by Andrew Macdonald 14 страница

Most Blacks moved along the streets leading into the designated areas a block or two ahead of the slowly advancing infantry, who made quick searches of each building as they came abreast of it. Blacks who had not already vacated the premises were roughly driven into the streets at bayonet point. If they put up any resistance at all they were shot on the spot, and the sound of this occasional gunfire helped to keep the other Blacks moving along.

There have so far been only about half-a-dozen instances of Blacks with contraband firearms barricading themselves in buildings and shooting at our troops. Whenever this happens the troops bypass the occupied building and call in a tank, which riddles the building with cannon and machine-gun fire.

Once again, it's a damned good thing the civilian population was disarmed by the System years ago. If more Blacks had guns there'd be no way we could deal with them, considering the disparity in numbers.

My salvage crews move in right behind the infantry. Our job is to inventory and secure all essential supplies and facilities: gasoline and bulk quantities of other fuels, non-perishable food, medical supplies, heavy transport vehicles, certain industrial facilities, etc.

The Blacks have pretty well cleaned out all the food in their areas, and they've mindlessly destroyed a lot of the other things we're looking for-although we are finding a lot of things they've missed, including more than 40 tons of dried fish meal in a pet-food plant just this morning. The stuff doesn't taste very good, but this one batch will supply the minimum protein requirements of 100, 000 people for a week. And yesterday we ran across 30, 000 gallons of liquid chlorine, which is needed for water purification. We also recovered most of the drug inventories of a hospital and two clinics, in which the drug storerooms were still intact even after rioting Blacks had ransacked the buildings.

We also found gruesome evidence of one way in which the Blacks have solved their food shortage: cannibalism. They began by setting up barricades in one main street to stop cars driven by Whites, apparently as early as Tuesday of last week. The unfortunate Whites were dragged from their cars, taken into a nearby Black restaurant, butchered, cooked, and eaten.

Later the Blacks organized hunting parties and made raids into White areas. In the cellar of one Black apartment building we found a scene of indescribable horror attesting to the success of these raids.

I and a crew of my men noticed a commotion in front of the building as we finished checking the looted shambles of an adjacent warehouse and came out onto the street. A group of GI's milling around the entrance were obviously distressed about something. One of them came running out of the apartment building and began retching and vomiting on the sidewalk. Then another, with a grim expression on his face, led a young White girl out of the building. She was about 10 years old, naked, filthy, and in an obvious state of shock.

As soon as I pushed my way into the building I recoiled from the horrible stench which permeated the place. Putting a handkerchief over my nose and mouth didn't seem to help, but with the aid of my flashlight I descended the cellar stairs past two more GI's who were coming up. In the arms of one of them was a silently staring White child of about four, alive but apparently too weak to walk.

The cellar, which was illuminated by two kerosene lanterns hanging from steam pipes, had been converted into a human slaughterhouse by the Blacks in the apartment building. The floor was slippery with half-congealed blood. There were washtubs full of stinking entrails, and others filled with severed heads. Four tiny, human haunches dangled overhead from wires.

On a wooden workbench beneath one of the lanterns I saw the most terrible thing I have ever seen. It was the butchered and partially dismembered body of a teenaged girl. Her blue eyes stared emptily at the ceiling, and her long, golden hair was matted with the blood which had rushed from the gaping wound in her throat.

I retched and stumbled back up the stairs and out into the light again. I could not make myself go back into that awful cellar, but I sent two of my crew with cameras and lights down there to make a thorough photographic record. The photos will be useful for troop indoctrination.

From one of the GI's outside the building I learned that parts of at least 30 children, all White, had been found in the cellar, along with the two who were still alive. They had been tied to a pipe in one corner. In the rear courtyard of the building was an improvised barbecue grill and a large pile of small, human bones - thoroughly gnawed. We took photographs of the courtyard too.

I have been working in mostly Black areas, but I have also heard some pretty bad stories from our people who have been in White and Chicano areas. No cases of cannibalism by Whites or Chicanos have been reported-the Blacks are a race apart in this respect-but there's been a lot of killing in fights over food. And there've been some grisly atrocities where gangs of Blacks have invaded White areas and taken over White homes, especially in the wealthier districts, where the homes are more isolated from one another.

On the positive side, in some of the predominantly White middle-class and working-class neighborhoods, Whites have banded together to protect themselves from incursions by Blacks and Chicanos. This is a refreshing development, but surprising, m view of the way the morons out here have been voting in recent years. Is it possible that years of Jewish brainwashing have failed to take hold in the White masses?

Actually, I'm afraid it has taken hold in all too many cases. In the racially mixed neighborhoods, for example, the Whites have suffered terribly in the last 10 days, and they've made virtually no effort to protect themselves. Without guns, of course, self-defense is pretty much a matter of numbers-and the will to survive. Although the Whites are badly outnumbered in only a few mixed neighborhoods, they seem to have lost the feeling of identity and unity which the Blacks and Chicanos still have.

Most of all, though, many of them seem to be convinced that any effort at self-defense would be " racist, " and they fear being thought of as racists-or thinking of themselves that way- more than they fear death. Even when gangs of Blacks took their children away or raped their women before their eyes, they offered no significant resistance. Really sick!

It's hard for me to feel sorry for Whites who won't even try to protect themselves, and it's even harder for me to understand why we should take chances and knock ourselves out to save such brainwashed scum from the fate they richly deserve. And yet it is in the mixed areas that we're having the most trouble and taking the most chances!

We are reluctant to fire on crowds where we may kill Whites as well as non-Whites, and the bastards apparently realize this and are taking advantage of it. In some neighborhoods we're meeting so much opposition that it's nearly impossible to achieve our goal of separating the various racial groups into enclaves.

Another big problem in trying to achieve racial separation is that so many people in this area cannot easily be classified as White or non-White. The process of mongrelization has gone so far in this country and there are so many swarthy, frizzy-haired characters of all sizes and shapes running around that one doesn't know where to draw the line.

Nevertheless, we've got to draw the line somewhere, and soon! There is no way we can feed everybody in our area, and if we're to avoid mass starvation among the Whites we must separate them into clearly defined areas soon, where electricity, water, food, and other essentials are available. And we must move everyone else out of our area, one way or another. The longer we delay, the more unruly the public will become.

Actually we have done pretty well at concentrating the Blacks. About 80 per cent of them are sealed in four small enclaves now, and I understand that the first mass convoy of them is heading east tonight. But for the rest, about all we've really done is immobilize the population, so they can't move from one neighborhood to another. We certainly don't have them under control, and, so far as I'm aware, we've not even begun mass arrests or taken any other action against Jews and other hostile elements yet. Let's get on with this now!

Chapter XXII

July 19, 1993. For the past five days I've been witnessing what surely must be one of the biggest mass migrations in history: the evacuation of the Blacks and mestizos and " boat people" from southern California. We've been marching them to the east at a rate of better than a million a day, and there still seems to be no end to them.

I learned at our unit meeting this evening, however, that tomorrow is expected to be the last full day of evacuation. After that, it'll just be a matter of sending them across the lines in batches of a few thousand at a time, as we round up strays and finish separating some areas which are still racially mixed.

My men and I have had the responsibility of finding transportation for those unable to make the trek on foot. We started with flatbed trucks and large tractor-trailer rigs able to haul a couple of hundred people at a time, and we ended up using every delivery van and panel truck we could find in or near the evacuated Black and Chicano neighborhoods: nearly 6, 000 trucks altogether.

At first we tried to do a careful job of making sure each truck 1 had just enough fuel in its tank to make the one-way trip into T enemy territory, but that took too long, and so we settled for l trying to be reasonably sure that each vehicle had at least enough 1 fuel for the trip. 2

Late yesterday we began running out of trucks, and so all day f today we have been using passenger cars. I broke up the roughly 300 men under me into squads of 10. Each squad rounded up approximately 50 young Black volunteers-with the promise of food-who claim they are experienced at jumping the ignition on cars.

Then our squads began ferrying every parked car, from Volkswagens to Cadillacs, which can be started and whose fuel gauge indicates at least a quarter of a tank of gasoline, into the packed debarkation areas. There our Black car-thief volunteers hustle a pregnant Negress or an elderly cripple behind the wheel, pack the vehicle with as many picaninnies and miscellaneous lame, sick, and halt non-Whites as it can possibly carry- f sometimes piling them on roofs and fenders- and send it on its way. Then back for more cars.

I have been surprised to see how callous our volunteer Blacks are toward their own people. Some of the older Blacks, who haven't been able to fend for themselves, are obviously near the point of death from starvation and dehydration, yet our volunteers handle them so roughly and pack them so tightly into the cars that it makes me flinch to watch them. When one overloaded Cadillac started onto the eastbound freeway with a lurch this morning, an ancient Negro lost his grip and fell off the roof, landing headfirst on the pavement and crushing his skull like an egg. The Blacks who had just loaded the car roared with laughter; it was apparently the funniest thing they've seen in a long time.

Our logistics have been terrible. We've violated every security rule in the book and taken some extraordinary risks. There were hundreds of times when the Blacks could have jumped us, because we were spread so thin and often obliged to work deep within their jarr-packed enclaves without backup personnel to rescue us in the event of trouble.

I really don't have enough men to handle this job properly, and we've all been working at least 18 hours a day, often not stopping to rest until we're so tired we're stumbling. It's a good thing tomorrow is the last day, because I don't think my men can last much longer-or our luck either.

What we've accomplished so far is really quite remarkable, though. We've moved out approximately half a million non-Whites who couldn't possibly have made it on foot. Each and every one of these is now the responsibility of the System-to feed and house and clothe and keep out of trouble. Together with the seven million or so able-bodied Blacks and Chicanos we're sending them, that's quite a responsibility

This whole evacuation amounts to a new form of warfare: demographic war. Not only are we getting the non-Whites out of our area, but we're doing two additional things which should pay off for us later by getting them into the enemy's area: we're overloading the System's already strained economy, and we're making life next to intolerable for the Whites in the border areas.

Even after the evacuees have been dispersed around the country, they will constitute about a 25 per cent increase in the average nonwhite population density outside California. Even the most brainwashed White liberals should find this increased dose of " brotherhood" hard to swallow.

On my way to the unit meeting about an hour ago, I stopped at an overlook above the main evacuation route out of Los Angeles. It was after sunset, but still light enough to see well, and I was awed by the sight of the enormous stream of colored life moving slowly to the east. As far as I could see in either direction, the unwholesome flood crept along. Later we'll switch on the street lamps along the freeway, and the march will go on all night. Then, in the heat of the morning, the evacuation of the able-bodied ones will be reined in enough so that we will have room on the freeway for our vehicles to get through again. We found out at the beginning that when we tried keeping the marchers going during the day they dropped like flies.

The sight of that huge, flowing swarm of non-Whites left me with an overwhelming feeling of relief that it was moving away from us, out of our area. And I shuddered with revulsion at the thought of being at the other end of the evacuation route and seeing that swarm moving toward me, into my area.

If the System bosses had the option, they'd turn the niggers back at the border with machine guns. But with the border manned with mostly non-White troops, it is pretty hard to give the order to fire on that non-White flood. Since the inundation began, they haven't been able to figure any way to stop it.

They are trapped by their own propaganda line, which maintains that each of those creatures is an " equal, " with " human dignity" and so forth, and must be treated accordingly. q Yes, sir, things are looking up here, and I'm sure they're looking Blacker and Blacker elsewhere!

The proof of that is the counterflow of White refugees into our area from the east. From a hundred or so a day 10 days ago, their numbers have grown to several thousand a day. Our border guards have processed a total of more than 25, 000 Whites coming across the line, up to this afternoon.

Most of these, it seems, are simply running to get away from the Black troops and the Black and Chicano evacuees who have flooded the enemy's border areas. If it is easier for them to run west than east, they run west.

But about 10 per cent of them are not from the border areas at all. They are White volunteers who have deliberately crossed over to join our fight. Some have come from as far as the East Coast, whole families as well as young men, who made their decision as soon as it became apparent to the country that our revolution has indeed established a foothold here.

July 24. Boy! I'm really becoming a Jack of all trades. I just got back to HQ from a repair trip to the big switching station outside Santa Barbara. It's been acting up, knocking out our electrical power here every day or so, and I had to figure out what was wrong and get a repair crew to fix it. I'll certainly be glad when we get the civilian population here organized, so that the people who're supposed to keep the utilities running are back on the job again.

But we must do first things first, and that means reestablishing public order and insuring an adequate food supply. We still don't have order, but we're now bringing almost enough food into the metropolitan area to keep the people from starving. I got some insight into how we're managing that during the Santa Barbara trip.

In the countryside I passed literally hundreds of organized groups of White youngsters, some working in the orchards and fruit groves, others marching along the road singing, with fruit baskets slung across their shoulders. They all looked tanned and happy and healthy. Quite a difference from the hunger and the rioting in the cities!

I had my driver stop as we came abreast of a group of about 20 young girls, all wearing heavy work gloves and miscellaneously dressed in shorts and overalls. Their leader was a freckled 15-yearold with pigtails who happily identified her group as the 128th Los Angeles Food Brigade. They had just finished five hours of fruit-picking and were headed for lunch at their tent camp down the road.

Well, I thought to myself, this is hardly a brigade, but obviously a lot more organizing of the civilian population has been going on than I've been aware of. I knew the girl was too young to be a member of the Organization, and, it soon developed, she was totally innocent of any political understanding whatever.

All she knew was that things back in the city are frightening and unpleasant, and so when the nice lady with the armband at the emergency food-distribution center had talked to her and her parents and told them that youngsters who volunteered for farm work would be looked after and well fed, they had agreed she should go. That was a week ago, and yesterday she had been appointed the leader of her group of girls.

I asked her what she thinks about her work. She said it is hard, but she knows it is important for her and her girls to pick as much fruit as possible, so their parents and friends back in the city will be able to eat. The adults at the camp have explained to them what an important responsibility they have.

Had they also been told about the significance of the revolution? No, she doesn't know anything about that, just that the Chicano farm workers have left, and now the White people will have to do all their work. She thinks that is probably a good idea. Other than that, all that the girls have been taught is how to do their particular job-and the work songs and the hygiene lectures in the evenings, around the campfire.

Well, that's not a bad beginning for 12- to 15-year-olds. There will be time for their further education later. If only the adults were as cooperative as the kids!

The girls did have one complaint: their food. There was plenty of it, but it was all fruits and vegetables; no meat, no milk, not even any bread. Obviously, the people who're organizing the food brigades have a few logistic problems yet to work out too. We swapped the girls half a case of canned sardines and some boxes of soda crackers we had in the car in return for a basket of apples, and both sides felt they had gotten a good deal.

Coming through the mountains just north of Los Angeles we encountered a long column of marchers, heavily guarded by GI's and Organization personnel. As we drove slowly past, I observed the prisoners closely, trying to decide what they were. They didn't seem to be Blacks or Chicanos, and yet only a few of them appeared to be Whites. Many of the faces were distinctly Jewish, while others had features or hair suggesting a Negroid taint. The head of the column turned off the main roadway into a little-used ranger trail which disappeared into a boulder-strewn canyon, while the tail stretched for several miles back toward the city. There may have been as many as 50, 000 marchers, representing all ages and both sexes, just in the portion of the column we passed.

Back at HQ I inquired about the strange column. No one was sure, although the consensus was that they were the Jews and the mixedbreeds of too light a hue to be included with the evacuees who were sent east. I remember now something which puzzled me a few days ago: the separation of the very light Blacks-the almost Whites, the octoroons and quadroons, the unclassifiable mongrels from various Asian and southern climes-from the others during the concentration and evacuation operations.

And I think I now understand. The clearly distinguishable nonwhite are the ones we want to increase the racial pressure on the Whites outside California. The presence of more almost-White mongrels would merely confuse the issue-and there is always the danger that they will later " pass" as White. Better to deal with them now, as soon as we get our hands on them. I have a suspicion their trip into that canyon north of here will be a one-way affair!

But obviously there's still a lot of sifting-out to do. We have cleared the all-Black and all-Chicano areas and certain all-Jewish neighborhoods, but there are still areas, comprising nearly half the urban territory under our control, where utter chaos prevails Jews in these areas, working with reactionary elements among the Whites, are becoming more brazen by the day. There is nearly continuous demonstrating and rioting going on in the worst sections, and the Jews are using leaflets and other means to maintain the general unrest in other sections. Since Friday four of our people have been killed by snipers. Something must be done soon!

July 25. A very pleasant contrast today with most of my work of late: I spent the day interviewing some of the volunteers who have crossed into our area since July 4, trying to pick a hundred or so for a special problem-solving group which will begin doing in a regular and systematic way the sort of engineering and logistic chores I and my crew have been stuck with till now.

The people I talked to had been pre-screened before they got to me, and they all have an engineering or industrial-management background. There are about 300 men, plus a hundred or so wives and children, which is an indication of the really substantial flow of new blood into our area. I don't know what the total is up to now, but I do know that the Organization has increased its strength in California several times over in the last three weeks- and we are taking as members only a small fraction of the new volunteers.

The great majority have either been organized into labor brigades, primarily for farm work, or, in the case of most of the males of military age, put into Army uniforms and given rifles we've salvaged from one of the bombed-out National Guard armories. In the latter way we are gradually increasing the overall reliability, if not the proficiency, of the military force under our control. Many of these " instant soldiers" have had little or no military training, and we haven't had a chance yet to give them any of the ideological preparation which the new Organization members are receiving, yet they are clearly more sympathetic to our cause, on the average, than the regular GI's. We are integrating them into the regular units as rapidly as we can.

I queried the people I saw today about their present living arrangements and family situations as well as about their training and work experience. Nearly all of them have been assigned to a block of recently vacated housing in a former Black area, just south of Los Angeles proper. The Organization has set up a new unit HQ in a small apartment building there, and that's where the interviews took place.

There were very few complaints from the people I talked to, although they all mentioned the extraordinarily filthy condition of the buildings into which they have moved. Some of the apartment units are so saturated with filth they are simply not habitable. Everyone, however, has pitched in cheerfully, and the disinfecting, scrubbing, and repainting effort has made a remarkable transformation in just a couple of days.

I made a brief inspection tour, and it was heartwarming to see pretty, White children playing quietly where previously hordes of screaming, young Blacks had swarmed. A group of about two dozen parents were still working on the grounds around the apartments. They have collected a small mountain of litter: beer cans, cigarette wrappers, empty TV-dinner cartons, demolished furniture, and rusted-out appliances. Two women have marked off a sizable area of barren, thoroughly trampled lawn with stakes and string and are spading up the earth for a community vegetable garden. In windows which had previously known only torn paper shades, bright curtains-improvised from bed sheets and home-dyed, I imagine- have gone up. Fresh flowers are on sills formerly occupied only by empty liquor bottles.

Most of these people arrived here with little more than the clothes on their backs, having left everything behind and risked their lives in order to be with us. It's a shame we are unable to do more for them now, but they're the type who are pretty well able to do for themselves.

One of the first volunteers I picked this morning was a man to find a suitable truck somewhere and use it regularly for hauling refuse away from the new settlement and bringing in food each day from the nearest distribution point, which is about six miles away. He will be responsible for his own mechanical maintenance and for finding gasoline wherever he can, until we have time to set up a new fuel-distribution system. He is a 60-year-old who formerly owned his own plastics factory in Indiana, but he is happy to be a garbageman here!

By the time we get the overall civilian situation whipped into shape, the average population density in our part of California will be a little less than half what it was a month ago. There'll be the greatest plenty of housing for new people coming in, and we'll probably level about half the residential and commercial areas in Los Angeles county, plant trees, and make parkland of them. That lies in the future, though, and for now our aim is simply to settle the new people temporarily in areas well separated from those we haven't pacified and weeded yet.

But even the tiny beginning we have already made fills me with joy and pride. What a miracle it is to walk streets which only a few weeks ago were filled with non-Whites lounging at every street corner and in every doorway and to see only White faces-clean, happy, enthusiastic White faces, determined and hopeful for the future! No sacrifice is too great to successfully complete our revolution and secure that future for them-and for the girls of the 128th Los Angeles Food Brigade and for millions of others like them throughout our land!

Chapter XXIII

August 1, 1993. Today has been the Day of the Rope-a grim and bloody day, but an unavoidable one. Tonight, for the first time in weeks, it is quiet and totally peaceful throughout all of southern California. But the night is filled with silent horrors; from tens of thousands of lampposts, power poles, and trees throughout this vast metropolitan area the grisly forms hang.

In the lighted areas one sees them everywhere. Even the street signs at intersections have been pressed into service, and at practically every street corner I passed this evening on my way to HQ there was a dangling corpse, four at every intersection. Hanging from a single overpass only about a mile from here is a group of about 30, each with an identical placard around its neck bearing the printed legend, " I betrayed my race. " Two or three of that group had been decked out in academic robes before they were strung up, and the whole batch are apparently faculty members from the nearby UCLA campus.

In the areas to which we have not yet restored electrical power the corpses are less visible, but the feeling of horror in the air there is even worse than in the lighted areas. I had to walk through a two-block-long, unlighted residential section between HQ and my living quarters after our unit meeting tonight. In the middle of one of the unlighted blocks I saw what appeared to be a person standing on the sidewalk directly in front of me. As I approached the silent figure, whose features were hidden in the shadow of a large tree overhanging the sidewalk, it remained motionless, blocking my way.

Feeling some apprehension, I slipped my pistol out of its holster. Then, when I was within a dozen feet of the figure, which had been facing away from me, it began turning slowly toward me. There was something indescribably eerie about the movement, and I stopped in my tracks as the figure continued to turn. A slight breeze rustled the foliage overhead, and suddenly a beam of moonlight broke through the leaves and fell directly on the silently turning shape before me.

The first thing I saw in the moonlight was the placard with its legend in large, block letters: " I defiled my race. " Above the placard leered the horribly bloated, purplish face of a young woman, her eyes wide open and bulging, her mouth agape. Finally I could make out the thin, vertical line of rope disappearing into the branches above. Apparently the rope had slipped a bit or the branch to which it was tied had sagged, until the woman's feet were resting on the pavement, giving the uncanny appearance of a corpse standing upright of its own volition.