Satan, Prince of this World - William Guy Carr

The Last Chapter of a Book and Also of a Life

That you have read up to this point is the last work, cut short by death, of the author, Commander W.J.C. Carr, R.C.N.R. I, his oldest son, have tried to finish the work in order that it might be published to fulfill my father's last wish. I could not do so, and in all honesty, I do not believe it possible for any man, at this time, to do so either.

The life work of one man can seldom be picked up and completed by another, particularly when the work covers the field dealt with in this book and in the books previously published by Commander Carr. I believe that he was a man gifted, or perhaps cursed, with the ability to see things that the rest of us cannot see or even conceive to be possible in our wildest imaginings.

This ability to see clearly the workings and machinations that go on behind the scenes in all governments and many international organizations, and the ability to follow clearly the often dimly marked trail of Evil that has crawled and slimed its way through the history of mankind, is given to few men. I believe that my father had this ability and that it died with him.

For most of my early life I watched him doggedly tracing one lead after another to find the ultimate answer to the problem of Evil in the affairs of men. At that time I was not really aware of what he sought or understood the terrible strain under which he worked. Elis searches were never easy on him or on those close to him, for he had all the human traits, both good and bad, that bless and plague the rest of us. Tie asked me several times, particularly after my discharge from the Canadian Army in August, 1945, if I would work with him and eventually carry on the fight he felt was so important. I could not do so then and I cannot do so now for the reasons given above. At his death, he bequeathed to me his library, his manuscripts, and all his notes. Tie did not specify that I must try to carry on his work in order to quality for this inheritance. I must confess that I rather spurned the idea of doing anything to further his efforts and even felt in a vague way that he was way off the beam in his writings.

This manuscript was left in storage for about six years before I started to think of some of the things of which he had written and how accurately he seemed to be able to pinpoint certain future events in the affairs of men and of the world in which we live. I think it was particularly true at the time of the assassination of President Kennedy in 1963. If the author is anywhere near correct in his charges that the S.O.S. pretty well controls all governments, it would be impossible for anyone to learn of the truth behind that murder. And I still cannot believe that the Assassin's murder by Jack Ruby was not part of a prearranged plan to keep all details and information from the public view. 1 could be wrong. The author had an uncanny ability to pinpoint such events and even his own death. If you will reread Chapter 3, page 41, he says that he seriously doubts that he will write any more books and at that time he was not any more seriously ill than at other times, and was only 62 years of age. With these thoughts, I reread the manuscript and became convinced that I had to do whatever I could to publish the information, incomplete though it was.

How much you actually believe of what you read in this book is really of little importance. It would be too much to expect anyone to be able to assimilate such material in one bite. The exposure of such monstrous and inhuman plots verges on the impossible and yet, down deep inside me, I know that such plots, are in existence. The more I think about these matters, the more convinced I become and this in spite of a natural disinclination to believe at all. This latter feeling I think will be a common one for the majority of readers.

Even though this knowledge of the existence of a supernatural plot to destroy mankind has come to me, I do not particularly fear the plot in itself. I have always believed, in a general way, of the existence of Evil and what Evil tried to do with me and by me. But, by the grace of God, I also know that Good exists and that by trying with all my strength to follow that Good, automatically I relegate Evil to its proper place on the fringe of my existence, in much the same way that cold is displaced by heat and mist burned away by a hot sun.

I do believe now that Evil exists and has been fostered and organized by men directed by the Devil. But as the same time I believe even more strongly that God IS and that Christ, as our closest and best example of Good, also exists actively in the affairs of men. To me, the study of Evil and its effect in the world, is rather a negative approach to finding solution to the problems that have existed, do exist and will always exist, for all men, until the end of earthly time. Undoubtedly the knowledge of my father's work and the reading of his many works have influenced my life greatly. Several years ago, when our children were self-supporting and no longer needed our direct help, my wife and I decided to dedicate several or all of our years to full time work in the foreign mission field. I think this decision was taken, and is being followed, not so much to be 'do-gooders' as for our own peace of mind and well being; a long time ago I discovered that human happiness can best be found by giving of oneself in the service of others as long as the motive for that giving rests in the love of the God who created me.

I think that the answer to the Evil, as exposed and defined by my father, is for every man and woman of goodwill, to dedicate himself or herself to some phase of the human scene in such a way that the scene is improved by the effort expended. It really doesn't matter very much if the effect achieved is visible or measurable by the person or by his contemporaries, but rather that each man gives of his best to try and succeed.

At this moment, the famous quotation of the late President Kennedy comes to mind: "Ask not what your country can do for you, but rather what you can do for your country." Substitute the words God, neighbours, religion, community, or whatever, for country, and we all have a working blueprint for our future efforts.

To comment further on this work or on any particular phase of the Luciferian plot or the intrigues of the S.O.S. would be to labour the point.

To those who knew my father personally or became interested in him through the reading of his books, perhaps a few words about his personal philosophies on life and living might prove of interest and give a clearer insight into the mind of this remarkable man.

From my earliest recollections of him, certain salient points of his character stand out boldly. He often told me that no man had the right to ask another to do or give what the asker was not willing to do or give first. I have talked to quite a number of naval men who served with or under Commander Carr in both World Wars and they, to a man, confirmed that Dad had followed this thought to the point where he was known as 'The Iron Man' in the sections in which he served in the Canadian Navy during the 2nd World War.

Another point he stressed was that: 'A man should work like Hell while alive in order that he didn't wind up in Hell when dead.' This book you have just finished reading is proof that he followed this dictate of conscience also because he worked up to the limit of his strength and even beyond it into his final illness.

During the hungry days of the 'Dirty Thirties,' we lived in a small town just outside of Toronto, Ontario. Our house was on the main north-south highway of that time, and literally scores of hungry men begged for food at our door.

Even though we were a large family and money was always scarce (or non-existent), he never permitted a hungry man to be turned away without adequate food. His point was that: "If I refuse a hungry man some food, or cannot see in him some mark of Christ which makes him my brother, then I deny my own humanity."

In the same way, no one hurt or in distress ever appealed for help from Dad and was turned away without a sincere effort to give the help needed. Many the widow and distressed ex-serviceman who came to him for help and as a result, he gave uncounted days of work to win pensions or other relief for these unfortunates either through the Canadian Legion or by himself working through the hundreds of contacts he made in high places as he went along with his work.

No amount of money or proffered honours could win his support for a cause or an organization in which he did not believe fully or which could not withstand his close scrutiny as to its reason for being. Because of his strong attitude in this respect, I know that he gave up many lucrative opportunities in order that he could, as he put it, "Shave myself in front of my own mirror." He was self-educated, self-confident, and self-opinionated. When the going got toughest, he refused to go to others for help until he had literally exhausted himself economically, physically, or mentally. He had a hair-trigger temper that threw him into terrible rages . . . and a soft heart that prevented him from holding that rage for more than a few minutes or a grudge against even his worst enemy . . . and he made plenty of them as he went along.

He could and did walk and talk with Kings and those who occupy the High and Mighty places of the earth . . . and he could and did sit in hovels and be completely at home in that setting. With those who opposed him, he was a hard, fair, and tough fighter and he neither asked nor gave quarter. With the weak and the helpless, he had the tenderness of a good woman and a heart as soft and as sweet as melted butter.

With his family and with himself, he was a hard and driving taskmaster. With others weaker than himself, he had an infinite capacity for pity and patience. For the last fifteen years of his life he suffered many illnesses and incapacities, not the least of which was a telescoped spine which necessitated him wearing a cumbersome steel and leather brace to keep him from becoming badly deformed. I do not think that he ever considered these health problems anything more that a nuisance that handicapped his ability to follow the path of work which he had chosen for himself. . . always his motto was: "Carry On."

If ever an epitaph be written for him, let it be as follows:

He lived the hard life of a
truly Christian man.
And died the easy Death
reserved for such a One.

If anything he ever wrote has helped even one person to find a purpose in life or helped any individual to better understand the purpose and meaning of life or helped one Soul to regain its place in the Divine scheme of Things, then

I am certain that his noble soul rests in peace within the Love and Protection of the God he tried so hard to serve while he lived his few years on earth.