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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 devilís 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 boyís family who are in the tight grip of what some experts believe is a false prophet. The Jehovahís 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 ĎThe WTBTS must be heeded. The WTBTS is divine. The WTBTS is after all, Godís voice on Earth.' The doomsayers proclaimed that very soon the world would come to an end. ĎWoe for the Pregnant woman and her children, the destruction of Jerusalem is neigh!í 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 devilís 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 parentís 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 elseís to stop a migration toward West Berlin. This caused worldwide animosity.

My fatherís family moved from Schleswig Holstein to Bochum. My fatherís 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 Latymerís 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 womanís life was ruined of which she still bares the scars. 

My parents left Toronto and moved into my grandparentís house in Edmonton. By then my motherís 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 grandmotherís 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 ďThe only good German is a dead GermanĒ. 

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 brotherís 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 grandfatherís 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 motherís two older sisters were evacuated to a small village in Devon called Hemyock. There was a bomb shelter in the back garden of my grandparentís 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 canít 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 grandparentís 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 didnít 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 ďIsnít he ugly!Ē

 


 

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