The first thing we did was to clear Lewis County of non-whites, which reaped the NVA an immense propaganda and public relations bonus. The presence of non-whites gave the régime a pool of potential informers, supporters, and combatants to use against us, and we had to cut the government off from that resource. Second, the clearance showed our power. We gave an order to the muds to be gone, and by God they got gone and ZOG was clearly powerless to stop it. Third, it made the NVA very popular indeed and gained us many recruits. Nobody in the Northwest actually liked being overrun with Third World immigrants who didn’t speak our language, who undermined our way of life, who took our jobs, got all kinds of free benefits denied to white people, sold drugs, and caused a rash of families with mestizo grandchildren. As a final bonus, with the non-whites gone that meant more jobs, goods, and services were available for the white population. You started to see white kids back behind the counters of fast food restaurants and white men on construction sites, on road crews and working in warehouses, not to mention back in the cannery and what was left of the logging industry. When we were through, white men who had once believed they would never work again in their lives were bringing home paychecks and holding up their heads, and they all knew damned well who they had to thank. I had started the ball rolling with my call to that assistant manager at Fulton’s Market. Now we had to reverse a whole large-scale demographic process that had been ongoing for half a century. With a little guts, it took us about three months to make Lewis County all white again.
The county’s few blacks and Jews had already gotten the message by this time, and there were hardly any left. In fact, if memory serves I don’t think we ever had to whack a single Jew in Lewis. The few who lived there before 10/22 had the usual sensitive antennae of their people, they picked up on the ancient vibes of the pogrom fast, and they got the hell out. That’s one of the things that always ticks me off, when ZOG propaganda to this day moans and groans about the Northwest Holocaust where the NVA was supposedly shoving kikes into ovens and making them into lampshades and soap and burying them in mass graves and that kind of horse hockey. (Okay, granted, there was O.C. Oglevy and his beer mug made from the skull of a rabbi, but Oglevy was nuts.) We simply didn’t catch that many Jews. Once they realized that their shabazz-goy government couldn’t protect them, the Jews ran like bunnies out of the Northwest. Why do you think the WPB had to track down the doctor who murdered my father in Philadelphia years later? We didn’t even have to kill that many
Mexicans. Again I should point out that people from more primitive Third World cultures never had any difficulty at all in understanding the situation. Where they came from they were used to being pushed around by gun-toters, in uniform and out. To them race war was an obvious concept, one they had been consciously waging against us at a low level for years. It was only the dumb-ass whites who couldn’t seem to wrap their minds around it. The spics themselves had long been demanding their own nation in the Southwest called Aztlan, so the Mex and the NVA understood one another. In an odd way, we both got what we wanted, since many of the Mexicans we ran out of the Northwest ended up back in California or Arizona or Texas, carried their grudge against the white man with them, and were instrumental in founding Aztlan.
We made up some flyers in Spanish, very grim and official sounding, citing General Order Number Four and ordering them all out of the Homeland. We scattered them around in areas where we knew the spics would find them and get the word out on the grapevine. The local white liberals organized a few loud macho chest-beating publicity stunts where the spics marched down the street in Dundee and Centralia waving signs to the effect of “Hell No, We Won’t Go, Diversity Si, Racism No,” all that kind of garbage. Needless to say, the media fell down on their knees and adored. We waited until they had folded up their cameras and turned off their klieg lights, and then we went to work. It was time for the old Molotov cocktail trick. We had a dandy recipe, half liquid detergent and maybe a third gasoline with the bottle topped up by motor oil. It turned into a kind of napalm, stuck to whatever it hit and burned nice and hot. In the wee hours of the morning, one of our crews would stage some kind of diversion in or near a wealthy suburb, throw a pipe bomb or riddle some rich man’s house with bullets to make sure the cops would all rush to the scene with their yellow tape and their investigators and their forensic units. While they were tied up, a few miles away we were burning out Mexicans.
We started on their economic base, the small businesses the illegals owned and patronized and which provided the goods and services necessary to maintain their unlawful presence in our country. Hispanic and Asian speciality stores, bodegas, hot food takeaways, labor contracting offices both official and unofficial, welfare and social services offices and anywhere else mud people got a government check, little storefront Pentecostal churches run by brain-dead Judœo-Christians who sheltered and fed them, every motel in the county run by someone named Patel (which was just about all of them), the little hole in the wall check-cashing and wire service places that sent money that should have been going into our people’s pockets down to Mexico and points south. Two Volunteers tossing cocktails and two drivers ready, and a fifth Volunteer on guard with something heavy to prevent interference. That’s when I made those Mexicans do the hat dance with the Thompson .45 one golden evening. Some of us wanted to torch certain houses and apartment buildings that had turned into barrios, but Tank vetoed it. “That’s all we need, to toast a bunch of cute little brown bambinos!” he snorted derisively. “That would play just great on the six o’clock news! It’s not necessary anyway. If you want to make a species extinct you don’t have to hunt them all down and kill them one by one. You destroy their habitat.” So we did. Within a few weeks there was not a bottle of Mexican soda pop or a Spanish-language porno video available anywhere in Lewis County. These places we hit were mostly empty buildings at night, and no one was seriously hurt, but we had made a serious start in cutting off the non-whites’ support system.
Then we moved up the food chain (no pun intended) and went after the convenience marts, and that got a bit rougher. In Lewis County these were mostly run by Koreans, who were tougher nuts to crack than the other wogs. They owned guns and could use them, and to give them their due, Asians would make a fight of it where blacks and Jews and Mexicans would run. Volunteer Ralph Donati was killed in the act of taking out a Korean-run mini-mart, our first casualty in E Company after the man who died in Coeur d’Alene during the Sixteen Days. Our technique here was to wait until the store was empty of customers if we could, bust through the door in force and waste any non-whites on the premises before they could reach below the counter for their own guns, chase out any customers, toss a grenade in the back room to take care of anyone skulking there, then dump some of our special incendiary goo on the merchandise and the fixtures and toss a cocktail as we left. Depending on whether or not there were any white residential structures nearby, we might or might not drop a grenade down into the gasoline tank below the pumps and make a big boom and a nice big lovely fireball in the sky. We not only wasted the gooks and wogs running the store but made sure that there was nothing left for Uncle Pak or Cousin Sanjay to re-open. We didn’t get them all to divest, but within a few weeks there were white faces behind all those counters and the brown and yellow ones were off to California or the east coast or somewhere more salubrious to their health. We learned that it wasn’t even so much the killings and burnings that prompted the departure of the Asians, it was the fact that the head offices of their various franchises found they could no longer get insurance at any price. That was how the Iraqi guerrillas had shut down the Basra tanker port; no one would insure the tankers against their repeated attacks.
Then there were the legendary Northwest snipers.
Snipers were a major tactical weapon of the NVA, and possibly our most effective when it came to enforcing General Order Number Four and clearing the Homeland of its unlawful non-white population. Not to mention General Order Number Five, w
hich sentenced race-mixers to death. No one of any color wants to live in a country where you might be shot down on the street at any moment. And if our sniping provoked random retaliation by black and Mexican snipers against white people who were trying to get on with their lives? Well, got a hot flash for you, sunshine. There are no neutrals in a race war. Your skin is your uniform. So get your damned ass off the fence and join the NVA and fight for your race and defeat these people who are your enemies and who should not be here at all. The grand and glorious United States of America cannot protect you worth a bucket of warm spit, but we can help you protect yourself and your family if you will just stand up and be a man. Got it?
I have read books and seen televids wherein the snipers were credited with winning the whole War of Independence for us. Well, I wouldn’t go quite that far, but they sure as hell sent a vital message, and that was that until this business was settled and the white man got back a piece of his own pie, there would be no normal life, no business as usual, not for anyone. And by God, there wasn’t. Once again, we were astounded by what we could accomplish through a little guts, the simple physical courage necessary to fight for our country even if it put us in danger. We very quickly discovered that we were able to more or less shut down normal life at will, for everyone in some pretty large swaths of territory. American society was so complex, everything so interactive and interlocking and interdependent on everything else, that when you cut the chain at one point the whole works just ground to a halt. I began to understand why ZOG had been so paranoid about us all those years. They always knew how vulnerable they were if we ever rediscovered our courage, even if we didn’t.
Sniper teams operated in pairs, one shooting and one driving. It was one of the few times we would only use one vehicle by choice. Less conspicuous. Each team had its own modus operandi, from vans with gunports concealed in the paneling to motorcycle strikes. Some of our most renowned sharpshooters like the legendary Johnny Johnson, Shorty Tyler and Jenny Seawright, the Black Widow, would pick their targets carefully and stalk them for days, a single head shot bringing down politicians and military officers, corporate executives and reporters, lawyers and prison officers who beat and tortured our people. Others like Kid Coyle and Dangerous Dan McGrew (I think his real name was Witherspoon or something innocuous like that) would simply do the easy rider number and cruise the Northwest on hot wheels, taking a shot wherever one came up, and they made some surprisingly lucky bags. There were speciality snipers. Conrad Baumgarten came all the way from Germany with his SS officer grandfather’s scoped ‘98 Mauser to hunt Jews. Interracial couples vanished from the streets of the Homeland in a matter of months after 10/22; any white slut who dared show her face in public with her beast of pleasure had to be suicidal. The Northwest is a very large place, and with even minimal escape and evasion skills it was fairly easy for the snipers to take a shot, drop the target, then un-ass the area even before anybody dialed 911, and then strike again fifty miles away a few hours later. Two or three teams could effectively paralyze a city like, say, Tacoma. Once it became apparent that the United States no longer enjoyed a credible monopoly of armed force, then before too long GHQ was being quietly approached by municipal governments who were willing to bring themselves into compliance with certain Party policies in order to make sure their cities were sniper-free. Affirmative action programs in city employment and contracting disappeared. Black and brown faces in city government were seen no longer. Human relations councils and other enforcers of political correctness found their budgets were gone with the wind and their jobs redundant. You get the idea.
But the main effectiveness of the sniper offensive lay in the whitening of the Homeland. We demonstrated that in Lewis County. It became apparent to the public very early on that for all their swaggering, threatening, chest-beating and arrogant, belligerent red, white and blue rhetoric, ZOG simply could not protect the average Juan or Rastus on the street from getting a .30-06 bullet in his skull. The Northwest got real white, real fast. This is what always amuses me about these wild accusations I hear even to this day about how we allegedly slaughtered all these niggers and spics and gooks during the Cleanup. It’s the same as with the alleged Northwest Holocaust of all those Jews we never managed to get hold of. The non-whites were pretty much all gone by the time of the Cleanup and it was the white traitors who got theirs during that period. Third World immigrants were in America not because they wanted to be Amurricans and enjoy all the wonderful benefits of living in a land of freedom and democracy and all that asinine horse hockey. Non-whites came to America for one reason only, to take what the white man had. Hell, look at it from their point of view. Why shouldn’t they come into our country and take what we had? For three generations we never lifted a finger to fight for it. They held us in contempt, and we damned well deserved it. What kind of people won’t fight to repel foreign invaders? Their motivations were purely economic and once those motivations were rendered nugatory or too risky for them to remain in the Northwest, then the Third Worlders moved on to other parts of North America where they could still get what they came for, which was all that lovely green money.
After the NVA in Lewis County leveled or cleaned out the mercantile level of the mudflow, then we attacked the root cause of the whole problem. We went after the employers.
By then the vibe was sinking in among the country club set throughout Lewis County: there were some bad new boys on the block, ZOG couldn’t protect the wealthy and a six-figure checking account wouldn’t stop a bullet. From there it was a short step to the conclusion that hiring Third World labor was no longer a viable option for the canny entrepeneur. It was Fulton Market writ large. Hey, you hit the suits’ money and they catch on fast, fast, fast! It only took one furniture assembly factory in Chehalis to go up in smoke and a couple of calls from Tank Thompson to our local captains of industry before every businessman in the county was picking up the phone, calling their temp agencies, and telling them to pay off the wetbacks at the end of the week and replace their labor force with workers of proper legal documentation, starting on Monday morning. The agencies picked up on the coded words and leaped to do their money-masters’ bidding. Thirty years of trumpeted ‘diversity’ died in one weekend. One Sunday in September the Lewis and Thurston County newspapers were unusually thick. No one admitted outright what was happening, but when we opened the classifieds, we found something that no one had seen in almost a generation in the Northwest—page after page of glorious, wonderful jobs advertised, in big block type. We never realized just how much of the Northwest’s lifeblood the illegals were draining, until all of a sudden they were gone. The jobs still paid peanuts, but at least they were there, and eventually white people could start moving back into homes and got out from living under the railway bridges and in the homeless shelters.
For the first time in the memory of anyone under forty, the Mexicans and the Asians and the Middle Eastern who-knows-whats were gone. Lewis County was white again. Yep. It was that easy. All that was necessary was a few white men who had the courage to stand erect. We understood, with a mixture of pride and humiliation, that we could have done it at any time during the past thirty years. All it took was a relatively modest amount of simple physical courage, and at the eleventh hour and the fifty-ninth minute and the last damned second, through some miracle of God, we found it.
Then we were able to go after the real enemy, the enemy who had always been the mainstay of tyranny and the oppressor of our people. The enemy who had to be crushed into powder if there was ever again to be freedom in this land—the loyalists. The whites who supported the United States government out of ignorance or arrogance or misguided religion, or self-interest or greed, or force of habit, or just plain stupidity. In any revolution, that is the enemy the rebels must defeat decisively and totally. The enemy within.
This required a lot more finesse. Tank was not one of these wild-eyes like Oglevy and certain others whose philosophy it was to simply shoot down anyone they
didn’t like. “We have to hurt people because we have to assert our authority,” the lieutenant told us. “All authority and law is based on armed force. We have to be obeyed. We have to inspire fear so that people won’t co-operate with ZOG, won’t turn us in, won’t give the enemy information, and yet on the other hand they will give us the practical and logistic help we need, and so on. But you can’t found a new nation on fear alone. We’re going to have to make the people of the Northwest want the Republic because they understand it’s their best possible future, and so the bloodletting needs to be carefully controlled. We mustn’t kill anyone when a kneecapping will do, and we mustn’t kneecap when a quick going-over with the brass knucks will do. We want people to be just enough afraid so that they don’t call the Feds on us, but not so completely terrified that they do, if you get the distinction. We want them to think of us as mean violent bastards, not crazy murdering bastards. It’s a hard call to make.”
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