George Lincoln Rockwell

George Lincoln Rockwell

U.S. Navy Commander


–by A.V. Schaerffenberg


Ten thousand incensed Jews…

…swarmed into New York City’s Central Park where the man they hated most planned to speak in the “free forum area.” The huge mob swollen with overwrought people loudly screaming for his blood. They brandished lead pipes and pieces of broken pavement in the best Old Testament traditions of free speech.

No one really expected him to show up in the face of such demented numbers, so the frothing ‘Chosen’ turned the event into an anti-Nazi celebration. They clapped and sang “Havanaglia” and performed round-dances in the street.

But at the height of their maniacal hysteria, at the appointed time, a big man standing tall and alone in the very midst of the insane rabble threw off his long overcoat. As if by magic, George Lincoln Rockwell appeared in full Storm Trooper uniform in the eye of an emotional hurricane, surrounded by enemies too stunned to move. Incredibly, he began to taunt them, deriding them to their camel-faces as cowards and fugitives from lunatic asylums.

He had shown up, he said, at their request, so let’s see how tough they really were. No one made a move against the formidable ex-U.S. Navy Commander. He strutted smiling among them, ridiculing their false promises to prevent his New York speech. It was a very personal confrontation between Aryan man and his Jewish opposites, between racial matter and anti-matter. An explosion was inevitable.


The Jews Go Nuts

Only by degrees did the Jews psych themselves up to sufficient hysteria. In a raging screaming lunge, they fell on Commander Rockwell. But he had the psychological advantage of a larger-than life personal courage. In an utterly one-sided battle too incredible for anyone who has not witnessed or fought through such a moment, he bashed and throttled his way into the shrieking crowd. The grasping, spitting devils fell on all sides, as the lone hero of the White race cut a path of blood and broken bones across New York City Central Park.

They never knocked him off his feet.
And he never tired of splitting enemy jaws.

Alarmed and inspired by such Herculean bravery, a squad of policeman crashed into the howling throng swinging nightsticks. Kosher casualties mounted rapidly as the cops obviously enjoyed the sport [against a maniacal Jewish mob]. They blazed a path of splattering gore to the ever-battling Rockwell, and escorted him over the blubbering bodies of fallen Jews. He emerged with a few cuts and minor bruises. Even his uniform was in good shape.


The Commander’s Early Life

George Lincoln Rockwell had come a long way from his birthplace in central Illinois, on March 9th, 1918. To be sure, his youth was long past from the battlefields of New York City. He yearned to become a successful commercial artist, an ambition fulfilled when he won first prize in a national competition for the Cancer Foundation.

But the Second World War changed his plans forever. Volunteering as a U.S. Navy pilot even before America’s official entry into the conflict, [desperate subversive Jewish traitors] persuaded him into believing with millions of other betrayed Americans that Adolf Hitler was getting ready to take over Coney Island and the Statue of Liberty.

Decorated by war’s end for combat duty against German U-boats, he re-enlisted for the Korean War, rising to the rank of Commander. While stationed in Iceland, he met and married a beautiful Nordic woman, with whom he raised a family in the 1950’s.

But since the end of World War Two, Rockwell had grown increasingly troubled by the deteriorating condition of Western Civilization, the antidote for which he finally discovered in Mein Kampf. Aware at last of his real destiny, he founded the American Nazi Party, fulfilling a prophesy the
Führer made shortly before his death:

“The fight against the Jews will not be renewed first in Europe, but in the United States. Within twenty five years, the Americans will have begun to come to their senses about the Jewish Question.”


The Fight Renewed

But in 1958, the American people were too complacent and self-satisfied for White Revolution. The nigger riots, economic chaos, cultural rot and Vietnam era treason of the 60s still lay before them. In spite of Citizen Apathy, Rockwell’s activism blasted to their consciousness through the “Paper Curtain,” as he referred to the total Jewish news media boycott of all information about National Socialism [and truth of WW-II].

Years of unrewarding sacrifice “finally” bore fruit when Black Negroids demonstrations invaded Midwestern White working class neighborhoods. Riding the crest of popular resentment against forced integration, Commander Rockwell addressed large assemblies of his fellow White Americans, who for the first time showered him with the gratitude he deserved.


“The Jews are Through in “72!”

Was an often-repeated slogan of the times, and represented the high hopes then expressed for his bid for the presidency of the United States. Yes, President George Lincoln Rockwell.

Rockwell’s popularity near the close of the decade was such that he seemed bound to win the highest seat in the land. That, tragically, was also the consensus of the Jew System. They assassinated him in Arlington, Virginia under circumstances still shrouded in mystery. [Censored 100% by the Jewish System in full cover-up mode of the truth about WW-II, WW-I, and the judeo-Bolshevik Revolution.]

[Jews also assassinated General George Patton, the certain next U.S. President. Murdered because Patton knew the real story of WW-II.  — And Charles Lindbergh. Jews kidnapped his baby. He withdrew from the US Presidential race. They murdered his baby anyway in a satanic Jewish sacrifice.]

Famous General Patton quote regarding WW-II:

“This isn’t Cricket. This is Yiddish.”


Who was George Lincoln Rockwell?

Destiny certainly chose the ideal man to represent the postwar National Socialist Movement. Six feet, four inches tall, ruggedly handsome, athletic, alert and quick-witted, he was the quintessential American folk-hero in the same mold, physically at any rate, as John Wayne or Clark Gable, with a similar charismatic appeal the American soul most responds to. Indeed to some observers, he resembled a cross between James Garner and Tyrannosaurus Rex, particularly when in combat. Yet, for all his dynamism, he was a doting father figure and an absolutely loyal friend.

In the highest traditions of National Socialist leadership, he constantly hurled himself unhesitatingly among the enemy, who never failed to outnumber him. When the first Viet Cong flag was publicly paraded by a Yiddish Communist through the streets of Boston in 1956, Rockwell launched himself into the Marxist demonstration of traitors and fools to tear it down and go to jail for the kind of selfless patriotism no one else dared. As he said modestly of himself on such occasions, he was only trying to undo in a small way the damage he had done to National Socialism as a deceived American in World War Two.



Rockwell’s Legacy

The enemies of the White race would like to pretend that George Lincoln Rockwell never existed. Certainly, they have done everything possible to expunge his name from American history. But their efforts continue to fail. His image and deeds are forever engraved in the hearts and memories of millions who lived through the turbulent decade of the Sixties. His writings and recorded spoken words continue to educate and inspire new generations of racial patriots.

Much as we mourn his passing, even after twenty five years, we know he did not die before his time, as does no man. It is, after all, the fate of the greatest heroes not to die peacefully of old age, but to fall in their prime under the hatred of their enemies. Only in this manner may they live on forever in the folkish consciousness of our race.

George Lincoln Rockwell made every living National Socialist and those yet unborn incomparably richer for his having lived. He single-handedly lifted our banner from the ashes of Berlin into the skies of America. He represented our Idea in so personable, professional and winning a fashion, he made us proud to be a part of his struggle. We are honored to accept his legacy. In his name, sanctified by the blood of self-sacrifice, we shall use it to the fullest advantage!

A man’s life is his noblest work.

His work is carried on by those who survive him.
He is not truly dead.

Through us, Rockwell lives!




Fable of the Ducks & Hens

by George Lincoln Rockwell
U.S. Navy Commander


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A panel from The Fable of the Ducks and the Hens comic book

Many, many years ago
When animals could speak,
A wondrous thing the ducks befell;
Their tale is quite unique.
Down by a pond dwelt all these ducks,
— Ten thousand at the least —
Their duckish joys were undisturbed
By any man or beast.


A panel from The Fable of the Ducks and the Hens comic book
One day down near the entrance gate
There was an awful din.
A hundred hens all out of breath
Were begging to come in.
“Oh let us in!” these poor birds cried,
“Before we do expire!
’Tis only by the merest INCH
That we escaped the fire!”


Their feathers burned, their combs adroop,

They were the saddest sight.
They’d run a hundred miles or more,
All day and then all night.

“Come in! Come in!” the ducks all quacked,“For you our hearts do bleed!
We’ll share our happy lot with you;
Just tell us what you need!”

And so these poor bedraggled hens
Amongst the ducks moved in.“For after all,” the ducks declared,
“We’re sisters ’neath the skin.”

Before too many months had lapsed,
The hens were good as new.
They sent for all their rooster friends,
And those were welcomed too.

To please their hosts, these chickens tried
To waddle and to quack.
To simulate the duckish ways,
They quickly learned the knack.

This pleased the flock of ducks because
It gratified their pride.
But hear my tale and learn how they
Got taken for a ride.

The ducks, it seemed, spent all their time
In fixing up the place;
In growing food and building homes
And cleaning every space.

They asked the hens what they would do
To earn their daily bread.
“We’ll teach and write and entertain,
And buy and sell,”
 they said.

And so these hens began to teach
The baby ducks and chicks.
They traded food and eggs and things,
With many clever tricks.

They wrote great books and put on shows
— Of genius they’d no lack.
It wasn’t long till chickens owned
The Duckville Daily Quack.


One day a mother duck who took
Her ducklings to the lake,
Was flabbergasted when one said,
“A swim I will not take!”

“Why duckling’s ALWAYS swim!” she gasped,
“It’s what you’re built to do!
Like bunnies hop, and crickets chirp,
And cows most always moo!”

“You’re NUTS!” her son replied,
“That stuff is all OLD HAT!
It’s wrong for birds to swim — besides,
It’s damn cold on my prat!”

“Oh fie!” the mother duck exclaimed,
“You’re talking like a fool!”
Up quacked the other ducklings then:
“He’s right! We learned in school!”

“Such things must stop!” the mother cried,
“Those hens can’t tell such lies!
For sheer ingratitude and nerve,
I’m sure this takes the prize!”

But she was wrong, for even then
The hens did thump the tub,
Demanding they be let into
The Duckville Swimming Club.

“But you don’t swim!” the ducks exclaimed,
“To join, why should you care?”
“That’s not the point”
 the hens replied,

“To exclude us isn’t fair!”

The younger ducks, who’d been to school
Agreed right there and then,
“To keep them out is bigotry!
’Twould just be ANTI-HEN!”

Outnumbered by the younger ducks,
The old ducks soon did lose.
The hens could join the Swimming Club,
If they would pay the dues.

That night the Duckville Daily Quack
Contained this banner spread:
“Reactionary Ducks are Licked!
Duckville moves Ahead!”

Down at the Duckville Gaity,
The young set laughed with glee,
At cracks about “old fuddy ducks”
In burlesque repartee.

Next day the hens were at the Club;
A petition they’d sent round
They objected to the Swimming Fund
With fury and with sound.

“You use our dues to fix the pond,
To keep it neat and trim
And this is wrong”
 they said, “because
You know we do not swim!”

“God help us!” cried a wise old duck,
“These chickens have gone mad!
We’ll take this thing to court, by George,
And justice will be had!”

But when they went before the judge,
Imagine their dismay!
A CHICKEN judge decreed that they
A heavy fine must pay!

“Minorities must have their rights!”
The judge declared right then.
“To use hens’ dues to fix the pond
Is very ANTI-HEN!”

Once more the Duckville Daily Quack
Emblazoned ’cross the page:
“Old Fuddy Ducks Refuse to See
The Great New Coming Age!!”

In Duckville’s church, on Sunday morn,
The preacher spoke these words:
“Discrimination’s got to stop!
Remember, we’re all birds!”

The wisest duck in all the town
Sat down in black despair.
“I’ll write a book,” he thought, “and then
This madness I will bare!”

“Let swimmers swim, let hoppers hop,
Let each go his own way
Let none coerce a fellow bird!”

Was what he had to say.

“’Twas wrong to force the hens to swim,
So here’s the problem’s crux:
It’s just as bad for hens to try
To CHICKENIZE our ducks!”

“I can’t print that,” the printer said,
“’Twill put me in a mess!
My shop is mortgaged to the hens —
The chickens own my press!”

This worried duck then tried to warn
His friends by speech and pen,
But young ducks fresh from school just jeered,
“He’s a vicious ANTI-HEN!”


Now up the stream a little way
Was Gooseville, on the lake
The hens had come to Gooseville too,
But the geese were more awake.

When the hens began to spoil the young
And Gooseville’s laws to flout,
The geese rose up in righteous wrath
And simply threw them out.

Of course you know where they all ran
— On Duckville they converged.
“We’ve got to take these REFUGEES
Was what the hens all urged.

The Duckville Daily Quack declared:
“Those geese will stop at naught!
They plan to conquer all the world!
Atrocities they’ve wrought!”

“That’s right!” the young ducks all agreed,
“We’ll help our fellow birds!
Those geese have plans to conquer us!
We’ve read the 
Quack’s own words!”

They let the hens from Gooseville in,
The whole bedraggled pack
And every hen took up a job
On Duckville’s Daily Quack.

When Duckville’s Mayor’s term was up,
The Quack put up its duck.
A vain and stupid duck was he
— A veritable cluck!

But when he praised the wild young ducks
And cursed the evil geese,
The Quack declared he was “all-wise”;
His praise would never cease.

The hens chipped in to help this cluck
Give grain away for free.
The old ducks sadly shook their heads—
The writing they could see.

And sure enough, this stupid duck,
He was elected Mayor.
From this point on, the Duckville ducks
They never had a prayer.

The Mayor said, “Gooseville must go!
We’ll wipe them off the map!”

While Duckville slept, the scheming hens
For Gooseville set a trap.

They called the geese by filthy names;
They filled their pond with sticks.
They helped the weasels catch the geese,
And other hennish tricks.

The geese got mad and threw some rocks.
“IT’S WAR!” the Quack announced.
“We ducks must fight those evil geese
Till they’ve been soundly trounced!”

The ducks (who knew not of the tricks
Indulged in by the Mayor)
Were filled with “patriotic zeal”
And pitched right in for fair!

Now when the ducks had whipped the geese
The Mayor called “Retreat!
Our Henville friends should really take
Goosevilles’s big main street!”

The hens are back in Gooseville now;
They starved and beat the geese.
They prayed for peace — but organized
The Henville ARMED POLICE!

They drained the Gooseville swimming pond;
And “De-goose-ified” the schools.
They wrung the neck of Gooseville’s Mayor
On lately made-up rules.

They formed a council of the hens—
“UNITED BIRDS” the name.
The other birds who joined the thing
Did not perceive the game.


No sooner had they set this up,
Than they announced their plan
To seize up Swanville as a home
For all their hennish clan.

They took a vote amongst themselves,
And every one approved!
“Swanville was for hens!” they said,
“Way back, before we moved!”

And so they kicked the swans all out
With Duckville’s help and power
And Duckville could not understand
Why swans on them turned sour.


By this time, Duckville was a mess —
The young ducks had gone mad.
They stole and laughed at truth and law;
They’d gone completely bad.

The hens were selling loco weed
In every nasty den.
But ducks who dared to mention this
Were labelled “ANTI-HEN.”

The hens all preached of “Tolerance”;
They invoked the “Golden Rule.”
But they subsidized the indigent,
The greedy and the fool.

At last the very dumbest ducks
Began to smell a rat.
“This Mayor is no good!” they cried,
“And we will soon fix that!”

But the hens had planned for even this
— A candidate they had,
Whom even wise old ducks believed
Just never could be bad.

This hen-tool duck had whipped the geese;
A soldier duck was he.
Although the hens had set him up,
The ducks all thought him free.

This hen-tool got elected
Through ignorance and greed,
Through hennish lies in press and speech,
And bribes of “chicken feed.”

The hens now kicked the ducks around
Without a blush of shame,
Until the Mayor ran the town
In nothing else but name.

They pumped the swimming pond all dry;
They taught the ducks to crow.
While duckish numbers dwindled,
The hens began to grow.

The hens stirred up the happy crows
From out the piney wood
To fight and mix and marry ducks
In the name of “Brotherhood.”


A panel from The Fable of the Ducks and the Hens comic book
Things got so bad that fifty ducks
Who knew of days gone by,
Took up their wives and children
And decided that they’d fly.
They flew through storm and tempest;
They froze, and many died.
But on they drove, until at last,
A lovely lake they spied.


They settled down exhausted,
But soon went straight to work
To build and clear and cultivate —
No danger did they shirk.
Now after many years of toil,

This little band had grown.
The fields around were full of grain
From seeds that they had sown.The first ducks now were long since dead;
Their struggles long had ceased.
Through hard work and through suffering,
Their joys had been increased.One day down near the entrance gate
There was an awful din.
A hundred hens, all out of breath,
Were begging to come in.
“Oh let us in!”
 these poor birds cried,

“Before we do expire!
’Tis only by the merest INCH…
”This epic has no end because
No matter how you fight ’em,
Those HENS will show up EVERY TIME
— And so ad infinitum!



Nation, legal definition-

A nation is a stable community of kindred people, based on a common language, territory, history, ethnicity and psychological make-up manifested in a Common Culture.

A nation is more overtly political than an ethnic group;
it is ‘a fully mobilized or institutionalized ethnic group.’

A nation is not a multicultural multiracial inclusive ‘society.’ That is a Marxist communist construct.
A Nation destroyer conceived by satanic Jewish philosopher Karl Marx.

Our forefathers founded America as a Christian nation of kindred Anglo-Saxon, Germanic, Celtic, Nordic and Scandinavian peoples. The entire Aryan race conceiving, engineering and building their greatest Victory.


Aryan America- Nation-

Politicized Jews corrupted U.S. Constitutional laws and began granting citizenship to counterculture nonwhites and access to the national body politic. Their untenable schemes and countercultures set them apart from the true Nation. An assortment of destructive, incompatible ‘cultures’ and ideologies.

Fine for millions of parasites bleeding us to death.
Fine for Jewish handles making a fortune on it all.
But not for Aryans paying for all the parasitic destruction.
And not fine paying satanic Jews for our own annihilation.

//- The purpose of Marxism is Confuse. Divide. Conquer.
//- The goal of Marxist communism is to destroy Nations.
//- Specifically White Aryan Nations… all of them.
//- UN Agenda 21 & anti-Christ Satanic Jew Klaus Schwab
Founder and CEO- Davos World Economic Forum

            See Anglo-Saxon Culture Warriors