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Rescue Circles Part 30

By:Richard Rowley
Date: Sat,18 Sep 2010
Submitter:Richard Rowley

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Lord Dowding at a direct voice trumpet séance with
Estelle Roberts in 1943 (continued)

The next voice announced: “This is Arthur Heath.
I went down in a destroyer off Crete. But I’m fine
now. I’ve been to Palestine and seen my brother.”

His mother, one of the sitters asks: Does he (the
brother) believe in survival?

ARTHUR No. But he’ll learn. He thinks I died, but
it would be hard to find a less “dead” man!

MOTHER You haven’t changed a bit. You’re just as
you were; you looked so well in your uniform.

ARTHUR [indignantly]. I still do look well in my

RED CLOUD [to the sitters]. I need all your help.
The next speaker will be making his first attempt at
direct voice.

Flight-Lieutenant Dick Stevens had already come
through for his wife at previous clairvoyant sittings,
and now he was speaking to her for the first time by
direct voice. He spoke eagerly of their daughter,
Frances, who at the age of two had been an indirect
victim of an air raid, just as so many innocent
children are dying in the present Middle East
conflicts. His wife mentioned their son, John, the
twin of Frances.

STEVENS He keeps pencilling on the walls, doesn’t he: You shouldn’t let him do it.

MRS STEVENS It’s just a passing phase. He’ll grow out of it.

STEVENS I dare say he will. You know, this is wonderful, talking like this. I’d like a word with the Air Chief Marshal. Do you remember me, sir?

DOWDING Of course I do. {They talk for a few moments about Service matters and then a new voice took possession of the trumpet, which moved to an R.A.F. officer in uniform sitting in the circle].

LINDSAY Lindsay here. It’s a long time since we
read all those books together. Remember how we used
to sit up until the early hours arguing about the
philosophy of that gloomy pair Nietzsche and
Schopenhauer? What a lot of nonsense we talked! This
is the true philosophy – the truth of survival. Death
is not the end; it make a man of you. [These days we’d
use a less chauvinistic phrase, such as ‘it gives you
courage’ or ‘it returns you to your true self.’ - RR]

The trumpet moved to Lord Dowding.

LINDSAY You know, sir, I was one of the fools who
thought that death was the end. I was a Communist, a
follower of Karl Marx, if you please! It wasn’t until
I ditched in the drink that I realized how blind I had

RED CLOUD Greater love hath no man than this, that
a man lay down his life for his friends.

Throughout WW II Estelle Roberts held séances for
sitters wishing to contact their dead loved ones, or
have news of those who were missing. Estelle writes:
“At all these direct voice séances, it was Red
Cloud’s invariable rule that no spirit communicator
who on earth had been a celebrity should be allowed to
speak unless it was to a personal friend in the
circle. [It is so easy for an impersonating spirit to
assume the role of a well-known public figure, and who
knows whether the “Shakespeares,” “Francis Bacons,”
“Abraham Lincolns” or “Dr. Peebles” who have been
channeled over the years are who they claim to be. RR]
“ It was therefore with some surprise that the
sitters heard Red Cloud announce one night: ‘Hold on!
Here is a visitor who has not been before and is not
personally known to any of you tonight.’
This was followed by a boyish voice issuing with
difficulty through the trumpet. ‘Hullo, there! Can
you hear me? It’s “Cobber” Kain.’
Everybody present knew who he was. From the
earliest days of the war this young New Zealander had
been flying with the R.A.F. and by shooting down many
German machines he had become one of the great aces.
Tragically, on the eve of taking a spell of
well-earned rest, he fell the victim of a flying
‘We can hear you, Cobber,’ the circle replied in
‘Seagrave brought me. He told me I would get
through here. I want to send a message to my mother
and fiancée. Tell them I have been back, that I send
them my love and that I am quite all right.’
The trumpet returned to the floor.
A sitter was curious to know why Red Cloud had
allowed this famous airman to speak to the circle when
no friend of his was present.
‘Because he was a very gallant gentleman,’ Red
Cloud replied. ‘And because he was so anxious to send
his message of love.’
The message was promptly delivered and gratefully

“An instance of a man reported ‘missing, believed
killed’ was the young airman son of staunch
Spiritualists. As soon as they received the official
notification, the parents came and asked me (Estelle
Roberts) to try to get some information from the
spirit world. Without difficulty I established
contact with their daughter and other members of the
family who had passed on, but all declared they had
not seen the missing boy. They knew his aeroplane had
crashed in the sea, but from the moment of its hitting
the water they had lost all contact with him.
This was obviously a problem for Red Cloud. He
accepted it with his usual imperturbable good humour.
He explained that the young man was probably lost
between the two worlds and promised ‘to lower his own
vibrations’ and go in search of him.
Another sitting with the parents was arranged or
two days later and at the outset Red Cloud said he
wished to entrance me. I complied and Red Cloud
explained to the parents what had happened after the
crash. It seems that their son had not realized that
he had ‘died’ and had returned in this spirit form to
his base with every intention of carrying on his
When Red Cloud had got into touch with him, he
had at first refused to leave, unconvinced that he
could do no more on the aerodrome. But Red Cloud at
last persuaded him, on the promise that he should have
the opportunity of speaking with his parents.
On emerging from the trance and being told what
had transpired, I remarked that it was strange that a
member of a Spiritualist family should, of all people,
find himself earthbound. In agreeing, his parents
said this might perhaps be influenced by the fact that
their son was the only member of the whole family to
reject Spiritualism while he was alive!
Later, assisted by Red Cloud at a direct voice
séance, the boy spoke through the trumpet, and gave
conclusive evidence of his existence in the spirit
world by referring to documents he had left on earth
and his knowledge of the manner in which his parents
were dealing with them.”

In these turbulent times when many fall victim to
the terrorist suicide bombings around the world, and
service personnel and civilians are being killed in
Iraq, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Israel, Lebanon, Gaza, Bangladesh and elsewhere in the war on terror and in the attempts to maintain peace and
stability,and defend our countries, in all this death and destruction, we can help by our thoughts and prayers, and by volunteering to do rescue work during our sleep. We may already be doing this. While
reading about similar situations from the past we
can't offer much practical help, but we CAN learn
about the process of life and death, and see a purpose
and meaning behind the apparent chaos. Most churches
have been unable to console us, nor
to tell us much about this process, but present-day
mediums are already contacting those killed in action
in Iraq and elsewhere, or on 9/11, or even the dead
terrorists themselves are coming through, too.
Most of these sittings are too private and painful to
make public right now, so now I will take you back to
1916 during World War I and relate how Rex Ward, a
British officer, described his death on the
battlefield to his brother, Jack Ward. Jack used to
go out of his body in trance, or in his sleep, just
like Lord Dowding, to do rescue work. [Excerpted from
"A Subaltern in Spirit Land" by J.S.M. (Jack) Ward,
Psychic Book Club, London, no date ...probably around

JACK WARD: Rex, can you give me a coherent and
connected account of your life and adventures [on the
other side]?

REX WARD: Well, we had been shelled for some time
[somewhere in Northern France], and gradually the
bombardment increased in intensity. Then, as you
know, they battered in the trenches near us on either
side, and finally rushed them. Then the Germans
seemed to get mad, and rained heavy stuff on us. I
don't know how long this went on, but our parapets
went all to pieces. Suddenly I felt an awful blow,
and seemed to be falling, falling, falling. I found
myself in utter darkness, and my first thought was
that the dug-out had been blown in and I was entombed
alive. I found, however, that I could move about, and
soon realised that there was something strange in the
matter, for I seemed to be able to go about much
further than I could have in a dug-out.
It did not occur to me that I was dead, but I
felt dazed and as if everything around me were unreal.
I thought, perhaps, I was wounded and felt all over
my body, but could find no damage. All the while I
heard the roar and crash of the guns. I groped around
and then began to call. No one came. I thought, 'Of
course, they can't get here during the bombardment,
they will have to wait till it's over.'
Then I though 'I'll have a smoke,' but, somehow,
could not find my things. All the while I felt
strangely dazed. Time seemed to drag slowly along.
By degrees I began to distinguish new sounds and to
perceive things in the darkness.
I heard voices and called, but got no answer.
Then I distinctly heard German spoken, and kept jolly
quiet. I thought perhaps the trenches had been taken
at last.
Soon I heard a savage shout, and it was in
English. Then a whirling mass of struggling men, dark
and shadowy, swept past me. Then more and more. To
and fro the conflict rolled.
Next moment the tide of battle rolled up and
engulfed me. I fired my revolver full into the face
of a German, but it seemed to make not the slightest
A German drove his bayonet into my chest, and I
felt the pain for a moment, but still went on
fighting, and forgot all about it. I seized a man by
the throat and he seized me, and we rolled to the
ground together, and were separated by the press of
the battle.
To and fro, up and down in a nightmare struggle,
neither side gaining the upper hand, we fought and
battled and raged. Age after age. Time had no
meaning to us. There was nothing even consecutive.
Ever and ever doing the same thing. Overhead
lightning played and thunder rolled, blended with the
flash and roar of the guns. Around us pitch night,
moonless and starless. Like a fog it encompassed us,
weighed us down and shut us in.
Amid this ceaseless strife I heard, afar off, the
words of the burial service, and the sound of spades
digging, digging, digging. But it had no meaning for
me. Only I knew I was dreadfully weary of the
ceaseless struggle which seemed to lead nowhere, which
appeared to have no result, and I longed to shake off
the dazed sensation which made everything appear
At last I cried to a German, 'Why the devil don't
you die? I've shot you dead three time!' And he
laughed, and though he spoke in German, I know, yet I
understood his words as if they had been in English.
'You fool! how can I? Don't you yet realize
that we are all dead here? Yes, and are in Hell, and
for ever must go on fighting without rest, for ever
and ever.'
'Lies!' I answered. He sprang towards me and
drove his bayonet clean through my body. 'If you're
alive, why don't you die now? he asked, and I knew he
spoke the truth.
So I burst through the mob, and tried to find
some place where I could sit down and rest and think
things over. But though I wandered through the murky
air for ages, and tried spot after spot, it was not
use. Wherever I went came crowds of straggling
spirits, and I was caught up in the conflict.
At length, however, I found a stony knoll and sat
down there and suddenly heard you, Jack, calling and I
followed your voice through the black night. Then I
saw you faintly in an unfamiliar room and heard you
ask me for a sign, and after struggling desperately
for a time, seemed to write something. Told you I was
there, and then you faded away, and once more I was
surrounded by a raging host of fiercely fighting men,
and broke from them and fled. Fled wildly across
endless stony wastes, over snad-dunes, and across
sodden, muddy, heavy fields. Stumbled and fell into
pools and quagmires, and sank down at last by the
And again I heard you calling, and rushed blindly
through the darkness, seeking an old friend through
the nightmare, new surroundings, and again I tried to
give you a message of cheer, though, God knows, I
wanted one myself!
Again you faded, and once more I found myself
wandering through the darkness, but though the guns
played all around, the fihting, struggling spirits
were further off.
I sat down, and painfully tried to piece it all
together. Where was I? Dead? Where was I? What was
this wild, chaotic, nightmare land? And I seemed to
remember something that you had told me. The astral
plane, that was it! Or was I in Hell? The Germans
had said we were, but I remembered you had said that
the young, and especially those cut off suddenly,
passed, at any rate, to the astral plaen.
And then you came. I was aware of a friendly
presence stealing slowly through the darkness. How
slowly it seemed to come! Then, at length, I saw you.
You seemed different from the others. Less
substantial in some ways, or was it more substantial?
I can't say. One thing I did notice, that from you
there trailed away a silver cord thin as a hair, but
going clean out of sight. None of the others I had
seen had that.
How glad I was to see you, and when you had gone
I felt an awful void, but, still, I felt also a new
hope. and when, after long waiting, you arrived once
more with H.J.L. [a fellow officer in spirit] no words
can say how thankful I was. His being here has made
an enormous difference to me already. The dazed
feeling has gone, and now I understand both what has
happened and also the laws of this new world where, I
suppose, I must make up my mind to dwell."

[to be continued]

In his introduction to the book, Jack Ward, a man
of business, deplored the lack of knowledge of life
after death shown by orthodox religion.
He wrote: "The Churches can give us no rational
account of life beyond the grave. The best attempt is
that made by the Roman Catholic Church, and it will be
noticed that many of the statements made by that body
are borne out by the narratives we are now obtaining.
But not all she says is correct. It would appear to
the impartial observer as if at one time the Roman
Catholic Church at least had kept the doorway open,
but at a later date closed it, and since then much
which her seers had learnt became distorted or
misunderstood by a later generation.
"For the most part, however, the Churches have
utterly failed to answer the agonised question Whither
go we? Long years ago a Christian missionary stood
before an Anglo-Saxon king and pleaded his cause.
Then arose a priest of Woden, and said, 'O king, the
life of man is like a sparrow which flutters into the
lighted hall out of the dark and stormy night. For a
moment it flies round our hall, lit by the cheerful
light of the fire, and then it vanishes once more out
into the sleet and the rain. Such are we. We come
out of the dark, and into it return, but whence we
come, and whither we go, we know not. If these men
can tell us aught, then let us follow them and leave
the old gods behind.'
"Have the Churches really anwered the great
question? I for one, say No! and there are tens of
thousands in England today who will agree with me.
Then let others endeavour to do so. Let us direct the
same scientific minds, as have won from Nature her
hidden secrets, to demand of Death the greatest secret
of all. Let us direct the scientific mind to study
the soul and the spirit of man, as it has already
studied his body. And this is being done. Each day
the number of careful students grows greater. Each
day new discoveries are being made, and if the
Churches will not cooperate, regret it though we may,
then we who do know the truth must go on alone."

For further investigations into the Afterlife, see the articles on this website under the heading "The Spirit World"

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