My Friend, The Waffen SS Soldier (2)

Part Two: More About The War

1

The first story that Theodor Junker ever shared with me about his years on the Eastern Front, at war with the Russians, was his very first deployment. 

He was originally sent out as a sharp-shooter. I do not know where he was during his first deployment to the front, but what he told me was that his group was approaching a tree line when an unseen enemy shot went off (I do not recall whether or not it injured any of Mr. Junker’s fellow soldiers). They all looked for the enemy sniper, especially where trees grew, as would be most logical, but they were unable to locate him. Theo was sent to the front to have a look since he was the sharp-shooter of his group. But even he was unable to spot the adversary. 

He told his comrade, Wega, to watch him at all costs as he scanned the tree line in front, but a shot came and struck Theo through his left arm and exited out of his back (it was later noted that the bullet missed his heart by less than two inches). Theo then finally figured out where the shot came from, and he scolded his dear Wega for his failure to prevent his wounding. The enemy was actually in a trench, or foxhole of some sort, that was only ten yards from where they'd walked to – no one saw it. So, Theo told Wega to give him cover fire while he took care of the enemy sniper: He ran forth to the mound of earth behind which the enemy was located, and he jumped over the mound and used his bayonet to bring the sniper to his earthly end. He told me that he finished the Russian with a thrust through the neck. He also told me that he was not a Caucasian Russian, but had “slit-eyes” (those were his actual words). 

After his wounding, Mr. Junker was taken from the Front to be treated in a hospital – again, I am not clear on the specific details of where and when and for how long. After he was healed up, he requested to be sent immediately back to the Front, and he was given his wishes. However, Theo was never sent out as a sharp-shooter again: rifles were running low, so his was immediately recirculated back into use by another soldier.

2

Herr Junker was wounded six times in total, and right off the top of my head I am not able to remember the details of them all. But there is one that I recall that is quite interesting. Herr Junker loved to tell this one:

After Junker’s return to the Front, he always carried around the MP 40, which was a machine pistol; and boy did he ever love that thing! He would tell me “RC, you’ve never seen someone use a weapon like me with my machine pistol!” And I can only imagine... 

Herr Junker was a true soldier: He was neither afraid of battle nor regretful afterward. He enjoyed the thrill of competing with death, and he understood that to kill was only a part of warfare. He was never resentful toward his slain opponents – never once in our years together did he ever say an unkind word about the enemies he faced on the battlefield: He knew that they were all there with a duty just like he was. He always said that he never blamed any army, and that he respected them all because they were all just fighting for what they believed in and what they were told they were fighting for by their governments – even when their governments were lying to them. 

Anyway, to continue with the story, Herr Junker was marching out front of a line of his men one cold winter's night toward a farm (they were looking to hunker down in one of the barns) when he spotted a line of Russians walking in the distance. He said they were all drunk and cheering, so he and his men engaged them in combat: He raised his beloved machine pistol and opened up on the entire line – “…they all died”, he told me. But before they all died, one of them managed to hurl a grenade right at him, and it landed in the snow not more than a couple of yards ahead of him. He had no time to move: it went off, and the force of the blast was concentrated between his legs... Yes, he took a grenade blast to his manhood. 

Once again Herr Junker had to be rushed from the Front, but this time it wasn’t going to be so easy for him. He was losing blood quickly so they had to tie his manhood off at the base (which he told me was hell because he had to urinate, and it was an EIGHT HOUR train ride to the nearest medical facility). Once again, they managed to fix him up. And once again, he demanded placement on the Front. 

* * *

Theo always loves to tell this story because he went on to have four children. He would always finish the story by saying the enemies could never kill him because god had a plan for him, and that it was proven because even a grenade blast between the legs could not stop him from having four children! Gods, did I ever love hearing him tell that story – even if I did hear it a hundred times in five years, lol. 

He would always tell his war stories as if he were still that young man living them right there. And the stories never altered in detail: not one single detail ever changed in his stories from the Front.

3

Herr Junker’s body was badly scarred up from all of his wartime wounds. His back had a grapefruit sized scar that looked like an inactive volcano from where the sniper round exited his body. His hand was badly damaged: his ring and pinky finger stay close together, and the knuckles of his middle and index fingers are three times the size they should be. But he always talked about his wounds with a bright smile on his face (his face would even glow a bit red). He spent his summers in the back part of the property, bathing in the sun and swimming in the pond, and he displayed his wounds proudly as badges of honor.

* * *

Herr Junker and I did not spend anywhere near the majority of our time discussing the history of his war experiences, so I do not know them all. And in all honesty, I was not as concerned with his war stories as much as I was with just knowing a true, first-generation National Socialist who got to see the grand glory that was National Socialist Germany. I will devote some time to writing about what he told me about the inner workings of the NS German society. I can assure you that it was everything we think it was and then some. It was more glorious than what most of us here may realize.

* * *

It's difficult for most today to imagine the nature of warfare during the World Wars. It's difficult to understand the great degree of daring that was required of men - a sort that isn't a part of modern warfare: Theo, with his beloved machine pistol, would actually jump aboard Russian tanks and fire into the open turret and render entire tanks neutralized. I always believed Mr. Junker about most things, but I was somewhat skeptical about this one – but years later I was shown by a young World War Two enthusiast that, yes, the Waffen SS would literally jump onto Russian tanks and throw grenades inside or shoot the Russians inside in order to stop them. ...Dear gods, I could never imagine doing such a thing... But when the Germans were low on their own tanks, they didn’t turn and run from a tank-fight: they literally went man-to-man with the Russian beasts of steel. 

Theo would tell me about how he climbed on top, dropped the barrel of his MP inside, spun it in a circle with the trigger wide open, and then he would jump off and move on to the next one before the damned thing had even stopped moving. He always laughed humbly. He tried to remain modest about his daring and bravery, but he couldn’t help but exude pride in his courage and experiences. I don’t blame him.

4

In the second to last Summer I spent with him, Theo revealed to me and several friends a story that he had never shared before. He told me about a time he was in an unused farmhouse – again, on the Eastern Front – with his fellow soldiers, and they noticed a Russian tank stationed around the back side of a barn: It was waiting to ambush any Germans that may be passing through. The young Herr Junker and a comrade had a panzerfaust with them, and they struggled to get the front of it out through a very small window in the attic or some small room at the top of the house. During that time, the Russian soldier keeping watch atop the tank noticed them and had the turret turned to wreak havoc on the house – and it did: It sent a round right into the room where they were. It missed Theo, but it wounded his comrade. The actual massive round must have hit his hand directly because Theo said the hand was completely gone, but there was no blood: the wound had cauterized. He said to me “I’ve never seen such a thing. His whole hand was gone, but there was no blood anywhere.” 

I do not recall the rest of the details of that story. I know he told me the whole thing from beginning to end: why they were headed that way, and what happened afterward, etc., but I just cannot remember that right now.

My Friend, The Waffen SS Soldier (1)

Part One: A Brief Introduction

Originally written 29 July 2013

Edited and updated 10 April 2018

I was fortunate enough to have had a dear friend for some five years who was a retired veteran of the Waffen SS Wiking division: His name was Theodor Junker. He was born in a German village in Romania, and he retired on a small farm in southern Wisconsin. 

From the years of 2005 through 2010 I visited him every weekend.

Theodor Junker

13 April, 1919 - 14 April, 2013

1

He was a surprisingly humble person, so much so that it humbled you just to be in his presence. He had a quiet tone of voice, yet he was not shy about speaking. He talked a great deal, and talked about a great many number of things. But mostly he loved to talk about Nature, and all of her various forms. Yes, he spoke often of the War, and he spoke often of Adolf Hitler, National-Socialism, and of the Reich. He also spoke of the Jews and the Aryans. But he was far from the Jewish-conjured image of a stereotypical "Nazi." 

Herr Junker loved all things Nature, particularly that which pertained to human health. His primary passion for employment was always farming, agriculture: he raised and sold chickens (mostly for eggs) and pigs mostly. In his later years he raised and sold ducks as a hobby (I can't tell you how ridiculously difficult it is to round up a flock of ducks from a pond with paddle boat and three shirtless yahoos running around flapping their arms, lol). So, naturally, his love of farming eventually translated into a passion for human health: What is the most natural way of human eating. He was also very fond of Nature's "secret" medicines (he literally ate whole cloves of garlic, raw, after he spent years of studying their health benefits).

His love and passion for natural holistic health was also very strongly motivated by the death of his wife, who was taken by cancer.

2

Theo was always happy, even on a bad day: Nothing ever brought that guy's spirits down. There were times when he would be recounting an age-old story about the War, about the struggles and suffering that he endured on the battlefield of the Eastern Front against the Russian Bolsheviks/Marxists, and he would beam with a youthful joy: the color would rush to his face, he would smile widely, and laugh heartily, and he would glow. His energy was palpable even in his most humble moments. The only time that Theo grew serious was when recounting his years in British captivity after the war, being driven from his village after captivity (the Russians took his village and basically gave it to Jews and Communists - some 17 million Germans were driven from their homes in various countries), or telling of how badly the Russians treated the Germans. 

What would probably surprise people the most was how Theo talked about the Jews - which he did talk about often. He would always tell me (and I mean ALWAYS, lol), in his thick German accent, "Be glad ven you have enemies." That was one of his mottos, and he would elaborate this motto at length, in great detail. He told me that without enemies we become soft, we grow complacent, and he even blamed senility on the absence of mental combat. He said that having opponents keeps you sharp mentally and keeps you young physically. He said that without his anti-NS opponents over the years, he would have been reduced to senility many years ago (I met him when he was 85 or 86 years old). So he literally thanked the Jews for being so vehemently anti-NS: He said that the stronger your enemy is, the greater was your potential for increase of strength: Weak enemies ensured weak people.

He praised the Jews for being such a powerful enemy, because they would guarantee that only the most powerful Aryans would survive, and thus strengthen our people. 

He likened Jews to foxes, not for their cleverness, but simply for their natural place in the grand scheme of life. Since there were always geese on the pond on his property, he would say, "The Jews are like the foxes: they make sure that the geese do not become overpopulated and get sick. If the geese overpopulate, they will get sick, and then possibly all of them will die. But if the foxes catch and kill the weak ones, the flock will remain healthy." He thought that Jews were only a part of Nature, and his sentiments toward them were stoic. However, Theo NEVER, under any circumstances, trusted Jews. Lol, I can still hear him now, talking about them being a race of liars, as casually as one might talk about cows having spots.

3

Theo Junker built the once-famous Honorary Hall for Adolf Hitler on his farm, which made major headlines in the summer of 2006. Sadly, the powers-that-be put every last ounce of pressure on him to make sure that his dream was crushed before it began: They made it illegal for him to have more than four people on his property at all times - including himself. His property was 120 acres large, and could accommodate thousands, and yet they passed a law saying that he could only have himself and three guests there at any time - including family reunions (any liberal reading this, just try telling me that the system favors neo-"Nazis"...).

For years afterward, whenever I would visit, there would be FBI helicopters that would occasionally fly over the property, lower themselves to the tree line and take the time to count the number of people that they could see. Once during one of these fly-overs, I was taking my friend's two children for a swim in the pond, and I can remember them being rather terrified and just looking at me, with horror in their eyes, wondering what was happening. I told them that it was just people flying over taking pictures of the farm, like lots of people used to do. It was sickening.

4

Theo was a great guy all around. Things were always casual at his place. Most of my days there with him involved nothing formal or professional. We'd sit in the back on the little sandy beach on the pond that he had paid to have built, our toes in the sand, just yammering about his life in the United States. 

Theo started off as a janitor in Chicago, and saved up to buy the farm in southern Wisconsin. He moved there and had four children. They used the property as a summer camp for other German families (until his wife passed away), and so I heard all kinds of neat little stories about how they spent their time. I heard stories about unique children that he remembered vividly. He told me how within the first week he could tell who the leaders were. He'd say, "In Nature, there vill alvays be two leaders: a good leader and a bad leader. And there vill alvays be two groups of people: those who follow the good leader, and those who follow the bad." He said that he would sit back and watch them, and every year it was the same thing: Two groups of kids would form: the good kids, and the trouble-makers. 

Theo was wounded a total of six times during the war, and some of them severe. He once took a Russian grenade blast directly between his legs. It landed several feet in front of him and went off before he could even run. He then had to take an eight hour train ride to a hospital capable of sewing his manhood back together. He said that they had to tie it off with string, which drove him insane, because for the entire eight hours he had to urinate. It was a nightmare. And yet, the guy managed to have FOUR children. Apparently those German doctors really knew what they were doing. 

Theo would do anything for you if you needed it. I can say with certainty that he was the most generous person I have ever met. He offered strangers the bed of his own room, while he would sleep on his couch. People came from all over the world to visit him, and I was fortunate enough to be there and give tours of the property alongside my dear friend. He would invite them to camp at his place and stay for weeks on end. He always said, "Dis is de best place in de vorld." And if they did want to stay, he'd let them stay in his own home and dine with him at his own table. Many times, while Theo was napping in the afternoon, I would be given the honor of giving the usual tour of the Monument to curious guests. I felt honored that Theo would let me handle the show while he was out of town or napping.

5

I know this is a bit of an aimless recounting of the years with my friend of the Waffen SS, so I will stop rambling for now. But if anyone has any specific questions, I'd be glad to answer them as thoroughly as I am able.

But I will end this by saying that Theo Junker remained loyal to Adolf Hitler and to National-Socialism until the last time that I saw him in 2010. He never once questioned his years of service in the struggle for Germany against Bolshevism on the Eastern Front, and he never questioned the NS worldview or its immortal Leader. He loved Adolf Hitler dearly and said that he was an SS until he died. Even during the years of threats of violence that ensued after his grand opening of the Adolf Hitler Honorary Hall he never questioned anything. He never feared the countless death threats that poured in daily. He always said, "I'm a soldier. I'll die for this."

Who is Aryan? An Introduction

An Introduction to Who is Aryan

November 2013

(Edited/Updated 27 February 2018)

1

Who is Aryan isn't a matter of opinion: it is a matter of historical and biological fact. 

"Aryan" is a word that comes from the ancient and now dead language known as Sanskrit. The word translates into English literally as "noble one", and was the title given to our Ancestors, ancient White-European peoples who had migrated into areas such as Persia and India, because of the nature of their character and behavior - the manner in which they conducted themselves.

Even during battle our Ancestors were reported to have been more noble and honorable, and exercised the highest degree of maturity and discretion. They exercised fair judgement and remained civilized at all times, and never lowered themselves to the standards of the savage peoples that they conquered.

2

To answer the question directly: An Aryan is anyone of Indo-European racial stock who happens to live by higher standards than basic human beings. "Aryan" denotes a race as well as quality of character. To be Aryan one has to be what we today call "White", and they have to be noble and honorable in addition.

Aryan is not limited to blond or red hair, or to blue or green eyes. Aryan is White-European, no matter where they may have traveled, lived, or settled over the course of the last 35-thousand years. Aryans live in America, Canada, Europe, South Africa, Australia, and even in some small regions of Central and South America; as well as areas of Asia and the Middle East.

3

Aryan means a White person who is noble, honorable, mature, decent, and wholesome. 

Aryan means one who strives for a higher civilization, one as far removed from non-Aryan savagery as earthly possible.

To be Aryan means to better than average, to reject mediocrity. To be Aryan means to rise above primitiveness.

Hidden, Lost, and Forgotten

Hidden, Lost, and Forgotten

17 December 2008

(edited/updated 2 December 2017)

1

The White race today is a lost and forgotten city: overgrown by wild weeds and ivy vines. The stone walls of our city, nearly unrecognizable, are covered by moss and mold, and are filled with many cracks. 

Tall trees with wild and untamed branches shroud over ancient castles and temples, casting a shadow over the boundaries of our city. So long has it been since the Sun has shone its benevolent golden rays down upon the stones of our ancient city...

Lost and forgotten, our city grows old and is decayed by weather and time. Birds make nests and raise their young in the empty regions of the foundations of our race. Still so beautiful even though so overgrown...

2

Our greatest enemies know the exact location of our lost city, and they hide it from us by every means. They build fences and walls to keep us out of our city...and in the cages they have built for us.

But from time to time a wanderer of our race stumbles upon the broken stone and rusted iron entrance to our lost world. Amazed and dazzled he wanders about in the streets and alleys of our ancestors. He runs through fields and swims in streams. He climbs hills and ventures through dark caves. Tears fill his eyes as he takes in the majesty of this lost world...he knows in his heart that he is now home. 

He tears at the ivy and moss to reveal the beautiful stones. He sees the inscriptions left by the ancients and knows what he must do. A mission has been given to him by his newfound consciousness. 

He ventures back to the city of the enemy to gather groups of people so that he might guide them back to the hidden location, so they might witness the lost city of our race.

A forgotten consciousness grows conscious again in their hearts and they all know where they must go. 

In that forgotten city, consumed by vegetation, they found the truth. In that lost world their consciousness was awakened and they remembered that they are Aryans. And so they take up the fight to take back their racial consciousness from the enemies who are holding them psychologically captive. 

A leader shows himself to the lost Aryans and the war begins.

3

The last man to stumble upon the ruins of our forgotten city of Aryan racial consciousness was perhaps the greatest living being that has yet to grace this planet: his name was Adolf Hitler. He found the city of our racial consciousness, cleared it of the wild and overgrown vegetation, and made it livable for our people once again. 

But once again it was stolen from us. Now it remains as it was: hidden away under moss and mold, under weeds and choked by ivy vines. Again the consciousness of our Aryan race remains a forgotten city to our people...

National Socialism: Not Just For Germany

National Socialism Was and is NOT Just For Germany

All quotes are from Adolf Hitler's Mein Kampf - HM edition, RM translation:

"The National Socialist movement has the mightiest task to fulfill... It must make certain that in our country, at least, the mortal enemy is recognized and that the fight against him becomes a gleaming symbol of brighter days, to show other nations the way to the salvation of an embattled Aryan humanity."

- Volume 2, chapter 13, page 640

"We must not allow the greater racial community to be torn asunder by the differences of the individual peoples. The struggle that rages today is for very great aims. A culture combining millenniums and embracing Hellenism and Germanism is fighting for its existence."

- Volume 2, chapter 2, page 423

"The right of personal freedom recedes before the duty to preserve the race."

- Volume 1, chapter 10, page 255

"What we must fight for is to safeguard the existence and reproduction of our race and our people, the sustenance of our children, and the purity of our blood, the freedom and independence of the fatherland, so that our people may mature for the fulfillment of the mission allotted it by the creator of the universe."

- Volume 1, chapter 8, page 214

"As National-Socialists, we see our program in our flag. In the red we see the social idea of the Movement, in the white the nationalistic idea, in the Swastika the mission of the struggle for the victory of Aryan Man, and by the same token, the victory of the idea of creative work, which as such always has been and always will be anti-Semitic."

- Volume 2, chapter 7, page 496-497

"...only the man who combats this mortal enemy of our nation and of all Aryan humanity and culture most effectively may expect to see the slanders of this race and the struggle of this people directed against him."

- Volume 1, chapter 12, page 352

"...the highest aim of human existence is not the preservation of a state, let alone a government, but the preservation of the species."

- Volume 1, chapter 3, page 96

An Illustration: The Tree and The Vine

A Metaphor: The Tree and The Vine

10 November 2017

(an old idea of mine, but only now written out)

1

Nature teaches you everything you need to know about the reality of life. There are only so many modes for living beings, and so those modes can be seen repeating themselves throughout the natural world. This is how conscious beings like us are taught by Nature: we observe these repeating patterns and we act accordingly.

Here I will illustrate how, through something as simple as a tree and a vine, Nature teaches us some of the most important wisdom in which we, as conscious human beings, need to be aware of in order to survive on this planet.

2

The tree is a singular sovereign entity. It is comprised of many different parts, but are all of the same tree none the less. The leaves are as much the tree as the roots. They are different parts, but they are of the same living entity.

The tree has many different branches, from which grow many leaves. Though the leaves may grow from different branches, they are all leaves of the same tree. Here is where Nature teaches us about the nature of race and cultures: Whites...Aryans...may be of many different tribes, nations, cultures, etc. - of different branches - but we are all of the same race. We are merely the individual leaves which have grown from the myriad of branches which are all of the same tree: our racial-Ancestral tree. We are the product of the roots, the trunk, and the branches.

3

Through the vine Nature continues to teach us about the nature of life.

The vine attaches itself to the tree so that it might grow tall and lofty at its expense. The vine cannot grow into the heights on its own. Without the tree, the vine would be destined only to die in the shadows of the canopy...wasting away as it crawled about on the earthy floor of the forest.

The vine has a body of sorts, but nothing like the trunk or branches of the tree. The vine also produces leaves... The vine clings close to the tree's body, pressing so tightly that it eventually becomes indistinguishable from it. This is the nature of the vine: it deceives so that it might steal the sunlight from those it pretends to be.

The vine slinks its way into the heights of the tree to sprout its leaves amongst the leaves of the tree's canopy. The vine moves slowly and patiently, calculating its every advance: too slowly and it will not survive...too quickly and it might destroy the host before the host can take it into the heights. Slowly and patiently the vine makes its way into the treetop to push its leaves in amongst the native leaves of the tree.

The leaves of the vine pretend to be the leaves of the tree, and they do it so well that the leaves cannot tell the difference. Even when they suspect something is odd or off about the leaves of the vine, the vine's leaves say "We are the same, I assure you. We are merely of a different branch." And by the time the leaves of the vine have pressed deep into the leaves of the canopy, the tree has grown too tall for the leaves to see the ground: The leaves of the tree cannot see that the leaves of the vine stem from foreign roots...

4

Nature shows us this. Through even just this one example, Nature teaches us about the relationship of living beings.

Our tree, the White-Aryan race, produces many branches - many tribes, nations, cultures - which produce their own leaves, but they are all leaves of the same tree none the less...all individuals of the same race.

The vine pretends to be of our tree, of our race, so that it might rise at the expense of our efforts, steal the sunlight of our heights, to drain us of our ability to live a sovereign existence. Nature reveals these truths to us so that we might learn from them, so that we might be aware of possible dangers or threats, and so that we might be aware of the methods those threats use to operate.

The White-Aryan race is being consumed by a toxic and deadly vine. This vine pretends to be White-Aryan like us. Our tree has grown so large and so high that it is virtually impossible for our leaves to see the ground below. Most of our people cannot see that this vine is not of our roots...that this vine is not one of us...that this vine is the most vile and malicious sort of invasive creatures.

This vine that has thoroughly infiltrated our tree of White-Aryan race is that of our most ancient and primeval enemy: The vine is the eternal Jew.

5

Nature gives us these examples so that we might become conscious of the natural order. There can be no lasting civilization that is built on anything other than a foundation of Nature-consciousness. Nature is the foundation and fabric of all existence. In her countless examples throughout the natural world she shows us how to go about life in this existence. It is our duty to observe Nature's reality and to act accordingly.

National Socialism: The Path

National Socialism: The Path

(Still a work in progress)

28 October 2017

1

National Socialism: a Path, not a Destination

In ancient Vedic tradition they called their worldview Sanatana Dharma, which translates from Sanskrit into English as "Eternal Natural Order/Way". Their worldview was a path which led to a destination. The path was called Yoga. The destination was called Vedanta. Yoga literally means "the path", and Vedanta translates as "the end of all knowledge", which we can consider to be something like enlightenment. They considered their worldview a journey which had a destination.

In order to properly comprehend the true depth and gravity of National Socialism it has to be viewed the same way: it's not the destination - it's the path toward the destination. National Socialism is the Yoga which leads to Vedanta. National Socialist Vedanta is Racial Enlightenment.

2

Limitations of the Title

The name "National Socialism" tends to interfere with people's ability to understand the worldview. The name really does not do the philosophy any real justice. National Socialism is a philosophy, a worldview, but it has a modern political title because the mode of social development in the modern age happens to be entirely political. Had National Socialism come to life in an era of philosophy instead of politics it would most certainly have been called something entirely different, perhaps something along the lines of "Racial Naturism" or something to that effect.

National Socialism's original purpose was to establish a nation, and eventually an entire human civilization, on the natural order - every aspect of civilization stemming from consciousness of Nature.

3

Nationalism as Natural Order