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Rescue Circles Part 5 Lord Dowding work with James, a former Commander.

By:Richard Rowley
Date: Mon,30 Aug 2010
Submitter:Richard Rowley

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Rescue Circles (12) Lord Dowding and James's work on the other side.

Hugh Dowding was a pioneer and founding member of the Royal Air Force, served in Iraq, Palestine, India and other parts of the world between the two world wars, and capped his career by leading the Battle of Britain, which thwarted Germany’s attempt to invade the country. After his retirement, and for the first time, he studied the evidence of survival provided by Spiritualism, and in consequence became convinced that the case for the existence of an afterlife for all of us had been proven. He attended many séances and home rescue circles, lectured and wrote four books on the subject, which for a man of his public standing was an act of courage. We must be grateful and indebted to him for his dedication, and not let his work go in vain.

Though he was not a natural medium he found that he was unconsciously doing soul rescue work in his sleep, as we saw in the previous article reviewed from his book, “Lychgate.” In the home circle he attended he heard frequently from one of his former commanders, James, who had the following to say life on the other side. Dowding advised the reader to
“notice how James constantly making fresh discoveries and finding that his discoveries have often been only illusions after all.”

Though James was present at many séances, he came through to talk specifically about his experiences on four occasions, the first of which was on October 19,1943.

They have told me to talk and tell you what has been happening. I never thought that I would use you as a secretary. I won’t go back to my actual passing yet, I will tell you about my work.

[The medium says:- He is showing planes going out in V formation with himself in front.]

I led them and am still leading them. Flying was my life. When I woke up over here, and realized that it was over for me, it didn’t seem worth while going on.
I didn’t realize at first that I had got mine [had died]. I woke up in a hospital, a bright airy place with about six beds in the room. It was the nicest hospital I had ever seen. Great French windows wide open, and it was built practically right on the sands. I love the sea, and I lay and watched the changing colors and the seagulls for a long time. I had a charming nurse who seemed to be always there at the right moment. I had leg and chest wounds. One day I realized that although the dressings were regularly done I had had no pain: there didn’t seem to be any blood on the bandages or any sign that I really needed them. I began to wriggle my leg; it felt fine. I thumped my chest; that was all right too. So next time my nurse came along I tackled her, and suddenly realized that I had not seen a doctor. The nurse laughed and said she would show me a bit of sleight of hand. She put her hand on my chest and said ‘Hey presto, disappear!’ and when I felt, the bandages were gone. She did the same with my leg, and told me I had been quite cured for a long time, but I wouldn’t face up to it. I felt a bit annoyed; I hadn’t thought ofmyself as a malingerer, so I just hopped out of bed, and told her to bring my clothes damn quick. She just laughed, and said ‘Look at yourself.’ And suddenly there was a mirror on the wall; it might have [already] been there, but I hadn’t noticed it there before. I looked in it and
lo and behold I was fully dressed.

This fairly bowled me over: I’ve seen some magicians in my time, but this was the finest performance I’d ever seen. I even had my disk on my
wrist, and I had particularly noticed that I wasn’t wearing it in bed. It had rather bothered me, that, in case I should have difficulty in getting out again. I was rather puzzled, and had a nasty feeling at the pit of my stomach. Somehow I was beginning to know; but I wouldn’t stop to think. I asked the nurse to explain things. She took my hand in hers and just looked at me. I knew then. But somehow I grew warm again. Well, I suppose I might as well tell you. I howled on her shoulder like a kid. It did me good. Then she took me outside onto a terrace and we looked over the sea: the horizon was dull and very misty. I could see what I took to be planes flying very low. She told me that that was the borderland and that they really were planes, that the R.A.F. still functioned, and that I could join them if I wanted to. That put new heart into me, to feel that I could still carry on, but she wouldn’t let me go, and turned me round so that I was looking inland. The fields and the meadows, and away in the distance a misty range, and everything so beautifully bright, and she told me I could go ON. We did go for a little while into the fields. It was peaceful. We talked about things and
she explained to me that I was on the edge of a great and wonderful country and there was no need for me to go back. I had paid the price. But I didn’t look at it that way. The job just wasn’t finished. So I said the country[side] could wait: if this is eternity, there’s lots of time.
She laughed and took my hand and said, ‘Well, if that’s how you feel about it, you had better come and meet the others.’

I met the others at the Base. There’s a big hall there, and you enlist just as you do down below. It’s all very orderly, but I won’t describe that tonight. I enlisted in Fighter Command, among the boys; And I have made another friend, a friendship I hope to have time to cultivate when the job is done. There are lots of us here who thank our nurse for helping us over the difficult time of realization.

I’ll tell you more next time we meet. I’ll be in the vanguard. I’ll tell you about meeting my brother sometime.

A week later, James came through a second time to continue his story. [October 26, 1943.]

Good evening, Sir. I think I told you about my waking up. I will try to describe our headquarters; it will take some doing.

The headquarters to which I am attached is situated in a valley surrounded by hills. We have operations rooms and the whole business is there; you know, you might just say that it is a complete replica of the headquarters of any flying unit anywhere.

There is a large hall where we have musters, and the boys entertain themselves, and here we have the notice-board where we put up the names of those about whom we wish to have some information.

We have a reading room as well, with very fine books and magazines; it is the finest reading room I have ever known, you positively cannot ask for any book, paper or magazine which is not here. I have a sneaking feeling myself that some of them, indeed a lot of them, aren’t really here until they are asked
There is a canteen too; some of the boys still feel in need of food and drink, but more and more of them are learning to feed themselves, and by feed I mean refresh themselves from the atmosphere.

You will be surprised to know that the runways are situated on the mountain tops and not in the valley; quite a reversal, isn’t it? You see the planes we fly, although constructed in the same way as those our comrades fly on earth, are made of very different materials; Every plane that a man ever flew has been rebuilt over here, but now they are

To get back to the runways – we start off along our strips which are not of concrete but electrical vibrations (moving streams of light). We take off up above so that we don’t have to rise. That is a general view.
Now I will tell you about my first flight. We work in squadrons still, but each man knows that he has to attach himself to one of our heavy planes. We are all fighters over here, Interceptors. We have no
bombers. I went out from my mountain top, and I can’t tell you how good it was to feel the (joy)stick [controls] once more. You see, it’s a solid stick to me because we are both made of the same type of matter, though I hate to think what your reactions would be; it would feel like a silk thread to you.

DOWDING: But I fly every night![in sleep]

JAMES: Don’t I know it! Don’t I fly with you? But I am talking of you as you are now [in the flesh, not in the astral or spirit body while the physical body sleeps.] It’s rather different flying here because you
are no longer responsible for the squadron, you KNOW that nothing can happen to them now; and so you can give your whole attention to the one [air]plane to which you have attached yourself.

I set off, and for a little while I was only conscious of the great joy of being in it once again. Then I realized that the job was still going on. I thought of the [actual] plane I wished to be with, and
suddenly I went down into the mists. They overcame me for a little while: I was flying blind. I could see nothing but the fog. I got a bit panicky – funny how the weather still gets you. You remember Sir, it
was always the weather and never Jerry that bothered us. I was wondering just what use I could be if the fog didn’t clear, when I suddenly heard someone speak. It seemed to come over the intercom. “Why don’t you
fix your mind on the target? You won’t get out of the mist until you decide where you’re going." I thought this was a bit thick. After all I had received no instructions, so I yelled back ‘Where is the blooming

‘There’s half a dozen to choose from,’ I was told. ‘Where would you like to go?’ I rubbed my hands. ‘Oh boy, oh boy, choose your target! Berlin is mine.’

In an instant I was back in the thick of it. I was flying INSIDE a bomber, yes, plane and all. I could hear in a strange way what was being said. I don’t quite understand how I picked it up, but I believe that we can tune in to the wave-length of w/t (wireless telegraphy or radio transmissions) just as you can. [This sounds like the precursor to EVP! RR]

Anyhow, I heard quite distinctly this conversation:

“Two minutes and we shall be over the target.”

“Good, we’ll let them have merry hell.”

I didn’t listen to any more because I suddenly realized I should be outside the plane. The silly asses were far too low. When they came over the target they were right in the line of the explosion from the bombs of the previous planes. It was my task to try to divert the repercussions so that they could get away in time. They did, but I felt annoyed because they should have known better than to take such risks.

[It is spirit rescue work incidents like this which appear to us like miracles, or the actions of angels; you know, the stories of drivers barely missing a head-on collision and then finding themselves intact, unhurt, driving in their car still, but somehow placed on another part of the freeway, out of danger. This can truly be called spirit rescue! It is not God answering a prayer, but a much closer spirit, possibly a guide or loved-one in spirit. You COULD say, I suppose, that God sent the relative or guide to help you, but I think that’s stretching the point. (Richard’s comment)].

I went after them to give them a hearty telling-off, forgetting they couldn’t hear me, anyhow. They were so pleased with themselves, they hadn’t a thought of danger. Then I saw that it was no use; they’d do it the next time anyway, but I couldn’t resist trying. I don’t know just how I managed it, but I put all my will into the thought, and I said over the intercom to that pilot ‘You fool, we might have been blown to blazes, why did you fly so low?’

He heard me. I won’t say what he said back!

There were three fighter attacks before they made base. The strange thing was the way the bullets went right through me, but when they did this I could direct them. I couldn’t direct them until the were WITHIN me. So some of them hit the plane of course because, fast as I can move, I couldn’t draw all the fire.

It was only the undercarriage that was damaged that trip. They made a good landing. I heard one of them say ‘Jolly good trip! Puts life into a fellow,that does.’ He didn’t know how much life it had put into a dead airman to be able to come back and carry on.

I’m not one who can talk easily about things which mean a great deal to me, but, as I stood there, close to the tarmac, seeing it all through a haze, the familiar things – feeling the familiar sounds, I knew without any shadow of doubt that God IS, and that He is good.

DOWDING: Do I know your nurse?

JAMES: Yes you’ve guessed. [His nurse was Clarice, Dowding’s wife in spirit!]

More from James in article (6) to follow. .

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