As the old cliche goes, I remember it as though it had been yesterday. Friday, August 25th, 1967. About midday. My family and I were on our way from town to the house in the country. Dad had stopped at the corner market just outside of town for the obligatory case of beer. When he emerged and reentered the car he said, “I see where your friend got shot.” I had no idea what he could be talking about. “Rockwell.” Whereupon he handed me that day’s paper. There it was on the front page. Life for me has contained some real shocks but this was probably the first serious shock of an adult nature. I had not very long before turned fifteen and had been a member of Rockwell’s Youth Movement for less than a full year.
Naturally, I was to remain 100% absorbed by this over the coming days and weeks. “Now what?” That was the automatic, instinctive thought which struck me in that moment. The weight of the occasion increased over me as we drove the next eight miles before I could position myself by a radio in order to be able to gather any news report on the event and learn more details. It may have been by that means later that same day that I first heard that the sneak assassin had been one of Rockwell’s own former right-hand men. More shock.
The following day, a Saturday, I went to the garage down the alley – the “headquarters” – of the then nominal local unit elder and together we then walked to the downtown and the newsstand where we bought up a copy of every newspaper there which carried the assassination headline. Such publicity. Not since September of 1966 had the Party and Rockwell received such coverage at the time of the Great White March in Chicago.
Not much else to do other than to watch and to wait. Day by day for the next several days on the evening television news and in the press came further word on the event. Then it tapered off. Next word came from Party headquarters at Arlington, Virginia, in the form of a letter to the membership thanking them for their condolences and providing perhaps a few more details plus the assurance that things would continue no matter what.
So it went throughout the remainder of 1967. The turmoil over the burial of Commander Rockwell’s remains. The trial of the assassin. The conversion of Party leadership.
Things did continue, as promised. There took place a cremation after the Army refused burial at the federal cemetery due to Party uniforms. The assassin was quickly convicted. And the National Socialist White People’s Party was securely established yet in Arlington, Virginia.
One could sense that a new age had begun.
That age continues into this day. I’ve written of it recently that one trooper, John Ryan, had commented in 1969, after I had joined the Arlington staff, that “the only thing good about the ‘good old days’ was that Commander Rockwell was alive”. The truth in this was to become ever more clear and profound with the passage of time.
Manson was with the Family for three years. Hitler was with the Movement for a generous twenty-five years. And Rockwell was with the Movement for nine. I shared that final year. That time has stood for me like a tower. Everything since then has been in its shadow. I’ve spoken with German veterans, Manson Family members, etc., and they all express the same feeling. Of Hitler, Rockwell wrote that he had been “the greatest mind in two thousand years.” Something special.
Lately there has come to my attention comments made by, ostensibly, members of the movement, to the effect, “What did Rockwell actually DO?” Did he turn the situation around? No. Were the “Jews through in ’72,”as he had said? No. But there was, however, the line he wrote into his autobiography, “This Time the World”, which said, “I knew I would not live to see the victory I would make possible but I would not die before I had made that victory certain.”
What did Hitler actually DO? After he created the world’s first example of “thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven”, he was overwhelmed and destroyed by Jews and their minions. And Manson? Again. And Rockwell? Again. Those who were either with them or who had been at least their contemporaries never forgot them. What they each did was to have created a LEGEND. And, as I have said before, there is no such thing as a man who “changed history”. But there have been men who have held history right on course. And these are the men we are regarding here.
Had our ancient ancestors not varied from the Natural Law, after a thousand years of White, Western, civilization, had our ancestors not gotten back into bed with Jews, Hitler and Germany would not have had to make that sacrifice. Had not all of our formerly White societal institutions been allowed to go to hell then Manson would not have been obliged to create the Family. And had not all of this occurred then Rockwell would not have had to form the American Nazi Party and, as a direct result, sacrifice his own life.
But it all did occur. And, despite everything, history has continued. And what is history? It is the story of development. Animals do not have history. They have evolved to a perfect state in complete line with nature. There are many examples of more-or-less “human” types which do not have development. They remain in the mud basically because they are mud. Only Whites show development. Only Whites have history. And, at the very same time, only Whites have destiny.
But history is not linear, it is cyclical. High civilizations have risen and fallen. They are created and they rise as WHITE. They fade and they die as COLORED. Had any of the men previously cited fully succeeded in their own time, then all of great prophesy would have been invalidated. A certain climax, a certain fulfillment had to be reached. I assure every reader now that that fulfillment has just about been reached. Everyone, friend and foe, agrees that a tremendous climax must be near.
Had it not been for Hitler and the Third Reich then militant, Jewish Bolshevism would have rolled over the entire world in the last century: “The end of values’,’ as it was regarded by those on the side of civilization then. Manson, the Family and their sacrifice has long been credited as having “ended the Sixties” and the moment of the filthy hippies. And what of Rockwell and the American Nazi Party?
As I began, his death was) marked – greeted – with unprecedented publicity on the part of the Jewish media. They were gleeful, even relieved, that this man was now gone. And they felt confident enough to celebrate with this orgy of publicity. And this over a man whom they had sworn to IGNORE during his active career on earth, in this life. Rather telling if one only thinks about it for a moment. Not newsworthy? No constituency? Then why the declared news blackout? Because the Jewish masters of the media did not want the masses of Whites to even suspect that there was resistance to their drive for racial integration in the United States and the Western world. Their lie of “racial equality” simply could not stand up to the clear light of day and it is that which they knew they must deny to the White masses. That plus the reality that the greatest son of the White race, Adolf Hitler, had come as their savior and now was being criminalized and defamed by their own very worst enemies.
But Rockwell wore on. Never quit. Never varied from the unvarnished truth. Until the day he died.
And a legend was created.
Today Rockwell is more well-known than he was during his own lifetime. Via the Internet – a marvel of White genius – he is more active and getting around than he ever was during the Sixties. More importantly, the dire dangers and predictions he was making then which were at the time pooh-poohed by those smart-asses who believe that “it can’t happen here” or who were themselves too cowardly to buck up against the Jewish terror are all about us as a horrific and painful vindication.
The press – the media – is more and more standing forth as exactly what i t has always been: A controlled tool of a vague and unspecified enemy. If a U.S. President can say this, then you can believe it. But we are extremists because we do specify.
Commander Rockwell both saved my life and made it at the same time. My eternal devotion is as the only natural and logical result. In recent decades I’ve felt it merciful that he did not live to see the depths to which his beloved America would sink. At the same time, I’ve never been more relaxed and confident of the final outcome.
A certain impetus.
Like a boost out in space which may not seem like much down here on earth but which out in a vacuum of such impetus is sufficient to accomplish that which is necessary.
To hold history on track.
To ensure that the White race meets its destiny.