We sure have a treat for you today. On Thursday, after we posted excerpts from L. Ron Hubbard’s most notorious lecture, his 1968 lesson about Xenu/Xemu and a 75 million-year-old genocide, we heard from someone who served with Hubbard at the time, Hana Whitfield! We hope you remember what an amazing job she did describing life on the high seas with Hubbard in the 2015 HBO documentary, ‘Going Clear.’
Anyway, we can hardly believe it, but Hana was inspired by our story on Thursday and decided to share with us a chapter of a forthcoming book she’s been working on. She can’t tell us the title or the publication date of the book yet, but the chapter is all about her own experience with Incident Two and OT 3 and Hubbard, and we knew you’d want to see it.
It was January 1968. Valencia harbor, Spain.
I was the Chief Officer on the Avon River and Joe van Staden, the Captain, and I were preparing our ship for Hubbard’s upcoming Whole Track Recall Mission.
Hubbard had just released OT 3. He glowed as he strutted proudly around the Royal Scotman — his Flagship on which he lived and which was docked next to the Avon — surveying the many Scientologists pouring on board from near and far to do his new OT 3.
Hubbard had invited qualified crew to start on OT 3 as well. I was one of many. I won’t go into the mess of trying to do OT 3. This is about what happened afterwards.
A number of Sea Org members completed OT 3 in a week. I had a premonition that Hubbard would go ballistic when he heard the news. How could I not? It had taken him years and he claimed he almost died in the attempt. However, unable to get anywhere with the level and after seeing my crewmates attesting, I decided to do the same.
Two mornings later, I was on deck on the Avon River supervising quantities of stores coming on board for our trip when a Commodore’s Messenger ran up to me. I think it was Janis Gillham (Grady). Out of breath, her face flushed, she said in quick words that the Commodore wanted to see me immediately in the Royal Scotman B Deck dining room. When I arrived, Peggy Bankston and Yvonne Gillham (Jentzsch) were already there.
Hubbard marched in grim-faced clearly beside himself.
I steeled myself.
He paced around the large dining room for a few seconds.
“You all know it took me years to research OT 3,” he began, his voice was hard, his words clipped. “The damage it did is irreparable and I almost dropped the body. And that getting through it would take years of uncompromising auditing.” He peered at us, anger distorting his features, shoulders hunched, his hands clenched. “Do you think I said that for your amusement? Yet all of you,” he spat out the words as he jabbed at us in turn, “attested in one week? Do you realize that doing this level honestly is your only road out of this … this trap?“ He looked around the dining room waving his hands. “Do none of you get it?”
He paced around again, the words pouring out of his mouth, falling over one another. Suddenly he stopped and stood not a foot in front of us.
“If the OT 3 platens didn’t restimulate you enough, I’ll tell you the whole story!”
He began, his voice alternating between fury, a plaintive wail, and a kind of singsong that reminded me of his Saint Hill Special Briefing Course taped lectures. I became scared he would have a heart attack…
Before the volcanoes exploded on Earth, Hubbard raged, Xemu set up traps to capture people on his empire of planets. The capture of humans, particularly prisoners, thieves, killers, rapists, stealers, was ingenious. Xemu’s renegade army set massive bonfires at strategic locations with voice recordings that cried out, beseeched, in scared voices – “Please help me!” and “Mother?” or “Father?” or “Here! I’m here! Help!” The recordings, voices pleading for help, rose from the flames for years.
“Of course, people went to help . . . and were caught! Like that!” Hubbard’s fingers snapped!
Once he had them electronically immobilized and bound, Xemu brought them to earth, and placed them on volcanoes. The volcanic explosions went on for years, the stream of bodies arriving and being thrown down into the fires and red-hot lava unending.
Hundreds of thousands of Xemu’s psychiatrists, waiting in the wings, pounced onto unwilling and resisting thetans, pinned them with electronic beams and PDH’d (pain, drugs, hypnosis and electric shock) them for sixty days to break and control them.
Xemu captured Loyal Officers, positioned them around the PDH locations, and made them watch the torture and suffering of their own people.
“You think it was a quick action?” Hubbard’s voice thundered. He moved forward and went nose-to-nose with us in turn. My knees began to shake – fearful of what Hubbard might do to us physically. I tried to pull myself together.
“The whole world shook,” he bellowed. The sun disappeared.” His voice rose. “Humans who lived on Earth couldn’t breathe. They died. Everything died. Xenu wanted everyone dead!” He waved his arms around, shouting the words.
Unconscious thetans were collected up, he went on, with enormous nets and beams, bound together, and taken to Hawaii and Las Palmas. Every batch brought in was implanted non-stop around the clock for thirty-six days. Electronic beams immobilized them, kept them in constant pain, and forced them to look at giant screens. After one lot was implanted, another took its place, and so on.
“Their implanting was repeated … over and over … and over!” He jabbed into the air with each over. “Pictures flashed on the screens continually for thirty-six days … everything you see around here and in the world!”
He began to chant … birth, death, life, bodies, men, women, food, sex, clothes, buildings, cars, trains, planes, ships, commerce, finance, education, torture, pain, beauty … and blood, pain, suffering… His voice sped up. He began pacing again.
Houses, clothes, cars, children… He paused, looked away.
“Ah! Then there’s religion! That was the key! Pictures of Gods, devils, saints, cherubs … that’s why religions display cherubs … and crosses, icons, clerical dress, rituals, houses, buildings, eating, sleeping, planes, trains, ships, emotions, punishment, crucifixions, being burned on the cross, torture, sex, priests, incense, shame, blame, and the whole bag of worms, it’s all in there, in the thirty-six day sequence. Details of sordid sex images, human starvation, suffering, and death. The Heaven and Hell implants, Christ on the cross and aspects of religion, and how savagely they were implanted into people. Voices that accompanied the images, commanded, ‘You will obey,’ ‘You are nothing,’ ‘You sin’ and ‘You are a body,’ ‘You are flesh.’ Single word commands such as ‘devil,’ ‘Satan,’ ‘sinner,’ ‘dead,’ ‘suffer,’ and on and on. Electric shocks occurred in between each command and image. We have it all … but it’s not all needed to run the implant.
“Xemu betrayed his own Officers to hide his crime. I’m telling you this for a reason,” he thundered. “If what I wrote didn’t restimulate every thetan and cluster you have, then I will! My confront isn’t limited. I got through the level and lived, the only one ever to do so!” He glared at us again. “Do you understand me? If any of you are ill tomorrow,” his finger jabbing, “I will know! And I’ll have Qual publicly cancel your OT 3 attestations. And,” his voice rose, “you will be assigned Treason. You’ll be declared SPs and offloaded. Or you can withdraw your attestations here and now, and go back onto OT 3!”
I stood, terrified, not daring to breathe.
Hubbard turned and marched out of the dining room.
Yvonne, Peggy, and I were silent. For a long moment. We looked at each other.
“I guess we go back to work,” said Peggy. We grimaced, turned, and went our separate ways. There was no way we could even talk about what had just happened … because that would be ‘discussing case,’ right?
I remembered a key policy Hubbard wrote in 1968: “It is sometimes easier for a pc to falsely attest than to face his own bank. To escape, he falsely attests. If ethics action for such false attestation is soft, it encourages him to falsely attest as there is no real penalty. Where ethics action is savage, it is easier for him to face his bank and so he actually makes it.” (HCO PL 7 Feb 68 “Fast Flow and Ethics”).
If Ron was right, I’d just thrown away my eternity. But something stirred inside, a whisper that told me to leave, go back to work … do nothing …
None of us volunteered that evening to go back on OT 3.
I went to sleep that night with the Old Man’s words ringing in my ears. And woke in the morning with a tiny spot of tenderness at the back in my throat.
“Shit,” I thought. “Am I incomplete on OT 3? No!”
Operating on automatic, I got up, had breakfast, and went on deck to supervise stores that were coming on board for the upcoming voyage.
Hearing movement and voices by the gangway, I looked over. The Old Man, in full uniform, his cape swirling as he marched, as grim-faced as he’d been the night before, was on the Avon gangway and advancing rapidly toward me. His usual retinue of personal aides, all as sour-faced as he, followed. Usually when the Old Man came on board, he took his time, and smiled and chatted to those around. But not that day. He saluted the Quartermaster and strode in my direction like a heat-seeking missile.
I faced him and saluted crisply. “Good morning, Sir!”
He leaned into me, his eyes slits, his nose two inches from mine. His retinue closed ranks behind him. I wondered if they knew about the night before.
“How are you this morning!” It was a bark, not a question.
I felt wonderful. That spot in my throat had disappeared. I also felt a sudden and unusual mischievous rush of dishing the Old Man some of what he’d dished us the night before.
“Perfectly well! Sir!” I said in my most authoritative crisp, loud voice. I faced him eye-to-eye, chest-to-chest, unblinking. I saluted once more. He peered at me, also unblinking, most likely looking for the tiniest quiver of skin, muscle, or eye to admit to a lie.
I remained motionless, refusing to break the gaze, holding the salute.
Finally he leaned away, took a full step back and visibly relaxed. He looked out at the bustle and activity that was going on over the Avon’s aft well deck.
The buzz and noise of orders being shouted and answered, and stores clattering broke over me as I came out of the Old Man’s trance and back into the present.
He turned back to me, looking like the Old Man I knew and would have gone to hell for.
“Well, looks like you have things well in hand, here, Commander,” he said congenially, smiling around at everyone. “Carry on!” He whirled back to me, saluted crisply, turned toward the gangway, and slowly walked away. His retinue wheeled around with him.
Returning the salute, I stayed at attention until he stepped off the Avon gangway and onto the Royal Scotman’s aft deck.
Hubbard never mentioned OT 3 to me again. However, I am quite sure my preclear folders are full of searing and derogatory notes how I “quickied” OT 3 because he ordered me back onto that crazy level many times later on with none of them producing the result he so wanted to see.
Later that day, I asked Yvonne and Peggy if LRH had seen them that morning. Oh yes, he had. Yvonne, tears appearing, said he’d been ferocious and accused her of trying to undermine his leadership and authority. She broke down in front of him, crying, and denying his accusations, affirming repeatedly that she was a loyal Sea Org member. We sat together until she felt better.
Peggy said that after the Old Man gave me another tirade, she had smiled and said, “Sir, if there are no BTs, how can I find them?” I marveled at her courage. At the same time, I wondered how much longer she would last in the Sea Org; Hubbard didn’t tolerate insubordination from anyone. She was gone in a few months…
— Hana Whitfield
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Name-dropping Irish Scientologists get called out
Our thanks to the tipster who spotted this account by Irish resident Gerard Daly. We’re just going to present it as is, and perhaps we can get more detail from Mr. Daly later…
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Make your plans now!
HOWDYCON UPDATE
Wow, we’re now two months out, and Chee Chalker is working hard to make sure things are going to run smoothly at this year’s HowdyCon in Chicago, June 21-23. As in past years, we’re looking forward to meeting readers of the Bunker, culminating in Saturday night’s main event.
The biggest difference this year is that our Saturday night event is separate from that evening’s dinner. Chee is setting up an inexpensive pizza dinner that you don’t need to pay for ahead of time, after which we’ll walk over to the theater where our event, hosted by Chicago Fire star Christian Stolte, will take place. Because it’s a separate event, we’re asking that you pay $10 each to get into the Saturday night event, which will help us recoup what the Bunker paid for the venue. (We have never made a penny on our HowdyCon meetups, we only try to break even.)
Please email your proprietor (tonyo94 AT gmail) in order to reserve your spot for Saturday night’s main event. Seating is limited, and we’re going to have some really interesting people on stage and they may make a few announcements that you don’t want to miss.
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Bernie Headley has not seen his daughter Stephanie in 5,091 days.
Katrina Reyes has not seen her mother Yelena in 1,694 days
Brian Sheen has not seen his grandson Leo in 237 days.
Clarissa Adams has not seen her parents Walter and Irmin Huber in 1,300 days.
Carol Nyburg has not seen her daughter Nancy in 2,074 days.
Jamie Sorrentini Lugli has not seen her father Irving in 2,848 days.
Quailynn McDaniel has not seen her brother Sean in 2,194 days.
Claudio and Renata Lugli have not seen their son Flavio in 2,688 days.
Sara Goldberg has not seen her daughter Ashley in 1,728 days.
Lori Hodgson has not seen her son Jeremy and daughter Jessica in 1,440 days.
Marie Bilheimer has not seen her mother June in 966 days.
Joe Reaiche has not seen his daughter Alanna Masterson in 5,055 days
Derek Bloch has not seen his father Darren in 2,195 days.
Cindy Plahuta has not seen her daughter Kara in 2,515 days.
Claire Headley has not seen her mother Gen in 2,490 days.
Ramana Dienes-Browning has not seen her mother Jancis in 846 days.
Mike Rinder has not seen his son Benjamin and daughter Taryn in 5,148 days.
Brian Sheen has not seen his daughter Spring in 1,254 days.
Skip Young has not seen his daughters Megan and Alexis in 1,657 days.
Mary Kahn has not seen her son Sammy in 1,529 days.
Lois Reisdorf has not seen her son Craig in 1,111 days.
Phil and Willie Jones have not seen their son Mike and daughter Emily in 1,616 days.
Mary Jane Sterne has not seen her daughter Samantha in 1,860 days.
Kate Bornstein has not seen her daughter Jessica in 12,969 days.
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Posted by Tony Ortega on April 21, 2018 at 07:00
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Our book, The Unbreakable Miss Lovely: How the Church of Scientology tried to destroy Paulette Cooper, is on sale at Amazon in paperback, Kindle, and audiobook versions. We’ve posted photographs of Paulette and scenes from her life at a separate location. Reader Sookie put together a complete index. More information can also be found at the book’s dedicated page.
The Best of the Underground Bunker, 1995-2017 Just starting out here? We’ve picked out the most important stories we’ve covered here at the Undergound Bunker (2012-2017), The Village Voice (2008-2012), New Times Los Angeles (1999-2002) and the Phoenix New Times (1995-1999)
Learn about Scientology with our numerous series with experts…
BLOGGING DIANETICS: We read Scientology’s founding text cover to cover with the help of L.A. attorney and former church member Vance Woodward
UP THE BRIDGE: Claire Headley and Bruce Hines train us as Scientologists
GETTING OUR ETHICS IN: Jefferson Hawkins explains Scientology’s system of justice
SCIENTOLOGY MYTHBUSTING: Historian Jon Atack discusses key Scientology concepts
Other links: Shelly Miscavige, ten years gone | The Lisa McPherson story told in real time | The Cathriona White stories | The Leah Remini ‘Knowledge Reports’ | Hear audio of a Scientology excommunication | Scientology’s little day care of horrors | Whatever happened to Steve Fishman? | Felony charges for Scientology’s drug rehab scam | Why Scientology digs bomb-proof vaults in the desert | PZ Myers reads L. Ron Hubbard’s “A History of Man” | Scientology’s Master Spies | The mystery of the richest Scientologist and his wayward sons | Scientology’s shocking mistreatment of the mentally ill | The Underground Bunker’s Official Theme Song | The Underground Bunker FAQ
Our non-Scientology stories: Robert Burnham Jr., the man who inscribed the universe | Notorious alt-right inspiration Kevin MacDonald and his theories about Jewish DNA | The selling of the “Phoenix Lights” | Astronomer Harlow Shapley‘s FBI file | Sex, spies, and local TV news
