Morning, noon and night, I [Vincent] eat Weetabix (Editor’s note: whole wheat cereal) with powdered milk, because it doesn’t require a refrigerator or preparation, and it’s compact.”

A message from Vincent Reynouard

***

This is my translation for anglophones from a French-language article by Reynouard, whom many had feared dead, published in the last issue of the wonderful French WN weekly Rivarol.

Margi and I know Vincent a bit, who is almost a saint in our cause. A devout Catholic, as well as a rock-solid national socialist, he really lives out what he preaches. He and his then wife, mother of his seven kids with her, hosted us in Brussels for three days.

I took this photo of his little, blue-eyed daughter Azélie (like the flowers called azelias).

His wife finally dumped him, unable to take the stress of his constant arrests, jailings and other persecutions. It was a terrible thing because Vince, as Margi and I saw first-hand, was a very affectionate, dutiful and dedicated father who loved kids in general and especially his own offspring, all very well-behaved, btw, as is usual with Traditional (Latin Mass) Catholics.

I must stress this as well:

It is not every French WN comrade who really grasps, defends, explains and promotes national socialism, but Vincent does.

LOL, a mischievous Vincent, during his own trial for heresy, discovered this “symbol of hate” in the courthouse. 😉

After all, for the Frenchies, NS is seen as something which the rigid, sometimes arrogant, and often disliked Germans, with their (in the stereotype) blond hair and icy steel-blue eyes, came up with.

Plus Germany twice defeated France, in 1870 and again in 1940, and, in the erroneous French view, it was also Germany that caused the combat death of 1.6 mio Frenchmen in WWI.

My French then-wife Brigitte took this photo of me at one of the many huge cemeteries at Verdun — acres upon acres of crosses.  Just sickening! Why this carnage?

The Verdun Ossuary, literally “the bone-house”

Actually, as Reynouard proved in his superb revisionist magazine, Sans Concession, 

….it was secret Judeo-Masonic forces in both London and Paris that caused the war.

They had decided that by defeating Germany, its ally Turkey would fall. Then Britain would get the once-Turkish-ruled Palestine, and then, in turn, it would be forced by jewish terror  groups to abandon it to the jews — which is exactly what happened.

WWI, which cost ten million white lives, was about giving the jews Palestine, though it was then full of (amazingly) Palestinians, humble people growing olives and herding sheep, simple folks just minding their own business!

But it was insane for France to think that just because you dislike someone like the Germans, you can ignore the tremendous, incredibly valuable German contributions to the world (in culture, music, philosophy, science and technology), and that somehow you can justify spending 1.6 million young French lives to wage a war to rip yet again two German provinces, Alsace and Lorraine, away from Germany!

The average Frenchman, as oblivious as his British or American counterpart to what is really going on, a jew-run world, has never asked himself if WWI was even necessary…. or if the Versailles Treaty that followed it, blaming and impoverishing Germany, was at all a just thing.

Margi translated this superb article by Reynouard, btw.  It was about how Germany let the wives of French POWs, captured in 1940 and sent to Germany as workers, join them there.

It was both a peace gesture and also real good for the French prisoners’ morale. 🙂

I and Margi in 2007

generous-gestures-tbr-sept-oct-2019-margi-reynouard-ah-france-wwii

Reynouard is especially known for his truther work on the supposed SS massacre of civilians at the village of Oradour in 1944.

Now this was incredibly courageous, because the myth of the evil blond SS men slaughtering innocent French civilians, martyrs to freedom, is truly a sacred cow. No one dares challenge it, but the whole SS-atrocity story is one long spew of half-truths and outright lies, and thus a classic jew con.

“The Truth about Oradour” by Reynouard, in German

Yes, the SS did round up the villagers after several SS men had been captured, hideously tortured, and then murdered by the (heavily communist) Resistance. 

Yes, they were herded into a church, the biggest building in town that had seats.

And yes, the church did blow up, killing (supposedly) 643 persons, but only because the Resistance had packed it with dynamite and bullets! It was one big weapons cache!

Here is a video by Vincent, with English subtitles, debunking the Oradour lie:

Anyway, in 2015, Vincent fled his native and beloved France to avoid a prison sentence for writing the truth, and came to England, right across the Channel from his native Normandy. He got a tiny apartment in London and supported himself by getting donations for his revisionist videos and by tutoring English kids in math.

He had been a math teacher, a very popular one, until fired over his politics. His pupils actually held a protest against his firing.

“Give us back Mr. Reynouard”/”Don’t mess with our teach!”

Anyway, in late October British cops finally came for Reynouard, the French government under the ineffable Macron having sought his extradition. He closed and locked the door, delaying them by ten minutes, then fled on foot.

Many French comrades, including his friend, Rivarol editor Jérome Bourbon…

…feared, based on another incident, that it was not the British cops at all but a Mossad hit team — masquerading as cops — that was at his door.

They feared, after no one had heard one single word from Reynouard for seven weeks, that the jews had somehow caught up with him and murdered him.

But the good news is that the man is alive and, though in dire straits, still free, just living underground and in great privation and poverty, somewhere (it would seem) in Britain.

His thoughts now, reflecting on his life, and having lost virtually every material comfort and human contact, are very interesting AND IMPRESSIVE.

***

On Sunday December 19, 2021, at 10:31 p.m. Paris time, after almost two full months of silence, Vincent Reynouard, still in hiding, finally gave us his latest news to reassure all those who were worried since his disappearance on Monday, October 25 from his former apartment in Greater
London.

Here is the text he wrote for his friends and supporters and which he wishes to have published exclusively in RIVAROL.

It is a very beautiful Christmas present that he gives us, even if, of course, nothing for him is really resolved and his situation remains obviously very precarious. He is still actively sought by the British police, acting, it would seem, at the behest of the French authorities with a view to his extradition.

Recall that he was sentenced to 29 months in prison by French justice since his self-exile in the United Kingdom on June 16, 2015.

He needs our prayers more than ever.

***

Screenshot from his video “The profound cause of the decline of France/reasons to hope”)

Dear Friends,

I finally give you my news. After narrowly escaping arrest, I’m doing very well. I stay in a small room and, in the evening, I work for a few hours in an establishment.

On October 25, two police inspectors knocked on the door of my home, asking to “speak to Vincent Reynouard”.

Hmmmm. Inspectors who want to “just talk to you” — I know all about that one!

In July 2010, in Brussels, two inspectors asked me to follow them to talk to me and “sign something.” I followed them; I signed it.

That evening, I slept in prison!

On October 25, I therefore played the game too, denying that I was Vincent Reynouard. I explained that he was in France and that he would be back in two or three days.

The inspectors left. But ten minutes later, they were banging on the door before opening it with some device; I don’t know how.

I just had time to grab a pair of shoes and a spare external [computer] hard drive that I had kept ready for an emergency like this, and I fled out the back.

I hurtled down the stairs, jumped over a bicycle obstructing the last steps, then I ran into a public garden/park.

There, I got rid of the jacket that the inspectors had seen, I retrieved a Covid face mask that was lying on the ground, and I left for the neighboring village. Until the evening, I wandered about … I was living out a real movie drama!

An English friend then took me in. After three weeks, she found me a job with a business owner, a boss wo was also a friend and was (partially) informed of my situation; he paid me for work in cash.

I was able to buy myself the bare essentials to live (underwear, a coat, pants, toiletries, a kettle and a bowl…).

Morning, noon and night, I eat Weetabix (Editor’s note: whole wheat cereal) with powdered milk, because it does not require a refrigerator or preparation, and it is compact.

How long will this situation last? I do not know. In my situation, I live from day to day. Friends came and cleared out the apartment I had lived in and stored my things in a safe place that is actually inaccessible to me.

Despite everything, I do not regret anything. This life, I chose it. I knew what I was exposing myself to.

*** AND THERE YOU HAVE THE CLASSIC MINDSET OF A HERO!

Reynouard is no movie star, but his mind, heart and soul ARE beautiful.

***

I had always wondered how the vanquished Germans might have felt when they fled in 1945 after having lost everything. Although my situation
is infinitely less tragic, I am living it also a little bit.

The experience excites me. Because living from day to day and relying totally on Providence gives me a feeling of immense, almost infinite freedom.

To rest, having very little means of distraction, I meditate. In the past two years, I had read a lot about it, but never practiced it, because between my lessons and producing my many videos, I was living at full speed. Now, alone in my room, I do my meditation practice.

*** Classic meditation

I am not sure what Reynouard means by using the word “meditation,” but since he is a serious man, I assume he does not mean merely “thinking about stuff,” but instead classic Vedanta-Buddhist-style meditation with a mantra.

I studied this myself at a serious ashram in northeastern Pennsylvania, the Himalayan Institute.

Meditation with a mantra, called dharana in Sanskrit, is quite an experience.

Your guru gives you one single word, a so-called mantra, to say over and over and over and over… such as the classic one, Om (as in “home” but no “h”).

Watch your mind rebel!!!

The egoic mind becomes incredibly uneasy and even furious at you when you order it to do anything. Your mind thinks IT is the boss!

Bizarrely, but amusingly, it will resort to the wildest, or even the most irrelevant and trivial memories, as it tries to get you to stop repeating your mantra word!

Suddenly you are thinking about a jar of pickles you bought six months ago ….

… did I pay the electric bill?

…an argument with your mate back in 2009 😉

Your mind is peppering you with the stupidest distractions, looking for anything, because it fears that from now on you gradually will be becoming, with each mantra meditation, the boss of sour mind — and not it of you.

It is kind of excruciating at first to meditate, but also instantly and incredibly enlightening. You see your mind like a bucking bronco at the rodeo, not wanting to be “ridden” by anyone!

So just try meditation, and you will see that your mind is not you. It is a separate thing.

Your soul is who you are.

And your soul, the real you, needs your mind to be a servant, not a master.

And often you need to tell this servant to simply SHUT UP!

Have no thoughts at all, just perceive reality, as any animal can do.

Animal: Look-see-act. No mental chitchat!

No Hamlet soliloquies when deeds are called for! Earthlings have lost that refreshingly in-the-moment mindset that our animal friends still have!

***

In short, I am very happy and I fully understand the traditional teaching that the external situation is nothing; it is the way the mind reacts that is everything. At 52 years old, without family and wanted by the police, I live like a penniless student. I will spend Christmas alone in my room, with my three Weetabixes and my bowl of tea.

I might want to hang myself. I could consume myself in hatred of my adversaries. Now, my adversaries, I never think about them; they were and are only instruments of Providence. And once again, I did know what a dangerous life I was exposing myself to.

I remember Professor Faurisson [the great French Holocaust/gas-chamber revisionist], in his first letters, writing to me:

“You are seriously compromising your future”.

One day, he said to me: “Wait until you get your degree before you get into the struggle.”

I replied: “Professor, you tell me to wait until I have my degree before entering the fight. Then you will tell me: wait until you have a job. Then you will tell me: wait until you have a wife. Then you will tell me: wait until you have a family. Then you will say to me: wait until your children are old… If I don’t make a commitment at twenty, professor, I will never make a commitment. ”

Years later, Professor Faurisson told me: “Your answer really struck me. I then understood that my succession was assured. ”

Thirty years later, I am happy to have ensured this succession.

As for the desire to hang myself, at the time of writing, I have never loved life so much. Some will say to me: “Certainly, but unlike the penniless student, your life is already behind you. ” Wrongr! Life is always in front of you when you have become aware of the essential.

In the domain of the mind, I still have so much to learn, so much to discover … And even if, tomorrow, I find myself in prison, that will not prevent me from living this adventure of the mind which, despite four walls enclosing the body, opens up endless horizons.

I will add that in prison, I would merely write my memoirs. This year marked the thirtieth anniversary of my first trial and of my first conviction for revisionism.

It was in November and December 1991. Next year will mark the 25th anniversary of my dismissal from the federal education ministry. It was April 23, 1997. In the tranquility of my cell, with board and lodging nicely provided, I will have all the time I need. 😉

I will tell everything, with supporting details, with so many anecdotes that I have never revealed before in my writings or in my videos.

Here are a few. On May 7, 1990, I distributed revisionist leaflets on the university campuses in Caen.

***

Caen is a city in Normandy (a once beautiful medieval city which the Allies horribly destroyed for nothing, and which was rebuilt after the war in a hideous modern cinderblock style). Yours truly at the Men’s Abbey, built by William the Conqueror

William’s massive castle

Eisenhower bombed the place to smithereens though the Germans were not even in the city

I was studying chemistry at the city’s engineering school, located on the border of the campus. Two days later, France learned of the desecration of the Carpentras cemetery.

*** in a nutshell, jews vandalized their own cemetery

***

In the fever that followed, my distribution of the leaflet was considered an unbearable provocation. Local television reporters came to my school to question me. I accepted meeting with them. There was panic on the premises. In the evening, a fragment of the interview was broadcast in the regional newspaper.

The school made me appear before a disciplinary council for “besmirching its reputation”. It suspended me for one year, including nine months suspended suspension, with the rest of the sentence to be served the following school year. The decision was plainly illegal.

The school knew it, so it refused to notify me. A retired friend of mine, who had studied law, dictated an action for annulment to be filed with the administrative tribunal. I followed his advice. In the evening, the phone rang.

“- Monsieur Reynouard? A voice said.

” Yes. I replied.

“- You filed an appeal with the administrative court? ”

” – Yes. Only my retired friend knew that. I tell myself it must be a journalist. The voice continued: ‘The appeal will be dismissed because it is poorly drafted. I’ll tell you how it should be written.” I took a pen and wrote his advice down under dictation.

” Have you noted all this correctly? I said “Yes.” “Good-bye, then.”

The person hung up. I telephoned my friend; he advised me to follow the anonymous advice, which I did. When the case came to the hearing, the first appeal was effectively dismissed on a technicality, and the court ruled in favor of the second. He ordered my immediate reinstatement in this establishment. I deduced that in the administrative tribunal of Caen, the revisionists had an ally. The person never revealed his identity….

On one or two other occasions, I was helped out in court matters. In 1999, for example, when I had been sentenced to prison for distributing the [gas-chamber debunking Germar] Rudolf Report, the Court of Appeal allowed the limitation period to pass. I thus avoided fines and jail. The civil party lawyer who was arguing his lawsuit against me was furious. He blurted out, “I can’t believe the file was forgotten.”

With attorney Delcroix, we left the Tribunal very happy. He then said to me mischievously: “I think some good soul discreetly put your file at the bottom of the pile.” 😉

I will tell other funny anecdotes.

So there was a police inspector in the city of Honfleur who was the one responsible for arresting and questioning me.

His name appeared on the door of his office: “Philippe Enriot”. [As historically-minded Frenchmen know, Philippe Henriot (with an “h”) was the Joseph Goebbels of France who did twice-daily radio broadcasts denouncing the jews and in favor of Germany.]

I burst out laughing: “Very honored to be questioned by Philippe Enriot”. ” There is no H in my name!” He replied, not a little annoyed. As for the judge responsible, in 2010, to notify me of my incarceration in the prison of Valenciennes, her name was Émilie Joly [the last name meaning “pretty”.]

Having seen my personality, the inspector who had received me at the French border said to me: “I see that you have a sense of humor. So I warn you that the judge’s name is Émilie Joly, but I would advise you not to make a remark about her name. She would not appreciate it!”

A few years earlier, an examining magistrate had placed me under judicial supervision with several conditions. In his office were several law students who had come to witness the scene. Obviously very honored by their presence, the judge looked at me with disdain.

Knowing that I was a tutor, she told me: “Among the conditions is a prohibition on giving lessons to minors. »« – Minors in age or miners by profession?” I smiled. “Monsieur Reynouard!” she said, all exasperated. 😉

In Brussels, the inspector who dealt with matters of revisionism was called Cornélis. During an interrogation, he asked me, his eyes fixed on his computer screen: “Are you aware that you are breaking the law?” “”-Of course!” I replied. He interrupted his typing, looked up and stared at me. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” he replied. “But it’s so rare to see people taking responsibility for their actions.”

I have always assumed that telling the truth is not a shame, but an honor, especially when the truth is banned.

M. Cornélis liked me. One day, he arrived around 7:30 am to search my place. I was going to take my children to school. I said to him: “Start without me, Inspector, you know where everything is!” ”

“‘I can’t,’ he said to me, ‘that would be illegal. “But I have to take my kids to school!” The inspector turned to one of his subordinates and asked him to get in the car and take my children there. In the evening, my kids came back all excited: “We were in the police car, and there were
lots of buttons everywhere!” 😉

Another time, the inspector arrived later, just as I was about to take my wife and two of my children to the doctor. Again, he asked a subordinate to do it for me. My wife told me that after arriving at the doctor, the subordinate said to her: “At what time should I come and pick you up?” She thanked him for his kindness and told him that she would return by public transport.

Inspector Cornélis was correct with me because I was correct with him. One day, I said to him: “You are doing your job as a civil servant; that’s normal. If, tomorrow I came into power, you would not have to be worried; you could stay at your post. ”

I was sincere.

I denounce the [anti-NS, anti-Vichy] Purge perpetrated in 1945. It is not something I would wish on anyone if I were the stronger. My goal is not to crush my enemies, because as a nonviolent person (physically and intellectually), I adopt this motto of Lanza del Vasto: “You have really defeated your enemy when you have made him your friend.”

If I am arrested, extradited and imprisoned, in the calm of my cell, I will tell all these stories … I will tell about the hole drilled, with my eldest son, in the wall of my office in order to recover things without breaking the seals that the police had posed on the door. On either side of the
wall there was a bookcase. The hole could therefore be masked. The police saw nothing but fire. They had sealed away boxes full of books; a week later, they took away boxes that were three quarters empty.

I will also tell personal anecdotes. One day, my eldest son said to me: “When we tell our friends about our vacations with you, they tell us that they have never had any like that. ”

Our vacation was indeed special. One year, we organized a competition with a priest: it was the one who would find the oldest legible tomb. We walked through the old cemeteries. One day we
saw a mausoleum belonging to a noble family. The interior looked beautiful, but the door was locked, with a rather rusty lock. I had learned to pick this kind of lock. I opened the door and we
entered. The interior was indeed very beautiful: it was a miniature replica of a church. Behind the altar was access to the basement.

We went down there. Simply placed on the ground, the coffins were there. The last burial was in the 1960s. Everything was full of dust, the show was worthy of a fantasy film. We left after having said a prayer and without touching anything …

When I look back, I don’t regret a thing. Life has taught me so much. And even if thrown again into prison, I still will have a lot to offer you.

For now, I wish you all a holy Christmas.

Vincent REYNOUARD

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….New way to donate

If in the US, you can use Cash App:

Simply link it to your debit or credit card!

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Note on composing comments under my articles:

I am tired of editing misspelled words and uncapitalized names and proper nouns (the names of persons, cities, rivers and countries). I do know they no longer teach cursive. The way people type today is literally how Deep South negroes and the mentally retarded spelled fifty years ago. 😉

Whites are a detail race, a race of careful craftsmen.

1. If you recommend a book, then send a link.
2. If in your mind you are „too busy“ to check your comment for flaws before hitting the „send“/“publish“ button, then please abstain. I cannot keep on editing your sloppy typing; I cannot approve comments that were dashed off by someone on a caffeine buzz who needed urgently to go wee-wee. 😉 That sloppiness and lack of diligence I see in so-called Millennials actually is a kind of subtle disrespect both for you yourself and for all my readers. Be Aryan: strong and conscientious!

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