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First posted Monday, September 30, 2013 4:16 pm
What did Wojciech Jaruzelski, General Noriega and Tariq Aziz all have in common? (Answer: Fans of Real History).

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[Previous Radical's Diary]  

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Friday, August 30, 2013
Eton (England).

AS I DRIVE into London at 3:45pm a Gary … phones to asks if there is still a slot spare in our Wolfs Lair tour, and I say yes, he should phone me this evening as I am driving. I warn him it is expensive and tell him to check our website first.

I fly to Poland next week for our fifth tour of the Hitler headquarters and "Reinhard" sites. Journalist Simon Usborne from The Independent phones at 5pm, he was one of our guests in The Bull in Peterborough, and is writing a ++++-stirring piece. I told him I had recognized him as a journalist but still let him come. Usual agenda. It will be appearing after tomorrow's Oxford meeting I hope, as he reveals some of our security methods.

Nine p.m. The Independent runs the Usborne story on its website.


Saturday, August 31, 2013
Eton - Oxford - Eton (England).

I DRIVE to Oxford, and install myself in the boardroom at the Randolph Hotel for the talk. All guests arrive, and stay until ten p.m., enthusiastic. Jenny B. arrives late, having not obtained the location until the last moment.


SEVERAL messages of support, resulting from the press attention, I presume.

As I think you know, I admire you for your work, your search for the truth, your honesty, integrity, bravery and willingness to put up with the hatred and slime of the (Jewish inspired) media. I also admire your open mindedness. You have said more than once, that if you were proved wrong on something you would not be upset, would accept the truth and be happy it was found out. Unfortunately others don't have that attitude.

For what it's worth, you have changed my mind about virtually everything I thought I knew about WW II (and many other things too) and I just wanted to say that you have my support and sympathy for having to put up with the guttersnipes in the press. You will always have my admiration and support.

11:43 p.m I reply: "Just got back from Oxford, the final UK meeting. The enemy did not lay a glove on me, the entire tour."

Now for Poland.


Sunday, September 1, 2013
Eton (England).

A BOOKSTORE CUSTOMER, Jara S., writes from Chile: "I'm glad to inform you that this very day I already received the books in perfect condition and with your signature on them."

Aaaargh. I am less pleased. I tell him: "Because of your impatience I yesterday mailed the books to you again." The books are worth over a hundred pounds the airmail postage on top around fifty.


  June 18, 1977


"QUITE WHY Golden Boy [David] Frost, having lost one bout on points some years ago against 'Battler Irving' should have sought a re-match, I do not know... Anyway, television's ageing boy wonder looked shockingly out of condition when he appeared in the ring, and Battler was clearly fighting fit. The first round was Battler's since he dodged Frosty's leads and replied with a flurry of punches which certainly had him hanging onto the ropes... Then Frosty called time -- at least it saved him having to throw in the towel."

THE radio announces the death yesterday at age 74 of David Frost, of a heart attack on board the QE2 where he was due to give a lecture. I am sorry to hear it. I wish nobody dead, and I would have liked him to see the pages of my memoirs, which I devote to his deceitful methods when I was his guest in 1967, 1968 and later on June 9, 1977. [Draft Memoirs: Chapter 17 | Chapter 17b | Chapter 20]

His studio manager at London Weekend Television told me years later, at a 1980 society cocktail party in Soho with my friend Lady Grover (the grandmother of our George Osborne), of the production skuldggery involved in Frost's programmes (e.g., his guest's microphone was made less sensitive, SILENCE signs told the audience not to applaud when his intended victim entered, etc.) I circulated some twenty thousand leaflets at the time revealing other horrors about Frost, and the Daily Express's "William Hickey" revealed that Frost's lawyer threatened any newspaper that published the leaflet's content with libel action!


AN irate Jewish Chronicle journalist, Jonathan Kalmus, writes:

If you are going to quote my story, please use the correct facts rather than ironically falsely accusing anyone of lying. Nowhere in my story does it claim you are or were "in exile".

I reply: "Sorry, I will check that again. Okay, checked and adjusted to reflect your actual words, 'after years in a Florida retreat.' They were equally untrue. I have no Florida retreat and do not spend years there in that state. What about your headline: "Irving back in UK to absolve Himmler"? What on earth is your evidence for that untrue remark? Nothing I told you would justify those words. You have not read the book.

I guess you are just displeased that you and your thuggish gangs totally failed to stop me exercising my right to free speech, from Exeter to Edinburgh. Not once did you or they lay a glove upon me. Your brightest brains failed even to find out where I was speaking.

Tomorrow -- Poland.


Monday, September 2, 2013
Heathrow (England) - Warsaw (Poland).

UP at 5 a.m. and my housekeeper drives me to Heathrow Terminal 3. I buy a tube of Bongela gel to rein in the tooth pain. I arrive at the Polonia Palace hotel in Warsaw at 11:45 a.m. and pay 30 zloty for a shoe shine; afterwards the shoes look -- just like when I arrived.

"Graham Wells" -- reluctant to give both names -- phones again, second time (the first was about a week ago), asks can he come on the tour, says he was expecting me to get back to him (how, if he withholds his number?). Can he pay by PayPal, he asks. I say yes, my guests have all paid over two thousand dollars but that includes all hotels and meals. He will have to get here by tomorrow evening. He says he could still do that. He withholds his number, so I suspect he is a journalist or even a hostile, or up to no good.


Dinner with my long-time translator Bartek and his ex-wife. Over dinner he mentions one curiosum, he was once friendly with the daughter of Wojciech Witold Jaruzelski, the last Communist leader of Poland from 1981 to 1989, he with the dark glasses, and she told Bartek that her father was a fan of my work and had all my Polish books. Hmmm.

"What did Wojciech Jaruzelski, General Noriega and Tariq Aziz all have in common?" (Answer: Fans of Real History).


Tuesday, September 3, 2013
Warsaw (Poland).

OUR guests start arriving from all over the world.

9:20 a.m. Australian Roberto C. phones from the airport -- he was just waved through without passport check, and worries that now Poland will not let him out! Other guests arrive during the day. One, an American, mentions that his copy of Hitler's War came unstuck when he reached page 150, and he is mildly complaining that the book literally fell apart. Under questioning, he reveals that he bought it from Amazon. I explain that the only "new" copies of my books on Amazon are those purloined by Lance Frickensmith, who kept them in a damp warehouse. He looks suitably abashed. In the circumstances, at least he does not ask for a refund.

Bad news from Louis W., one of our guests: headed "Have a Great Trip" he burbles:

My apologies for any headaches or issues I've created for you as a result of my not following through on the Wolf's Lair trip.

I reply at 9:25 a.m:"Louis, do I take it that you are not coming today? We have reserved and paid for all the rooms and accommodation, etc. It comes out of my own pocket, and the hotels have a no refund policy."

Given the location of his "stepfather," Palm Beach in Florida, it is not improbable that …. [etc.]


JESSICA reports that the first Geography exam question was an ideal one, one which she had hoped for, but the other two were way out of her depth. She says she is very stressed. For seventy years I have been worrying about exams and now all over again, by proxy.

An historian writes:

I am just writing to say thank you for allowing me to come to your talk in Oxford at the weekend. It was most interesting. As a young historian, while I did not agree with everything you discussed, I found it interesting to engage with a part of the historiography that I had not previously explored.

I pay the balance to our Polish transport company, 3,000 zloty, and send them the itinerary, requesting they keep it tajne; I have my suspicions.

A phone call from an Englishman, "no number," calling himself Richard and when I press him, he says hesitatingly, "Richard … Hines," and asks can I give him Hitler's phone number, in Berlin, 1161, etc. I hang up. He may be mentally troubled, or up to mischief, and either way I have no intention of getting involved at mobile-roaming expense. The ill-educated voice is the same as "Graham" "Wells," and other recent bogus callers. As my cellphone happily identifies the location here as "Polonia Palace Warszawa," I remove its battery for a while in case a locating-offensive is under-way. Withholding his calling number rather indicates malice, methinks.


GRAHAM G. (centre above, with Martyna) arrives, and the conversation turns to Jaenelle. He says that one thing that was odd about Gerwich Bode was that he had different stories each time about his profession. Graham says he understood that Gerwich was a director or something of Vodafone in Australia, and that rings a bell in my memory too; I remember him saying that very early on. Then he was a tango-teacher, then a physicist, and then an astrophysicist. If we go online we find he is connected in some way with a clinic in Melbourne. Well, we are sure J. has got to the bottom of it by now.

Jessica texts that she's back in London and "very stressed" today. She knows how to worry me.

R. has sent a thought-provoking new picture. This Hungarian reader, a lovable young widow, used to visit me once a month in the Vienna prison. It meant driving out of Budapest at two or three a.m., so as to be first in line. All the Austrian prison officers crowded into the visiting room to see my prison visitor. The word went round the whole building. "Besuch! Es ist die Réka!" When I reported in detail back to the others in the prison yard, one described it as a "cruel and unnatural punishment."

2:37 p.m Peter V. phones my hotel room, he has arrived from Connecticut. I invite him to a bite in the lobby.

2:38 p.m I write to my German lawyer:

bin nunmehr in Warschau und führe meine 27 Gäste aus aller Welt um die "Reinhardt"-Vernichtungslager in Polen und die versch. Hauptquartiere und Bunker im ehemaligen Ostpreussen herum.

2. Bin sehr in Sorge wegen des vorgesehenen Vortrags in Ihrer Hauptstadt am 10. Dass die rechtliche Lage so lange unklar bleiben würde, war meinerseits nicht vorauszusehen. Es hängt ja sehr viel in beiden Hinsichten davon ab, ob ich auch dorthin den Flug wage oder nicht. Kann man nicht sehr schnell eine Anfrage beim VGH richten, ob eine dortige Entscheidung in Sache gegnerischer Berufungsgenehmigung schon erreicht wurde oder in absehrbarer Zeit zu erwarten sein wird?

5:45 p.m 'Chip' arrives from Virginia, but as he is dressed in a peaked workman's cap that is the trademark garb of the Eastern European secret police I avoid looking at him. Later he doffs it and identifies himself, like that character in 'Allo - Allo!', and I apologise. We go for a stroll in the street later.


YAWN. I hate it. I tell a correspondent: "I am in Poland for a week and have to be very careful what I say here!"

Our grand opening dinner and the tour briefing go down well. Only problem, as anticipated, is Fritz B., who starts telling rambling military anecdotes about his own past, and I have to crush him once quite rudely ("boring!"). His interrupting becomes quite a problem.

I miss Jaenelle here. Martyna is efficient, but not the partner and friend that Jaenelle was.

I do not think our English friend Andrew C. has made it to the hotel yet. After ten p.m I check reception, and he has arrived. So all twenty-seven are now accounted for.


Wednesday, September 4, 2013
Warsaw - Majdanek - Wlodawa (Poland).

AWAKE after very thin patches of sleep, my brain working overtime.

Unfortunately, as are preparing to leave for Sobibór, our first "Reinhardt" site at ten a.m., one of the twenty-seven approaches me, a well-dressed and educated Englishman, Michael K., and says he has decided to return at once to London, as this tour is "not for him." I ask him why, and he says that at last night's dinner "everybody" was talking about race. I find that hard to believe, I say, as I heard nobody talking about race, but we identify the (one) culprit as Sherman M., who is somewhat obsessive about conspiracy theories, etc., fluoridisation, 9/11, and the like, and shortly on the bus begins again.

In schoolteacher mode, I admonish S., but it is too late, we have lost one guest and created ill-will there. -- It has not happened before and won't again, if I can help it. If Michael had stayed on, he would have found that two of our guests, absent from the dinner last night, are from other races, and are well received by all the others.


OFF finally at ten-fifteen a.m. on the dot without Michael, en route to Lublin and Majdanek. Two hours there at this constantly "improving" site, from 1:15 to 3:30 pm., then on to Wlodawa, near the Ukrainian border, arriving at the hotel after an hour for a belated lunch en route at 7:15 pm. My guests are very content so far.

7:44 p.m I put this on my front page.

David Irving is on tour in Poland with his international guests. Today took them to the Majdanek concentration camp, where his guests voiced interest in construction work on a watch tower ("History in the making," said one) and anomalies in the disinfestation chambers (now re-labelled as "gas chambers"), which have wartime blue Zyklon stains on the walls, postwar wire-reinforced glass in the windows, and carbon-dioxide cylinders still on display in the "poison gas" store. The crematorium has been now embellished with costly glass panels preventing visitors from getting too close, and there is everywhere evidence of taxpayer money being spent on construction work.

The crematorium also now boasts a large sarcophagus which was not there before. Graham and other photographers, fascinated by the shed-long display of shoes of victims, take photographs from high angles which show that the displays are in fact hollow boxes constructed of wire netting, hollow at the center; and only the box walls, some six inches thick, are filled with shoes. Nobody is questioning whether they are authentic victims' shoes, but was that deceit really necessary, I wonder? In Poland perhaps, anything goes.


Inside the fumigation chammber, the blue Zyklon stains at Majdanek are clearly visible

THE left-wing newspaper taz in Berlin has shrewdly spotted that I have removed the link to my Berlin speech from my front page. Their Konrad Litscho writes to ask why.

10:36 p.m I reply: „Das Problem ist, wir haben vor zwei Tagen eine schriftliche Warnung der deutschen Botschaft in England erhalten, des Inhalts, ich darf deutsches Boden immer noch nicht betreten, da der Aufenthaltsverbot trotz Aufhebens desselben im Oktober letzten Jahres durch die Münchner Gerichte vorläufig noch besteht und eine auch noch so lahme Beschwerde der Münchner Verwaltungsbehörde eine aufschiebende Wirkung bewerkstelligt haben soll. Ich lasse die äußerst unklare Lage durch meinen Rechtsanwalt prüfen, denn es ist keineswegs meine Absicht, eine gesetzwidrige Handlung in der BRD zu begehen.

„Ich habe heute übrigens den ganzen Tag mit unserer internationalen Reisegruppe im ehemaligen KZ Majdanek bei Lublin verbracht und in den nächsten Tagen werden wir auch den fürchterlichen Vernichtungslager Sobibór besuchen und anschließend die Bunkerruine des Gefechtsstandes Himmlers „Hochwald" bei Pozezdre (Großgarten) in Ostpreußen. Hier in Polen herrscht noch merkwürdigerweise die in der Bundesrepublik so mangelhaft vorhandene Forschungs- und Meinungsfreiheit für Historiker."


Friday, September 5, 2013
Wlodawa - Sobibór - Wlodawa (Poland).

MARTYNA asks me to speak with the management about the meeting room. The guests have a free morning, and Jenny the Australian takes out a pedalo on the lake with Chip.

The guests inform me with some astonishment that Graham G. has gone for a swim in the lake.

We have lunch at twelve and set out for Sobibór at 2. It is sunny and warm. The railway yard is deserted. The rusty station sign has now been replaced with a brand new one, but everything else is there including the original railroad spur and unloading platform, and the green painted villa which once housed the commandant Franz Stangl. As we mill around and check out the air raid shelter -- now used to store bric à brac -- the current tenant, a young man, drives up, evidently annoyed at the attention. The local Poles we spoke to on previous trips to Belzec and Sobibór were, needless to say, heartily glad at what the Germans had been doing here.

As we prepare to walk into the largely empty historic site, a clearing in the forest, I hear a Canadian guest start a joke about an Irishman and a priest and a rabbi, and I ask him to stop and to observe proper decencies at a site which has been witness to tragedy on such a scale. (One or two of the others overhear this quiet exchange and thank me afterwards.) We explore the sprawling, empty site until four pm, then return.

Die taz has published a smear piece.

I write to its author, Litschko. "Wer ist nun der Unverbesserliche? … Wir waren heute im Vernichtungslager Sobibor, wo ich wie mehrmals vorhin in Auschwitz einen Blumenkranz niederlegte. Das soll ein Holocaust-Leugner schreiben? Die Erklärung dafür bitte?" -- He does not reply. The apology is not a word commonly used by Schmierfinken of the press,

Hans-Ulrich Pieper, who has organised my Berlin event for the tenth, writes:

An David Irving: Falls Sie Ihre Teilnahme tatsächlich absagen müssen, wäre es natürlich schön, wenn ich dem vollen Haus, das ich jetzt gar nicht mehr absagen kann, einen leidenschaftlichen Appell von Ihnen vorlesen könnte -- dann käme der Video-Film [ICH KOMME WIEDER]. So hätten die Gäste wenigstens etwas... Mit bestem Gruss. Pieper

8:57 p.m. I reply: "Ich könnte bei Ihnen zu einem vereinbarten Zeitpunkt anrufen und telefonisch vielleicht fünfzehn Minuten lang durchsagen. Abgesagt wird nichts, höchstens meine Anwesenheit um einige Wochen verschoben, bis die rechtliche Lage geklärt wird."

9:07 p.m Litschko retorts: "Sie wurden verurteilt, weil sie die Ermordung von Millionen Juden in den Gaskammern von Auschwitz bestritten. Darum schreiben wir das so."

I correct him:

Ich wurde vor 20 Jahren dafür verurteilt, dass ich den Satz gesprochen habe: "Die den Touristen in Auschwitz gezeigte Gaskammer ist eine Atrappe, die erst nach dem Kriege erbaut wurde." Das hat die polnische Regierung nachträglich bestätigt, und auch der Holocaustfachmann Professor Jan van Pelt im Lipstadt-Prozess; auf dem Tafel vor dem Gebäude steht jetzt, "1948 erbaut."

Sie aber bezeichnen mich heute als "Holocaust-Leugner": Das ist eine Lüge und eine billige Infamie. Dass wir die Vernichtungslager der Aktion Reinhardt in Ostpolen besuchen, haben Sie mit keinem Wort erwähnt, weil es Ihnen wohl nicht ins Bild passte. Deswegen bekommen Sie zu meinem Berlin-Vortrag keine Einladung. Die Lügner und Schmierfinken der Journaille benötigen wir nicht. Sie hatten Ihre Chance, und bekommen sie nicht mehr.

Die Zeit copies the taz story and publishes a slew of readers' comments, most of them favourable to me; but I cannot register to add mine, as I seem to be barred from their site! Ah, the free democracies.


Friday, September 6, 2013
Wlodawa - Kosewo - Mragowa (Poland).

WE LEAVE on the dot of eleven a.m., but find after five minutes on the road -- a frantic call from Jenny -- that we have left her and Ben R. back at the hotel. Stupid of me. Turn around, humble apologies. It would never have happened with Jaenelle running things.

On the road I get another phone call from the same "No number" Englishman, same common voice, this time pointing out that Russell Brand -- on my today's front page -- is not a Jew. I don't think I said he was [later: I didn't]. I ask for a name, and he inquires why I need it. I say, "Because in your previous harassment calls you have used "Graham," Richard," and other names, and the authorities have asked me to keep you on the line as long as possible until they can get a trace on you." He pauses, baffled, and asks again. I repeat about the authorities, and there is a click and he scurries off.


AFTER eight hours on the road -- we watch a movie aboout the attempt on Hitler's life -- we arrive at the Hotel Country Holiday in Kosewo, East Prussia, at seven pm, and after a quick buffet supper take seven guests on to our overflow hotel.

Kevin asks: "How did the German press find out?"

I reply: "A leftwing newspaper phoned me and it was time to come out with the depressing fact of the embassy letter. Being arrested is one thing, but this was beginning to look like an ambush followed by imprisonment."

My Facebook editor reports: "Your Facebook page viewing figures were extremely high during your tour and still so now. I'm on it every day."

I thank him: "Add this: I have had to cancel my planned Berlin speech on Tuesday -- the first in over twenty years -- as the German embassy has just repeated in writing to me that the ban against me entering Germany is still in force despite its having been overthrown in October last year by a Munich judge at our request. The ban violates European Union law.

A nameless and faceless left-wing civil servant in Munich at once appealed against our victory, and pending the outcome of his hopeless appeal, the embassy informed me, it is still in force until their appeal is heard, which may be months from now. Once it is lifted, I shall drive to Berlin, and speak to hundreds including those who bought tickets for my speech on Tuesday. I hope they will still go to hear me: they will both hear and see me on Tuesday, and in Berlin."

That is both true and a deliberate teaser of course, for the German security services.


At eight pm a writer sends an empty email, subject line reading: "Re: You sick twatt," but otherwise empty. I tease him: "Dear Mr Whitehead, your email arrived without content?"

He replies as anticipated: "That's because I have nothing to say to you other than you are a sick holocaust-denying twat !"

Which earns this "apologetic" response: "My mail should have read: your email arrived without brain content?"


Saturday, September 7, 2013
Mragowa (Sensburg) - Wegorzewo (Angerburg) - Mragowo (Poland).

EXCELLENT day in the eyes of all; the morning spent at Himmler's Hochwald HQ, discovering new giant bunkers and remains far into the forest, and thanks to Robert H., a railroad enthusiast, even the original railway embankment which brought Himmler's special train, rather unimaginatively codenamed "Heinrich", to this headquarters.

Ben R. climbs down the steps into one of the cisterns which we find. The woods are littered with open cisterns, positively inviting people to fall in. The Poles have stolen all their covers. Our Ozzie friend Jenny B. gets lost. We have to search for her in the bus. Eventually she finds her way back to Route 63.

In the afternoon, after lunch in Angerburg -- Wegorzewo, for the benefit of Fritz B., who wanted to visit his father's cavalry barracks and the street where he lived as a child -- on to the Mauerwald HQ. It takes ages to get there as the roads are interrupted by endless single-lane construction-stretches with red-light control.

At Mauerwald, our multi-lingual Polish guide Jadwiga steers the party round the formidable bunker sites of the former High Command headquarters down to the Mauersee, the location of the traitor General Eduard Wagner's house, and then to "Fritz" -- the site of the communications and power-generating bunkers. None has been demolished, but they show signs of looting.

I have walked about ten kilometers today, and the muscles know it. Back at the hotel at 7:20 p.m., where "grill" turns out to be the Polish for a barbecue in the now chilly open air; I go without supper therefore. Not pleased by that, but never mind.


A WRITER asks: "What is your opinion on this story? - Adolf Hitler's Nazi deputy Rudolf Hess 'murdered by British agents."

I reply: "Nonsense. Hess was a senile old man, and even the name Der Führer meant nothing to him when interviewed. I have heard the clandestine tapes."

Kevin then sends me a similar link. I opine again: "I don't think it can be true. He knew nothing."


Our group finds Hitler's gigantic bunker deep in the East Prussian forests

Sunday, September 8, 2013
Mragowo (Sensburg) - Rastenburg - Mragowo (Poland).

OVER to the Country Holiday hotel in Kosewo, 10:45 a.m, to pick up the main group at eleven a.m, then on to Hitler's headquarters, the famous "Wolf's Lair." Our vivacious guide Jadwiga is again waiting for us at the entrance, and we spend the whole day visiting all the buildings this time, including many south of the highway (General Walter Warlimont's bunkers, etc). There are frighteningly deep pits open everywhere in the forest, where the manhole covers have been stolen by the Poles over the decades. At the bottom of one is a skeleton which appears to be perhaps a animal which has fallen in. Not very nice.

As we emerge from the dark tunnels of the biggest bunker on the site, the Führer Bunker, I find a elegant old gentleman, many years older than I, pausing outside: his blue eyes and upright stance betray him as an old soldier, and I speak to him briefly in German. He is pleased to speak his mind. "I fought for this man proudly in 1945," he murmurs so quietly that only I can hear. "And I would do so again."

The buildings everywhere have been ravaged by Polish looters since 1945, and even the cobblestones paving the roads have vanished into the same hands like everything else. I comment to Martyna, "Not satisfied with stealing the country, East Prussia, and stealing the cities and changing their names and the street-names, the Poles have stolen the buildings, and the furniture, and the doors, windows, equipment, steel flanges and airtight doors, and even the light switches from the walls and the cable from underground; and they accuse the Russians of 'looting.'"

Martyna does not appreciate the comment.

My guests all reward Jadwiga well. She rather hypes up the German traitor Count von Stauffenberg and the much publicized visits to her and the Wolf's Lair by his sons and grandsons.

"All of them still dining-out on the activities of Stauffenberg," I gently interpolate, "a traitor and murderer who incidentally killed four innocent people with his bungled bomb attempt." I knew the widows of three of them, including the stenographer Heinrich Berger: she lived in Cottbus, where his remains lie buried, and came to East Berlin to see me in the 1970s; she produced the tattered telegram which broke the news to her that evening, and tears ran down her cheeks all over again. I suppose the German admirers of the fabled "Resistance" need their heroes, and this mutilated, muddled, and vengeful army colonel Stauffenberg well fits their bill.

We all lunch in the former SS barracks restaurant and have coffee at Rastenburg on the way back to our hotels.


Saturday, September 7, 2013
Mragowo (Sensburg) - Warsaw (Poland).

THE Berlin event's organisers have arranged for me to speak to our audience by telephone-loudspeaker connection tomorrow evening.

News from Australia -- Haaretz reports: "Israel regains staunch ally as Opposition wins Australia election.

"Following election of Liberal Party leader Tony Abbott, all three Jewish lawmakers in federal parliament are expected to return, with Joshua Frydenberg becoming the first Liberal Jewish member of government since the early 1990s." etc.


WE are all ready to leave Mragowo for Warsaw. No sign of Adrian Ch., the Lincolnshire man. It turns out he has overslept. Hotel receptionist phones up to his room twice, to tell him that everybody is waiting. He appears after twenty minutes having taken a shower and his time too. He is rather too laid-back. It cumulatively dislocates the general timetable. We get back to Warsaw around five p.m. instead of three. Our farewell dinner begins at eight instead of seven; everybody else comes on time, but he dawdles in with three others at 8:25 p.m.

I speak for a while afterwards, on Himmler and the Bomb Plot, and we break up around eleven p.m. This Poland week has as usual proved very costly ... I have also announced next year's September tour. Several of them want to come again.


Saturday, September 7, 2013
Warsaw (Poland)- Heathrow - Eton (England).

DOWNSTAIRS in the hotel at nine and say goodbye to our guests. Tonight I should have been speaking to a big audience in Berlin, but the freedom-loving Germans have blocked that by various means. Several texts come around one p.m. from a Virginia area code -- that's "Chip," en route by train from Warsaw to Berlin -- indicating that the Germans seem to be searching all trains heading west today from Warsaw.

  1. Kraut and Polish border patrol looked into every compartment just now at Rzepin (border town).
  2. Armed to the teeth, no less.
  3. Seemed odd that two armed swat Polish border guys and then one very smart looking German were at the last Polish station
  4. nd now were dead stop just short of Frankfurt/Oder.
  5. [I reply: Be like Dad. Keep mum.]
  6. Feind hört mit. Pssst.
  7. Aha.

I wonder who they are looking for? They will have noticed perhaps that my return flight from Warsaw to London is with British Airways a week from now, and put two and two together.

In the evening I try to contact the big dinner function in Berlin, as arranged, but the phone number the organisers have given me -- which has operated perfectly earlier today, they say -- is now mysteriously "out of order". I call it four times: just an out-of-order tone. Dirty tricks at the Berlin end, methinks. Eventually, after an hour, the organisers change the SIM card and establish contact by a reverse call from them. I speak via a loudspeaker hook-up to a loudly applauding audience in Berlin.

Not very satisfactory, but it had to be done, on principle.


Wednesday, September 11, 2013
Eton (England).

THE Daily Mail runs a story on Brigitte Höss, daughter of the notorious commandant of Auschwitz: "Their home was decorated with furniture and artwork stolen from prisoners as they were selected for the gas chambers."-- A friend, William B., points out: "Yes, the Jews brought their household furniture with them in the cattle cars. lol!"

Well, not normally a subject one can laugh about -- but in this case, well, some exceptions apply. 


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