Dishes Defy Law of Gravity
‘Ghosts’ Scare Girls in Sandbank Hut
By “Daily Record” Reporter.
Naval officers at Sandbank, in the Holy Loch, are having more trouble with ghosts than they ever had with Hitler. The Fuhrer was something they could at least understand a bit, but the strange happenings in a naval laundry attached to W.R.N.S. H.Q. have so far defied explanation. Dishes have been broken, articles have floated about in mid-air, defying the law of gravity, and so un-nerving the staff that official investigation has had to be made by the authorities.
The scene is an ordinary naval hut, which is the laundry for the W.R.N.S. stationed at Ardnadam Hotel. The hut is immediately behind the Hotel, and although run by the Admiralty, is staffed by civilian laundresses. The first hint of anything unusual was given about three weeks ago when things appeared to go wrong with the electric irons. It was thought this was due to technical faults, but the wiring system was found to be all right. The irons continued to give trouble for a while, and then the faults seemed to be cured. All went smoothly. At this stage there was not the slightest suggestion of the supernatural.
Then a girl was ironing clothes, using a bottle of water to dampen the material. After sprinkling an article, she put the bottle on a table, and in a few minutes heard a plop, and turning round saw the bottle in a bucket of water. She thought she had touched it herself with her arm, and, retrieving it replaced it on another table well out of her reach. Again there was a plop and the bottle was once more in the bucket. This time she was convinced she was the victim of a practical joke perpetrated by the other girls, and told them to stop it. They protested that they had nothing to do with it – but from then they all did some hard thinking.
Earlier incidents not satisfactorily explained were recalled, and the girls were convinced that they were dealing with unknown forces. From then on, things began to hum, and the climax was reached last week.
Teacups, untouched by anyone, would fall off shelves and tables on to the floor and be smashed. A teapot rose off the table and smashed a cup in a girl’s hand. Towels and other articles, of their own volition, flew out of a cupboard. A kettle rose from the hob and came to rest on the floor. A cap left the peg it was hanging on and flew to the other end of the room, and when one girl made a grab for it, it curled out of her reach. An article, which had been ironed and left on a line in the laundry, suddenly switched from one end of the line to another without a hand touching it.
Perhaps the most astounding incident was when a notebook, recording the strange happenings, left a table and went flying out of a window. This notebook belonged to a naval rating who had been posted specially to record any incidents. As one eye-witness said: “All of us who saw anything gave our testimony and signed the statement. It seemed as if the ‘influence’ behind the happenings did not want anyone to read about them.”
Not unnaturally, living and working under such conditions has imposed a psychological strain on some of the girls. One girl had to be taken home, others fainted, and a few had to be put into sick bay to recover from their unnerving experiences.
Naval doctors have been investigating the phenomena and taking up statements. Although not officially called in on the job, naval chaplains have been doing a little research privately. Investigations, not as yet conclusive, have tended to show that, in every case of an incident, one particular woman has been present. It is thought she may be possessed of unusual powers.
Daily Record, 11th June 1945.
There’s a ghost in the laundry.
There’s a mischievous ghost in the laundry attached to Wren headquarters at Sandbank, Firth of Clyde, so the girls who work there say. And hard-headed Naval officers and chaplains are looking into the story – because something‘s been upsetting the laundry lasses, which makes it difficult to get on with the washing. It’s worse still when the alleged ghost steals the evidence against its alleged self. One girl had to be taken home in hysterics and others have had spells in the sick-bay as a result of what they believe happened. Those who know about these things call the ghost a Poltergeist, because it seems to throw things around the way Poltergeists do.
Here are some of the things the girls report: A teapot left on the table rose up and smashed a cup in a girl’s hand. Towels and other articles “flew out of a cupboard of their own accord”; A kettle left the hob and came to rest on the floor; A cap left a peg and flew to the other end of the room, and when one girl made a grab for it, it curved neatly out of her reach. So a naval rating took all the statements in a little book and the girls signed the “evidence.” But the book, they say, left the table and went flying out of the window.
Some of the investigators believe that every time an “incident” has taken place one woman in particular has been present. She, it is understood, has now left the laundry, and is believed to be resting under medical care. Nothing has happened since – and they’re hoping nothing will today.
Daily Mirror, 11th June 1945.
Bats in the belfry. By The Gangrel.
Poltergeists or fairies? That is the controversy now raging over the mysterious happenings in Sandbank’s naval laundry, where cups and kettles and teapots cavort about the kitchen and washing plays leapfrog on the line.
One school of thought favours the theory that some matelot has come into possession of the Fairy Shirt of Ruaraidh Gorm, which has the remarkable property of conferring upon its wearer the most luxuriant whiskers in the world. This chap, it is thought, has sent the garment to the laundry, and the Daoine Sidhe of Cowal are in a panic lest it should be washed by human hands, since this would totally liquidate its magical powers. The mound-dwellers, therefore, are trying to get the laundry closed down before the Fairy Shirt can go into the tub.
Other shrewd thinkers, however, say the goings-on are typical poltergeist antics, and suggest that these oafish German spooks (probably former Nazis) are probably trying to sabotage the Navy, beginning in a small way to disarm suspicion. The ultimate aim may be to spread the same subversive activities to naval laundries throughout the world, with dire effects upon the morale and esprit-de-corps of the building breed.
Granted, the thought of an astral Fifth Column is unpleasant, but facts must be faced. One way to defeat this fiendish plot (writes a Bishop) would be to dress the Navy in cricket togs, which, of course, repel all unclean spirits.
Daily Record, 12th June 1945.
Letters: visitation of spirits. To the Editor of the Daily Record.
Sir – With reference to the reports of “spooks” at Sandbank, it amazes me that in this enlightened age presumably educated men are baffled by strange happenings and fail to find a reason for or an explanation of them. The solution, I suggest, will be found by establishing the fact that someone in, or connected with, the laundry is possessed of a familiar spirit, or has been dabbling in a devilish cult. The results of this visitation of Spirits should be enough to warn off those who may be inquisitively interested before they sell their body, soul and spirit to the arch-enemy of mankind, Satan.
Greenock, G.D. Fleming.
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Sir, – The account of the Sandbank poltergeist might now explain why I should like a Society of Psychic Research established in Glasgow. Who will now say that psychic phenomena are not a reality? The “Record” will perform a public service if it will investigate this case and present its findings to its readers. INTERESTED, Glasgow, S4.
Daily Record, 15th June 1945.