In this section I present the results of the Investigations of two Canadian citizens, one a Professor who has been teaching at the University of Toronto for 28 years (my fiancée Robert), a second who has been served in the Canadian Armed Forces for 11 years (George Kralik).  The extraordinary thing is that both Canadians were investigated over books:  one for books he had written, the other for books he had in his possession.  The investigating agencies were CSIS (Canadian Security and Intelligence Service), SIU (Military Special Investigation Unit), IU (Investigating Unit Military Police), Regular Military Police, and the University of Toronto.

      The implications of these investigations are serious for Canadians:  thought is the life of a nation, or it could be said it is the invisible substance that makes a people cohere into a nation.  Revolutionaries do little to enrich the life of a nation:  they cling passionately to some kind of abstract symbol or shibboleth which may have been true in the past but which is not part of the our experience as we move towards the future, or destiny:

                  Hearts with one purpose alone

                  Through summer and winter seem

                  Enchanted to a stone

                  To trouble the living stream.

                  (W.B. Yeasts, Easter 1916)

      A nation, as Year’s friend AE Russell says, is ‘not a divine revelation’:  ‘A nation arises because a number of people come to an agreement about government.  The agreement may be due to acceptance of a common culture, to identify of character or religion, or economic interests; and no exact science can be formulated with regard to it’ (The Living Torch).

      The shapers of a nation are the thinkers of a nation, the thought that springs spontaneously from the heart of the people rather than the fossilized forms of thought imposed by the rulers of a nation, visible and invisible, and their minions: relay team after relay team of politicians diddling the public.

      The true intellectual life of a nation is a shared feeling of cohesiveness, some kind of aura, or invisible feeling that ‘exists in every nation and is the root cause of the love felt for it by the citizens, just as the existence of spirit, the most mysterious and impalpable thing, is the fountain of the manifold activities of the body.  Let the spirit go, and the body soon decays’ (AE, Living Torch).

      ‘To make judgment on any issue,’ George Kralik began, ‘one must inform oneself.  If the information is restricted, the decision is likely to be faulty.  Any group wishing to rule a society (or enslave one) must practice thought control at its source – the intake of information’.

      The ability of Canadians to gather or share information at this time is not only being hindered or curtailed but brutally strangled – by the very services that have been created to protect them.  Individuals who manage to circumvent this process are marginalized, investigated, harassed, and are held up as nut-bars, criminals, or enemies of society.

      ‘We have of course to carry on, bash through the “barrier of fear” and somehow surmount these artificial obstacles that have been erected by the enemies of country.’ 
 

II 
      George had come down to Arthur to finalize the text of his contribution.  June 4, 1994.  Yes, our D-Day, and George, Robert and I are considering a Counter-Invasion of another sort: a counter-invasion of truth, an attempt to make our people aware of what is going on in our country before it is too late.

      My own people have been here for over one hundred and fifty years and I say with some concern: why do we sit back and watch these Money Manipulators cut the heart of our country and devour it.

      It is D-Day – 50 years later – and George, Robert and I are sitting in the front parlour of Alexander Fraser House, the foundation house of the village of Arthur referred to yesterday in the Kitchener Record as ‘Canada’s most patriotic village.’

      ‘What does patriotism mean in Arthur?’ Kralik interjected ‘I will read you what’s here,’ I replied:

      Among Canada’s 250,000 troops assigned to the Allied D-Day forces were many Waterloo Country men.

      Many were from the Village of Arthur, Canada’s most patriotic village.  One hundred and sixteen of the village’s then total population of 837 were in the armed forces, and more than 80 were overseas.  Several families had three or four children in uniform but the Sheldon Colwill family topped the list with six.  Five sons were with the invasion force and a daughter was serving in the Royal Canadian Corps of Signals at London, Ontario.

      We are sitting in the adjoining room of our home where Michael Adir first outlined for us the horrendous scenario that the rich elite of this world has in store for us Canadians.  ‘The plan,’ George is saying, ‘is almost at the point of realization – a matter of months to its completion – but the formulators of the Plan may have miscalculated on one thing: the power of the people.’  Something connects inside my mind: ‘the people’, - Yes, ‘the risen people.’  I stand up, cross the room to the bookcase inside, take a faded green book from the bookcase and read:

      Beware of the thing that is coming, beware of the risen people

      Who shall take what ye would not  give.  Did ye think to

                                    Conquer the people?

      George begins to speak, as if in pain: ‘I was born in a Police State, Hungary, Budapest, an early attempt of the new world order to impose slavery on that country.  I have first-hand experience of a Police State! What does living in a Police State mean?  Brutal Force! A slave-and-master relationship ruled by naked force, or the threat of it.  Being watched all of the time.  Living with a personal ‘Szemelyi Igazolvany’, an ID number (I often wonder whether SIN means Slave Identification Number) that is to be produced instantly on demand by ANY authority, be it police or bureaucrat.  You could not get through one hour of the day without it.  If you were caught without it, you were immediately jailed.  It served in place of a wartime tattoo number.  You could not get a job without it, go to school, take a course, rent a home (everything was ‘state-owned’ anyway), or travel (that is purchase a ticket) – in fact, it had to be presented when shopping.  I remember my uncle telling me that the Water Patrol once demanded his personal ID when he was swimming near boating lines – as if he would carry papers in his bathing suit.

      ‘There are so many of them: Secret Police, and the escalation of special police units is one indicator of a police state.  CSIS, for example, was formally established in 1984:  in five years it had grown by 300%.  Did the population of Canada triple during that time? No! Why then did the staff in CSIS triple?

       What do the Secret police do?  They classify the slaves, the potential slaves, and their watchdogs. The ‘normal’ wage in Hungary was a starvation wage.  This serves several purposes:  people living hand-to-mouth use all their energy trying to survive, which leaves them with no heart or resources to organize resistance.  The money that is not given to the working class is reserved for those who served the slave apparatus – the secret police.  These watchdogs of society – or more appropriately ‘hyenas’ – would receive a significantly higher wage – up to 10 to 20 times the norm.

      This further enraged the slave populace – turning some of their own kind against them, suffering not only the material deprivation but the indignity of seeing the ‘politically correct’ prosper even though they were morally inferior to the majority of the people.

      Books of course are banned because they are too effective a way of people educating themselves.  Books that were once the ‘lighthouse’ of the nation are replaced by books that have been politically approved.  Trumped-up smear charges are thrown at the throats of anybody exposing anything, and ultimately they are silenced.  When you see an establishment uncomfortable about the books that people are writing, you can safely say that some sort of police state is in the making.

      To top it all off, the people are forced publicly to parrot predigested clichés extolling their “wonderful system” and their ‘great liberators’. The radio, press, television were State property and you could not work there unless you were screened by the Security Police.  Not only did the rulers of the State have full control over the dissemination of all ideas, but no more than five people could meet in any one place without State authorization.  The people were totally intimidated about being caught breaking one absurd law or another.  This would seem ridiculous in the Canada we have known, but it is a matter of life-and-death for the survival of any Police State to entangle the people of perpetual fear is generated.

      ‘Further, neighbours were forced to “spy and snitch” on each other.  Severe penalties were handed down (numerous years in prison, or worse) if by chance a situation was a “set-up” whereby the “culprit” neighbour was actually an agent of the State and if a party observing him failed to report the suspected misdeed then it was viewer who would “go down” rather than the neighbour.  This was encouraged not only among neighbours, but was fostered even within families by the State schools.  With this method, the trust between people was shattered and complete disintegration of a healthy society is accomplished.

      As you both know, there was an “Uprising” in Hungary in ’56, a situation where the “slaves” decided they would rather risk everything than live another day in that HELL.  The people will only endure the tyranny of a Police State as long as they can be kept from organizing some form of effective resistance.  They could not have arms:  only highly select (and State-approved) persons could possess firearms.  All weapons were banned, even if they were only antiques.  The police, on the other hand, were issued machine guns just to patrol street-corners or side-walks.  This “overkill”  weaponry in the face of a disarmed populace can only mean that the Rulers always have to contend with the possibility of a “slave” Rising.

      Another way to keep people “in line”  is to break their line of communication with those they still trust: phone tapping or restricted phone access, lack of vehicle availability – restricting mobility – censoring of mail, the forbidding of a free press when opinions and ideas may be voiced, and of course severe restriction on travel abroad.  This was the reason for the existence of an “IRON CURTAIN”,  a Curtain enforced by minefields, barbed wire, and machine-gun towers:  they didn’t want their slaves to escape.  But despite the life-threatening conditions, over 200,000 people escaped in a matter of a few weeks in 1956.

      Among those were my parents.  Using a hand-held compass and travelling by foot under the cover of darkness, just with the clothes on their back, no valises, no nothing, just themselves they managed to escape to a ‘lager’ – an Austrian refugee camp from which their application was accepted to come to Canada.  They came by boat to Halifax where they were quarantined in case they had TB for about a month (rather interesting in the light that people these days don’t have to be quarantined even for AIDS: then to Niagara Falls for a year, and then to Toronto where they arrived in 1958.

      I had been left in Hungary with my grandparents on my father’s side on a farm near a small village.  My grandmother on my mother’s side who was alone had to endure numerous interrogations and surprise house searches, always in the early hours of the morning – around 2 a.m. because my uncle who was imprisoned by Authorities for “anti State activities” at the age of 19, had also escaped at the same time as my parents.

      The Bureaucratic Beast prevented my coming to Canada to rejoin my parents for seven years.  One thing you’ll find interesting when I returned to Hungary in 1974 is that the Police Headquarters within 24 hours of arrival.  Also, any time that I visited relatives in another town, this “people’s democracy” demanded that I report to Police immediately; subsequently, I reported to police no less than eight times in seven weeks (in the Baltic countries, the State forbade visitors to sleep at their relatives’ homes – instead they were forced to stay at state-designated “hotels” at exorbitant prices).

      Another thing stands out clearly in my mind during the ’74 visit.  Walking with my cousin Elizabeth, I noticed a large black statue of Lenin with pigeon shit dripping from his forehead and nose.  I found it humorous that the pigeons were carrying on where the ’56 Freedom Fighters left off, and I burst out in laughter, pointing at the spectacle.  My cousin grabbed my arm and shook me, reminding me that a policeman might be watching.  It took me a moment to realize her concern and the fear that was still gripping the nation.

      The experience of this visit and being reminded so forcefully of the Police State still operating in the country where I was born, coupled with the fear that this could happen in any other country, and my resolve not to let it happen, led me to show interest in the Canadian military.  I was also of the conviction that any citizen should be a capable soldier ready and able to defend their country.  Never did I think that I would have the same type of experience in Canada in, of all places, the Military.

      Yet this is precisely what happened.  Under the bogus pretext of National Security,  questions were put to me that revealed the shadowy presence that ultimately manifests itself into a Police State, that has no compassion for any type of human feeling.  If Canadians choose to remain casual about it, IT WILL HAPPEN HERE.  I can see the heel that Orwell speaks about coming down brutally on the human face.  This time the face is not somebody else’s: IT IS OURS!’

      Suddenly he stood up as if before a Tribunal, ‘A Police State, he said’ is not a joy ride with a happy ending, although Canadians generalizing from their history may believe it to be that.  It is the most brutal reality one can ever encounter, or any of one’s kin.

      George stood up, walked to the centre table, picked up the Guelph Mercury, looked at the headline, ‘D-Day Invasion was “family affair” for Arthur,’  began to read silently, slowly crossing the carpet to the double windows where he continued to read in silence.

      When Allied troops storm the West Wall of Europe on D-Day it will be, to a remarkable extent ‘a family affair’ as far as the village of Arthur, 25 miles north of Guelph, is concerned.

      Whole families of sons from this North Wellington County village stand poised in England awaiting the “go” signal for invasion.  Of other Arthur families, some sons are in England, some already in fight in Italy and others still training in Canada.

      Although the village has a population of only 837, there have been at least 116  enlisted to date.  More than 80 are now overseas.  In addition, some 25 sought to aid their country by enlisting but were rejected on medical grounds.

      One Arthur family has five sons and one daughter in the Army, another, four sons, more than half a dozen families have at least three sons in the services with prospects of more enlisting in the future.

      Robert and I both knew what he was reading.  Did we know it before?  That Arthur Ontario is ‘Canada’s most patriotic village?

      Robert broke the silence, ‘Coming events cast their shadow.’  Yes, that’s what Joyce has Poldy think.

      Poldy and Molly, Molly and Poldy.  Molly Poldy Bloom.  But I am doodling.  ‘What kind of Investigation were you subjected to in Canada?’ 
 
III 
      When the Investigation was initiated in l989, Kralik had been in the Armed Forces for eleven years.  In January of that year he was away from his home base in Gagetown, New Brunswick, on a ‘Search and Rescue’ Training Course in Edmonton.  When he return on 13 February l989, he discovered that the Military Police had emptied his home of almost ALL the contents, confiscating two truckloads of books, papers, manuscripts, and personal possessions.  He had come back by air  to Trenton, Ontario, on 3 February to pick up his car which he had left with a Search and Rescue Technician friend.  On landing at the Airport, he bumped into a Military Police acquaintance who said, ‘A lot of questions are being asked about you.’  George shrugged, not paying much attention, sauntered across the highway to the Military Police Office (which was known in the colloquial as the MP Shack).  The Sergeant saw the name tag and said with some surprise, ‘Oh, you’re Kralik.  The Gagetown MP’s have been calling, looking for you.’

      At this point George, who originally had gone into the MP Shack to call his friend to get his car back, decided to call Gagetown Military Police.  He was beginning to wonder why Trenton – the mid-point of his journey – had been alerted.  He was told by the Gagetown Police that the matter they wanted to talk to him about was not urgent; they just wanted to talk to him, but refused to say why on the phone or even give a hint.

      George’s return to Gagetown was delayed several days because of car trouble.  He arrived there on the evening of the twelfth of February.  He was immediately ‘flabbergasted’ about the number of calls the Duty Officer was making – about him.  He was humoured and flattered by all this attention, but was starting to feel confused.  He was told to report at 0900 hours the next day to the Military Police. 
 

      The next day when he arrived, he was escorted by two Investigating Unit members into a soundproof room with a tape recorder.  He was asked whether he had military gear in his possession to which he replied, ‘Affirmative’.  He was then told to make a written statement.  ‘What do you want me to write?’  ‘Anything you want,’ they replied. ‘Not being a Shakespeare, he answered, ‘I have nothing to write.’

      He was then led down the hall to a large room.  When to door was swung open, he was greeted by the sight of his entire worldly possessions, or almost all of them. ‘Are you sure you didn’t leave anything?’ he laughed.  He was then asked to sit and identify every object assembled in the 300-square foot room.  For the next three hours he did precisely that.  At noon, he was ordered to see a certain Warrant Officer, Steve Schofield of the Special Investigating Unit of the Canadian Military, at 1300 hours in, of all places, the Military Base Theatre Building.

      When he arrived there, he was greeted by Schofield, Section Head of SIU (Special Military Investigating Unit) and was offered cigarettes, coffee, and a chair: being a non-smoker, and not wanting coffee, he accepted the chair. ‘You will not be forced to remain here against your will, ‘Schofield said, ‘but the questions we are interested in are of a security nature and are of great concern to Military Intelligence and Canada’s welfare.’  Suddenly George realized that the matter was much more serious than he originally thought.

      The questioning began in a routine manner:  name, date of birth, place of birth, progressing to ‘Why did you join the forces?’ to some highly questionable areas such as personal and religious views, views on equality, what he found difficult to accept in his religion, etc.

      Shortly after the commencement of questioning, George asked if anything found in his house influenced the direction of the questioning, such as books and papers?  The answer was in the affirmative, and he began to get a drift of where the interrogation was going.

      The questioning went on until 4 p.m. and continued into the next day.  At this point George was asked, whether he was willing to answer questions formulated by CSIS.  George had no objection whereupon he was asked whether, he would have any objection to a search of his property by CSIS.

      Ron Landry, agent of CSIS, came to his house on 17 February, for a cursory visit, paying special attention to the library (they had of course taken a very large box of books and pamphlets, which they had described on their ‘Seized Goods List’ as ‘Box of contents’) while Schofield busied himself jotting down certain titles, his jowls shaking, concluding his work by taking a pathetic Polaroid snapshot from the back of the room of a wall unit of books.

      They kept mentioning the ‘National Security’ risk, but rather it was-as George told me-‘self-styled vigilantes acting on orders protecting a much larger operation.’ George’s crime was that he had books in his library which exposed the charade used ‘by the so-called Authorities to justify wars, repression, revolution, and anything else that they needed to prepare the way for their New World Order.’ Of course the pretext for the Investigation as George’s possession of unsigned-for military gear, but as I know from my own cousins in the Canadian Army just about everybody else in the military is in that position too.

      At about the same time, the Base Holding Unit informed George that he faced an AWOL (away without leave) charge, for which he was incarcerated and lost about $1,000. in wages.

      The interrogation lasted several weeks and on March 8, after a little softening-up in a military jail, George was given his first polygraph session.  ‘Jos Cassevan, who did the polygraph, was quite convincing in his professionalism and rather honest when he declared that he could not get a reading from the first session.  He requested I return for another.  Once again I agreed, and on March 10 I went for a second session:  What is your favourite colour?  Have you been in contact with hostile intelligence?  Have you betrayed the trust of a friend?  Would you be willing to fight against Hungary?  And on and on.

      ‘The polygraph showed a negative reading and after that the Investigation fizzled out.’ 

      George’s taste for the military, however, had soured. ‘If I have made a mistake, I humbly request to be corrected,’ he told his superiors, ‘if I have been bad or malicious or dishonest, I demand to be punished.’

      He had been intensively ‘investigated’ for three months by Warrant Officer Steve Schofield, Section Head, SIU, Gagetown; CSIS Officer Ron Landry; Sergeant Paul Melanson of IU (Investigating Unit) and regular military police –four levels of investigative units.

      He was not only utterly appalled, but the whole experience had a shattering psychological impact on his whole world.  Being interrogated in Hungary – Yes!  But in Canada?  One of the ‘justifications’ of the Investigation was, as Schofield put it, that his ethnic background was from an East European country, and that they ‘feared’ that he might be in contact with ‘people behind the Iron Curtain.’  George replied that he had been from an ‘East European country’ when he had applied and had been accepted into the Canadian Armed Forces eleven years prior to this.

      Subsequently, George was to discover that the ‘security’ matter was only a cover.  For in a series of investigations of his own between l989 and l991 – investigations of the Investigators – he discovered the real reason why he had been placed under such intensive scrutiny.  ‘You were in contact,’ Schofield admitted later, ‘with certain right-wing individuals whose viewpoints are not those of the mainstream of Canada.’   ‘You were in possession of books that are illegal,’  Melanson added rather arrogantly: ‘The SIU have their own mandate.  They don’t have to tell anyone what it is.’  George looked at him perplexed and asked: ‘In a democracy? You were investigated,’ Ron Landry of CSIS told him after the mopping up had been done, ‘because of the abnormal amount of books you had…a whole bunch of little stuff that just didn’t add up.’

      There is one further dimension that I must touch on.  For almost five years George was part of the Canadian Airborne Regiment which, although only formed in 1968, traces its legacy back ‘to the First Canadian Parachute Battalion which dropped behind the lines on D-Day in World War II, fought the rest of the war detached from our army and suffered more casualties and won more decorations that any other unit.’

      Writing on 12 April 1994, Peter Worthington calls the Airborne ‘the best soldiers in the world.’  Our book is, as you now well know, about the infiltration of new world order forces into the fabric of Canadian life tearing it apart in order to reshape it for their own malign purposes.  Our best fighting regiment must of course, be the first to be attacked, the regiment which is absolutely critical for the defence of our homeland in the coming Canadian resistance against new world order forces.

      George seems to have been a harbinger of what was to come, for I see the following in an old clipping from the Toronto Sun (8 May 1993):

      A secret military investigation of the Petawawa base, home to the elite Airborne Regiment, turned up about two dozen members and supporters of neo-nazi and racist groups.

      Tell me, dear reader, from what you have read above:  Who are the nazis, the neo-nazis, and the racists, and who are the true Canadians?  The Investigators? George? Robert? Or me?