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Breivik’s closing statement

Today I read a wonderful article by Andrew Hamilton at Counter-Currents about Norwegian revolutionary nationalist Anders Behring Breivik, 33. Hamilton let us know that among Norwegians the date July 22 is like September 11 in the US, that “literally everyone knows what it means.”

Recording and broadcasting of both, opening and closing statements by Breivik (April 16, 2012 & June 22, 2012) in Oslo District Court in Norway was prohibited. Reporters had to take manual notes.

It seems that Breivik’s courtroom statements have not been published by any major media outlet in any European language outside Norway. I would recommend future revolutionaries to study closely both statements and think seriously of what a trouble trio can do once it hits the fan.



Breivik’s statement

Thank you.

I think we can all agree that on July 22 a barbaric action occurred. What happened on July 22 in the government quarter and on Utøya were barbaric acts.

And I remember that on July 21 I thought after several years of planning, “Tomorrow morning I will die” [Breivik took a deep breath and leaned forward before continuing].

I came to within 200 meters of the government quarter. Then I remember I thought, “In two minutes I will die.”

And what am I going to die for? That’s what I’m going to talk about now.

I’m not going to deliver a speech. I gave my explanation on April 17th, and it contains many of my arguments. That statement explains the most. [See Breivik’s opening statement on Day 2 of the trial.]

There are still some things I did not say enough about, and that’s what I’ll take up now.

The Sanity Issue

I will start with the assessment of my sanity. As a starting point, every person under the law is presumed sane.

And of those who have evaluated me, a total of 37 highly qualified individuals, out of 37 people, 35 have not found any symptoms at all. And of the 37, two have found a multitude of symptoms.

So it’s pretty obvious what one should emphasize. The 35 people or the two people. It’s clear the prosecutors do not want to repeat here in court what I said in the interrogations. I will not go into that now.

The prosecutor said I wanted to claim mental incapacity in the beginning. That is not true.

In December or late November, when the firsaA [psychiatric] report came [concluding that Breivik was a paranoid schizophrenic], everyone was shocked

I was thinking: What to do next? I thought I would wait for the debate to die down. And I thought hard about strategy before demanding two new experts.

Also, gradually I thought: Now that I have been betrayed by two psychiatrists who do not have access to the conversations, how will I ever trust a psychiatrist again? That’s why I was considering not allowing myself to be examined again. If I get two reports against me, it’s over.

Democracy No Longer Functioning

As I’ve explained, especially on April 17 [the opening statement], the European democratic political model is not working. The arguments I presented emphasize the need for a fundamental change of leadership in Norway and Europe.

This began with World War II. In the 1960s the Labor Party decided that a large group of Pakistanis who had been refused entry into Finland, and who came to Norway on a tourist visa, should be granted residence.

And that was how the multicultural experiment in Norway began. The Labor Party decided that Norway should follow Great Britain’s example, with Asian and African mass immigration.

I have already talked a lot about the ridicule of cultural conservatives. So I will not talk much about it, except to address some high points.

The main characteristic has been political discrimination. Cultural conservative NGOs [non-governmental organizations] and youth organizations receive no funding. They are opposed. Perhaps the only cultural conservative newspaper we had in Norway, Norway Today, lost press subsidies just a few years ago.

After July 22 subsidies to HRS [Human Rights Service], a cultural conservative organization, were halved. That’s an organization that has nothing to do with me. During the past 20 or 30 years there has been public funding of extreme left organizations in Norway such as Blitz [an “antifa” communist, anarchist, and socialist youth movement permitted by the state to employ violence against the Progress Party, the Fatherland Party, the Democrats in Norway, and others] Serve the People [Serve the People—Communist League; Tjen Folket – Kommunistisk Forbund, a Maoist group] and the Norwegian Center Against Racism [Antirasistisk Senter, an anti-white NGO].

Ethnic Deconstruction

Perhaps some will remember the leader of Future In Our Hands [Fremtiden i våre hender], Steinar Lem [a Norwegian environmentalist], who died of cancer a few years ago. One of the last things he said was something that had burned within him, but he had not dared to articulate before he knew he was going to die.

It was that we fought for Tibetan rights and the Tibetan indigenous people, but in Norway it is not permitted to say that Norwegians have as much right to a homeland as the Tibetans, and that our rights are in fact equally important.

He did not dare to speak the truth before he was told by his doctor that he was going to die. Only then did he dare to say what he thought.

In part of the compendium, I’ve written a lot about [ethnic] deconstruction and the absence of morality in Norway since 1968. They are huge problems. In Norway today, ideals are upheld that are extremely harmful and will be detrimental to our future.

When it comes to sexually transmitted diseases and the sexual revolution, it’s actually something that is underreported, and has created major problems in Europe. The ideal being upheld is to have sex with as many strangers as possible. Instead of focusing on the nuclear family, the focus is on dissolving it, and all the problems which that entails.

For example, the Sex and the City ideal, where Samantha and Carrie through 100–200 episodes of the series have sex with hundreds of men. These are the ideals that are upheld today. This is a disease. It’s like sugar to the audience. These sick ideals should be censored and shielded from our community.

So people neglect their duty to family and nation. They get education, travel, and are 35 before they start having children. Women should begin having children in their 20s. Our birth rate is below replacement level.

No Free Speech

One of the most influential people in Norway, Arne Strand [a print and broadcast journalist and former member of Prime Minister Gro Harlem Brundtland’s cabinet] in Dagsavisen [the daily newspaper Strand edits, until 1999 the official organ of the Labor Party, now independent] has issued many statements about press subsidies.

He proposes that everyone on the right, to the right of Carl I. Hagen [former Vice President of the Storting (Norwegian Parliament) and ex-chairman of the Progress Party], should be censored, and excluded from the democratic process. He says straight out that government press subsidies [to the Left, denied to the right] are necessary to preserve the current political hegemony.

We must protect hegemony, we must not allow people the right to express themselves. The system of press subsidies ensures that Norway will never be a democracy, because those on the far right are excluded.

I will mention some important political actions by the Labor Party, those in power in Norway, that legitimize and may trigger violent counter-reactions.

Psychiatry and the Legacy of World War II

Svein Holden [one of Breivik’s prosecutors] said that after WW II not many people in Norway were sent to psychiatric wards. He meant that only novelist Knut Hamsun and Justice Minister Sverre Riisnæs were sent to mental hospitals.

[Sverre Riisnæs served in Vidkun Quisling’s Nasjonal Samling (NS, National Unity) government during the German occupation; after the war he was imprisoned in a Norwegian psychiatric hospital from 1948–1960.]

But there were several. [“Breivik sits leaning forward in his chair as he speaks. Defense attorneys Geir Lippestad and Vibeke Hein Bæra lean back and look down at the table.]

It’s no secret that after the war many cultural conservatives and nationalists were neutralized with the help of psychiatry. Many members of the Nasjonal Samling were sent to the madhouse by Labor.

Halldis Neegaard Østbye, Quisling’s secretary and NS-ideologue, among other things wrote the book Jews’ War in 1943. She eventually died at Dikemark madhouse. Her and her husband’s ski factory was taken from them by the Labor Party at war’s end.

[Halldis Neegaard Østbye, active NS leader and prolific writer. In 1938 she wrote The Jewish Problem and Its Solution under the pseudonym “Irene Sword.” It was reissued in 1942 and 1943.]

And Knut Hamsun we know about.

These unconstitutional, unjust, illegal sentences should be abolished, and compensation provided to the relatives.

Non-NS’ers who were opposed to the Labor Party were also tried and declared mad.

An example is editor Toralv Fanebust [a harsh critic of Norway’s post-WW II trials and persecutions]. When the attempt [to declare him insane] failed, he was given a lengthy prison sentence for having written about important Labor Party members’ actions before and after the war.

His grandson has recently released the book Krigshistorien: oppgjør med mytene [War History: Reckoning With the Myths].

Violence Against the Right

What else has the political power instigated and applauded that is likely to precipitate violent resistance?

The Fatherland Party [FLP, Fedrelandspartiet, a nationalist party in Norway between 1990 and 2008] received about 0.5 percent of the vote in 1993, the first time they ran in Parliamentary elections.

[FLP leader] Bjarne Dahl in 1993 tried to legitimize political opposition to immigration. At a market square meeting in Oslo, he had his face smashed with an iron pipe, his jaw broken, and his teeth knocked out in attacks by some Blitz members [antifas belonging to the state-funded group mentioned previously].

Party leader and professor Harald Trefall [1925–2008, experimental physicist, anti-immigration activist, and Fatherland Party founder] was also hit in the face by something that was thrown. The party chairman was bleeding from a wound in the face.

Also, others were beaten and kicked.

When a horrified spectator tipped off Dagbladet [one of the country’s largest newspapers] about these violent attacks, he received the following response from Dagbladet: “Isn’t that good, then?”

This was their attitude. The same attitude shared by most of the press. The mass media made no mention of the violent and dangerous attacks against the Fatherland Party.

No Freedom of Association

On June 28, 2002, the parliamentary parties committed democratic suicide. They passed a new law saying that all parties that hadn’t received at least 5,000 votes in the last election were stricken [from the ballot].

They must collect 5,000 signatures under stringent restrictions. This means that there are very few small parties. It is almost impossible to start a new party in Norway today. In Sweden, the requirement is 1,500 signatures.

Vigrid logo

The PST [Police Security Service, Politiets sikkerhetstjeneste, internal secret police] boasts unrestrainedly about how they crushed Vigrid [link to its website]. The police called on all the young people in the organization and their parents. PST destroyed the organization through harassment of its young members.

[One day in 2004, agents from all 26 field offices paid personal visits to each of Vigrid’s members, many of whom were teenagers living with their parents. The investigators continued this tactic for several months, until about 60% of Vigrid quit the group. –Trans.]

What they have done is systematically harass political activists.

In addition, PST ran a comprehensive harassment campaign against the leader of Vigrid, Tore Tvedt. Among other things, extensive surveillance, house raids, arrests, and making sure he was repeatedly thrown out of rented houses.

At a school debate on August 28 in connection with the parliamentary elections of 2009, the party leader [Øyvind Heian] of the Norwegian Patriots [NP, NorgesPatriotene, a defunct anti-immigration party] received cuts in his forehead causing severe bleeding [during an attack by a far left anti-white mob including SOS Racism], forcing him to leave the meeting. The meeting continued as if nothing had happened. Neither the school administration nor the police did anything at all about the attack on the party leader.

Before local government elections last year the Christian Unity Party [KSP, Kristent Samlingsparti] was attacked by a person belonging to SOS Racism; they are communists.

Such things of course anger everyone with nationalist attitudes in this country.

That a counter-reaction has not occurred before July 22 amazes everyone who follows national trends. The anti-democratic forces that govern our country are obviously expecting something. This can be seen from the adoption of new surveillance measures. They have been doing exercises on scenarios like what happened [on July 22].

Yet those who govern the country say they have done nothing that could give rise to such a reaction. It is quite possible that many people connected with the power structure actually believe this.

Which means dark prospects for our country.

Communism and the Ruling Class

It is well known and documented that the Labor Party before World War II received funding from the Soviet Union. However, it is wrong to say that Labor is a full-fledged communist party. They do not support a planned economy. Hence the expressions “cultural Marxists” or “semi-communists.”

It is known that many Labor Party leaders had close relations to the Soviet Union right up to 1993. The Prime Minister’s father, [former Norwegian Foreign Minister] Thorvald Stoltenberg, had, for example, a code name in the KGB. Even Jens Stoltenberg [leader of the Labor Party and current Prime Minister of Norway] had a code name, “Steklov,” in the KGB archives.

[According to Wikipedia, until 1990 now-Prime Minister Jens Stoltenberg “had regular contacts with a Soviet diplomat who later was revealed to be a KGB agent. According to Stoltenberg he immediately broke off this relationship when he came to the knowledge that his contact was a KGB agent. Several sources have confirmed that Stoltenberg’s code name within the KGB was “Steklov,” a name Jens Stoltenberg used as his online alias when playing computer games such as Age of Empires.]

Of two books about this, one, The Eagle Has Landed [Ørnen har landet, 2003] by Reiulf Steen I do not think has been suppressed, but I believe there’s a new book by Christopher Andrew that has been halted.

The problem with Labor is not their communist past, but that they refuse to acknowledge it.

Deconstructing the Nordic Race and European Culture

Labor Party Secretary Raymond Johansen claims they are required by international agreements to admit immigrants—instead of confessing that they want to transform Norway ethnically and culturally.

Raymond Johansen is intelligent enough to know that Japan and South Korea have experienced the same pressure from the UN to accept immigrants, refugees, and asylum seekers. Japan and South Korea have learned to say no. They do not want the nation to be used as a dumping ground for the birth rate of the Second or Third World.

The political model in Japan and South Korea proves that countries that say no to mass immigration in the long run will be stronger than those open to mass immigration.

We will experience huge ethnic, cultural and religious conflicts. It is such conflicts that led to July 22.

This the Labor Party and Raymond Johansen know. If they had any integrity they would admit why they want mass immigration. In other words, they have exactly the same agenda as the social democrats in Sweden, Denmark, Germany, and Great Britain.

Labor wants to deconstruct Norwegian culture. They want to deconstruct the Nordic race and Norwegian and European culture.

Individuals who have manifested support for cultural conservative organizations have been systematically ridiculed, harassed and persecuted in Norway and Western Europe since World War II.

In Norway, several hundred people over the last ten years have lost their jobs and been branded as racists because they opposed immigration.

An example is Remi Huseby [the young spokesman for the Norwegian Defence League, a group affiliated with the English Defence League], who lost his job after being labeled an intolerant and vicious right-wing extremist on the ground that he was opposed to the Norwegian state ideology, multiculturalism.

As a result, his employer felt pressured to fire him. This is only one case that documents journalists and editors ridiculing and persecuting cultural conservatives from WW II to the present.

The worst thing is that this demonization is better than being ignored. Being ignored is the worst of all.

In hundreds of cases in Europe and Norway cultural conservatives, anticommunists, and nationalists have been driven to suicide by public labeling and demonization. It is the same as in the Soviet Union.

So, another point I thought of omitting: cultural self-loathing. Norwegian society is suffering from a cultural psychological disorder that manifests itself through self-contempt for Norwegian ideals. This collective cultural psychosis is caused by decades of cultural Marxism.

A good example is Norway’s contributions to the Eurovision Song Contest over the past four years.

We let a White Russian asylum seeker, probably with a Tartar background. It is indeed good that we very occasionally allow an asylum seeker to represent us. But what is going on?

A few years later we let Stella Mwangi [a black, Nairobi-born “Norwegian-Kenyan” singer] win with a bongo song. What is Norway doing, sending an asylum seeker as ambassador? Is it lack of Norwegians in Norway, or are they suffering from self-hatred?

Then we let an asylum seeker from Iran win. This is an insult to all Norwegians. The answer is simple. A great many Norwegians suffer from cultural delusions and have urgent need for “medication,” with immediate implementation of cultural protectionism and the Nordic ideal.

Regarding the definition of the term “indigenous people,” this means original or old residents. It does not mean ethnic Norwegians are not indigenous.

We know of course that the United Nations does not recognize ethnic Europeans as indigenous people. But we must observe the UN’s agenda, its creation when the Axis powers were defeated in WW II.

The UN supports the deconstruction of European states. So does the European Union [EU]. The UN does not support the idigenous European population because the UN is controlled by cultural Marxists—the same as the EU.

José Manuel Durão Barroso, who has been the EU’s supreme leader for many years, was a longtime member of the Portuguese Communist Party. This shows the kind of people that hold power in the EU and the UN.

So, to come back to the definition of the word “indigenous.” There is no definition of “indigenous peoples” that nationalists and cultural Marxists can agree upon. Europe’s nationalists and cultural conservatives use a different definition than does the EU or the UN. The correct definition is “old or original people.”

Why should one support the struggle for indigenous people in Tibet, Bolivia, and other places but not in Europe? Why do indigenous activists in other parts of the world receive support and praise, while indigenous activists in Europe are branded as racists?

The battle is identical for all indigenous activists, namely, to fight against the ethnic and cultural extinction of their people from immigration. The fact that activists elsewhere are supported while we are combated as if we were a disease is an intolerable injustice.

When it comes to ongoing ethnic deconstruction I would recommend that everyone read the essay [he mentions its title, but the reporter omits it] by David Coppell and Johan__.

Muslim Demographics

Regarding Mullah Krekar [a Kurdish Islamic refugee in Norway], the reason I wanted to call him as a witness was to shed light on orthodox Islam’s view of Europe. He calls himself a Kurdish religious leader. He is one of the few Muslim leaders who are honest about Islam’s takeover of Europe.

Krekar said:

“In Denmark they printed drawings, but the result was that support of Islam increased. I, and all Muslims, are evidence. You have not managed to change us. It is we who are changing you. Look at the changes in the population of Europe, where Muslims reproduce like mosquitoes. Every Western woman in Europe has 1.4 children. Every Muslim woman in the same countries gives birth to 3.5 children.”

All the sources are in the compendium [Breivik says, looking at the judges].

I also remind you that Muammar Gadaffi, who was recently killed by NATO, said in March 2007:

“There are signs that Allah will grant us victory in Europe without use of the sword. We need no terrorists, we need no suicide bombers. The millions of Muslims in Europe will turn it into a Muslim continent within a few decades.”

I will mention a few points about demographics. Demographic examples documenting how Islamic demographic warfare works in practice.

Kosovo is a very good example that I have not talked about. In 1900 Kosovo was 60% Christian, 40% Muslim. In 1913 the figure was 50% [Muslim], 1948 72%; in 1971 it was 79 percent Muslim. In 2008, after NATO had bombed our Serbian, Christian brothers, Kosovo was 93% Muslim. In just 100 years Kosovo has gone from being a Christian country to being a Muslim country.

Lebanon is an occupied state. In 1911 it was 21 percent Muslim. Today there are more—approximately 80 percent. This is demographic warfare. Warfare that is waged against Europe and against Norway at this moment.

And not only against against Christians, but against Hindus as well. Pakistan [carved out of India as a Moslem state in 1947] was 25 percent Hindu in 1941; in 1948, 17 percent. Today, it is less than 1 percent. This is Pakistani “tolerance” for people who think differently. Bangladesh [which declared independence from Pakistan in 1971] in 1941 was 30 per cent Hindu; today it is less than 8 percent.

Then one can look at the exploding populations in Muslim countries.

In 1951 there were 33 million people in Pakistan. Today they are nearly 200 million. From 33 million to nearly 200 million in 60 years. Officially, they report a birth rate of 3.58, but it is of course a lie.

The media like to convey the idea that most Muslims support democracy, but it is not true. A survey conducted by the University of Maryland, in which 4,000 Muslims were queried, shows that 65 percent want to unite all Muslim countries into a caliphate, and 65 percent wish to implement strict interpretation of Sharia law.

“Child Killer”

One last point. Lawyers previously called me a child murderer. But we know that the average age on the island was over 18.

Many armies in the world have 18-year-old soldiers. Many of our own soldiers in Afghanistan are 18. Does this mean that we send children to war?

The Labor Party and the AUF [Labor’s youth auxiliary] are themselves guilty of mass murder of children in hospitals across the country. Thousands of children are killed every year by abortion. Muslims do not practice abortion because Sharia does not permit it. Labor is thus a culprit in mass murder, and then uses the low birth rate as an excuse for mass immigration.

Resistance Increasing

If you choose to recognize my claim of necessity, you will effectively send shock waves through all the illegitimate regimes in Europe.

The court should remember that the biased judges who worked for Hitler’s Germany were condemned by history after the war. Likewise, history will judge the judges in this case. [When Breivik said this, district court judges Wenche Elizabeth Arntzen and Arne Lyng looked directly at him.] History will tell whether they convicted a man who tried to stop the evils of our time. History shows that sometimes one must implement a barbarity to stop an even greater barbarism.

My brothers in the Norwegian and European resistance movements are sitting out there watching this case as they plan new attacks. They might be responsible for as many as 40,000 deaths. Yesterday, explosives were found at a Swedish nuclear plant, suggesting that my brothers in the Swedish resistance had something to do with it.

In the compendium I describe how to attack Swedish, German (…) [ellipses indicate missing material from the original transcript] nuclear power plants. It is intended to break the back of (…) PST knows that militant nationalists have access to weapons that can cause (…) It is my duty to warn about this because it can be prevented if the will is there.

Create an Ethnostate

In the compendium I described a solution that can prevent all future conflicts with ultra-nationalists.

The smartest thing that could be done is to give us autonomy, autonomy within a specific area of Norway for people who oppose mass immigration and multiculturalism. We are interested in having our own state within the state, reserved for the indigenous Norwegian people. In other words, national conservatives, orthodox Christians, and National Socialists.

Such a solution would be good for both parties. Marxists and liberals would not have to experience our anger and complaining about the current state. And we would not have to live in a multi-ethnic hell. I have written about this political model and will convey the proposal later.

A solution like this can be used in all European countries, and can thus prevent further escalation of the conflict between cultural conservatives and multiculturalists.

The starting point might be that they get control over an area equivalent to about 1–2 percent of the country, and the area increases proportionally with growth. If we do not succeed and flourish, the autonomous state will not be developed. This political model is similar to political solutions relating to indigenous peoples in other parts of the world. Many ultra-nationalists and others would feel positive about developing such a solution.

Fair Warning

The alternative is that we focus on the takeover of the entire country of Norway—something Marxists and liberals would be mightily displeased with.

But the current regime is not interested in dialogue with us, so we have nothing to lose and the conflict will escalate over the next few years. It might not be tactful to say this in that the prosecutor is “gunning” on with “mental incapacity,” but I must convey my peace proposal, which could save many lives in the future [Breivik raises his voice when he talks about what will happen in the future].

This trial should be about finding the truth. The documentation of my claims—are they true? If they are true, how can what I did be illegal?

Norwegian academics and journalists work together and make use of (…) methods to deconstruct Norwegian identity, Christianity, and the Norwegian nation. How can it be illegal to engage in armed resistance against this?

The prosecution wondered who gave me a mandate to do what I did. Was it the KT [Knights Templar] network? I have answered this before, but will do so again. Universal human rights, international law, and the right to self-defense provided the mandate to carry out this self-defense.

Everything has been triggered by the actions of those who consciously and unconsciously are destroying our country. Responsible Norwegians and Europeans who feel even a trace of moral obligation are not going to sit by and watch as we are made into minorities in our own lands. We are going to fight.

The attacks on July 22 were preventive attacks in defense of my ethnic group, the Norwegian indigenous people. I therefore cannot acknowledge guilt. I acted from necessity (nødrett) on behalf of my people, my religion and my country.

I therefore demand that I be acquitted.

See endnotes at Counter-Currents

Categories
Ancient Rome Hate Justice / revenge Real men William Pierce

The future is for the bloodthirsty,

not for the alt-righters



Panina said

There are very tangible reasons to stop associating with the “white nationalist” movement:

1) It is dead. Anyone with two eyes, a brain and enough courage can attest this fact. Though disappointing, it is understandable that it has not achieved a single victory in its entire history. What is far more problematic is that it is losing adherents and sympathizers at a steady pace instead of gaining new ones. This is a raw estimation, but I don’t think there are more than 50,000 active and declared WNs in the entire US territory as of now… That’s called a sect, a cult.

2) It is pathetic. Read Stormfront, the world hub of WNism, to understand what I mean. Who wants to associate with those who post there? I’d rather live among Hispanics or Asians than among the lowbrow skinheads, mixed-race “Whites”, Slavs, feminist women and Christian creationists of Stormfront.

3) The term “white nationalism” bothers me because “white” is too vague. I’ve seen enough specimens of white Untermenschen in my life to understand that skin color alone is unfortunately not enough, in times of accelerating dysgenism, to assert the nobility, intelligence and probity of someone.

I like the terms “realism” (since were are, in fine, observers and accepters of scientific truths), “white advocacy”, “pro-white” (which has a double meaning), or “new right”.

I replied…

White nationalism is a term for American whites (I have the impression you live in Europe. Am I wrong? I for one live in Mestizo America). American whites need a nation now that they are becoming a minority.

I don’t believe that the movement is dead. It’s just a tiny embryo that has chances to grow after the dollar crashes.

It has scored zero victories not because the story of the movement or the character flaws of nationalists, but because after the war America reached a period of economic prosperity unparalleled in history, and now that I am studying the history of the decline and fall of Rome it’s clear that people tend to become lazy and even self-destructive in periods of easy panem and free circenses. If we have to blame something, we must blame the increasingly degenerate westerners of the last forty or fifty years.

The movement has no chance to make a real breakthrough unless and until the dollar crashes. After the coming financial armageddon we will experience runaway racial turmoil in western cities and after that continuing crisis, since the race problem cannot be solved until the ethno-state is established in NorthAm and non-whites expelled from Europe. Then the entire world will suffer from the peak-oil, energy devolution crises. The convergence of catastrophes predicted by Faye will become reality for sure. All of this will happen within the lifetimes of some of us, and contrary to Greg Johnson et al’s reactionary, non-revolutionary stance, I look forward to watch, as Pierce put it, “blood flowing ankle-deep in the streets of many of Europe’s great cities.”

Yesterday I listened the two hours of the opening podcast of Carolyn Yeager and Tanstaafl’s new internet radio show. It was good. If I were billionaire I’d purchase Fox News and invite these bloggers for a daily show. The sound of their voices is exactly right during pre-crash America.

But there’s no question that the dollar will collapse. And after the collapse people will be mad as hell. Then, and only then, will bloodthirsty revolutionaries like me have a chance.

Categories
Justice / revenge

Greg Johnson’s second thoughts on Breivik

Originally titled:
“Breivik: A Strange New Respect”



My initial reaction to Anders Berhing Breivik’s killing spree on July 22, 2011 was largely anger, because I feared that his actions would harm not just Norwegian ethno-nationalism but white nationalism around the world.

I was relieved to learn that Breivik was a product of the Jewish-controlled Counter-Jihadist movement, which eschews racial nationalism and builds a case against the Muslim colonization of Europe on “Judeo-Christian” religious and cultural grounds. I was quite content to let them take the heat. But of course both our enemies and our chosen audience are none too concerned about such fine distinctions.

I also, frankly, took a visceral dislike to Breivik, who struck me as a creepy, narcissistic dork.

However, since Breivik went on trial last month, I have found a strange new respect for him. He has comported himself in a dignified manner and made a forceful, intelligent, well-argued case for his views and actions. His only real gaffe has been to insist on the existence of his make-believe Knights Templar organization.

By the end of the first week, the trial was being pulled from front pages around the world, for the simple reason that Breivik was making too much sense to too many people.

Breivik admits to the killings. But he demands to be acquitted on the grounds of what is essentially ethnic self-defense. Based on news coverage, machine translations of trial transcripts posted on the internet, particularly at Tanstaafl’s Age of Treason and Attack on the Labor Party, and our own Andrew Hamilton’s translation of Breivik’s Opening Statement on the second day of his trial, the rationale for Breivik’s attack and his defense is the following.

The Norwegian Labor Party and its allies in the press are primarily responsible for imposing non-white immigration on Norway and for stigmatizing and silencing Norwegian opposition. The Labor Party has imposed multiculturalism without a popular referendum. Their policies have led to the rape, murder, brutalization, and ethnic displacement of Norwegians by non-white immigrants—crimes to which the Norwegian establishment, including the media, has responded with lies, cover-ups, and psychological warfare against Norwegians, labeling them “racist” and “xenophobic” and denigrating their culture and traditions.

Since, moreover, these non-white immigrants are far more prolific than Norwegians, who are taxed to subsidize the invaders, the long term consequence of the Labor Party’s policies is the destruction of Norwegians as a distinct people.

Although Breivik does not, to my knowledge, use the term, this is actually genocide as defined by the United Nations, which holds that genocide is not merely the outright murder of a people, but the creation of conditions that make its long term survival as a people impossible.

Thus the Norwegian Labor Party and its allies have imposed a genocidal regime on Norway. And if there are any absolutes in the world today, the moral rectitude of resisting genocide is chief among them.

Under international law, the leaders of the Norwegian Labor Party, as well as their collaborators, should be removed from power and tried and punished for genocide. But dissenting voices about multiculturalism are silenced, so rational debate and peaceful political change are impossible. As Breivik says in his Opening Statement:

More and more cultural conservatives realize that the democratic struggle is pointless. It is not possible to win when no real freedom of speech exists. As more realize this in the coming decades it is a short path to the weapon. When a peaceful revolution is impossible, a violent revolution is the only possibility.

Thus, Breivik planned and executed his attacks. The purpose of the attacks appears to be fourfold.

First, Breivik wished to punish people in the Labor Party who were responsible for instituting anti-Norwegian genocide. He failed at this, because most of his victims were innocent bystanders, low-level functionaries, and youth activists.

Second, Breivik wished to publicize his 1518 page manifesto, 2083: A European Declaration of Independence, a compendium of Counter-Jihadist writings. In this, he was wildly successful.

It is unfortunate, however, that his manifesto was such a vast and indigestible data-dump. If it had been a slender, concise work, like The Communist Manifesto or the Unabomber’s Industrial Society and Its Future, it would have had a far greater impact, because it would actually have been read by far more people.

Furthermore, although Breivik did not expect to survive his attack, he has used his imprisonment and trial to refine his message and garner new publicity. At this, he has been extremely successful.

Third, Breivik hoped to inspire imitators, perhaps even someone who will actually bring into existence the fictional Knights Templar order outlined in his manifesto. To my knowledge, he has not yet succeeded in this aim. But it seems inevitable, given enough time, that others will follow Breivik’s example.

Fourth, Breivik hoped to increase political tension and polarization, perhaps even provoking a crackdown on moderate nationalists, including the various democratic nationalist parties that are actually making some progress in Europe. This, of course, is what I fear the most, and I find it especially galling that Breivik intended this outcome. His rationale is that such a crackdown will radicalize nationalists to take up arms.

But if one is going to polarize the political field in order to empty the middle ground by forcing moderates to the extremes, one needs to give them somewhere else to go—somewhere real, not a fantasy order of Knights Templar elaborated with all the detail one would expect from someone who spent countless hours in online role-playing games. Otherwise, polarizing the field will only lead right-leaning moderates to give up entirely.

Furthermore, the existence of moderate shades of political opinion in nationalist circles actually provides channels of influence bridging the gap between the mainstream and the radical fringe. Radicals can actually utilize this moderate infrastructure to influence and radicalize people who might otherwise be unavailable to them.

Finally, although nationalists today labor under huge handicaps, we still enjoy some freedom of speech and association, and we benefit far more from them than we would from the possible radicalizing effects of a real crackdown.

Even though Breivik is stridently anti-Nazi and anti-Communist, his basic political model shares much with the Old Right and the Old Left. He hoped to create an armed, conspiratorial, revolutionary party (in the form of an initiatic knightly order) as a vehicle for halting and reversing the Islamic colonization of Europe.

From a New Right perspective, Breivik’s overall strategy is counter-productive. Our race will not be saved by armed struggle, but by the transformation of consciousness and culture. The Norwegian Labor Party did not come to power by force of arms, but because the New Left laid the intellectual and cultural groundwork. For the New Right to do the same, we need to maintain freedom of speech and association and learn to use the infrastructure of the political mainstream to spread our message outward and draw people and resources in a more radical direction.

It is necessary for the New Right to draw a bold, clear line between our approach and Old Right approaches like Breivik’s, because his approach does not compliment ours but fundamentally undermines it.

As for Breivik’s rationale for violence, he claims that indigenous peoples have special rights to their homelands, which entitle them to resist invaders with violence. It is a principle of ethnic self-defense. It is true that indigenous peoples have the right to ethnic self-defense. But surely that right extends to all peoples. All peoples have the right to resist genocide by all necessary means, including violence. Morally speaking, there is simply no valid argument against political violence per se, particularly in resistance to genocide. The justification of a particular act of violence depends entirely upon whether or not it actually is necessary to serve a moral end.

The weakness of Breivik’s case is not the moral premise, but the choice of his targets: If he had killed the actual leadership of Norway’s Labor Party, or the leaders of the Norwegian press—as opposed to people as young as 14—his defense might actually hold water. It is really shocking that Breivik put so much thought and planning into his acts, but didn’t think just a bit more about his targets. He chose the wrong targets, both from the point of view of their culpability and from the point of view of publicity, of propaganda of the deed.

Breivik was not indifferent to innocent life. But some “collateral damage,” i.e., killing of the innocent, is necessary and unavoidable even in just struggles. Breivik tried to minimize such deaths. His error was in ascribing culpability to young people whose only crime may have been to believe the multicultural propaganda they were steeped in from birth.

The leaders of the Norwegian Labor Party have taken one of Europe’s most homogeneous, harmonious, and happy societies and colonized it with hostile, fast-breeding aliens. Since racially, culturally, and religiously diverse peoples inevitably end up hating and killing one another when forced to coexist within the same system, the Norwegian Labor Party has responded to these tensions by hushing up both crimes and criticism. They created a boiling cauldron of social and psychological turmoil. Then they clamped a lid down on it. Then they were shocked—shocked!—that the whole thing exploded in their faces. First and foremost, Breivik needs to be seen as the inevitable consequence of the Labor Party’s policies.

The establishment obviously wished to use the Breivik trial to stigmatize ethnonationalist sentiments. But Breivik was making too much sense, so they are drawing a veil of censorship over the proceedings. In short, they are doing the very thing that made Breivik’s rampage necessary in the first place. Will they ever learn?

I grew up around a lot of Norwegian Americans in the Pacific Northwest. They are known for being taciturn and for not expressing their feelings. I still remember the only Norwegian joke I ever heard: “Did you hear the one about the Norwegian man who loved his wife so much that he almost told her?” Nordics don’t just keep back positive emotions, either. They are notorious for suffering a long time in silence, bottling up their anger, until, eventually, there is an explosion and someone goes Viking.

There will be more Breiviks. Of course the multiculturalists will merely blame Breivik for that. But the truth is that Breivik himself was merely a product of the hatred and violence that multiculturalism predictably brings. The Norwegian Labor Party is responsible for all of the violence caused by their policies, including the inevitable violence by Norwegians who get fed up and finally fight back. That includes Breivik. Primarily he needs to be seen as a victim of an evil system. (Breivik, of course, bears some responsibility for his acts. These were not crimes of passion but the products of lengthy, meticulous premeditation.)

Yet in the end, for all of his crimes and mistakes, I cannot judge Breivik too harshly. He is an awakened white man, and those are all too rare. He was a loyal Aryan, and ultimately that matters more than anything else. Yes, he committed crimes. But he committed them out of love.

Granted, when Breivik awakened he fled one form of Jewish ideology for another, namely the Counter-Jihad movement. But the whole reason that such false opposition groups exist is to deceive, deflect, and delay awakened whites. Still, many whites eventually see through them. And, as Breivik’s Opening Statement indicates, since his arrest, his thinking has evolved in the direction of explicit ethnonationalism. Given time, he might even evolve toward a consistent New Right outlook.

Breivik is going to spend many years in prison. If I could whisper to the Norns, this is the wyrd I would have them spin. I hope he continues his intellectual evolution in a New Right trajectory, renouncing violence and emphasizing intellectual and cultural strategies of change (the only strategies that will be available to him, in any case). I hope that he comments on Norwegian and international affairs and develops a following. Surely events in the coming decades will only argue in his favor. More and more Norwegians—and Europeans around the world—will come to sympathize with his outlook.

He will become a pundit, a guru, a cult figure. People will rifle through his garbage for relics. Women will want to bear his children. His face will end up on t-shirts, just like Che Guevara. And when he gets out of prison, who knows, perhaps Breivik will follow the path of rehabilitated ex-terrorists like Nelson Mandela and Menachem Begin. Perhaps he will end up a Prime Minister or a Nobel Peace Prize winner. He would not be the first to have used dynamite along the way.

Categories
Civil war Ethnic cleansing Holocaust Justice / revenge William Pierce

Just an email

Or:

Where is the Pierce of the 21st century?



Mark:

In his most recent article, “New Right vs. Old Right” Greg Johnson said:

The North American New Right is founded on the rejection of Fascist and National Socialist party politics, totalitarianism, terrorism, imperialism, and genocide… For instance, latter-day National Socialist William Pierce routinely pooh-poohed the Holocaust. But he was willing to countenance real terrorism, imperialism, and genocide on a scale that would dwarf anything in the 20th century. [Chechar’s note: see e.g., here] That spirit is what we reject.

While I am closer to David Irving, Mark Weber and Matt Parrott about the so-called “holocaust” than Pierce and most people in the movement, I am tempted to write a short rebuttal to Johnson’s piece because:

1. Fascist and National Socialist party politics would become handy after the crash (cf. Covington)

2. Totalitarianism could be useful for a while to completely eradicate The Enemy and all of our Enemy Worldview after the ethnostate is founded

3. Terrorism is imperative: Without a little revenge (Rope Day) no hard lesson will be learnt by deracinated whites

4. Imperialism will be a must. After the astronomic blunder of exporting Western technology to non-Western nations, some of which are nuclear by now, the only way to make sure that Caucasians will survive with such aggressive competitors is to conquer entire continents for our white children, starting e.g. with Africa and Latin America

5. Comparatively humane genocide—e.g., by separating nonwhite males from nonwhite females, thus preventing mass reproduction—will be unavoidable if such continents are to be fully conquered (as was unavoidable when the Anglo-Saxons conquered your precious lands).

Tempted to write a refutation I said, but these days that I want to study Gibbon seriously don’t have time for a formal rebuttal to Johnson’s reactionary, non-revolutionary article. Nonetheless, I’m so fed up by those unbelievable cheers that his article got in the commentariat section that something must be said anyway. Would you like to write an in-depth article or should I just publish at WDH this email?

We need someone of the stature of William Pierce to write a proper rebuttal to Johnson’s piece. Where the hell are Pierce’s intellectual followers, Mark? Gosh! I only have a couple of years in the movement and it looks to me like the new breed of white nationalists are a sort of typical feminized bourgeois males, unfit for the tough job coming ahead (cf. what Breivik has recently said about the currency crash that’s just around the corner).

Is this a fair appraisal of 21st century White Nationalism?

C.

Categories
Civil war Emigration / immigration Justice / revenge Real men

Breivik’s recent statement at Oslo District Court

It is important that everyone understands why the journalists, lawyers and even the prosecutor in this case will continue to lie about me.

The answer is simple. I have conducted the most spectacular attack committed in Europe since the Second World War. And they want to do everything in their power to prevent this.

I and my nationalist brothers and sisters represent what they fear. They want to try to intimidate others from doing the same. It is the reason the massive demonization of me is going to continue.

The economy will crash and result in mass layoffs of public employees. People who then lived with blinders end up in a situation where they will lose everything.

When they have lost everything, they are forced into a state of suffering, and then, only then, will they dare to say what they really mean.

In the meantime it is important that more patriots in Scandinavia and Europe take responsibility as I have done, as Peter Mangs of Malmö [a Swedish Hunter-type killer of immigrants] has done.

It is important that these Nordic and European nationalist heroes receive the attention they deserve. These heroic young men have sacrificed their lives to ensure that everything we love will not disappear. They are all ideal knights, perfect foot soldiers for the conservative revolution. For national rebirth. Europe needs more heroes like them.

I am approaching the end.

____________

Read it all.

Categories
Demography Energy / peak oil Eschatology Justice / revenge Liberalism Videos

Peak Liberalism

In the comments section of that YouTube video you can read “Google Chechar The Red Giant for an enlightening read on peak liberalism.”

Categories
Civil war Feminism Justice / revenge

“…and stuck a second Jack into her mouth”

The Brigade excerpts, chapter V

by Harold Covington


Hunting The Hunters



No ellipsis
added between
unquoted paragraphs:



On the morning of February 15th, Hatfield, Cat-Eyes Lockhart, Charlie Washburn, Tony Campisi, Len Ekstrom, and Lee Washburn met in a trailer out in the woods, which had used by their circle of friends as a hunting lodge in times past.

“Does Marie know?” asked Hatfield.

“She’s pretty sharp. She knows I’m up to something,” Tony admitted. “I just hope she doesn’t think I’m screwing around on her with another woman. I know you’re leery of bringing in married men because most white women can’t be trusted nowadays not to betray even their own husbands for money or to save their lifestyles, but don’t worry. They’re not all like that. Marie is one of the good ones.”

“I know she is,” said Hatfield with a nod. “And yes, I know they’re not all like that. It’s just that so many white women have become so damaged by life in this filthy society; we’ve got to tread very carefully. It’s a real problem and we have to be aware of it. And somehow we’re got to beat it, to bring white women around and show them that their future is with us. We can’t do this without our sisters at our side, gentlemen.”

After Tony left to stand watch, Charlie Washburn plunked down two newspapers. “Our little St. Valentine’s Day Massacre last night made the front page in both the Daily Astorian and the Oregonian.

Hatfield looked at the screaming headlines. “Yeah, I bet if you count up the column inches and the minutes of television air time on this one, you’ll find that the Goldmans rate five times more than mere police officers. Dead Jews get the establishment’s attention. Well, hopefully today or tomorrow we can give them some more to jabber about. But this is going to be a lot tougher, gentlemen. Last night we took down two unarmed targets, hit the Beast in the soft underbelly like we’re supposed to. But this second act is going to be different. Now we have to attack armed targets who are trained in firefighting techniques and who will shoot back. Even more than the Goldmans, we need to make sure we have our shit together on this.”

“I drove by 39th Street on the way out here,” said Washburn. “The sun was barely up but all you could see was flashing lights. Those poor guys must have been out there all night. What the hell were they doing?”

“Probably they all trooped down there as soon as the sun rose to search the area in daylight,” said Hatfield. “That means they’re already doing CSI investigation. They probably have a state police crime lab team down from Portland or Salem. That means most likely the Feds won’t be bringing their own, which is good. Fewer FBI means more chance of cutting a couple away from the law enforcement herd when they go for pizza or something. Okay, here’s my educated guess. Two or more FBI agents are going to show up at the 39th Street pier late this morning or early this afternoon, even if the state and local boys have already done the work. The feebs will rock up at Rigoletto’s Beanery if only to show the flag and convince the local lefty establishment that they’re doing something. That’s where we need to wait for them, with Cat-Eyes in place and ready to fire.”

“Okay, Cat, I want us to get into position in the area so that we can get in there quick,” said Hatfield. “We’ll wait at the Maritime Museum on Marine Boulevard; there are always vehicles parked there, and anyone driving by will think we’re just tourists gawping at all the shippy stuff. As soon as we get word that the Feebs are in town, we drive to Columbia Prospect and park in front like we belong there. We go into the building through the lobby, with those boxes I showed you held up to shield our faces from the security cameras, just in case they’re operational. Are the boxes all scrubbed down?”

“With alcohol and with a Scotch pad, clean as a whistle,” said Lockhart.

“Good. Don’t touch them again without gloves. We’re going to be leaving them behind and I don’t want them to find a single fingerprint. “We have to hope the roof door isn’t alarmed,” said Hatfield. “I haven’t been able to actually get up there and take a look. It should be okay as a firing position, but if it isn’t we’ll have to go to Plan B.”

“Which is?” asked Charlie.

“If for any reason we can’t get up onto the apartment house roof, or the roof isn’t suitable, we’ll have to break into one of the third floor apartments on the north side of the building, with a view over the river, and fire from one of the windows,” said Hatfield. “That may involve hostage taking and restraint, if anybody’s home. Once we know they’re in town, if they haven’t showed at last night’s crime scene after a reasonable time, we’re going to have to clock them, improvise and take them on the wing somewhere. That’s why I want you guys in two other cars.”

“Now, on that subject, the brigade adjutant was able to give me some interesting info when I went up to Portland Sunday,” continued Hatfield. “The idea behind all the diversity is for them to be able to blend in to traffic and not be spotted as Fed, but they made one dumb-ass mistake which kind of defeats that whole purpose. The windows on these vehicles are all tinted so we can’t see inside, which is against the law. You can assume that any motor vehicle you see with fully tinted window is a federal car. Don’t ask me why they missed something so obvious.”

“Because they’re stupid,” said Ekstrom.

“Bingo, and that’s encouraging,” said Hatfield with a smile. “Any agency dumb enough to pull a boner like that isn’t smart enough to catch us, eh, guys? Now, on the armor. The windows and windshield are top-of-the-line bulletproof glass, which isn’t really glass. It’s what they call a polycarbonate compound, and don’t ask me what that is, but whatever this stuff is, it’s stopped whatever we’ve thrown at it thus far, and not just in Oregon. The gas tank is self-sealing and can allegedly stand a tracer hit. The tires are some kind of super-duper steel belted radial that’s supposed to be proof against caltrops and land mines and whatnot, and the underside of the vehicle is composed not of steel but these nylon-sheathed plates, so they’re not magnetic. The main thing is that when they’re in the vehicle, the FBI agents will be likely shielded from a single rifle bullet.”

“I’ve got a full magazine of standard USGI tungsten armor-piercing .308, if that helps,” said Lockhart.

“It might,” said Hatfield. “A lot of this so-called bullet-proof glass is quirky, and if you hit it at the right angle or velocity it breaches, as we found out on numerous occasions in Baghdad.

“One last little reminder, gentlemen,” Hatfield went on in a grim voice. “These are bad people and they’ve done very bad things. I for one think they still owe us for Sam and Vicky Weaver. There are times when vengeance is thoroughly justified, and this is one of them. But there’s more to it than that, much more. We’re not just sending a message to the FBI today, we’re sending our message to Joe Six-Pack. He has to understand that these people no longer rule the roost in the Northwest, that when he sees something he shouldn’t or he has some kind of problem with the NVA, the last damned thing on earth he wants to do is call the police or the FBI, because they can’t even protect themselves, much less him and his family. This is about destroying the occupation’s credible monopoly of armed force.”

GOT IT, LET ME KNOW WHEN replied Zack, and closed the phone. “Jeez,” he said softly, shaking his head. “Luck is with us. This couldn’t be better. Only two FBI agents, one white male and one Asian female, driving a green SUV. Let’s roll, boys!”

*   *   *

FBI Special Agent Rabang Miller practically pranced into the day room of the Clatsop County sheriff’s office. In ten years with the Bureau she had mastered what she saw as the necessary combination of brisk efficiency, no-nonsense assertiveness and a touch of arrogance.

She was a short, orange-ish woman with long black hair in a severe bun, dressed in a dark green pants suit with matching jacket to cover the 9-mm sidearm in a clip holster by her side, a Glock with a specially modified grip to fit the generally smaller hands of female agents. Rabang Miller was Filipino, the child of a Subic Bay bar girl and prostitute. Her father was an unknown American serviceman of undetermined identity or racial ancestry, but judging from her appearance, most likely a Hispanic of some kind. After entering her mother’s trade at 14, she had eventually achieved the ultimate life coup that all Filipino bar-girls dreamed of. She had fucked and sucked a dumb-ass alcoholic redneck Army sergeant from North Carolina into marrying her and bringing her to the Great Golden Paradise of the U.S.A. From then on it was up, up, up all the way for this strong and valiant womyn of color.

Rabang proceeded to ride every available affirmative action program out of Bragg, into Duke University and an eventual law degree, then into the United States Attorney’s office, whence she slid into the Bureau as a trade-off for not bringing formal charges of sexual harassment against the federal judge who was her boss. She kept Miller’s name because all of her original immigration documents were in that name, and she didn’t want to provoke any official examination of them through a legal change that might reveal certain discrepancies such as her age and the fact that her marriage to the sergeant was technically statutory rape. She was now married to another judge in Portland, with a twenty-room Colonial mansion in a wealthy gated suburb, a 13 year-old mulatto son who was already on the crack pipe, and her eye on bureau chief if she could find some way to finesse it. She was already throwing the present SAIC two-hour Subic Bay Specials in an assortment of motels around town, looking for his weaknesses, anything she could use to bring him down, but a good case clearance or two on her record certainly wouldn’t hurt. Cracking the Goldman murders and reeling in a gang of white racist domestic terrorists would be just the ticket.

Agent Miller’s partner was Special Agent Brian Pangborn. Pangborn was the kind of agent who would have gone far under the old régime of J. Edgar Hoover. He was tall and lean, with sandy hair and blue eyes, sharp from his freshly pressed suit and his spit-shined shores up to his buzz cut, and active member of Promise Keepers and the 700 Club.

Pangborn was Rabang Miller’s third partner in the two years since she had come to the Portland office. Her previous two had asked to be re-assigned, and he was about ready to do the same. Pangborn had come to admit to himself that he loathed the officious little Asian woman; being in her presence was like continually hearing nails drawn across a chalkboard. Pangborn had one serious drawback as an FBI agent—he suffered from occasional spurts of independent thought and initiative. Combined with his race and gender, Pangborn knew these character flaws were enough to blight him forever on the Bureau’s career track.

Rabang Miller stomped up to the nearest deputy behind a desk. “Where’s the sheriff?” she demanded. She whipped out her badge and ID with a practiced flourish. “Miller and Pangborn, FBI.”

The deputy was remarkably unimpressed. “I’ll see if he’s in.” He picked up the phone. “Ted, those people from the FBI are here.”

Another deputy came into the day room. “Hey, is anyone here driving a green Chrysler Aspen with completely illegal full-tinted windows, parked in my parking space in the garage?” he yelled across the room.

“That’s our vehicle,” Rabang called back. “What about it?”

“Well, I just gave you a $250 ticket!” snapped back the deputy. “Tinting is against the law, and taking my parking space damned well ought to be!”

“We are FBI agents!” hissed Rabang in a rage.

“So you don’t have to obey the law like everyone else?” demanded the deputy. “Oh, sorry, silly me! What a question!” At one end of the day room was a raised platform enclosed with three cubicle walls, which contained the combined law enforcement and emergency services 911 and dispatch radios, maps, and unit location board. No one noticed a slim blond girl in long sleeves and trousers [Christina Ekstrom], sitting at a computer with a radio headset on. The girl quietly leaned over, took a look, and then surreptitiously pulled out a cell phone and started texting a message.

Ted Lear came out of his office and extended his hand. He was a surprisingly young man of medium height and auburn hair, with a slim and strong physique. “Hi,” he said, forcing a polite smile and extending his hand. “Ted Lear, Clatsop County sheriff.”

“Miller and Pangborn, FBI,” replied Rabang in a clipped staccato voice like a drill sergeant, flashing her ID again. She ignored the sheriff’s outstretched hand and Pangborn reached over and shook it before the snub became obvious. “Brian Pangborn,” he said with genuine warmth. “Glad to meet you, sheriff.”

“There seem to be an awful lot of people hanging around in here fourteen hours after a major homicide,” said Rabang, looking around the day room disapprovingly. “I understand that your department doesn’t give priority to hatecrimes, sheriff. This is the second double murder you’ve had in three months, both incidents clearly motivated by hatred against sexual orientation in the first case and racial hatred in the second. Why aren’t all your people out there pounding the pavement, or better yet pounding your local racist inbreds and getting some answers as to who killed Jake and Irene Goldman?”

“We’re kind of old-fashioned here, Special Agent, ah, Miller,” said Ted mildly. “We like to ask the questions first, before we start beating on people. By the way, you said the homicide here last night was racially motivated?”

“Of course it was!” screeched Rabang. “Our information is that the fascist terrorists called in to your local newspaper and claimed credit!”

“Someone called the editor of the Astorian, yes,” said Lear in the same mild tone. “No, I was curious because you used the term racially motivated. I didn’t think Jews were a race.” Miller suddenly pulled up, realizing she had inadvertently made a potentially dangerous error in politically correct nomenclature that did not need to get back to her superiors. “Well, you know what I meant,” she explained lamely. “Persons of the Jewish faith are one of the officially recognized politically protected special victim categories. All offenses against Jews are hatecrimes under the law.”

“So they are,” agreed Lear. “Would you step into my office, please?”

Once inside Lear’s office with the door closed, Rabang launched herself at him again like a striking snake. “Alright, cut the bullshit, sheriff! You know damned well that you’ve had four hatecrime homicides on your turf plus the disappearance of a large number of privately held firearms, and the NVA claimed credit for the killings last night! Time for you to wake up and smell the coffee. You’ve got a racist death squad operating right here in your little tourist paradise, and we are here to make sure it gets crushed out of existence, and fast! The Portland office doesn’t want any of this disgraceful foot-dragging that occurred in the murders of Elizabeth King and Martha Proudfoot. If you don’t get some results within forty-eight hours, the U.S. Attorney in Portland is assuming jurisdiction over these cases under the Patriot Act as domestic terrorism, the Bureau will be taking over completely, and I will tell you right up front that these murders and that gun raid aren’t the only things that we will be investigating!”

Lear ignored the threat. He sat down behind his desk and replied calmly and rationally, like someone trying to explain something to a stubborn child. “As I have repeatedly briefed the U.S. Attorney, the Oregon Attorney General, and various people from your own office, there was no foot-dragging in the Liddy King and Martha Proudfoot murders,” he told them patiently. “The case is still active and I have detectives assigned to the ongoing investigation. The reason we haven’t arrested and charged anyone is simple. We have no idea who did it. It wasn’t the husband, because he was in jail here on a potential domestic violence preventive detention warrant and also pending an indictment for hatespeech. Whoever it was left us not a jot, not a smidgeon of forensic evidence. It’s true someone wrote the letters NVA on the wall, but that could have been a red herring to throw us off.”

“You know perfectly well that ever since 9/11, evidence isn’t necessary!” argued Miller. “The Patriot Act gives local as well as federal law enforcement broad proactive powers to protect lives and property and the security of the United States against both foreign and domestic terrorism! If you’ve got two brain cells to rub together as a law enforcement officer, you know or else you damned well should know every individual in your county who so much as harbors a racist thought!”

“I have to admit, I’ve never arrested anyone for their thoughts before,” confessed Lear.

“Well, with two murdered Jews on your doorstep, don’t you think it’s fucking well time you started?” shouted Rabang in anger. “You’ve got to know who these people are! It’s your business to know!”

“No, ma’am, I don’t know,” said Lear wearily. “Where do I start? Anyone who has ever complained about losing his job to an illegal alien or an affirmative action employee? Anyone who has ever had his son rejected by every college he applied to and then dragged away into the Army and killed in Bumfuckistan? Anyone who has ever had a child raped or murdered or mutilated or their brains fried like an egg on drugs in our Brave New World here? Anyone who has ever walked through a public park with their children and seen two Third Worlders copulating like dogs under a tree? Where do I start? No, I mean it, really. Since we’re just pulling names out of a hat, who would you like me to arrest first for unapproved thoughts?”

Pangborn and Lear both understood that this was terribly dangerous talk and if he kept it up, there was every chance he would leave his own office in handcuffs on a federal charge of hatespeech, but Lear couldn’t seem to help himself. Pangborn caught Lear’s eye and shook his head.

Lear picked up a torn sheet from a notepad from his desk and read, “At 8 p.m. on February 14th, an active service unit from D Company, First Portland Brigade, Northwest Volunteer Army, carried out an enforcement action under General Order Number Four issued by the Army Council on November 24th of last year, ordering all non-whites including Jews to leave the territory of the Northwest American Republic forthwith. The NVA accordingly has shot dead Jacob and Irene Goldman for non-compliance with that General Order. All Jews and non-whites who are apprehended by the NVA will be similarly dealt with.” He put the paper down. “That’s it. I gather that’s pretty much their style?” he asked.

“That’s their racist fascist anti-Semitic jargon, yes,” snarled Rabang. “And do you still deny you have one of these racist murder gangs operating in your county, sheriff?”

“I never denied that we did,” protested Lear. “Maybe we do, God help us. But you will notice they said Portland Brigade. I think there’s a very good chance the shooters came down here from outside, from your bailiwick up in the city.”

Rabang was getting more and more steamed. “You need to get out of your denial phase really fast, sheriff, because I am starting to wonder about you.”

“We passed the crime scene on the way in here, and we saw the units there. Did the CSI team from the Oregon State Police get here yet?” interrupted Pangborn. He was used to trying to keep a leash on Rabang, but it was getting harder and more distasteful all the time.

“Yes, they’re out there now and I just came back from there when you arrived,” said Lear. “I was out there all night, if that improves your opinion of my professional zeal any, Agent Miller, but there was damn-all to find. The rain washed away any traces of anything and they must have used revolvers, because there were no cartridge casings found.”

“Or else if they were real pros, they policed up their brass,” said Pangborn.

“Maybe,” conceded Lear. “The medical examiner’s preliminary opinion was medium-heavy handgun rounds, either .357 or capped .38s, Devastators or something like that. Both of them shot once in the chest and twice in the head. Judging from the blood splatter patterns, they got hit in the head when they were down, to finish them off. That sounds pretty professional and pretty damned cold to me. Like the kind of thing we’re seeing in Portland or Seattle or Spokane.”

“We’ll take a look ourselves,” snarled Rabang, getting up.

“Knock yourselves out,” said Lear cheerfully, glad to be getting rid of them. “Agent Miller, if you guys can find anything out there I missed, I’ll buy you both dinner when Rigoletto’s re-opens.”

Rabang ignored his tentative peace offering. “Bullshit,” she said. “I told you. You get the cuffs on these racist motherfuckers within forty-eight hours or the U.S. Attorney is assuming jurisdiction and you can look forward to a career as a security guard at Mighty Mart.” She stalked out, followed by Pangborn, who turned at the office door and looked at Lear helplessly with a shrug. Lear gave him a friendly wave, the unspoken acknowledgement of helpless chagrin between white males in all strata of society that had been growing more and common over the years. When the door was closed, Lear picked up the intercom.

“Dispatch,” said a female voice.

“Hi, Chrissie,” said Lear in a weary voice. “Chrissie, could you radio Leo Galli out at Rigoletto’s, and tell him to tell the officers on the scene and those state forensics people that they are about to have the edifying experience of a visit from two charming folks from the FBI? They’re on they’re way now.”

“Sure, sheriff!” chirped Christina Ekstrom brightly. “I’ll let the guys know right away!”

*   *   *

“Hey, lieutenant, you know what they say,” responded Lockhart cheerfully. “No plan survives the first day of combat.”

“I don’t want the plan to survive, I want us to survive,” said Hatfield.

“Down,” ordered Zack. “They might be able to see us out here, especially if they’ve got binoculars.” The two of them low-crawled across the roof to a low brick parapet topped with an ornate iron railing, approximately twenty inches high, and Cat-Eyes looked around him.

“Uh, I don’t know about this, sir,” he said dubiously, shaking his head. Zack saw what he meant. From where they lay, they could see the 39th Street pier and the platform at the end of it whereon stood the yuppie restaurant and a series of smaller shops. There were at least eight police cars there or parked along the pier, blue and red lights flashing, and a large official-looking van that had to be a crime scene unit. Cops were standing in clumps, smoking and drinking coffee, or sitting in their cars, obviously waiting for something.”

Hatfield’s phone beeped. He took out his phone and saw I CAN TASTE THAT GREEN BEER NOW. “They’re coming,” he told Cat. He closed the phone and it beeped again almost right away. This time he read TWO DELIVERIES SHOULD BE THERE SOON. “Okay, Mr. Green is on them. Green SUV, fully tinted windows, remember.”

“They’ll have to exit the vehicle when they get out there on that pier,” said Lockhart confidently. “When they do, I’ll knock both their asses into the river!”

In the Chrysler Aspen, Rabang Miller had finally finished tearing the deputy’s citation into the tiniest possible shreds, and she rolled down the window and tossed the confetti out. Brian Pangborn, who was driving, looked over and said to her sharply, “Roll that window up! You know procedure!”

“Like these bumpkins are going to give me another ticket for littering?” Rabang sneered.

Rabang’s cell phone chimed with the first few bars of “I Am Woman, Hear Me Roar” and she opened it. Pangborn drove along in silence and turned left onto 39th Street while Rabang engaged in a conversation with someone apparently from her son’s expensive private middle school in Portland. Sounds like Junior has dropped himself in the shit again, thought Pangborn. He drove past Columbia Prospect on his right, onto the pier, and toward the police cars and yellow crime scene tape on the platform.

“There they are,” said Hatfield, looking through a crack in the blinds.

“Got ’em,” replied Lockhart, sighting the rifle and slowly matching the Chrysler’s pace.

In the SUV Rabang closed her phone in a fit of irritation. “What’s Juan done now?” asked Pangborn, hoping to distract her from the previous conversation.

“The usual,” snapped Rabang. “Just a few rocks in his locker this time, but this is one time too many and they’re talking expulsion. If he gets kicked out of Westwood Academy that will be the second school this year! I told the principal I’d be in for a parent teacher conference at 1 o’clock.”

“That’s going to be cutting it pretty close,” said Pangborn as he slowed to a stop by the state police forensics van. “We’ll be at least half an hour here, then two hours minimum back to Portland, where we’ll run into lunch hour traffic. I don’t think you can make it. You better call him back and re-schedule.”

“Fuck it,” said Rabang. “I’m not going to risk throwing another eight thousand dollars down the tube because that little junkie can’t even finish a semester. Let’s go back now.”

“Back to Portland? Now?” asked Pangborn, stunned. A senior Clatsop County deputy was walking over to their vehicle. “Aren’t we supposed to be investigating a double homicide?”

“Screw that,” said Rabang. “You heard me tell Cletus back there that he’s got forty-eight hours to catch these racists, and since I doubt if he could catch a cold, in two days we’ll be back here with full authority and our own team, with a list of names from Homeland Security. We will shake every tree in this county, gather up all the apes who fall out, and use the Dershowitz Protocol to get the information we need, as well as all the confessions we need.” The deputy was knocking on the window. Pangborn rolled his window down and flashed his badge.

“FBI,” he said.

“Hey there,” said the deputy. “Sheriff said you guys would be coming out. We’ve been waiting on you.”

“Can you give us a minute, deputy?” asked Pangborn, and rolled up the power window again.

“Never mind that,” said Rabang. “Turn around and head back for Portland.

There was something else, a sixth sense left over from Pangborn’s own time in Iraq. The roof, all those windows. In Baghdad he and his men would never have gotten anywhere near a building like that until it was cleared and secured.

“Fine,” said Pangborn, backing the SUV around and driving slowly back off the pier and out onto 39th Street. “Home again, home again, jiggety-jig.” Behind them the deputies stared at one another in astonishment.

“What in the name of the devil? They’re leaving!” hissed Hatfield.

“They were tipped off somehow,” said Lockhart.

“I can’t believe it!”

“Do we abort, sir?” asked Lockhart.

Zack took a deep breath. “Like hell we do! Maybe they’ve been tipped, maybe they just got spooked, maybe they got called back, who knows? But I can see them, God damn it, and they’re not getting away from right under our noses! No matter what, we’re taking those bastards down today! Let’s go!”

They pelted down the hall and down the outside stairwell, and they were in the front seat of the Yukon, Cat’s rifle between his knees, and Zack was firing up the engine in twenty-eight seconds. Zack pulled onto 39th Street just in time to see the green SUV turn left onto Leif Erickson Drive. “Looks like they’re going back to Portland for some reason,” said Hatfield.

“Or luring us into a trap,” suggested Lockhart.

“If it was an ambush they would have either hit us in the apartment building or at least outside in the parking lot,” said Hatfield. “Feds always try to surround and contain. They never let their targets get mobile if they can help it. No, for some reason those two must have got spooked, and they’re trying to make it back to their nest. Roll up your mask,” he said, suiting the action to the word. “Don’t want people to see two masked men driving down the road, after last night.” After a little speeding Zack now had the Chrysler in sight. They were doing the speed limit of thirty-five miles per hour on the winding road out of Astoria. There was another vehicle between them. Zack took out his phone and hit the speed dial for Charlie Washburn’s phone. It rang and Charlie answered. “Praise Jesus!” he shouted.

“Sorry about the call, Reverend,” said Hatfield, “But I don’t see any other way to do this. You know we were all gonna gather at the river, the beautiful, the beautiful river, but we got a couple of sinners here who done backslid and have turned their faces against salvation. They’re headed in your direction, ETA maybe ninety seconds, green Chrysler Aspen, fully tinted windows, which I can’t think of any way to say Scripturally. Could you please show them the error of their ways and await our second coming, that we may smite them with a rod of iron?”

“Verily, we shall vouchsafe unto them the Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch.”

“Uh, Reverend, that’s not the Bible. That’s Monty Python,” said Hatfield in exasperation.

“Just keep far enough back so you don’t go to your own heavenly reward. And always look on the bright side of life, my son.” Charlie hung up.

“I tell you, if that was recorded and played back in court, we could plead insanity,” said Hatfield. “They’re going to try and use their pipe to bomb blow the feds off the road at Tongue Point. As soon as their vehicle stops, we take them. Somehow.”

“I’ll get up on the roof and fire from there,” said Lockhart.

The funny feeling in the back of Brian Pangborn’s mind hadn’t gone away. He glanced in his rear view mirror and saw the car behind him turning off into a driveway. Behind that car came a battered OD green Yukon SUV. It was coming up a little too fast for his liking. He interrupted Rabang. “The witnesses in the restaurant said the shooters were two men who fled the scene in a dark colored SUV, right?”

“Yes,” said Rabang. “Why?”

“That’s a Yukon behind us,” he said. “There seem to be two men in it.”

Rabang twisted around to look back. “It could be anybody,” she said.

“See the way he speeds up a bit and then slows?” pointed out Pangborn. “He’s trying to keep a set distance between us, a bit too much distance, like he’s hanging back for some reason. On this winding road at thirty-five, if he’s a local yahoo he should be getting in closer. It’s just a feeling, but I don’t like it.” They passed the point where Lief Erickson drive transmuted into Highway 30, and the speed limit went up to forty-five. “See? I’m speeding up now, and so is he, but he’s still keeping about seventy yards between us.”

At Tongue Point Charlie Washburn had turned the black Toyota Camry around and pointed it into the highway. “We gonna ram ’em?” asked Lee. “Not unless we have to,” said Charlie. “I’ll hit them with the Uzi and you get ready to flick your Bic, light that fuse, and see if you can blow an axle off, and not endanger Zack and Cat who will be coming up behind them. God, I hope traffic stays this light and no one else comes driving along right into the middle of this! Masks on!”

In the Chrysler, Rabang Miller pulled out her pistol and jacked a round into the chamber. “Be careful with that!” snapped Pangborn, looking for a place to pull over so he could let the Yukon pass, or not as the case might be. He saw a possible pulling off spot right at the intersection of Tongue Point Road and Emerald Drive, and so he was actually slowing down and veering right when all of a sudden the Camry roared out of Tongue Point Road and stopped right beneath the blinking yellow light hanging over the intersection. Pangborn saw two men in ski masks leap out of the car. He heard the stuttering of the Uzi, saw the muzzle flash and heard the pop pop pop as the 9-mm slugs slammed into the windshield. The polycarbonate glass held, but big ugly white splotches blossomed on the windshield before him.

“It’s them!” screamed Rabang in terror. “Fuck the car behind us, you asshole! They’re in front of us!”

Pangborn decided to try for a right turn up onto Emerald Drive, but he briefly saw a black cylindrical sailing through the air toward him. It banged against the windshield, bounced off, and just as he yelled “Bomb!” the pipe bomb exploded in the air about four feet in front of the FBI agents, with a weird crushing sound rather like a cross between a crump! and a clink! The Chrysler’s armor still held, but the front bumper was ripped almost entirely off and flapped up onto the windshield, and the force of the explosion crumpled the front end and caused all kinds of hissing and steaming fluid leaks and electrical shorts within. Pangborn lost control and the Chrysler slid into the ditch. The Uzi was still pattering bullets against the armored body.

A mere 50 yards behind them, the Yukon rolled to a stop. Hatfield got out and covered down on the disabled FBI vehicle with his submachine gun, leaning over the Yukon’s hood, waiting for a target. Cat-Eyes Lockhart was out the other door and he slithered up onto the roof with the agility of a serpent, spreading himself prone and sighting the rifle. “If they don’t come out I’ll move in with our bomb. Get ready to cover me!” called out Hatfield.

Steam, smoke and the smell of burning began to fill the passenger compartment of the Chrysler through the vents from the damaged engine. “We’re on fire!” shrieked Special Agent Miller. She tore her door open and bailed out of the car.

“No, wait!” yelled Pangborn. Rabang had thrown down her gun and she was running up the embankment, screaming hysterically in pure fear. She was completely open to the Uzi and Pangborn jerked open his own door and leaped out, crouching behind it with his handgun at the ready, planning on using the armored panels as cover to fire at the Toyota and the Uzi gunner, make them keep their heads down so Rabang might have a chance to get down or into the woods. He was convinced that the two men in the Toyota were the killers of Jacob and Irene Goldman, and the simple fact was that he had completely forgotten about the green Yukon that had been following them.

Nor did Pangborn have any more time to remember. Lockhart’s first armor-piercing bullet entered the base of his skull from behind and decapitated him; he never even heard the shot.

One second later, Lockhart’s second shot snapped the fleeing Rabang Miller’s spine, tore through her heart and sternum, and sent her spinning to the ground as bleeding rag that twitched and kicked and scrambled and then lay still.

Cat-Eyes leaped down off the Yukon, ran up to the smoking Chrysler’s open driver’s door, leaned down and inserted a Jack of Diamonds from a Bicycle playing deck into the dead hand of Brian Pangborn. He snagged Pangborn’s piece and stuck it his back pocket, ran up the hill to where Rabang Miller lay with her dead face staring at the sky, and stuck a second Jack into her mouth. He then ran back to the Yukon. Hatfield waved off the Washburns, who got into the Toyota and pulled off down Highway 30 toward John Day. The Yukon followed. From the moment the Toyota pulled out into the road until both NVA vehicles left the scene, the elapsed time was thirty-four seconds.

Cat-Eyes Lockhart turned to Zack Hatfield. “That’s it? he exclaimed in amazement. “That’s the big, bad FBI? The rough tough G-Men that we’ve all been so afraid of for seventy years? Jesus, I’ve shot rabbits that put up more of a fight!”

Hatfield chuckled. “I think they’ve always been scared of this,” he said. “Scared that one day we’d find out just how easy it is.”

http://northwestfront.org/

Categories
Civil war Justice / revenge

“Blood was about to be spilled once more in humanity’s longest war”


The Brigade excerpts, chapter IV

by Harold Covington

Valentine’s Night



No ellipsis
added between
unquoted paragraphs:


“This is going to be a doozy of an opening number for D Company, and we’ve got one week to work out all the details,” Hatfield told them all in a cheerful voice. “We’re going to try for two major takedowns within 24 hours, the second one flowing from the first. This means we’ve got to plan and carry out the Goldman hit in such a way as to leave us windows of opportunity for the FBI attack. I’ve thought about this, and I think the best place to hit the feebs would be at the same place we do Jake and Irene. I am basing this on the assumption that the FBI, when they do show up to investigate this nasty horrible hatecrime, will be constrained to at least put in a token appearance at the actual crime scene and pretend they’re Sherlock Holmes looking for clues and dogs that didn’t bark in the night.

“I want to do the Goldmans up close and personal, with handguns, so that the FBI and the cops don’t get an inkling that we have somebody of Volunteer Lockhart’s skill and stature on our side. We’ll introduce ’em to the boy on bigger targets than a couple of Jews.”

*   *   *

“I was in there once,” said Ekstrom. “Took Eva there for dinner, and unfortunately we’d already sat down before I saw the prices on the menu. I had to max out my one remaining Visa just for salad and a couple of sandwiches.”

“It’s a trés chic watering hole for our Blue State élite, all right,” agreed Hatfield. “One of those places where if you have to ask the price of something, you can’t afford it.”

“Yeah,” continued Charlie. “Wapner isn’t officially on our Jew list, although with that name I’m suspicious, but he’s on the liberal scumbag list. He toadies to the Goldmans and their ilk, probably because he makes his living off of them.

“It seems Wapner doesn’t speak Spanish, so he asked Conchita to run down his Valentine’s night program with his kitchen and wait staff. The Goldmans were a big part of it. They’ve got a special private dining room reserved, but get this—they’re not going to be eating off the regular menu. Goldman has ordered in a special ten-course glatt kosher dinner for two, flown in from, get this, some high-toned restaurant in Jerusalem. This special nosh is going to be coming in from Israel by chartered Lear jet and helicoptered in from Portland to our little airport, and then rushed to the Beanery by taxi, where Wapner will give it a quick warm in his ovens and microwave, specially rabbincally kosherized for the occasion, and serve it up to the happy hebes. Plus all the trimmings, kosher wine and hors d’oeuvres and whatnot, and the whole dining room covered in sheaves of roses. Total cost for this evening of conspicuous consumption, including a handsome backhander to Wapner himself for using his restaurant while not deigning to eat the same food as the rich goyim eat, will be over $60,000.”

“Mother of God!” gasped Campisi. “I’ve never even seen $60,000 in one place. My family has to make do with meat twice a week, and that’s with me and my wife both working.”

“If we do this right there shouldn’t be any shooting except the holes we put in Jake and Irene,” said Hatfield. “Charlie, once you see the targets leave the house, you call us and give us the signal. Tony and I will then pull the Yukon out onto the platform and into the parking area, get into position, and wait.”

“Do we take them before or after their big imported kosher banquet?” asked Tony.

“Before, on their way into the restaurant. We don’t need to be waiting around for a couple of hours with guns in our pockets. Besides,” Hatfield continued in a grim voice, “I don’t want one single sixty thousand-dollar kosher morsel flown in all the way from Jerusalem to go down those kikes’ gullets. I want that vile slap in the face to my people to sit there on the table getting cold and gooey while the roses fade and the petals fall to the floor. Call it a symbolic act. The Goldmans’ day is done, is every sense of the term.”

“Lieutenant, you have the soul of a poet!” laughed Lee. “What if there are people around who might see the whole thing?”

“Then they see the whole thing,” said Zack with a shrug. “We’ll be masked. We shoot them both, triple tap, first bullet dead center to put them down and two more into the head to complete the execution. We walk at a quick pace, but do not run, back to the Yukon and we drive at a normal speed off the pier, and then we rendezvous at Shangri-La.” Shangri-La was a code name for a vacation-rental RV on a scenic bluff overlooking the river in the nearby crossroads village of Knappa.

“Sounds simple enough,” said Len.

“Yah, but the simplest plan can go haywire because of the smallest missed detail or unexpected occurrence,” said Hatfield. “We need to get into the habit of going over these things two dozen times, extrapolating anything that might cause a hitch or go wrong. Now for hit number two, the one that will put D Company on the rebellion’s map. Those dead FBI agents we promised Brigade. That’s where you come in, Cat.”

“Christ Almighty!” he exclaimed. “An M-21!”

“Sniper version of the old M-14, semi-auto, with complete cleaning kit and accessories,” said Ekstrom proudly.

“We had a familiarization course on these at sniper school at Fort Benning, and I think I remember most of it, but I never thought I’d get to use one in action!” said Cat-Eyes Lockhart, balancing and presenting the rifle. “The older guys in the sniper school swore by them. They were all pretty much out of service by the time I went through. Where the hell did they get this beauty?”

“No idea, and I didn’t ask,” Ekstrom told him. “The Commandant just said our brigade’s best sharpshooter needed our best weapon.”

Cat was examining the barrel. “You know, they trained us for kills up to 800 yards at Benning with the M-24, but if I recollect correctly some of the old guys in ‘Nam claimed they killed at a thousand yards with this. In a good covered position, with enough ammo, I could hold off an infantry company. They’d have to bring up copters or artillery.”

“You won’t be standing anyone off, Cat,” said Hatfield. “Shoot and scoot, remember. Don’t risk yourself. If ever it looks like it might be too dangerous, I want you to fade. Remember General Order Number Eight.”

“Well, that’s one thing I wanted to talk to you about, sir,” said Lockhart. “When I was in Iraq, we all had cards or some kind of mark we used to put on or near our kills. Signing our work, so the hadjis would know who was on their tail, a psychological warfare thing. I was the Jack of Diamonds. I was wondering if it would be allowable for me to do the same here? When I can do so safely, of course? Maybe leave the card in my firing position for them to find?”

“Wouldn’t that be just broadcasting your identity to the enemy?” asked Hatfield.

“Look, they’re not dumb. I’ve already got a record for horrible evil racism and male chauvinism and God knows what else,” reasoned Lockhart.

“You realize that will make you one of the most hunted men in the Pacific Northwest?” demanded Hatfield.

“They’ve already hunted me out of everything,” said Lockhart bitterly. “This filthy society has hunted me out of my wife, my children, my future, my dignity, and my hope. Good honest bullets will make a nice change.”

“Then we’ll start you off with each one of us buying a Bicycle deck and giving you the Jack of Diamonds, only let’s all make sure we wear gloves when we handle the cards. No sense in deliberately leaving the enemy a fingerprint. Now, once again assuming the feebs will show at Rigoletto’s, what about firing positions? Cat, you know that big hill overlooking 39th Street, the heavy woods?”

*   *   *

On Valentine’s night, Zack Hatfield and Tony Campisi sat in the front of a battered old GMC Yukon, parked behind a loading dock just off 39th Street. The night was dark and cloudy, and there was a light drizzling rain, a perfect cover for the Volunteers. The cell phone on the dashboard rang. Zack answered it. “Hello?”

“Is this Luigi’s Pizza?” asked Charlie Washburn on the other end.

“No, I’m sorry, you have the wrong number,” said Zack in an exasperated voice, in case anyone was listening in. He folded the phone. “Okay, they’ve left the house. Charlie and Lee will be behind them. He’ll let us know if there’s any delay or change in their destination he detects, but we need to get into position.” Hatfield started the Yukon and turned on the lights, and a moment later he rolled onto the long, curved 39th Street Pier. He pulled up into the parking lot on the former cannery platform and found the one available remaining space, which he carefully backed into. The restaurant was crowded, no doubt with Valentining couples. They could hear the noise and clinking of dishes and voices even through the rain.

“Where the hell are the Goldmans going to park?” asked Tony, looking around. “They’re chock-a-block in there, it looks like.”

“We will kindly give up our space, of course,” said Hatfield with a chuckle. “Okay, we’ve got a few minutes. Check your weapon, once, and then leave it alone until it’s time to use it.” Tony took out a .38 snub and broke the cylinder, and saw the five .38 Special Black Talon rounds. He closed the cylinder. Zack did the same with his old police-issue Smith & Wesson .357 Magnum. They were both using revolvers so as not to have to go scrambling around looking for ejected cartridge casings.”

“How you holding up, Tony?” asked Hatfield, noticing a slight shake in Campisi’s hands.

Campisi understood what he was talking about.

“You’ll do fine,” said Zack with a smile. “Just remember, let me fire first. I’ll take the yenta, you take Jake. Call it psychology. I’ve killed women before, here and in Iraq, and so has Cat-Eyes, and it doesn’t bother us, but for their own self-image and emotional strength I think every Volunteer’s first kill needs to be a man, and a clear racial enemy, a Jew or a nigger or a fed of some kind. God knows all the horrible ambiguities of war will set in for us all, in time.” The phone rang again. Zack opened it. A silly child-like voice said, “Is your refrigerator running?”

“Dickhead,” said Zack, and closed the phone. “They’ve just turned onto 39th Street.” Zack started the Yukon’s engine but kept the lights off. “Gun in your left hand, keep your right to open the door.” Campisi took out the .38 and complied. They could see the lights of the Lincoln rolling slowly across the pier toward them.

“Oy, honey, look, that nice man is leaving us his parking space!” mocked Campisi in a girlish voice. The Lincoln slid into the vacated space, and the lights turned off. Zack hit his windshield wipers; the rain was light but steady. He stopped the Yukon at the edge of the bridge. “No one is coming. Couldn’t be more perfect. All right, let’s do it. Masks.”

When they were five feet behind the two expensively dressed people, some sound or sense made the Goldmans both turn. They stared at two men coming out of the darkness just beyond the pool of friendly light and laughter, masked so that only the black of their eyes could be seen, and leveling revolvers at them. The two gunmen said nothing, but Jacob Goldman gasped out in a strangled cry, “You!”

A timeless drama was once again about to be played out, an ancient debt was once more to be paid, and blood was about to be spilled once more in humanity’s longest war.

http://northwestfront.org/

Categories
Blacks Civil war Egalitarianism Eschatology Feminism Justice / revenge Rape of the Sabine Women Real men Women

Lycanthropy

or

How will the Castilian Wolf deal
with Little Red Riding Hoods
after the crash

The most paradoxical thing about women is that, while the fairest specimens of Aryan females look indeed like the crown of the evolution, if you empower them the race goes extinct. They’ll simply refuse to reproduce. In fact, all of the present demographic winter looks like a typical women’s shit test writ large:

If you let my whims run amok with runaway feminism your little genes are going extinct. Have a little respect of yourself, you pathetic eunuch. Take heed of how nymphs and nymphets were fair game when the first Romans faced extinction and resorted to the abduction of the Sabine women. After the racial wars in a Mad Max-like world, will you have the balls to abduct me and convert me into your legit wife, with lots and lots of kids you pussycat, or will you let the niggers do the job and turn America into Northern Brazil?

Every time I watch how a drunk Clarke Gable handled Vivien Leigh during that famous scene of Gone with the Wind, carrying her up the large stairs in his arms and telling her, “This is one night you’re not turning me out,” I shake my head imagining the non-lycanthrope gentlemen, the AltRight types. (For the interregnum they’re ok, but during and after the racial wars we’ll need real wolves chasing after Little Reds.)

Gable passed the test. Leigh awakened the next morning with a look of pleasure for having been “raped” and being put, on the marital bed, in her rightful place. But it makes me wonder. Like the ancient Romans seeking wives (after being fed by a she-wolf) in order to found families, will 21st century nationalists pass the test after the rule of law collapses?

An ongoing discussion at Counter-Currents moves me to reproduce the following article, “The Future of White Women: A Speculation” written by William Ventvogel eight years ago. However radical they may appear to conservatives, present-day white nationalists are still trapped in the non-lycanthropic, bourgeoisie box, and unlike Ventvogel very few are willing to think outside the conservative box. Fortunately, the dollar is going to crash in the near future. You better be prepared psychologically to receive our unwelcome bite, turning yourself into Canis lupus with regard to the coming treatment of women, once the interregnum after 1945 is, finally, over.

Ventvogel wrote:





The ugly fact is that throughout history women have been objects of barter. This is rooted in harsh conditions that abated barely two centuries ago. The women of the West—White women— generally had it better and were the first to be elevated above commodity—and by their own men. Their ascent to their positions of market‐competitor and leader today correlates to technological ascent. By “ascent” I mean the increasing productivity‐per‐unit, and decreasing cost, of technology. Technology has nearly erased harsh conditions in most areas of the West and allowed White women to participate in affairs—even dominate. No longer does a White woman need a male guardian. But the industrialized Western states are complex and in debt. They are disintegrating, and nothing can stop this process. What will the situation of White women be as things turn worse?

Technology also grows human populations beyond safe environmental carrying capacity. By any sane analysis, Earth is overpopulated with low‐intelligence, high‐birthrate problem makers—no matter what the egalitarian lens shows. Technology will falter and down with it will go those populations brought out by hyper‐technology of food and energy production. Barbaric conditions will creep back in, and White women will lose their power. They will become commodities again. How White men handle their women then will be as important as how well they neutralize their racial enemies. It will determine the fate of the White race. White men will face two great problems in their women: 1) the competition for White women, and 2) those White women who demand what no longer exists nor can exist. This, exacerbating the struggles of survival, will make the scene ferocious.

The easy times are ending. They might collapse in our lifetimes, because technology is failing and “American” society is becoming too complex to govern. Dark peoples are streaming into the West to escape their deteriorating homelands. They have infiltrated White homelands by the tens of millions and five billion more are behind them. They are here and will remain until that desperate hour of the wolf when, and if, White warrior action coalesces and drives them out. The darks have their own leaders and White egalitarian scoundrels willing to collaborate with them. And they have White technology and weapons. In the coming war of White survival, White men will be defending not only their sustenance but also their women from dark warlords.

Whites have been besieged in Mother Europe before: by Huns, Moors, Mongols and Turks. But the coming war in North America will be different. The White man will be the obstinate holdout, unsure of himself, and the smaller tribe. And his women will be gold. Blonde and red‐headed women of apparently pure White blood will be highly prized: battled for, murdered for, negotiated for, abducted and bought, acquired by tribute, by black, brown, yellow and Jew warlords. The White warrior aristocracy would develop a creed of fanatical protection of its women—much like the Old South—a Castilian intolerance of dissent, ready to eradicate any hint of threat—and this includes the defection of White women.

It is of course intellectually au courant to think that the White race is history’s most rapacious. This is the product of Jew propaganda. The White man has proven himself the most humane. The dark races, too, have invaded, plundered, razed and enslaved. But it was Euro man who abolished these actions, as the objects in official policy, when he could. He developed the technology and shared it; he possessed the means and the innate sensitivity to attempt it. Even before the Renaissance and Enlightenment, and long before the advent of the steam engine, the White man saw the danger of his love of war. And he was easing up on his women—instinctively knowing that their participation in government would be necessary to rein in his instinct for adventure. Thus, White women were living better, and in the promise of a better future, centuries ago—better than the majority of dark women in their own societies today.

Today Whites everywhere are under siege. Decades of unimpeded Jew propaganda and Jew‐engendered laws meant to destroy Whites have created two White psychologies: the survivalist and the ZOGling. The survivalist psychology will eventually resist; the ZOGling is willing to surrender. The survivalist wants to live White, and wants his children to live White. He knows what White is. The ZOGling is the doomed whiteskin who doesn’t care about whiteness; more concerned is he with physical survival in comfort, and is willing to miscegenate and serve ZOG (often the ZOGling is merely dull; or worse, a “Libertarian”). The ZOGling is a whigger, meat for the dark hordes, a condom on the Jew phallus.

The new breed on the way, the Castilian wolf, will apply a sort of triage towards White women. It will be informal, ad hoc, but will seek to separate healthy White women from the tainted. After having killed off his immediate nigger, brown and Jew competitors; after securing a deep territory, the Castilian warrior must cull the pool of White women. He must discover which has had willing sexual contact with non‐White men, especially niggers. Those who have will be killed, expelled, or sold. Convinced, egalitarian, pro‐mixer White women are likely to be STD‐infected, and must be culled. (The prisoner David Lane has written a novel on this.)

It must be remembered that churches and ZOG propaganda have induced White men also to interracial sex. More powerful than these, however, is the White man’s lust. He takes whatever women it pleases him to take; same as it ever was. The White warrior who wishes to keep his honor must invent a system of honesty and judgment, both to control himself and treat White women fairly. As the time of the wolf draws nearer the White man must watch for other degenerative influences. One that is extremely damaging, but seems innocuous, is the inducement to masturbation—and not for any religious reason. This is facilitated by pornography. Masturbation is emasculation. Take a look around. Only masturbation can account for the slouched, neutered, passive character of so many young White men. The following factors are involved:

1. Images of sexualized females in advertising (soft porn)

2. Copulating females in private media (hard porn)

3. Recourse of females into careerism and as a result removal from the mating pool

4. Psychological warfare against White male identity

5. Elevation de jure and de facto of coloreds and Jews over White males in lucrative professions

All of which invert White males: some into homosexuality, others into a “celibacy” sustained by masturbation and the “wife” of pornographic images.

Retention of sperm increases aggressiveness. George Lincoln Rockwell’s famous dictum, “A man who won’t fuck, won’t fight,” is true. We should see also that a White man who accepts sexual release anywhere but into a worthy White woman is ceding territory to Jew and colored males. One incentive for warfare was the capture of desirable women. And so it shall be again. The White man who fails to establish and protect a pool of choice [for] White females from the coming statistical empire of 15‐20 Jew, nigger, Asian and mongrel men for every single White woman, will effectively fail to secure himself. The simple fact will be this: the strongest warriors will get the best women—same as it ever was. The more technology falters, the greater the danger, and the more intense the competition for White women. The Chinese still practice female infanticide. Within 50 years there will be 200 million Chinese men for whom there won’t be Chinese women. Think about that when the lights go out again. The numbers cannot be avoided.

In A.B. Guthrie’s superb novel The Big Sky (1947), Boone Caudill returns home to Kentucky after 20 years as a White savage in the Shining Mountains. Caudill has killed a dozen men, red and White, with a knife, gun and tomahawk. A pretty young girl, a neighbor of his brother, shows interest in him. Her mind and his can never share the same topography, however. Here in Kentucky he feels trapped and doomed, and knows he can live only in a state of anarchy. He arranges an evening tryst, and rapes her. She is talking of moonlight and flowers, and he only wants her body. Consider this excerpt:

He got up afterward and straightened himself, looking down while she lowered her skirt and curled on her side and lay in the grass, her mouth still a little broken from the feeling in her and her shoulders bucking to her catchy breath.

Her voice was small and jerky but it still spoke as if of something sure. “When’ll we be married, Boone?” He had wanted this woman and now he had her and never wanted her again. In him there was only a deadness, the numb deadness of a man sure enough about dead. He sank down in the grass.

“When, Boone?” It was her hand now that hunted for his and cuddled it in the warm palm as if it was hers for good and all.

“I ain’t thought about that.”

We got to be married,” she said, and he thought he heard the quick sound of scare in her tone. “We just got to be married”…

He had to go. His feet straightened and lifted him up. “I got a woman.”

He left her sobbing in the grass. Once he heard her cry after him and took a glance back and saw her sitting and bowed over. It was too bad she took it so hard, but he had to go. Under him his feet quickened…

He had to go. West again. Somewhere west, as in that far‐off time…

He didn’t realize he was running until he saw Blue trotting to keep up.

This will be the general form of the White man in barbaric conditions. Most will not be this crude, of course. Caudill was not very intelligent. But his character indicates the consequences of pariah‐hood and pent‐up rage.

When the ’Kwa [Amerikwa—a negative word used to describe the degenerate, racially destructive, Jewified, niggrified, pussified, and depressing place that America has become] starts disintegrating Whites will scramble to form communities. Regional conditions will vary according to the infrastructure which blacks and browns prefer—that is, urban. The colder the climate, the better. The more trees and mountains, the better. How many niggers have you seen in the mountains? A picture of the nigger’s sexual nature is to be seen in the areas in which he thrives: the cities. The male nigger, having been loosed by Jews to be what he is, runs about like a hyena. To this sort of nigger, who dominates nigger areas, masturbation is what chumps (pussies) do. And fags. A buck nigger seeks release only in penetration—hence the sexual aggressiveness of niggers and their increasing success with White females as White male sexual energy retreats. When the time comes White males must kill all White pussy‐hound niggers and White women who give themselves to them. They must be hunted down and killed with Castilian ruthlessness. In the coming wars, bourgeois values will be a joke. Any White man who fails to purge miscegenating White women from his community allows poison to fester in it.

The Jew knew exactly what he was about when he caused, over decades of careful undermining, pornography to be decriminalized. Until the Jew snuck out of his ghettoes and into White civilized society, pornography and masturbation were anathema. Our White ancestors crushed pornography and counseled against masturbation—though their reasons for doing so were idiotic religious reasons, ours are for sound biological reasons. In the end, masturbation is cheap and weak. Masturbation is White male control.

After the wars of survival, which will be in effect culling processes, medieval conditions will come. White women will again be traded and sold, or married off, to effect political alliances. There will be no avoidance of this, a necessary step in the evolution of White civilization. The areas bordering Jew, nigger, mestizo and Asian dominions will be raided for plunder and White women. White women must be practically ensconced into harem‐like conditions for their security and to secure a breeding pool. The crimes of the future are inevitable.

The solution to the problem of White women in our time is the same solution for the other problems we have under ZOG. The solution is, abandon the system. Accelerate the rot of ZOG and the ’Kwa by withholding energies that maintain it. White women out of control; White women holding power over White men in corporations, military, government and law enforcement; all this is a condition which will disintegrate when the ZOG does. In a Jew‐free society the balance will be restored. The rage is smoldering and there will be retribution against a certain type, or types, of White women at the proper time. There are many Boone Caudills and there will be many more. They have no use for ’Kwa and will take it down. I have heard them—the exiles, simmering for The Day [of the Rope], tell me of being dumped by arrogant White professional girlfriends for nigger toys; of losing promotions by Affirmative Action; of insults and offenses of every stripe and heat. ZOGtwats are part of the System, allied to the ZOG, and they will receive harsh treatment.

The White man has no enemy who can stand up to him if he decides to quit feeding them. When the Jew‐capitalist machine breaks down, he gets his women back. The start is that simple. The conclusion will not be. How he handles it will decide his fate.

Categories
Civil war Ethnic cleansing Justice / revenge

“They should be able to open their windows and not hear salsa music”


The Brigade excerpts, chapter III

by Harold Covington

In Shadow



No ellipsis
added between
unquoted paragraphs:



“It always helps to have allies and exterior sources of aid, true,” agreed Morehouse. “A lot of people across the world want to see the United States go down, and they’ll be willing to help once they observe that our men have the right stuff and we are seriously pinning down American forces which would otherwise be used against their own countries. The Russians in particular won’t have any objection to stepping back up to superpower status while we mangle ZOG from within. Bear in mind that there are certain advantages in fighting from within the belly of the beast. For all the incipient collapse and waste of the past three generations, this is still the richest country on the face of the earth. Everything we need to fight and win is right here; we just have to take it.”

Coyle nodded. “You’re right, Red. It’s all there just waiting for us to stiffen our spines and take it. We need weapons and ammunition? We don’t need gun-runners from outside. There are enough guns left in private hands in this country to get us started, guns we can beg or buy, or just take. The Old Man always said that gun control was never really that important an issue. There was no point in having a right to keep and bear arms if we were never going to use it. How many right wing cranks have we all known down through the years who had a whole rec room full of guns, all gathering dust and rust, not one of them ever used to fire a single shot in anger at the real racial enemy?

“We need safe houses, training and staging areas?” Coyle continued. “The Pacific Northwest is huge; the Feds simply won’t have the manpower to put a soldier behind every Douglas fir tree. The NVA does not fight on the defensive. They do. They don’t hunt us. We hunt them. This is a spiritual problem, not a material one. What we need are men and women with enough balls to pull the triggers and live the life.”

“The size and terrain of our new country is in our favor,” pointed out Morehouse. “A completely self-contained revolt might have small chance of success in some small and overcrowded country like England or Belgium, or some tiny state like Vermont or New Hampshire here, where the occupation forces can monitor pretty much everything and bring their superior forces to bear on any point quickly. This is the problem the Palestinians have always faced. They’re trying to fight in a strip of land the size of a postage stamp, crowded in like sardines with their own people. But here in the Northwest we’ve got room to maneuver.”

“Maneuver exactly how?” asked Hatfield.

“What the Army Council finally decided on is a series of small crews raising as much hell as possible in the cities. For the first year or so, in addition to direct operations against all federal authority and personnel in general, we want the combat crews to concentrate on gofers.”

“On what?” asked Zack, puzzled.

“General Order Number Four,” said Coyle. “GO-4 enforcement actions. Gofers. Get it?”

“Uh, refresh my memory,” said Zack.

“Oh, that’s right, you haven’t yet seen the NVA General Orders. General Order Number Four orders all non-whites and homosexuals to leave the three basic Homeland states and anywhere else we’re operating. Henceforth all non-whites, especially Jews, are considered to be legitimate military targets and are to be destroyed on sight, in theory. In practice, your job will not be to run around slaughtering blacks and Mexicans en masse. Your task is to drive them out, if you see the difference.”

“Oh, they’ll get gone,” said Tommy Coyle grimly.

“It is absolutely vital that we whiten up the Northwest, and fast,” said Morehouse. “Every non-white, every Jew, and every bugger boy is a potential enemy asset, a pair of eyes and ears for the Feds, a potential enemy soldier who by the very nature of who and what they are can only seek to do harm to us and to our people. That’s in addition to all the problems they cause with their usual crime, violence, drugs, and monkey music. Right now the federal government has a vast pool of millions of willing assets, activists, and soldiers, living right here among us. We have to drain that swamp. But what’s more important, the white people of the Northwest need to see a difference, a visible improvement in their lives. Fewer Mexicans especially. They need to no longer hear the babble of Spanish or ching ling ding in the local Safeway. They must no longer be confronted with sullen clerks and attendants in business places who don’t speak English. They have to notice that all of a sudden there are jobs available once again. They should be able to open their windows on a summer evening and not hear jangling salsa music from a boom box or a passing low ride.”

“They have to understand that we are doing with the gun what the American politicians promised for 50 years and never delivered,” concluded Zack. “How do we go about it exactly?”

“Blacks are simple,” said Morehouse with a shrug. “You shoot a few and make it clear to the rest of them that remaining in the Pacific Northwest is hazardous to their health. Let them know the Boss Man is back, as the Old Man said in his nationwide address on October 22nd. You’ll get some who’ll go on television and swagger and beat their chests like King Kong and go booga booga booga about how brave they are, and how no cracker woodchuck racists gonna run dere black asses outa nowhere, all that happy horse shit. You shoot them, too. It won’t take long for the message to sink in.

“Mexicans are a more complex problem,” Morehouse went on. “There’s an economic factor there. Mexicans are here because capitalists employ them. Some of those employers are rich white people who want their pools cleaned, and their lawns trimmed, and their children nannied while they go out every day dressed for success, sure, but mostly it’s the big corporations who have brought in all this mud, everything labor-intensive from flipping burgers to stacking pallets to mass farming in agribusiness.”

“Which is one reason why whites are so poor these days,” pointed out Coyle. “Whites aren’t eligible for affirmative action.”

“The employers are the key” said Morehouse. “To get rid of the beaners we don’t just go around blasting them on the corner, although there needs to be some of that, of course, to get them motivated. We go for the employers, without whom there would never have been any problem to begin with. We need to deprive capitalism of this vast pool of cheap Third World labor they’ve imported into this country and force them to start investing in real human resources again. They’ll try all the usual crap, outsourcing and eventually shutting down their companies and trying to flee the Northwest for Guatemala or someplace rather than employ white people at a living wage. They’ll think we can’t find them and wire something to their car ignitions in New York or St. Louis.

“That’s for the future, though,” Morehouse went on. “Right now, what you guys on the ground need to do is deal locally with direct managers. You just go into a place that employs Mexicans or Chinese or whatever, wearing your ski masks at first, then later you won’t need to because no one will dare to try and stop you. You politely explain to the boss or the manager that come Monday morning there had better not be a single brown face in his establishment, or else there will be all kinds of physical experimentation done upon his carcass. If he tries to pass the buck to the head office or something like that, explain to him that the head office isn’t going to go upside his head with a baseball bat if he doesn’t do what he’s told. Do not burn down or blow up the factory or the business unless it seems really necessary to make your point. Remember, white people need those jobs the illegals will be vacating, and there will be some white employees there whom we don’t need blaming the NVA for losing their jobs. No need to get too heavy about it. We’ve already littered the landscape with enough corpses so they’ll know we’re serious. There’s nothing like killing people to convince others that they’d damned well better listen to what you have to say.”

*   *   *

“It won’t last,” said Hatfield grimly. “What little is left of the Constitution will go right out the window and the iron heel is going to come down hard, and soon. Okay, now, my favorite and most anticipated part of the evening. What about our local lefties and anti-fascist scum?”

Washburn grinned and pulled out a list. “That was easy, thanks to the public library and a stroll through our four or five lefty bookstores and coffee bars in Astoria. These 55 names are just about everybody in our three counties who has ever written an anti-racist letter to the editor, organized some left-wing demonstration or event, run some lefty activism group, or worked for the Hillary Clinton campaign.”

“Surely there’s more than that?” asked Ekstrom. “In Astoria alone there’s some liberal airhead under every rock.”

“I removed overlaps from the other lists,” said Washburn. He pulled out a second paper. “This one is bugger boys and dykes, 112 names. I won’t say that’s all of them, but damned near. And finally,” out came a third list, “119 Jews. May I make a suggestion? We don’t burn these lists. We should find some way to blow them up poster-sized, and then when we’ve popped a couple of Reds or sodomites or hebes, we start posting them around town in the dead of night with the appropriate names crossed off. Psychological warfare.”

“Bet you by the time we’ve killed half a dozen of them, the rest will scatter like quail,” said Ekstrom.

“But first I need to go over the Army Council’s policy on target selection with you,” said Donner. I’m sure Red and Tommy have already mentioned to you that we don’t just want to run around slaughtering everybody with a dark face.

“That said, a lot of your work will still be gofers, GO-4s, General Order Four enforcement. It may look to outsiders like we’re just gunning down non-whites at random, but actually the whole issue of target selection is very complex. The selection of targets will primarily be the duty of the company commander, with the assistance of the XO [Executive Officer] in his intelligence gathering capacity, but anyone can propose an enemy target for the CO’s [company commander] consideration. Every target that we destroy, human or material, needs to have some kind of clear and visible value to the Zionist occupation government. The public needs to be able to see and understand why we shot so and so or blew up or burned down such and such a place.

“The NVA tactical philosophy is that the minute hostilities commence in any operational area, we need to start hitting those targets, not sit there admiring our lists for the neat typing. The NVA must always hit, hit, hit! We must keep the feds off balance, never knowing when and where we will strike next, but knowing it will be damned soon. Right now they’re still trying to maintain business as usual, trying to pretend that we’re just ordinary criminals. They’re doing full CSI workups, forensics, and legal documentation on each incident. We must present them with so many incidents that their ordinary procedures of criminal investigation and apprehension will be stretched to the breaking point and then snap under the strain, thus forcing them to fall back on brute force and institutionalized terrorism. Remember, normal law enforcement in America is already so swamped with ordinary crime, drug-related messes and the thousand-and-one problems that come from massive numbers of Third World people living in a Western society, that in many areas the system can barely function as things are. We need to tip the system over the edge. We have to hit them so hard and often that they can’t keep up, so that all they can do is just follow along behind us and keep on picking up the dead bodies we leave for them.”

“Sounds good to me,” growled Hatfield.

“But still, there are some guidelines. Some very important guidelines,” warned Donner. “First and foremost, no kids!

“If they’re old enough to have a shitty little moustache or visible tits, they’re old enough to do harm to white people and they’re fair game, although personally I’d say play it safe by concentrating on adults. One obvious exception would be blacks or Mexicans in high school that can’t seem to lay off chasing white girls. We need to get the word out: that shit comes to a screeching halt, now!”

“Mmmm, Larry, what about bombs?” asked Hatfield. “I recall that the one thing that probably screwed the pooch for the Provisional IRA more than anything else was their seeming inability to pop the top in Belfast without blowing up some poor mother and baby in a stroller passing by.”

“Yeah, and those dumb Paddies would also do crap like shooting a man down in front of his children, shooting teachers in front of a class full of kiddies, so forth and so on,” said Donner in disgust. “What the hell were they thinking? I admit, one of our big nightmares is that some white child is going to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and get killed by one of our detonations. The white people they accidentally kill will disappear. Any witnesses will be silenced, their families will be bought off, and the media will make those incidents drop off the radar like they did in Iraq. The United States can afford collateral damage, but we can’t.”

“Got it,” said Hatfield.

“Okay, second no-no in target selection,” Donner went on. “Christian ministers, priests, and for the moment, church buildings themselves. This one may change later, depending on how serious a threat the evangelicals and others become to us. Remember, we have to get the silent support of a majority of the white population here at least to the extent that they do not inform or actively collaborate with the occupation.”

“Understood,” said Hatfield.

Donner continued, “Obvious targets like racially mixed couples and faggots. That shit stops! It stops now! No more! If you know where any live, waste them and burn them out, just make sure you don’t kill any cute little mulatto kiddies.”

“They’ll be on the 6 o’clock news crying for their mommy and daddy,” rumbled Ekstrom with a scowl.

“Who else is on the hit parade?” asked Washburn.

“Basically, we hit anyone who is part and parcel of maintaining federal authority in the Northwest. Start with lawyers, judges, and anyone to do with the courts. It is absolutely essential that the enemy court and judicial system come to a grinding halt. From now on courts do not sit, unless it’s behind a Bremer wall, and not for long even then, until we get at them somehow. These courts do not judge us, or anybody else. They are no longer lawful and the government they serve no longer rules in this land. We do. If someone in the community is causing a real problem with drugs or genuinely anti-social behavior, the NVA will deal with them, not the American law and not the American courts. All attorneys are considered officers of the court, and the court is an alien and enemy power occupying our land. All attorneys are therefore legitimate military targets. All judges will immediately resign and leave the Homeland, or die. We thus force the enemy to fall back on military tribunals or simple arbitrary internment.”

“That’s coming anyway,” remarked Hatfield. “Let me hear some more about the goddamned lefty media.”

“Media personnel are much more delicate,” said Donner. “We not only need to neutralize them as enemies, we need to make use of them for our own purposes, no matter how reluctant they may be. We can do this by punishing a few of their more excessive individual personnel, but letting the rest continue to function so long as they provide balance in their coverage. For example, if they have to report federal government press releases and statements, fine. But they also report statements by the NVA, verbatim, and they do it with a straight face and no unseemly comments. They give us the same air time and they refrain from any snide side remarks or manipulation of the news. Oh, and by the way, they don’t use the term ‘terrorists.’ They call us the NVA, or Northwest Volunteers, or white separatists, or even insurgents is fine, but terrorist is the ZOG word for us, and the media will not use it.”

“You mentioned something you called floats?” asked Hatfield.

“Floats are the most dangerous of all NVA operations, because they’re more or less spontaneous and unplanned,” said Donner. “That’s when some of the boys lock and load, pile into a couple of cars, and go out cruising to try and find somebody to shoot. The drawbacks are obvious; there’s a possibility you will run into something you can’t handle or get jammed up in traffic with the cops after you, something like that. But they’re a valuable tactic for the same reason.

“There’s no real hard and fast rule here,” Donner continued. “You guys are going to have a more independent command out here in the great north woods than our urban units, and you’re going to have to play a lot of it by ear. The basic operating principle for now is this: we cannot allow the enemy to maintain any pretense of business as usual, any pretense that they are still the law and we are criminals of some kind. From the moment of the Declaration of Northwest Independence in Coeur d’Alene, from the night the Old Man gave that address to the world on TV, we are the law and we are legitimate. They are the criminals and the interlopers. Be good cops for the Republic and take ‘em out, boys.”

*   *   *

“No, you don’t understand, I’m not proposing to hit the monkoids themselves,” said Hatfield. “Read on.”

“Hmmm….” Donner said, pursing his lips. “Says here that Mr. and Mrs. Jacob Goldman donated their own personal beach house indefinitely to these poor Affikin-Amurkin refugees from racist fascist terror, and Mrs. Irene Goldman tells us she thinks that Oregon needs more diversity in the face of this growing threat from us evil white boys. Do they live around here?”

“Big Victorian mansion up on the hill in Astoria,” said Hatfield. “He’s retired from some New York merchant bank, he’s a wheel in the local Democratic Party and a known ADL asset, and she runs the most upscale art gallery in town. Big contributors to every known Jewish and liberal charity, including hosting our annual Israel Bonds dinner at the Elliot House. Both of them really tight with the local evangelicals who of course fall down and adore them as God’s Chosen People. I can’t think of any opening target that will send our message louder or more clearly. The Goldmans, their kind, and their day are done in the Northwest.” Donner looked up, his lip curled in a sardonic smile, and he raised his hand and quickly drew his finger across his throat in a slashing motion.

“It’s done,” said Hatfield grimly.

“When?” asked Donner.

“Give us another few weeks. I’d kind of like to give the Goldmans a very special Valentine,” said Hatfield with a chuckle.

“Okay, this fits in really well with something else,” said Donner. “Brigade has a strategic objective we need your help with. If you watch the news, I’m sure you’re aware that both First and Second Portland Brigades are both starting to strike on a regular basis. We’ve taken out some blacks and gooks and Mexicans, and the city is already beginning to get noticeably whiter. We’ve also taken down a few Portland cops, mostly of the black and brown persuasion, and we’ve popped the top on a couple targets, mostly Korean stores, the Holocaust memorial, petty shit like that. But the one thing we haven’t been able to do yet is to take out any FBI or Homeland Security. Our friends in the silk suits are getting antsy, and they’ve gone cautious as hell on us. They know they’re being hunted. They’ve fortified the federal building on Southwest Third Street and all the offices and facilities they use. They’ve created a whole huge Green Zone in the Justice Center surrounded with Bremer walls and razor wire and every electronic security device known to man as well as an army of police and federal security guards. It now takes a triple-threat security clearance even to get upstairs. Most of them have sent their families out of the city and in most cases out of the Northwest. They’ve taken over the downtown Holiday Inn for most of their staff, and they take armored shuttle buses to and from work. Those who still live in their own homes now drive bulletproofed cars and vary their routes to and from the office, etc. etc. I guess these assholes did learn something in Iraq. We’ve come close enough to pop a few rounds at them from a distance, but no hits. That’s given them something to think about and made them even more nervous, but we haven’t been able to nail any of them yet. The fact is that in the city, they’re hard to detect and follow. We know who some of them are but not all, and they’ve started to shift their agents around every couple of months so there are a lot of new people we don’t know. What we want to do is flush the FBI or U.S. Marshals out, get some of them out in the open, out here in one of these small towns or on some rural road where they’ll stand out like statues and we can get a clear shot at them.”

“The assassination of two very prominent left-liberal Jews in Astoria sure sounds like a hatecrime to me,” said Hatfield. “The FBI would pretty much have to investigate something like that, would they not? Especially with the Blue State establishment in this county howling like banshees demanding immediate action?”

“I think the FBI would understand that their absence from the scene would be a very bad message to send, politically, especially after they sloughed off your killing of those two lesbo bitches. Their absence from the scene of a second double hit would look very much like they’re scared of us,” agreed Donner. “They are, of course, but they don’t want to be seen to be scared of us. Anyway, when you do get a fix on them, this will probably have to be done as a float. You won’t have the chance to rig a bomb or booby trap, you’ll have to take them on the wing, tail them and nail them as targets of opportunity. Are you going to be able to handle that?”

“I think this will be a good opportunity for Cat-Eyes Lockhart to make his NVA debut,” said Hatfield. “I’ll be his driver and spotter myself.”

“I agree,” said Donner with an enthusiastic nod. Most of our jobs are done like a Mob hit. Get in close, two in the head to make sure they’re dead. Make sure you see the brains, as gross as that sounds. Then beat feet out of there and get rid of the weapon.”

“Shoot and scoot,” said Washburn.

“You’ve got it.” Donner leaned over to them. “Gentlemen, there’s something else I need to mention here, and I suppose this is as good a time as any for it. Now, what we have been talking about this evening sounds very bad and brutal. It is bad and brutal, but let’s be very clear: this is the only way that this society and this foul world we grew up in is ever going to change.

“We live in a system that is specifically designed to prevent change. ZOG has turned this country into one great steel cage to keep us and our children penned like livestock all our lives. America has robbed white people of any hope, any future. They drag our sons away to be slaughtered in Iraq and Iran. They poison our children’s minds and turn our kids into stupid white niggers, grown fat and lazy on fast food and computer games, trashed out on drugs and hip hop, while our daughters present us with mulatto grandchildren.

“The tyranny under which we live may still wear a velvet glove on occasion, but it is unspeakably evil and brutal, and only greater violence and brutality will bring it down. This was their choice. They made it this way, not us. You guys have to understand that in order to win through to freedom, we Northwest Volunteers are going to have to become hard, hard men. The hardest history has ever known, because that hardness of soul is one of the few weapons we can muster against an incredibly powerful enemy who holds all the cards. Compassion and mercy are all very well, but they are luxuries that are possible only in a basically decent world, and that world is not this one. You are embarking on a journey that will become horrible beyond measure, but our fathers and grandfathers sloughed it off onto us. We dare not pass it on to our own children, because we are the last generation that will have a chance to do anything about all of this.”

http://northwestfront.org/