Inside Scientology - Janet Reitman [59]
Hubbard intensified his security checks, asking the Sea Org and even his own family if they had relationships with foreign governments, or if they'd ever had "unkind thoughts" about Hubbard. Those who fell victim to his wrath were subject to a particular disciplinary measure called the Rehabilitation Project Force (RPF). Members on the RPF were not allowed in normal crew areas of the Apollo and were banned from communicating with anyone outside their own group, said Glenn Samuels, a former Sea Org member who worked as an auditor aboard the Apollo. In 1974, Samuels, then twenty-five, was distracted by marital troubles, earning him a six-month stint on the RPF as punishment. "We lived in a dingy hold in the ship infested with roaches, and slept on pee-stained mattresses formerly designated to be thrown out. Study took place there as well." Members awoke at dawn and were sent off to clean toilets or duct shafts. If anyone made a mistake, he was made to do push-ups and run laps around the ship. Walking was prohibited; members had to run everywhere, and even in baking heat were required to wear black boiler suits.
"It was brutal," said Samuels. "But much worse than the menial labor was the extreme 'untouchable' aspect of the whole thing. You were considered 'evil' ... especially if you had upset the Commodore, LRH." One boy who had committed such a sin was stowed in a chain locker for several days. "When he asked Hubbard if he could get out, LRH said, 'You got yourself in there; get yourself out,'" Samuels recalled. "Another young girl was so disoriented from working so hard that she fell into the hold, about twenty feet down. She was twelve years old."
As the 1970s wore on, Hubbard banished more people to the RPF. Virtually no one aboard the Apollo was safe. "It was scary because at his whim you could end up in the hellhole—for real or imagined errors," said Samuels. "And not just the Flag crew was sent; but executives, plus three of Hubbard's personal stewards, a cook or two, three of the ship's photographers."
When Hubbard finally recovered from his motorcycle accident, the Apollo, which had been sailing off the coast of Portugal, set course for Spain. But the Spanish authorities, like the Moroccans, wondered about the strange, rust-streaked ship whose crew claimed to be affiliated with an international management group. The ship left Spanish waters after the Apollo mistakenly tried to enter one of the country's largest naval bases. Hubbard directed his captain to set a new course: ejected from European and North African waters, the Apollo would now cross the Sargasso Sea and ply the Caribbean.
A senior marketing executive at the Publications Org, Jeff Hawkins now lived in Copenhagen with his wife, Tina, a fellow Sea Org member, and their seven-year-old daughter, Gwennie. In June 1975, he was summoned back to the Apollo to become part of a new international dissemination unit. Thrilling to Jeff, Hubbard, impressed by his work, had asked for him personally.
Much had changed aboard the Apollo in the four years Jeff had been away. Gone was the spit-polished, crisply military style of its crew. Now a bohemian atmosphere prevailed. Sea Org members sported beards, long hair, shorts, T-shirts, and bikini tops. Theater sets were strewn on the deck, along with musical equipment belonging to a band composed of Sea Org members, who called themselves the Apollo All-Stars. There also seemed to be a harem of young girls at the center of things. They dressed provocatively in tiny white shorts, white midriff-baring shirts, and