Healing, Secrecy, and A Narrow Escape

May 27, 2020

Welcome to the May 27, 2020 issue of The Shamcher Bulletin, weekly excerpts from the archives of Shamcher Bryn Beorse. Warm greetings to new subscribers! If this was forwarded to you and you haven’t subscribed yet, you can do it here.

In this issue, clips from Sufi correspondence in the 1970s. Plus some of Shamcher’s remarkable WWII exploits, shown in a 1941 newspaper interview, as well as Part 2 of The Plot to Kidnap Hitler.

Healing

Inayat Khan established the healing institute headed by a Khafayat to spread a little extra healing influence among the unworthy and worthy so that at the hospitals all the patients graph rose markedly on the days we had service [in Suresnes]. Which did not mean that all were "healed". Not even the power of the Message could do that against all the combined illnesses of individuals and environment, including false thoughts. Yes, a few seemed to be completely healed - which they ought to have been even without healers and healing services, but in view of the sorry state of the present world, healing service is a lift upward.

What to do?

You needn't worry about what to do. Not at all. You keep this letter and this copy, and some one will come to you, who needs it. That is how such things happen. Or you will get a sign. Or something. Don't worry. You will be honored and rewarded.

Secrecy

You read a saying on secrecy by Inayat Khan. There is another saying of secrecy in the Vadan where he says that one need never worry, because that which is not meant for a certain person that person will not perceive. Inayat initiated me in a railway compartment full of people and gave me the Zikar and other "highly secret" practices.

Sufi Organization

You and your compadres decide whether you want to join Hidayat's federation with or without reservations about other friendships, as I do, or whether you rather want to remain a completely independent organization, embracing the others but not doing their bidding, not being part of them. Or be part of them all, whether these all recognize that sort of membership or not (as I do, and insist on doing). However, it is a little different with an organization (from an individual). I think maybe you should not rush into any actual membership and thus impose rules upon your generations forever until they may rebel. And why rebel? I think it may be beautiful to have an organization embracing all but not breaking their arms to fit into all kinds of strange ideas. Say to every one who comes: “Welcome. You are a real sufi, our teacher and guide - as long as you wish to be...” Don't even ask from which nation they come, except as a courtesy.

WWII

A Narrow Escape

The Bakersfield Californian, Monday July 28,1941, By Dick Bean

"Strong Air Force Needed to Beat Nazis, Evacuee Claims"

INSUPERABLE air strength of the United States and other democracies is "what it takes to beat Hitler and the Germans," a ruddy-faced, golden-haired Norwegian escapee from the Nazi gestapo and veteran of the battle of Norway asserted after telling the Bakersfield Rotary Club of his narrow escape from a concentration camp.

Brynjolf Bjorset (now "Bryn Beorse"), engineer-soldier of fortune and former Norwegian army lieutenant (he pronounces it "leftennant"), told of the consistent trouble the Nazi overlords are meeting in conquered nations of Europe and related how he escaped a Norway trap, hiked with British companions nearly 400 miles to Sweden, was captured on a United States-bound ship, talked his way out of seizure and sailed for America on another ship a few hours before arrival of a "ticket to a concentration camp."

Mr. Bjorset has confidence that the new British-directed grapevine "V" campaign of sabotage and unrest will increase the Germans' trouble in keeping subject Europeans under the hobnails of the Nazi boot. Smouldering hatred for their conquerors brought about the "V" campaign, he said, with the British deciding the time was ripe to guide from a secret radio station in England a unified campaign of anti-Nazi opposition, manifested by the symbol "V" chalked on barns, signaled in Morse code and painted on walls.

Sabotage in conquered Norway takes the subtle form of "conversion" of German soldiers, Mr. Bjorset said. "Our people treat the Germans well as individuals and try to show them the benefits of democratic life," he declared. “Then when they go back to Germany maybe they will tell others.”

Other popular forms of hampering the Germans in Norway are for the Scandinavians to start landslides blocking transport routes; punch holes in Germany-bound fish cans, spoiling canned food; putting water in German fuel and harassing the invaders with theater jokes.

Man to man, the German soldier is far from invincible, the world-traveling civil engineer said. “In battle they showed no mastery of soldiership. They came at us howling and screaming. We thought they were trying to scare us, that they were acting childish. But later we found they were scared,” the ex-lieutenant said.

When the British halted supplies to Norway, Mr. Bjorset found himself and British soldiers trapped in the mountains. He led them cautiously for almost 400 miles to Sweden, going for days without food except what generous Norwegian farmers provided.

Once in Sweden, Mr. Bjorset went to Finland, shipping out from Petsamo for New York. A German seaplane halted the ship, forced it into the port of Tromso where German officials made him a prisoner. Because their captive was a master of eight languages including English, the Germans thought he might be useful to them.

“They thought I would be what they call a ‘fool fifth columnist’,” said Mr. Bjorset. “They wanted to send me to America if I would make a good agent. They talked to me about peace. So I led them on that I was agreeable to their plan. The military released me but set detectives on my trail to find out more about me. Finally they became suspicious and I thought my chances of coming to America were gone.”

Luckily he found one officer who believed he should go to America and arranged for his departure. While final word was snarled in Berlin red tape, Mr. Bjorset talked a Nazi consul into letting him leave. Once in New York, a letter from Berlin was forwarded by a friend in Finland.

“The letter said permission to leave had been refused,” the soldier laughed.

Mr. Bjorset has filed application for American citizenship and is attempting to join the United States Naval Reserve. He believes he might be useful because of his engineering training and ability to speak Norwegian, German, English, French, Swedish, Danish, Dutch and Malay, languages learned on his world travels. He was in America when war in Norway broke out and hastened home to fight.

“This is a war of preparation,” Mr. Bjorset said, “and America is the land of invention. With proper development of our air force – more planes, bigger planes, better planes - America can turn out machines to overcome Hitler. Germany has not utilized the full possibilities of aerial warfare.”

Observer Corps aircraft spotter on the roof of a building in London during the Battle of Britain

Plot to Kidnap Hitler - Part 2

(Continued from Part 1 in last week’s issue)

From that point on circumstances would be our guide and decide for us whether we could have the best, the next best or the third best. The best would be if Hitler could be persuaded, without hardware, to go along to our “headquarters” and make the “desired” changes. He might go by his own private plane or our plane. In any event, we would in due time have the course changed to England. The next-best would be to have the same accomplished with a bit more substantial persuasion. The third-best would be if we should have to shoot our little mustachioed friend, a course that might break our tender hearts but … and well, yes, of course, there were even grimmer possibilities.

Any of the alternatives were likely to rid the world of Hitler, though the chances of survival of the mission members were slim indeed. This was our least worry. We, prospective participants, had entered this war to win, whether this took dying or not. And what satisfaction dying in a worthy and decisive endeavour. An earnest resolve was aglow in us as our plans matured and were reinforced with countless but important details.

No one could have been more serious than we as we envisioned our children and grandchildren answering when asked how daddy died: In fighting Hitler in person — rather than battling his cushion, made up of the innocent little buck privates down to eighteen years of age.

The General with the wrinkles, at least, was sufficiently impressed to take the plan to [Roosevelt] — would it not be preposterous for a mere agent and adventurer to boast where?

There were whispers about a British cabinet meeting, a secret session dominated by handsome Anthony and thunderous accord. Then onward went the plan — said the whisperers — to higher stations across the ocean.

I watched the flaming V-I robots thunder over London. When silence struck and they turned downward, I ran for shelter – something I had never done before. I would not miss my trip with Hitler. Also, I counted the days until these raids would be over — thanks to us.

Days trickled into weeks. These, in turn, strung into months. We spent the waiting time improving our plans, shopping around for adequate aircraft, painters, outfitters, experts on markings and signals. Everything was kept up-to-the-minute. We filled in new details every day, tightened the structure, secured loose ends until we became scientifically convinced we must succeed – a sound condition for any mission, though almost never realized.

We took comfort from the fact that while we, the mission members, were but a handful, our ideas were widely shared. Allen Dulles, later to become head of the U.S. Central Intelligence Agency and Trevor Roper, noted British historian and Intelligence Officer, repeatedly advocated collaboration with the German Underground for disposing of the Hitler regime. Of course G.I.’s or all units, British tommies and little German teenagers with guns were already talking our language. And British General F. C. Fuller, who knew of our plan, took time out to write a series of articles in the London Press intended to weaken two Allied dogma we feared might stop us.

“We must defeat the Germans so they know they are beaten,” was one oft-repeated statement. General Fuller pointed out that the Germans we would cooperate with, representing at least fifty-six per cent of the nation, needed no such prompting – and that the rest could not be taught – and did not matter.

“Unconditional surrender,” was another slogan. General Fuller wrote that any surrender implied conditions and that “unconditional surrender” was simply an anomaly.

We were proud and grateful to have a man of General Fuller’s stature secretly, yet openly, rooting for us and that the British permitted him (and others) to write freely against officially-accepted policies. We began to feel success in our bones.
Six months had gone when Colonel Munthe called me to his office. I looked at his face and was surprised it did not show the signs of victory I had so surely expected. Word had come to the General with the wrinkles, who had told it to Colonel Munthe who now told it to me: “We won’t play.”

Again there were whispers. August personnel among the Allied had argued that on such a momentous decision Stalin must be called in. From that moment on, people in the know lost faith. They knew he would never go along.

Why would he consent to a plan that would end the war while his armies were still far from Berlin and other coveted points? Besides, continuous war would permit him to get rid of more undesirable Russians at the front or through purges fitting into a war hysteria. And he wouldn’t mind a few more Americans and Englishmen killed either, in addition to his own undesirables.

A huge cross of fire roared outside the windows of MI5, then stopped and turned nose down, right toward our building. My whole world seemed to me as certain of destruction as the target for that robot.

I was ready for it. A deafening explosion shook the building and, long after, shattered glass tinkled and rustled. Then I awoke as from a bad dream and collected my unbroken limbs and numbed mind for new battles.

Such was the tragic story, tragic for the millions of men, women and children of all participating nations who were killed and whose lives were worse than wasted because the plan to end the war at a time when it had served its purpose was rejected.

The Shamcher Bulletin brings you snippets from Shamcher’s writings that might help frame and context our experience of the world we live in today.

In every issue, the text is as originally written, with only a few editorial tweaks if necessary.

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