The Children of Armageddon preview

book preview of The Children of Armageddon by Talmadge Rogalla


 


PAPERBACK
BOOKS
THE
CHILDREN OF ARMAGEDDON 


THE CHILDREN
OF
ARMAGEDDON

Beware! This book divulges the
story of a young boy’s family who are in the tight grip of what some experts now
believe is a false prophet.
This is a compelling story of how corrupt persons calling themselves Christians
built horror stories in the mind of followers by their interpretation of the
bible and how they abused the vulnerable.
The day was getting closer. Thunder growled in the heavens above like the voice
of Satan. The lighting hit the ground like the swords of demons. The rains
lashed against the window like the devil’s wrath. The wind howled like
the sound of slaughter. The first doom has come, the second doom is coming and
the third doom has yet to embrace us.

In Store Price: $AU20.00 

Online Price:   $AU19.00

ISBN:
1
920699 71 6


Format: Paperback

Number of pages:
145


Genre: 
Autobiography


 


 

 

Author: Talmadge
Rogalla


Imprint: Poseidon

Publisher: Zeus Publications

Date Published: July 2003

Language: English

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Introduction

 

Beware!
This book divulges the story of a young boy’s family who are in the tight grip
of what some experts believe is a false prophet. The Jehovah’s Witnesses, a
worldwide religion and its headquarters the WTBTS (Watch Tower Bible and Tract
Society) in America has become the mouthpiece of God, whom they call Jehovah.
Through inculcation a young boy known as Frederick learns from his father that
he may be killed if the utterances of the evil slave are correct.
 

The year
1975 was chosen by the WTBTS as the coming of the New World Order before which
there shall be great apocalyptic tribulations. It fooled followers saying ‘The
WTBTS must be heeded. The WTBTS is divine. The WTBTS is after all, God’s voice
on Earth.’ The doomsayers proclaimed that very soon the world would come to an
end. ‘Woe for the Pregnant woman and her children, the destruction of
Jerusalem is neigh!’ My father taught us that there would be a culling of
children like when Moses was a mere babe. There will be a culling of children
just like shortly after the Christ Jesus was born.
 

Frederick,
a resident of West Germany, cried out of fear through the nights that marked the
autumn of 1975. The day was getting closer. Thunder growled in the heavens above
like the voice of Satan. The lighting hit the ground like the swords of demons.
The rains lashed against the window like the devil’s wrath. The wind
howled like the sound of slaughter. The first doom has come, the second doom is
coming and the third doom has yet to embrace us.
 

This
is a compelling story of how corrupt persons calling themselves Christians built
horror stories in the minds of followers by their interpretation of the bible
and how they abused the vulnerable. They are the doomsday Prophets! (Jeremiah
23:15)
 

Read at your peril!

Chapter
One (part sample)
  

 

I
put the noose around my neck. I did not want to live. However, I did not want to
die either. I did not want this miserable life and the memories of abuse: all
the anxieties of my parent’s marriage breakdown, the folding of our
smallholding and the terrible racial and religious prejudice and the bullying at
Hemyock. The control by fear and guilt was far too much for my simple mind. I
felt cursed. Does God care? Will my family miss me? Will anybody remember me?
The bucket buckled. I plummeted to the ground. The noose tightened, what I
thought was fatally, around my neck. 
 

In
the war my father was a refugee fleeing from Poland along with the rest of his
family. They made their way from East Prussia to Poland to Schleswig Holstein in
Germany. Although he was born in East Prussia he had to flee the Russians, who
were in hot pursuit to reclaim their land and their sovereignty from NAZI
Germany.  At the end of the war Germany was split between the Soviet
Sector in the East and the allies in the West. Although Berlin, once capital of
Germany, was in the territory under the Soviet command it was divided into four
sectors, which were under the Soviet, French, American and the British rule.
Because the sectors under the west were so much more affluent, the Soviets built
a wall splitting their sector from everybody else’s to stop a migration toward
West Berlin. This caused worldwide animosity.

My
father’s family moved from Schleswig Holstein to Bochum. My father’s brother
Gerhard married Edel and she also moved into the flat at Juliustrasse. This
brought the inhabitants of their tiny flat to seven.
 

After
the war my father trained to be a shop manager. However, later he found a more
lucrative way of life by working in a brewery in Bochum. Bochum was part of the
industrial coal mining area in the Ruhr in West Germany. This was a profitable
area as coal was in huge demand even after the war. 
 

My
mother Wendel was born in London and attended a Convent Primary School before
winning a scholarship to go to Latymer’s Grammar School. A clever child with
high expectations in the arts she received an invitation to the Royal Academy of
Dramatic Arts.  

However, she was knocked off her bicycle at an early age and spent three days in
a coma in hospital. I personally think this has caused my mother to have memory
troubles and she left school without doing exams, but found employment with the
Greater London Borough Council.  

My
grandparents lived in a three bedroom council place in Edmonton. My mother lived
with her parents and two sisters. However, later on one of her sisters
immigrated to Toronto in Canada and my mother joined her a few years later, when
she was in her late teens.
 

My
mother and father met in Canada at the Hudson Bay Company. Before this my mother
went out with another German called Wolfgang, who still wore the NAZI style
jodhpurs. She fell desperately in love with Wolfgang but the relationship faded
and the last time she saw him was in 1960.  

She
met my father in 1964 and married him. She was pregnant by my father at the
time. He was a jealous and insecure person and thought my mother had been
sleeping around as he was paranoid. My father did not emotionally support my
mother throughout her pregnancy. My father was such a dapper of a man that she
found him irresistible. In the beginning she was in love with him. 

One
day in a severe Canadian Winter my mother went shopping. She went by foot and
had to negotiate large snowdrifts. She suddenly went dizzy and collapsed. She
ended up in hospital and lost the baby she was carrying. My father would not
even visit her. My poor mother must have been beside herself with grief. She was
utterly inconsolable. 

My
father told me that through dire circumstance my mother married him only to
loose her baby anyway. I have seen photographs of my mother of her time in
Canada and she was radiant and beautiful. Sadly, through the arrogance of my
father an innocent woman’s life was ruined of which she still bares the scars. 

My
parents left Toronto and moved into my grandparent’s house in Edmonton. By
then my mother’s other sister had moved out.  

My
grandmother had lost her dear brother in 1956, when he tried to diffuse a NAZI
bomb left from the war. He was in the Unexploded Bomb Unit and had the job of
diffusing bombs along with his team. On this occasion a bomb was half dug up and
ticking away. My great uncle told the rest of the UXB crew to stay away as he
courageously tried to diffuse the bomb himself. Unfortunately it suddenly went
off and his gallantry killed him. He sacrificed his life on behalf of his crew.
 

He
was my grandmother’s favourite brother. He used to protect her from bullies at
school and would even protect his little sister from the beating of the
headmaster. He always was a gallant man. Since the day my great uncle died she
had no time for the Germans. In fact she always quoted to me “The only good
German is a dead German”. 

My
father never fought in the war, as he was a child himself and my German family
was never in the German army. However, my grandmother blamed my father for the
war. He had many clashes with my grandparents and also about the loss of the
baby. 

My
grandfather lost a brother to the Germans in the First World War. His brother
was sent a white feather when he was fourteen for not involving himself in the
war. The white feather meant cowardice. He joined up and lied about his age.
Other soldiers realized his age and he was given the position of loading the
guns.  

Six
weeks after this particular woman sent him the white feather he was shot dead.
My grandfather always maintained that if he ever found out the name of this
woman he would kill her. Due to his beloved brother’s death he did not think
much of the Germans either. 

My
grandfather finished school at the age of fourteen and left to join the merchant
navy. He went in 1914 and came back in 1918. Unfortunately his mother died in
the meantime. She was so poor that she was buried in an unmarked grave. Right up
until my grandfather’s death he would pace up and down the cemetery in
Edmonton with a bouquet of flowers and tears of sorrow flowed down his cheek as
he openly wept.  

My
grandparents lived in their council house during the war. However my mother’s
two older sisters were evacuated to a small village in Devon called Hemyock.
There was a bomb shelter in the back garden of my grandparent’s place, which
was used in the blitz. Whenever the Germans came with their bombers my
grandparents put on their gas masks and put my mother into her anti gas baby
unit, which my grandmother had to pump or else my baby mother would suffocate.
 

On
one occasion as the Luftwaffe bombers were getting closer and dropping their
bombs my grandfather pushed my grandmother into the bomb shelter. Unfortunately
she fell down the steps and knocked out all her front teeth. 

It
was a frightening experience for all of them and I can’t imagine the noise
that the bombs made. My grandparents always said a prayer when the British anti-
air raid guns went off. It was a moral booster to see Britain giving the enemy
all it got to protect its citizens. It must have been a total nightmare not to
know whether your house would still be standing after the blitz. There were
often reports of schools and hospitals that had been hit. 

My
father got a very cold reception from my grandparents. However, they did
tolerate him as he was their daughter’s husband and especially now that my
brother Roro was on his way. 

Roro
was born at the Middlesex Hospital in London. My father thought that my mother
possibly cheated on him and did not think that Roro was his son even before his
birth.  

Unfortunately
my father rejected Roro even before he was born because he was a suspicious man.
Perhaps he thought my mother was immoral. My mother suffered from postnatal
depression and to cure this, the doctor told her that she ought to have another
baby. Anyway, she did not waste time and eleven months after my brother was born
I arrived. 

I
was born in the main upstairs bedroom of my grandparent’s house. I was about
six days overdue and my impatient mother thought that I had resigned from ever
being born. She tried everything to bring on my birth. She even jumped down a
couple of steps hoping that I would pop out. It didn’t work. She may have had
a holistic approach to life back then and did not want the doctor to
artificially induce the birth. Anyway, eventually I was born and the midwife
delivered me. The first thing my mother said when she saw me was “Isn’t he
ugly!”

 



 

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