biography of Winston Churchill held the No. 1 position on The Sydney Morning Herald bestseller list.

I have been refused entry into Australia since 1993, purportedly for not meeting an ad hoc "public interest criterion of good character," based on a German ban. Yet your security authorities and the Australian Police advised The Hon. Paul Keating that there was no security reason for me to be refused entry. (I have copies of, but am of course not allowed to publish those documents.) It is in fact a free speech issue.

The Munich courts have recently ruled that the German ban on me is illegal under European Union Law and ordered it lifted as from March 21 (to allow time for a possible appeal by Berlin. Permission for Berlin to appeal has not yet been granted.)


Saturday, January 5, 2013
Eton, UK.

A FORMER Colorado student writes me:

Once I get my 2012 tax refund money in, I'll see about sending you a donation. In one of your YouTube speeches you mentioned "incest" among history books, and you're totally right. As an example, I wasted a few dollars recently getting Auschwitz: A New History by Laurence Rees and the bibliography is horrifying. He works for the BBC and baldfacedly plugs his network in his sources. . . No original research, hastily assembled, and clearly written as minimal labor/quick sell for profit. Total garbage, and somehow he won an award and sold many copies?!

I bought a copy of Hitler's War from you in 2004 when you came to speak on the University of Colorado campus in Boulder. There were a few idiots in the back with an Israeli flag and some angry bone-thin Jewish man glowering in the back with a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes making weird accusations. I was impressed with how you quickly shut them all up. Skinny man also glowered at me when we were all waiting out front to get into the building.

As she's clearly a nice female, she gets a personal reply. Alas, whatever Hugo says, I do miss the companionship of J. I hope she's okay, and happy in Australia.

Into Eton, and I post the letters to the Australian Government.


Sunday, January 6, 2013
Eton, UK.

FINALLY a Theresa M Box asks: "Mr. Irving, I would appreciate you telling me what your racial mix is. Thank you." -- I reply: "What an odd question. Family line goes back to Robert the Bruce in Scotland. No Jewish blood so far as I know, not that I have asked."

She persists: "And your mother?" -- Blöd. I do not reply.


Monday, January 7, 2013
Eton, UK.

GLOOMY, overcast day. I get a query from South Africa:

I reply: "I have been working on "Churchill's War", vol. iii: "The Sundered Dream" over the past years, it is already complete but needs to be polished; it will not appear until about 2015. I have to finish my Himmler biography first, which is taking far longer than I anticipated. I hope to come and speak in SA before then."

Hugo writes: "The quack today confirmed that I did not have a cold but bacterial bronchitis. He has prescribed antibiotics which I hope will have me restored in a day or two."

I say: "Sounds like you have a doctor who knows how to humour you, Hugo."
"What! Don't you believe what he told me? Should I therefore throw the antibiotics away and let nature be my healer?!"
"I would, but then I am not you."

Hugo replies: "Well, the doctor was white, male and English so I believe him.. Anyway, I want to get better so, if the antibiotics do that, then I'm satisfied. I've had it now for nearly two weeks and it has only got steadily worse."

I say: "My health policy is to steer clear of every pill and tablet. You have set your sails differently. We'll see who has the last laugh!"


MORE good writing done on Himmler all day. It is a gigantic project. It is now beginning to resemble one of those half finished skyscraper buildings along the Mediterranean coast of Spain -- the ground floors all completed and already occupied, the middle storeys still needing windows put in, the upper floors still a mess of girders and scaffolding and pallets, with tower cranes abandoned and swinging in the winds. The "top floor" has however been in place for three years already now: the mystery of how he really died.

Robert H Jackson, Chief US Prosecutor at Nuremberg, delivers his opening speech, November 1946: from David Irving, "Nuremberg, the Last Battle"

Tuesday, January 8, 2013
Eton, UK.

A PATCHY sleep. Sam Wallace writes: "Hi,"

I have been reading your book, "Nuremberg, The Last Battle". On page 99 to 100, I came across the following paragraph:

"HOW GREAT were those losses? inquired Jackson, seeking a figure to use at the coming trial. 'Six million,' responded Dr Robinson, and indicated that the figure included Jews in all Nazi-occupied lands 'from the Channel to Stalingrad.'

Jackson noted that day: I was particularly interested in knowing the source and reliability of his estimate as I know no authentic data on it."

Can you please provide me with the reference as to where did Jackson make a note of this? I assume you have read this in his works so if you could please pinpoint exactly, where I can go and read this sentence in Jackson's writings I would appreciate it. This piece of information I feel is very important. Thank you for your time. Keep up the good work!

I reply: "Sure, the exact quotation is from the private diary of Robert H Jackson himself, with permission to me from his son William. It was held at the time by Professor Philip Kurland of the Chicago Law School, who was commissioned to write a Jackson biography but never did, to my knowledge."


I HAVE trouble remembering names from the past. Kurwald, Kurland? Looking in the rear-view mirror of life, I fancy I see a thickening fog rolling in darkly from behind, and beginning to catch up with me.

Somebody writes from Holland:

Wasn't [Michael] Bloch a friend of yours in the past? I know his biography of Ribbentrop is mostly based on secondary sources, but for lack of a better alternative... Good luck on the Himmler book!

p.s. Martin Mansson from Sweden once published a photographic chronicle about Himmler, could be a source for some nice pictures?

Grrr. I reply: "You sure know how to wind people up. Månsson borrowed all my expensively researched original photos, offering to identify the officers on them, and then published most of them without my permission!"


Wednesday, January 9, 2013
Eton, UK.

HUGO phones to say that the German ZDF TV team arrived an hour early, got their times wrong. I: will come at once.

I drive to his apartment in Kew: Three Germans there. Karl-Heinz Höffkes whom I have not seen for twenty-five years, is there, and he plies me with questions about private film sources on WW2; M. the ZDF producer, and the cameraman with some expensive equipment. Says he has a photo of Odilo Globocnik and Gauleiter Friedrich Rainer after they committed suicide together, which differs from the official version that Globocnik poisoned himself in British captivity, May 23, 1945. Hugo had showed them his original copy of the antisemitic book Der Giftpilz, The Toadstool.

One of the ZDF team says that Fips, the artist who drew the extraordinarily clever illustrations was in fact a Jew. Wikipedia identifies Fips as Philipp Rupprecht (4 September 1900 -- 4 April 1975) and does not mention his religion, but says he married an Erna Blom in 1921, and was sentenced to six years prison in 1945 for his caricatures. The power of the pen!

Unusually, the sun has come out for the whole day. M. is well primed with questions on The Hitler Diaries Scandal but I am primed with answers and a dozen photos for his use including Otto Günsche, who played his part in October 1982. The interview is a rollicking success and M. pronounces himself well satisfied. -- I treat the whole story as a comedy, and reel it off chronologically for twenty minutes, date- and name-perfect throughout.

Having found to my discomfort that the entire German Historikerschaft had fallen in behind me, I said, I decided to try for the double and on May 3, 1982 announced that the diaries could be genuine after all -- just to have a laugh at the disarray of the aforementioned Historikerschaft as they tumbled over each other like Bandsmen about-turning at the Royal Tournament.

Because after all, I pointed out, the whole thing was about Entertainment, not History. One word was written over the whole episode, I said: Greed, Geldgier.

M. IS curious about what happened at the Wiesbaden television discussion panel on May 4, 1982, a few days after the big Hamburg press conference (right) on April 25, 1983; I can recall only the Stern editor Peter Koch afterwards privately showing me the 62 identical volumes of the Diaries, and my surprise that Hugh Trevor-Roper, on the line to the discussion panel from England, could not understand or speak German; but I praise HT-R, and said I had sympathy for the pickle in which he found himself.

Sitting next to me on Newsnight HT-R described entering the safe in the Swiss bank, and the smell of "old paper" greeting him. I know that smell, I said, from the archives, and it is in fact one test for document-authenticity: the document is put in a sealed tin for a couple of days, the lid then lifted, and -- sniff!

M. tells me privately that that swine Professor Eberhard Jäckel (left) is now in a bad way, suffering from dementia, so I go easy on him. M. is curious about whether I shall come to Germany for my birthday.

We film for a couple of hours, then some English-village-green shots on Kew Green, lunch at the Rose & Crown at Hugo's invitation -- a very tough sirloin steak --, and I drive back to Eton.

At seven p.m I write to my fourth daughter, who lives in Brisbane: "Hello 'Smudge'

I am applying for a visa to come to Australia and NZ at the end of the year. Do not hold your breath, it is unlikely to be granted without a fight. I would bring Jessica perhaps. I have had to give all the details they asked for, which I managed (apart from Roger's birthdate, never knew it). It would be nice to see your new home, but as said, I think the chance is less than five percent.

Reinhold M. tells me the YouTube film of The Independent Mind is blocked in Germany. I post that on my front page:

David Irving on Free Speech - interviewed for Rex Blooomstein's award-winning documentary An Independent Mind (11 minutes). But: Seemingly not available to the Germans: "This video is not available in your country." World safe again, phew!

Kevin comments: "I told you - its a very powerful piece - not one your enemies will find helpful as it puts your case and position in a very favourable light."


Thursday, January 10, 2013
Eton, UK.

AN anonymous writer comments: "As an admirer of your striving for objective factual history -- I do see strongly anti-semitic flavors. Unwise to arm one's opponents, surely? Centuries of discrimination and restriction have made the Jewish communities very self-reliant and vigorously active."

8:20 p.m I reply, "Thanks for your comments, but as an Englishman I have long learned to defend myself. It is not anti-semitism."


THE BBC News programmes are dripping with self-flagellation over the Jimmy Saville case. It makes me rather uneasy, in a probably unpopular way. I do not and did not ever like Saville: he seemed over-rich, overweening, over-oozy with his programmes. He died four years ago, and much adulation surrounded this needlessly famous entertainer (and his desire to be buried at an angle, so that he could cast his gaze out across the North Sea).

Then it began to come out that he was the subject of allegations of paedophilia, which the BBC had for various reasons covered up. I have no reason to believe he was not guilty of the general allegations; but I am concerned about the posthumous hounding, this easy, cheap and undangerous witch hunt, as allegation is mounted upon allegation, piled high, as the sensation and publicity-seeking "victims" now come forward to point their podgy fingers.

In my eyes the victim now is Saville himself, dead, his reputation not just tarnished, but ruined, with no chance of repair. This is not the British way of justice, or if it now is, it should not be. By all means, pursue, hound and disgrace the BBC and its nasty producers for tolerating this insufferable man, paying him a fortune, and their climate of corruption and concealment. But de mortuis nil nisi bonum: speak no ill of the dead, and somebody must belatedly stand up for that principle.


Friday, January 11, 2013
Eton - Wiltshire - Eton, UK.

I DRIVE down to Wiltshire, and back with half a ton of books from the warehouse.

Hugo has written, about J.: "......" -- I admonish him: "You still don't seem to have appreciated; she was a once-in-a-lifetime companion."

Supper at the Palmer Arms alone; I order a sea-bass, then change it to a chicken escalope which arrives after half an hour: like cardboard with sauce over it, plonked on top of a mound of uncooked green vegetables, and small soggy recooked new potatoes. I could not believe the meal could be so bad. I take one bite, plonk a twenty-pound note on the table after the waitress has come and asked if it is okay and gone -- no reply -- and stalk out. Grim.


Saturday, January 12, 2013
Eton, UK.

I READ the British Military Police report on the Rudolf Hess death [August 1987] again. It does seem prima facie pretty conclusive, but then such reports usually do; but the handwritten "suicide note" is strange, as it uses the very old-fashioned hs letters for ß which I have only ever seen before in the Aumeier manuscripts, and in none of the genuine Hess manuscripts which I had the privilege of reading; and the "suicide note's" German is illiterate, which is not characteristic of him at all.

The handwritten original is not in the file, which is also noteworthy. I recall it was several days before the Berlin authorities revealed the existence of a "suicide" note. It is said to have been written on the obverse of a typewritten letter he had received, after censorship, in July 1987.

An awful lot of the report and enclosures has been redacted, blanked out, including what appear to have been two earlier altercations with an American guard soldier [Jordan] identified only as "2", known to have been a confrontational, in-yer-face Negro whom Hess disliked allegedly for two reasons which are also blanked out, and who was the only prison escort on duty at the time of his death by strangulation.

The electrical cable had been knotted over a window latch with a double knot. I doubt that Hess, aged 93, could have done that with his arthritis problem. "2" is stated to have removed the cable from Hess, which is handy as it would explain his fingerprints being on the cord -- but the report admits that no fingerprint tests were even attempted on the cord. I recall that Detlev Mehlis (now Senior Public Prosecutor in the Office of the Attorney General in Berlin) mentioned to me, when he called on me at Duke Street, that the Berlin police had been instructed by the British Foreign Office to cease its own investigation of the death.

That must have been on January 5, 1989 when I noted that at 11 a.m. "Det Insp Dennis, Scotland Yard called with Detlev Mehlis, of West Berlin CID, re BDC thefts. Helped as much as I could." -- It turned out that the deputy chief of the Berlin Document Center had been secretly selling off its treasures to autograph hunters, for which felony he was eventually prosecuted.

James Watson writes froim California:

I just ordered Hitler's War from Amazon and I'm really looking forward to reading it. Toward the end of last year I read a book entitled "The Third Reich" [by Prof Richard "Skunky" Evans, right] which was probably contrived entirely from secondary sources. It read more like a 400+ page lecture on morality than an effort to report events as they actually happened. The approach you take to history is a breath of fresh air.

I also recently read with great fascination the story of your last lecture tour through the US. The thugs that destroyed your property in Minnesota certainly have no concept of freedom of speech or association, let alone human decency or lawfulness.

I happened to read part of a website belonging to an organization that opposes you and they made it clear on the homepage that the goal was to disrupt as many of your peaceful events and to destroy as much of your property as possible. It took me by surprise that they advertise these goals so openly and that this happens in what I (until recently) understood to be a free country.

I reply: "You are up late! Thanks for buying the book, but the ones being sold on Amazon were stolen from my warehouse in Illinois some years ago. Buy future books from my webstore -- then I benefit! I shall return to S California in about a year to speak. In the summer I shall speak on the east coast."


Into Farnham to load up boxes of books, then on into the West End. The meeting room gradually fills, and then even more come until there are over seventy and standing room only. I speak on Hess, then we have an interval, and Hugo, who was working for the British Military Government in Berlin when Hess died, gives a very cogent talk on the situation of the Four Powers in Berlin and the Rudolf Hess case.

Emails briefly, a fan letter from an Eastern European whose name I have lost:

OK. Just to let you know that after reading your books "Uprising", "Banged up" I think that you are not only a great historian, but also a very good writer. I lived through German occupation, Warsaw Uprising and Communism so I know that your understanding of Communism is exceptional and true.


Sunday, January 13, 2013
Eton, UK.

YET another inquiry: "I have been an avid reader of your work for quite a while, and I have always been amazed at your grasp of the German language. . . The reason I emailed you is simply to ask you, as an Englishman, how you came about learning the language. Did you take certain university classes or did you teach yourself. I have thought of taking college classes, unfortunately not many are offered in German, mostly in Spanish of course, and the quality of those classes are up to debate. I would simply like your opinion on what is the best way to learn this language. Thank you very much for your time."

I reply: "I spent six or seven years at school 1947 to 1956 learning it to Advanced and Scholarship level, then worked in a German steel mill, Thyssen's, then had a year of it at the London School of Economics in 1961; then had many German friends. Of course being banned from German soil for twenty years has not advanced it for a while. Spanish, I had to learn phonetically, and I am still quietly shocked at the way some of their words like Hola turn out to be spelt. The other four or five languages I learned different ways. I am still working on the American."


HUGO, Kevin, and Jessica come for lunch; very pleasant, and I drive Jessica into Chiswick afterwards. Her vocabulary is astounding. She has put her cash into a savings account . . . solid, intelligent girl. She does not get that from me, of course.

The other news today is that Austria has sentenced Gottfried Küssel to nine years in jail (the prosecutor demanded twenty) for running a right-wing Internet website: The charge? Wiederbetätigung. They can make that charge fit whatever crime they like. That gives food for thought. They no longer wear the jackboots and armbands, but the heels still click compliance, and they still jail people on orders from above.


Monday, January 14, 2013
Eton - Lambeth - Eton, UK.

FIVE hours at the Imperial War Museum annex, reviewing after thirty years the Nicholas von Below negatives found in the ruins of the Berghof in 1945. Stanley H., president of Chicago's Hubbard broadcasting system, donated the rolls to the museum on my advice after visiting me in 1989.

My purpose was a simple one, to see whether Himmler was at Hitler's famous "plain clothes" audience of generals on the Berghof on August 22, 1939. His diary suggests, to my surprise, that he was not -- that he saw Hitler alone the day before. He is not on the twenty negatives Von Below took that day, in fact Himmler figures only two or three times among Below's 310 negative frames, which seems to confirm it; nor was Karl Wolff present that day. Hmmm.

To my delight however there is a series of ten or so pictures taken at Hitler's Berghof conference of July 13, 1940, the one at which he decided to attack the Soviet Union, including the excellent picture I used on the front cover of Hitler's War in 1977, given me by Alfred Jodl's widow Louise with his handwritten note on the back: "Der Führer trifft eine wichtige Entscheidung, und es ist gut, dass man die Karten nicht erkennen kann."

Back to Eton in drizzle and snow flakes, went online and back at Dawn's at five p.m. I snooze for half an hour.


Tuesday, January 15, 2013
Eton, UK.

I UNLOAD nearly all the boxes of books into the storage unit, and leave the Pigmobile at a garage for the glow plug to be checked.


Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Eton, UK.

A READER, R. writes: "Are you still looking for money to publish a new edition of Goebbels? That's another book that I have just started reading (currently on his various girl friends). I am by no means wealthy; but, if you are asking for a loan of £8,000 I could manage that."

I respond at once: "That would be great. Let me approach the printer for an up to date estimate and I will revert to you and we can discuss."

A less-than well wisher Frank Stone sends another hate-filled email. It seems you can't please them all.

I read your recent complaint about how the "crazed" gun lobby in MY country pours its hate on you. I was one of the original critics of the pathetic, Piers Morgan-like, feel good, comment you posted after the Sand Hook massacre. Since you took down the idiotic, Jewish-spirited comment, I thought that you gave it deeper thought and decided to stay out of something that is none of your business as a foreigner anyway.

While I never contributed directly, I plan to set up a hedge fund exclusively for the benefit of persecuted historians, writers and activists. It seems that you became Judaized over time, like a prison guard who starts to become like the inmates he guards after a while. Jurgen Graf thinks that you have problematic personality traits.

Like the Jews, you seem to be unable to admit mistakes, you stick your nose into the business of others, especially in the light of our War of Independence against YOUR country's oppressors.

He then sends two more emails which I delete, unread.


Thursday, January 17, 2013
Eton, UK.

John J C Irving, authorLINDA N. encloses a scan of the first part of In The Footsteps of Livingstone by my father John Irving (published in 1920), right, with my second daughter, in 1966. It is the diary of my ancestor Alfred Dolman, who was murdered and eaten by Blacks on his second visit to Dr Livingstone in South Africa. I thank her:

Wow, I have looked at the Dolman book scan. Can you scan the rest so I can either post it online or even reprint it? Are the pictures in black and white? We (my late brother) has them framed in colour.

She replies with some amusing news about Dolman:

Turns out he was something of a cad. Before setting out on his final trek he stayed with a local family --- whites, of course. They had an attractive daughter and you can guess what transpired. There was a law on the books back then that a man could have carnal knowledge of an unmarried woman only if there was an agreement beforehand that a marriage was to follow immediately. Turns out he left without keeping his end of the bargain and the parents had him charged criminally. Often this was done to protect the family's good name if knowledge of the affair leaked out. Naturally the case was dropped when he turned up dead.

And there's more bad news. Most of those drawings you attribute to Dolman were done by someone else. There was a British colonial bureaucrat of some sort in Cape Town who did the originals in his spare time. They were then reproduced and sold to tourists and other colonials. They're fairly well-known. . .

No offense, but reading between the lines of his memoire, and with the other tidbits I've learned about him, I think he was a pretty nasty piece of work. He was crazy about guns and shooting things. He spent the entire trip by sea to Cape Town shooting at everything that moved --- seagulls, dolphins, etc. Of course we'll never know, but it wouldn't surprise me at all if his African guide killed him after taking a bellyful of Dolman's abuse. And he always had liquor with him during his trek. Who knows what really went on . .

Sounds like I am a chip off the old block


THE verbal abuse from the gun-worshippers does not abate. Somebody singing himself only as Don writes to me: "Sixty per cent (60%) of 4,000 US high school and college students polled stated their intention to buy guns after graduating from school and establishing households. If you're scared of guns, stay in Britain where you belong. The tide here is turning against you."

I reply: "I understand American college students don't show up too brightly in their exam ratings either." It's, um, like shooting fish in a barrel.


Friday, January 18, 2013
Eton, UK.

I TAKE the load of Banged Up round to the storage unit, in falling snow. It is now crammed full. The snow messes up the minor roads badly and it takes an hour and a quarter to crawl back. Driving back into Eton I see three flights of Canada geese migrating northwards … I guess they got confused.


Saturday, January 19, 2013
Eton, UK.

MORE hatemail over guns and my OpEd about it in the last Radical's Diary.

I reply to one: "If only you could see the way the whole world now looks at the United States! It ain't pretty. I have said my piece about your country's stupid gun-worship. History will say the same, I expect."

At eight the geese fly low overhead, heading back the other way. -- Bob, Dawn's black cat, sits at the window and watches. Dawn's four other cats venerate him. He is their senior. He has beaten up every other cat in town. He is a field-marshal among cats. He has been around for sixteen years -- that's a hundred and twenty in cat years. He knows he is near the end. He dribbles sometimes, or stands on a stool, his head slightly bowed, pondering life's momentarily vital question: Why am I standing on this stool?

Sometimes he rolls off, one stiff leg flails out as he falls and catches a claw in the fabric, and he miaows quietly until a human comes to release him. Then he tramples slowly over me to get to the window shelf, pressing a bunch of keys on the keyboard with his paws, and sits all day staring out at his domain. It is very quiet around here. Cold, grey, overcast, and quiet. Another flight of geese goes past, honking loudly.

A Ruby writes me:

Hello Mr. Irving, lately I have had a huge interest in your work and, being an open-minded person, have found your research to be incredibly eye-opening. I have heard tales of a new book coming out, is this a false report?

I reply: "My next and possibly my last three books are "Himmler," "Churchill's War", vol. ii: "Triumph in Adversity" and Memoirs. You can read more about them here, or even better download our latest illustrated catalog of my works."


BUDAPEST would have been very cold, anyway, and my overcoat has gone mysteriously missing.

Another anonymous American ladels out more mindless hate:

America is the only English speaking country you are allowed to visit due to our First Amendment. The First Amendment is held up because of the Second Amendment. You are attacking the very basis of the freedom you enjoy when you visit us. Using your daughter's death, who was not killed by firearms in the first place, as a prop, is disgusting. Now the Vatican joined the Jews, Piers Morgan and David Irving in attempting to undermine our Constitution. Stay out of America.

There is a certain sameness about these writers. "Stay out of America". How does he know how Josephine died, God rest her soul?

4:51 p.m I reply to one:

Please, please look at yourselves through the eyes of the outside world. Sand Hook was a disgusting scandal, and would never have happened if that crazy woman and her son had had no guns. Six guns including machine guns. What on earth did she need them for? I am not going to be intimidated into thinking differently. We do not have the sickness; the gun-worshippers in the United States do.


Sunday, January 20, 2013
Eton, UK.

JIM Cain and Carl McCloskey send me hate mail about guns, so they are also removed from my list. Somebody appears to be orchestrating this tirade.


Monday, January 21, 2013
Eton - Chiswick - S W England - Eton, UK.

I LEAVE for Eton -- to post a book -- and Jessica's at eleven a.m. On the way, I drop in on Hugo and spend forty-five minutes with him. Jessica has blonded her hair more, but is dissatisfied with it. I drive Jessica down the M4 to the south-west to return her to the university, and her illness evaporates as we draw closer to the university. Much of the time of course she is listening to music, but I do get a few thin words in, edgeways. She forbids me to accompany her into the building, apparently the fact that I am wearing sneakers annoys her. I explain that the snow and salt would wreck my leather shoes.


Tuesday, January 22, 2013
Eton, UK.

8:44 a.m I send this message to Jessica: "Dear Jessica

I was so glad to spend a couple of hours with you yesterday driving you back to Bristol. It took an hour and a half of horrid winding lanes and hills to get to Dilton Marsh last night, rush-hour. The cottage is undergoing a major internal refit, and there were just a few of my mother's paintings on the walls and a photo of my brother ýJohn and his family.

Six hours on the road, three hundred miles, yesterday! Your Hall does look rather gaunt and cheerless but I know you will soon make tons more friends. Don't let them use you or exploit you. Don't lend money! I think that financially things will turn round for us this year, as I shall expand the number of books on my bookstore -- foreign editions, etc. -- and finish Himmler. In the summer I promise we will have a house to live in again, you and I, one way or another.

You have been lucky with your Danish grandparents, but that comes from their being so very impressed with you -- no surprises there. I wish my mother and father could have seen you! . . . I am so pleased that you are growing up into such a beautiful and brainy lady.

Another gun-worshipper hurls hate at me:

Looks like the anti-gun comments have done you in. Maybe you should apologize to the American people for supporting the gun grabbers. The pro-gun people who believe in freedom of speech and the right to bear arms were your main supporters. Remember those Gun Shows you used to attend? I know because I know them and they will not give you a thin dime again without a apology.

Feel free to return to your third-world-overrun UK hellhole which is ten years ahead of the USA. We can fight while the gunless White Britain's [sic] will be murdered in the street by their Jew ridden "Diversity" government and criminals. Great future for you over their [sic] when they enslave your children and ban your books.

A quick check shows he has never contributed. He spends his money on guns and bullets, not Real History.

At 9:07 p.m I send him my now standard reply:

If only you could see the way the whole world now looks at the United States! It ain't pretty. I have said my piece about your country's stupid gun-worship. History will say the same, I expect.

I have zero sympathy, and nothing in common with, people who find phoney "Second Amendment" excuses for the mad woman who "legally" kept six hand-guns and machine guns which killed twenty innocent infants in Connecticut.


Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Eton, UK.

TERRIBLY slow Internet connection at the cafe. One of the 125 messages this morning is from Australia, rejecting my application for a Visa. They seem to have written me a letter dated January 10, but it has not arrived here.


Thursday, January 24, 2013
Eton, UK.

I MUST go into Windsor today to get some Internet top-up for the dongle. (From "some…" onwards that sentence would have been gobbledegook ten years ago.)

10 a.m I drive into Eton High Street, cross the bridge on foot and power-walk up the hill to Windsor castle and NatWest bank, first time since the new hip. I buy top-up for the Vodafone dongle then walk back down to the van. The woman insists that five pounds is enough. I tried to get fifteen. Back at the house, the five pounds top-up does not work, it has to be fifteen.


AT seven pm Dawn's son Terry comes. They have an appointment with the veterinarian for Bob, their old black cat. Terry kneels down and takes a last photo of Bob, who just glares at him in a senile kind of way, and they drive off.

After a while I heard a loud a loud honking outside, as flight after flight of Canada geese flap past in V-formation, perhaps two hundred of them, right over this house, heading north again -- what a spectacle, like Concorde, the Spitfires and the Lancaster over Buckingham Palace. I fear the worst for Bob.

Soon Dawn and her son are back, and I can hear her sobbing. Terry puts the empty cat basket up in a cupboard, and it is some time before Dawn comes into the sitting room, and tries to be her usual jovial self. I tell her how sorry I am. "He felt no pain," is all she says.

My Florida historian friend writes: "I am also interested in your perspective on the Longerich book. I find it terribly dry, but perhaps better than Padfield. Breitman's book is brilliant, however."

I respond:

You will not be surprised to hear that I do not, dare not, read other authors' books. Reasons in short:
   (a) depressing to do so, ones first reaction is: I can never do as well as that;
   (b) accusations of plagiarism are worse than being called a paedophile or holocaust denier (Poor Stephen Ambrose).
   (c) risk of having one's clean think-outside-the-box ability polluted by the errors, prejudices, bloody-mindedness of the author concerned.
   Longerich is deadly dull. He is dishonest. I could sing a song about his bias and dishonesty. See my dossier on him at http://www.fpp.co.uk/Legal/Penguin/experts/Longerich and the laughable incident at http://www.fpp.co.uk/online/98/10/RadDi271098.html
   [You may find those URLs are blocked on your college systems].
   Peter Padfield's "Himmler" I was commissioned to read when it was a raw manuscript submitted to Macmillans at their request. (They never paid me). I hate to write reports on other authors' books. Padfield's was so awful that after writing 200 pp of double-spaced notes and suggestions, I gave up, telling Macmillan's "You are never going to publish it."
   I was wrong. It was based just on a dozen books: That can be done -- depending on which dozen. He chose Kersten, Rauschning, Ciano etc, and I gave up in disgust. His use of German words was so random and erratic that I assumed, perhaps wrongly, he had no knowledge of the language. When his book came out, I saw he had adopted a lot of my material in my comments. -I agree with your views on Breitmann, though I have not read his book on Himmler. The simple divide is always: Has an author waded through T175 [a US National Archives microfilm series], or has he not.

My friend replies: "Your comments on Padfield make me laugh, for the book has the feel of being an early draft and one very disorganized. The book is a mess, really. Longerich's thick doorstop volume has barbiturate qualities. I can't read more than a dozen pages without glossing over. Other than Breitman, there has yet to be a good Himmler biography. Good news for you."


Friday, January 25, 2013
Eton, UK.

ONE overnight book sale, $105, and a $1,000 donation, which cheers me. Uh no, not a donation, it is a deposit on two more bookings for this September's Wolf's Lair tour which is even better, two more Australians. I thank them: "I have applied yet again for a visa to come to Australia but yesterday I was refused yet again. Banned for the last twenty years. Go figure!"

I write to Jessica: "I read your paper this morning Jessica, and it is way above my pay-grade, which means I am terrifically impressed. My only comments are editing-type comments: break up some of the longer paragraphs perhaps, and do not centre quotes, but indent them (push them to the right a bit)."

My Florida friend sends me stuff on Himmler's concubine, Hedwig Potthast, and I forward it to Hugo: "This American researcher has been useful to us; a fast and productive hod carrier" -- the latter remark being meant as a gentle prod.


Saturday, January 26, 2013
Eton, UK.

I AM busy re-transcribing the original German-language diary of Frau Himmler today. The American partial transcript is very dürftig.


Sunday, January 27, 2013
Eton, UK.

A soggy morning, but the sun breaks through by nine-thirty. Another gun-worshipper writes me, no doubt from the USA:

Greetings! I have the highest regard & respect for the great work you do regarding historical truth. Regarding your recent comments about the right to self-defense in America: when a 300-pound gorilla and his 5 homeboys show up on my doorstep, what should I do? Call the police? Or put some lead in their Black asses?

Jack Stanley writes me from New Jersey: "I am a late bloomer in discovering Mr Irving. I live in New Jersey in the USA and discovered Mr Irving 2 years ago. I have been buying his books and savoring them. As an historian who studied in a very different field. (Thomas Edison) I spent several years going through Edison's papers and was told that my work was not right. Not like the other historians who use each others books. I was eventually locked out of my own museum and job and spend a few years rediscovering myself. This is when I discovered Mr Irving and saw someone I truly understand. . . I bought 2 leather bound copies of Hitler's War. I would like to if possible purchase 2 book plates with Mr Irving's autograph. These books are for my life and I wish to pass them off to my nephew in time as he is a budding historian."

I reply: "I will be more than happy to oblige you in any way I can about my books. I am often in NJ (this coming fall probably on a speaking tour again)."


THE gun freaks don't give up: Al Bluestone writes from California:

If the person who claimed to be a past contributor was anonymous how would you know he never contributed? You shot yourself in the head and the balls with your utterly stupid, hysterical comments on guns. Thank God we are not yet a shitty tenth rate socialist police state like Britain, no longer great.

As an old Jewboy myself and revisionist including the shoah business I say Good Riddance to you from our ranks. You come off like a candyass pseudo-Right version of Piers Morgan. After that stupidass lawsuit and your mea culpa in Vienna we don't need you. Like Weber you are just another Communazi. -- F*ck Off, Al Bluestone

He gets the standard answer, plus: "His email address is not on our database. Hence he has never contributed."

-- It is evident that some gun magazine has plastered my name and views somewhere.

Hugo phones, has just found that The Sunday Times magazine has a lengthy (eight-page) article about me and our inspection of Majdanek concentration camp in September 2011 (above). It is by Will Storr, the journalist we allowed to come on the tour.

At 7:34 p.m there is an odd phone call on my cellphone from "No number", a very North London Jewish-sounding male, ca 40. "Is there a landline where I can call you on?" - Who is that? -- "I am from The Sunday Times."

I said: "You can call me on this line. You can speak to me on this line." He said, "The line is bad, [It isn't] I will call you again."

Luckily, I don't hold my breath, as he does not call again. He did not sound like a journalist. Why would he want my landline number if not to locate where I am actually housed -- and what kind of nuisance was he planning then?

Nice fan mail from a stranger, an Associate Professor in New York:

I just wanted to send you a note to tell you how much I have enjoyed your books through the years, and I hope to continue reading your books into the future. I was wondering why there is not a major book in English, (as far I know), about Hans Lammers? I would think he would be an excellent subject for a book because of his knowledge, and relationship to Hitler as head of the Reich Chancellery. Imagine what we would learn from any of his writings had he left any. I have always felt that Lammers would be a great subject for a book. With your superior knowledge of all the people in the Reich government, you would be doing the history community a favor for writing such a book. I was wondering if you had ever considered writing a book about him?

I reply, "I know one or two colleagues who have expressed interest in Lammers. I spent some time searching in vain for his diaries. They were looted in Berchtesgaden, May 1945. The French Moroccan troops [Blacks] raped his wife and daughter also, and they committed suicide in consequence."


Monday, January 28, 2013
Eton, UK.

I SEND belated birthday greetings to Beatrice in Brisbane, and the latest photo of Jessica:

Hope you are not being swept away by the rains . . . Australia again refused me a visa, so I shall proceed slowly to the next step. All the best to you all, love, Daddy

Robert M writes: "Having just returned from a gloriously cold Berlin I read the article about you in The Sunday Times colour supplement. I wondered if you had had any suspicions that this fellow was a turncoat? I thought that despite its tone, your responses were as expected, concise and factual. I think, if impartially read the 'Real History' shared view is there for all who wish to see it. I had to laugh at his amateur Freudian explainations, one wonders what drives such people. I just hope a little of what you said settled into the mind of that little rat."

I reply at 8:20 p.m.

Yes Robert, the guy - I don't remember him using that name - identified himself to Jaenelle on the first day as a journalist. I hesitated. He told me he was a wannabe book writer. After chatting with him I saw little prospect that he would write anything publishable, and the article has confirmed my view. He has invented names for our guests, and even invented a guest on our tour with an SS Leibstandarte tattoo on his neck (which is quite untrue).


Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Eton, UK.

I ARRIVE at Hugo's at two p.m. and spend two hours or more with him going through his research files.

A teacher near Munich writes to me:

I teach history just outside Dachau and have a student writing her research paper on whether Hitler had suffered from Parkinson's. In your treatment of Dr. Morell no mention of this conditionn appears to be made, whilst in the The War Path you state that "Morell diagnosed these tremors as the first symptoms of Parkinson's Disease."

Given that this question has only apparently come up recently (certainly none in Hitler's inner circle made any connection to this disease), may I ask for your take? Personally, I feel that if Htler is essentially being given a death sentence in 1940, this could explain his decision to attack the USSR when he did.

I reply:

You do not say which book you use -- In the earliest book Wie krank war Hitler wirklich (Heyne Verlag) this may be true. But see the latest edition of my The Secret Diaries of Hitler's Doctor, and there is no doubt, from Morell's own diaries (and Hitler's desk diary -- see the final chapters of my Hitler's War). Both books are free downloads online.

He thanks me for taking the time to respond so quickly: "I visit your site frequently (at home as it is blocked at my school) and appreciate your taking the time out to respond to a request out of the blue. I grew up reading your books and my students now rely on them for their historiography thanks to their accessibility and focus beyond what is usually presented. In fact, your seminal book on Dresden forms the basis of another of my seniors' research papers this year, specifically the military considerations behind the bombing."


Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Eton, UK.

TEN hour flight tomorrow, plusa four-hour drive, and Albert says the apartment is not available for another two days, so he's putting me somewhere else for those. Grrr. I will have no summer clothes. Here that matters not, but in Key West....


Thursday, January 31, 2013
Eton, UK - Miami - Key West, Florida, USA

DAWN drives me to Terminal Five at eleven-thirty a.m. and the plane departs about half an hour late at 2pm. We fly high over Windsor castle, which looks very insignificant at this height, and then cross over Lake End Road but the clouds envelope us before I can detect LEH. Unfortunately my chosen seat, which on their online airplane map has empty space in front of it, has the bulkhead, so it has less even leg room than normal.

A truly horrible ten-hour flight in consequence, as my knees gradually freeze into position with only about three inches forward and backward room to exercise them. At Immigration in Miami the sweltering hall is packed with perhaps 5,000 arrivals in an endless serpentine. I manage to wangle myself into an express-connection line, and even then four or five late comers are shoehorned into it in front of me.

I hear my US phone ringing on in my pocket, and it turns out that Albert is in Miami to pick me up -- with a U-Haul truck. I can hardly refuse, though I have prepaid a non-refundable Avis rental car. It takes ninety minutes to clear Immigration and Customs and then half an hour (and ten more phone calls) for Albert to find me while I wait outside the terminal, swaying from exhaustion.

I do not think I could have driven on, and I tell Albert that I cannot safely offer to share the drive down the Keys. The truck of course has no back-and-forth movement whatever on the very upright passenger seat, nor can it be reclined even half an inch. It seems to have no suspension either. I fall asleep at once, upright, waking occasionally as it pitches and yaws and thuds over every pothole down the Overseas Highway.

At 12:05 a.m. we pull up outside the house. That is five a.m. in UK time. Of course I now have no rental car for tomorrow's errands -- picking up a huge wodge of packaging etc. from Office Depot, which I can't do with the bike. I plan, and Albert un-plans, but he means well.


Friday, February 1, 2013
Key West, Florida, USA

THREE hundred dollars donations online since yesterday. I thank the two donors: "I flew to the US yesterday, a ten-hour flight, followed by a three hour drive, and I will be writing here for the next six months, finishing "Himmler". Once again, thank you for your generosity."

Hugo inquires: "Were there no pretty stewardesses to distract you from your discomfort -- or were there only pretty stewards mincing to and fro and calling everyone love?"

I reply:

Stewardesses. Yes, there was one, I chatted with her five minutes as we stood waiting to get off the plane. She asked how old my Globetrotter suitcase is, it is battered but steadfast, and I said: thirty-six, ten years older than you. (She looked around 40).

He replies: "I take it you got her telephone number." No, men are like ostriches, monogamous. I don't know if that includes those Down Under, though.


TO the Post Office then, and to my surprise there are substantial cheques in the box - two hundred dollars contributed by Thomas E., and thirty thousand dollars from a Mike M. of Rhode Island; hard to explain the latter, but then I read the covering letter: "Dear David, By the time you receive this letter, I will have . . ." etc.

Oh dear, how sad. I now find also that the thankyou letter I mailed him on December 17 for his latest donation had been returned; I phone him but nobody answers. His magnificent final gesture will solve a raft of problems however. We can get Goebbels back into print immediately, and much else.

Supper with Albert on Sugar Loaf Key. I have a bowl of corn and crab chowder. I discuss the legal position of a cheque from a dead man. He says he would not be surprised if the man's bank has frozen his account. That had not occurred to me.

Himmler's concubine Hedwig Potthast drafted a letter to her estranged parents on Dec 2, 1941. We will pay a modest reward to anybody who can transcribe it. We have transcribed half so far. Click for enlargements.

Saturday, February 2, 2013
Key West, Florida, USA

NO book sales overnight. My Florida friend sends me the Hedwig Potthast letter (see above) dated Dec 2, 1941, which is in German shorthand, and says, "See what you can do with this." I reply:

I did, three years ago, see attached rough transcript by my erstwhile secretary Jutta P., who revealed to me after working for me for nearly twenty years (!!) in 1977 that her husband was the son of the July 20 traitor General der Infanterie Georg Thomas of the Wehrwirtschaftsstab OKW.


Monday, February 4, 2013
Key West, Florida, USA

A LADY in Dublin writes: "Dear David,

I'm very sorry that I never took the opportunity to listen to your arguments before. If I had I would have realised that you are an honest man and an exemplary historian, using only primary sources. I have finally stepped over the invisible line that they put there to scare people from revising history. And on the other side I found brave solitary figures like yourself. The internet will lead a new generation to revising Allied propaganda. There are many hours of your speeches online which anyone can listen to as soon as they decide that it's time to ask questions. Thank you for fighting for so long.

I bike out to Stock Island for supper. There is a strong headwind going out, which has completely dropped by the time I come back. Not a wisp stirs the palmtree-tops, the flags hang limp as a whiskey-dick. Grrr.

I write to Jessica, "Interested to hear from Hugo that you are taking up drawing again. Beatrice was very good at that, and so was poor Josephine, God rest her soul. You may find there is an art club at the university, like the one I used to go to at Imperial College. Keep me informed please. Hugo was delighted that you asked him, very flattered."


Wednesday, February 6, 2013
Key West, Florida, USA

I ADD add to Jessica: "Art materials. Buy a putty-rubber. That is the correct stuff, not Blue-Tag. I used to use a putty-rubber all the time. You can knead it into a fine point, and re-knead it when it gets dirty."

AT 10:33 a.m my local bank phones, the late Mike M.'s $30,000 cheque has been returned, "ACCOUNT CLOSED." Not entirely unexpected, but rather a blow.

My lower back is hurting. At 9.16 p.m. a man phones from California, M.'s elderly father. Yes, that was his son, he says soberly, he killed himself on December 15. I commiserate with him, I know how he must be feeling. He says he has still not got over it. Without going into any further details, I express my condolences. How terribly sad, and how sad for the father.

Reminds me of the guy in San Mateo who left me his entire estate, two million dollars, over ten years ago. The lawyer who dealt with my friend's estate confirmed it to me when I called at her office, ands added significantly: "I am not sure he got round to signing the will before he died..."

Fortunately I am a Christian. The only gentleman into whose paunchy effigy I still stick needles is, uh, never mind.

My Florida friend has sent me his book on the Malmedy "massacre". I thank him: "Book is very handsome, I peeped inside already. It is roughly 'where I came in,' as I ordered the complete report of the Judge Edward L Van Roden commission of inquiry from the US National Archives in 1963!"

In the evening I cycle over to the Rusty Anchor. They have meanwhile stopped serving fish 'n' chips for supper, only for lunch. Greedy bastards. Back to the apartment by seven-thirty p.m. and I write more on Himmler.


Friday, February 8, 2013
Key West, Florida, USA

I READ The New York Times for a while, as I have written a lot this morning. -- In the mailbox is a letter from the battling barrister Doug Christie in British Columbia, Canada. It has been slit open and resealed with a green-plastic official printed sticker reading, EXAMINED BY (and no name). Not seen those before.

Reminds me of those genuine Gestapo censorship labels I was once given given -- GESCHLOSSEN AM

I printed up a few hundred in the 1960s and used them to seal letters to German civil servants, adding the signature Heinrich Müller on the dotted line. The Gestapo chief has been "missing" since May 1945, but it may still have sent a chill down the odd Federal German spine. If the Federal Germans still have one, that is.  



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