Deal Me In

Rumoured to be the landing site of Julius Caesar during his invasion of our fair isle, Deal in Kent has received mixed reviews as a town. Samuel Pepys described it as ‘Pitiful,’ Daniel Defoe faced a libel case after calling for ‘drown’d sailor’s widows to pull it down’ and William Cobbett described it as a ‘villainous place, full of filthy-looking people’. My drive into this sleepy, seaside town felt like a transportation back in time.

Ghost stories of Deal appear to be limited to a grey lady (there is always one) who once got on a bus only to disappear from the top deck and the phantom of the Lady Lovibond; whose legend says that after the ship’s master married the love of his first mate’s life (on 13^th February 1748), the second in command murdered his superior, running the ship aground on Goodwin Sands causing the loss of all hands. This unrecorded tragic event (possibly an early 20^th Century love story) is said to be repeated every 50 years, with such clarity that nearby vessels have taken action to assist the stricken vessel only to discover nothing when they arrive. The more sceptical opinion is that it was written as a romantic Valentine’s day piece by a journalist in 1915. 

My destination was Deal Castle, one of the line of forts designed by Henry VIII to protect the southern coast from all the people he would piss off with his life choices, and after parking up I was soon walking over the wooden drawbridge and passing through the heavy doors to meet the team from Ghostly Encounters.

Credit: SJP

A briefing and protection circle later the hunt was on, and we were soon trooping up the spiral staircase to the first floor. The floor was divided by wooden walls with doors, as we filed into the space it was not long before my fellow guests were all commenting on the negative feeling coming from the fireplace. Cat balls and Rem-pods deployed, the calling-out started. A report of the feeling of being pushed came from one man, a women complained her hair was being pulled and then came the feeling of a significant change in temperature.

Deal Castle, was designed in a very revolutionary way with round walls to deflect cannon balls, observation and gun ports to provide a 360 view, internal plumbing and ventilation. These vents were designed to funnel the smoke from fires and guns away from the lower floors – and made the castle very drafty. This could therefore be an explanation for the change in temperature, it could also explain doors closing on their own – but could it be an explanation for a well-fitting door, with turn knob handle to fly open on its own?

As the door opened all I could smell was smoke, the smell that you get from a wood burner. I called it out. “I can’t smell it here” came the reply “I can smell tobacco smoke here” from across the room, “I can smell it now” the first voice said again. As the burning smells wafted around the room, they suddenly left as quickly as they arrived.

The larger group split up, (I stayed with the ominous fireplace) filing around the circular space, and as the doors to the various rooms and sections were closed an odd silence descended on the room. The unseen physicality continued to affect the other two people that had remained with me, and as we were getting no response from the EMF detector or cat balls that we had set up I suggested we try a technique I had learnt at East Gate House.

We stood in a circle and held hands. I called out “Spirit you seem to prefer physical contact rather than playing with our lights and devices, if you are here and want to communicate, please can you raise one of our arms?” We waited, the silence felt crushing, nothing happened. “Can you give us any sign you are here?” I called, ‘throomph’ a sound from an adjoining room; the sound of running footsteps came from outside the other door.

Opening the door, no one was in the hallway and asking if anyone had been out here came a resounding ‘no’. Entering the adjoining room, which was lined with low bookshelves set up as a charity library we found a copy of Peppa Pig Nature Trail lying on the floor. Checking the Chattergiest’s screen the words lend, bookshelf, bothering had just appeared. Maybe whoever was here was content to do their own thing rather than perform for another bunch of ghost hunters.

Credit: SJP

Replacing the book on the bookshelf, I was informed that it was the most hated of all books by teachers at their school, I asked out that if the spirit wanted to give me some proof they were here then put the book back on the floor. Leaving the room I found another part of the group about to conduct a spirit board session.

We were informed that this was a new board and had not been used before. The board was opened and we stood around it, each with a finger on the planchette, calling for anyone who wished to communicate to come forward. The planchette felt like it was bubbling with a fizzing energy but remained in the middle of the board. Time was called and the board closed down. There had been a lot of activity but no clues as to the identity of any of the castle’s occupants on the first floor, the continuous feeling of being played with and observed was a little unnerving.

After a suitable caffeination session (and the obligatory pee stop) we descended into the bowels of the castle. In a previous life used to store weapons, gunpowder and food to make the castle viable it was now an open space with nook and crannies to explore. Following orders we gathered around the well, and after many Samara references we went lights out.

On the wall of the well cat balls, EMF detectors and a Rem-Pod had been set up, and as we started to call out, the same wood burning smell swept around the circle anticlockwise. The pitch blackness was suddenly interrupted by a white light in the corridor leading to the well. (Ghostly Encounters only use red torches on their investigations). As I was stood directly facing the now illuminated passage I could see the light was coming from the equipment basket which was sat on the floor with no one close to it. Members of the crew located the source, a mag-lite that was used in an experiment called the mag-lite trick (where the end is screwed a ¼ turn away from contact with the hope that it can be manipulated from beyond the veil and turned on or off in response to yes/no questions). Had the illusive book-throwing spirit from upstairs followed us down, continuing to watch and toy with us?   

We shifted positions, rotating anticlockwise, trying to stir up the energy. As I reached about the 7 o’clock position the sound of female voices were reported from the other side of the well from me. I could not hear the voices, and what they were saying was reportedly unintelligible. What I did hear, however was a request for a guinea pig – “I knew it would be you, its always you” came the response to my raised hand.

Led, like a contestant on the Crystal Maze, I was placed in a room and the door was closed behind us. (Unlike the Crystal Maze I was not alone, I was with a member of the crew and another willing volunteer.) On entering the room it felt as through there was a presence in the corner, which nothing could be seen, but there was a sense of expectation that you have when you can sense something is there. I stood in the recess within the wall, which was not designed for the taller human, and closing my eyes tried to assess how I felt. I started to feel pain in the left side of my neck which quickly spread to my shoulder. A burning, tightening pain that persisted even when swapping my position with the other guest. He reported feeling nothing as he stood in his sentry box, as the pain affecting me was becoming intolerable I had to leave the room. As I stood stretching out my neck and shoulder, I was informed that the sensation of pain was a frequently reported phenomenon in this room. No one knows why, and no one has found any records for what the room was used for. There are theories that someone had been hung or had hanged themselves in the space but there is no corroboration. More concerning, or at least disconcerting was that when I checked the word history on the Touch, the only word that had appeared whilst being in that room was my name – SAM.

Credit: SJP

As the rest of the group were taking their turns in the hanging closet, the unaffected one and I went on a little excursion to the entry point to the tunnels. We had been informed that due to the recent heavy rains, one half of the tunnels were submerged and were inaccessible – and as there was a sign we did not venture into that side. We could look, however, into this section of the tunnels, through a very convenient shooting hole. My partner had fired up an SLS app and as he was scanning the inaccessible room, a stick figure filled the gloom.  Taking a photograph we set about trying to work out if there was some physical element that would provide this reading – finding none, and quite excited about this discovery we headed back to share our findings.

Credit: SJP

Finding our fellow investigator regrouping we about turned and headed back to the tunnels.

As we marched single file, boots squelching in the puddles, we were assigned positions – one to a chamber. Cat balls and a rem-pod deployed the order for “lights out” was given. I stood face to face with my shadow caused by the outside light streaming through the slit in the external wall. As calls went out for any spirits to make themselves known, an excited squeal let out from further up the tunnels. A cat ball was flashing, its red, yellow and blue light streaking around the walls. I checked the Touch, crash, plane, rut, trapped, followed by injures, occupied, entry, hobble appeared on the screen.

Could this have been the ghosts of the downed Dornier DO17 Z-2 1160, shot down by the brave boys of 264 squadron in the opening days of the Battle of Britain? Accounts show that Z-2 1160 was part of a formation on a bombing raid to Debden and Hornchurch airfields. The original Prisoner of War account states that on 26/08/1940 they became separated from their formation whilst flying above cloud and lost their bearings. They then came under attack by the Boulton Paul Defiants from Manston who shot out its engines and cockpit causing their plane to force a landing on the Goodwin Sands. The pilot, Feldwebel Willi Effmert was wounded, but he and Bomb Aimer Uffz Hermann Ritzel were able to escape the wreckage before being captured. The two other aircrew Wireless Officer Unteroffizer Helmut Reinhardt and Bomb Aimer Gefreiter Heinze Huhn were recovered deceased.

It would make sense that as Deal Castle was being used as a forward command base for the region that any enemy captured or bodies recovered would have been bought here before being moved to the most appropriate location for their status. My research has stalled in obtaining documented proof of where these airmen were taken after their plane went belly-up.

What we do know is that Willi and Hermann were taken to Canada as POW, Helmut was buried in Holland and Heinze was buried at Cannock Chase German cemetery. The Dornier was recovered in May 2013 and taken to RAF Museum Cosford.

To bring a more light-hearted mood the Touch provided Release, Rodger and to the chorus of Monty Python we retired for coffee and cake.

Credit: SJP

Our final session was concentrated on the ground floor where, as usual I started at the end of a narrow corridor. Armed with an EMF detector I started to call out. The Rem-pod at the corridor entrance, emitting its shrill alarm was followed by a less ethereal “sorry, that was me”. This continued the theme as we moved around the space where we made our last stop in the chapel.

The chapel was a relevant space to finish our investigation. The clock had ticked over into Remembrance Sunday and being surrounded by the wreaths and poppies it was a good place to reflect and give thanks for all those who had given their life in the service to their country. As we spent time in quiet contemplation the question was poised “is this how you would like us to remember you or is there something else you would like?” Fresh, Cigarettes came the reply.

Before leaving I returned to the library to see if our book loving friend had again demonstrated their power. Locating the Pepper Pig epic still sat on the bookshelf, I concluded that the spirit had had its fun and was no longer in the mood to play.

During my drive home thoughts of ghostly smells filled my mind. Many hauntings frequently report scents – is this an easier form of communication for the spirit world to use, does it require less energy or is it simply rifts in the space/time continuum that allow molecules of the past to transport into the now? This will definitely be something to research in future investigations.   

 

 

I am an affiliate of Dimension Devices, the Chattergeist Touch is their flagship product. Sales through this link https://dimensiondevices.co.uk/shop.php?affiliate=sjp will give me a percentage of sales. My reviews of the Touch are my own and are not influenced by this.