The Brigade

by H. A. Covington

  “Secondly, the prospects for collateral damage and the loss of innocent white lives if we bring down an airliner are unacceptably high, especially if we shoot one down while it’s taking off from Sea-Tac and it crashes into an elementary school or a hospital, some horror like that. We can’t risk that kind of propaganda blowback. Finally, believe it or not, the Army Council and the Party do maintain some hope of foreign aid or at least quiet collusion, notably from Russia and France and Japan, but also from the Muslim world, although that will have to be handled really carefully. All established governments everywhere are very skittish about dealing with people who blow up airliners. Everybody is too vulnerable on that front and everybody has had bad experiences with weirded-out skyjackers and fanatics who do that kind of thing. It is considered a major international faux pas. So for the time being, stay away from airports.”

  “What about military aircraft?” asked Hatfield.

  “Military, police, or media planes and helicopters are fair game,” said Donner. “Any plane carrying a major politician or enemy effective is fair game. Knock their asses out of the sky or destroy them on the ground if you can. It might be good to do that just to remind ZOG what we’re capable of, if the spirit moves us. Just for God’s sake don’t shoot one down over a residential district where it’s going to crash into the aforementioned school or hospital.”

  “So just who can we hit?” asked Charlie Washburn. “I mean besides General Order Number Four attacks aimed at taking out the garbage?”

  “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.

  “The first few times, yes, but we’ll also be having a few quiet words of prayer with the media people, and they’ll learn not to play that moo, once a bat or two cracks across some of their skulls,” Donner told him.

  “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. It is not beyond the realm of feasibility that we might develop special relationships with certain ladies and gents of the Fourth Estate. The thought of that Pulitzer Prize for front-line reporting on the war on domestic terror could be a powerful motivating factor.”

  “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. The enemy doesn’t know when and where we will hit. Once you guys here get a few notches on your guns, most of your targets, the people on those lists, are going to flee the area or go to ground, and most of the stationary targets will become heavily guarded and secured. In an area like this, most of your possible targets are in town and close together. There aren’t that many of them, and the enemy can figure out who we’re going to want to hit as well as we can, then take precautions and arrange nasty surprises for any Volunteers who show. Floats introduce a variable that the enemy can’t predict. They will be especially valuable in your General Order Four operations. How often have all of us been driving down the street and seen a racially mixed couple and wanted to blast the creeps? Well, here’s your chance.

  “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. Okay, lieutenant, you mentioned you had some ideas on your first targets?”

  “We need money, and we kicked around the idea of getting started by taking out convenience stores and such run by non-whites,” said Zack. “Walk in, plug whatever gook or Paki is behind the counter, and clean out the register before we leave. But I don’t like the psychology of that. It’s necessary to finance the company, but it also means that average people will see us as mad-dog stickup men instead of revolutionaries. You know the old saying about first impressions being the most important.”

  “Good,” said Donner approvingly. “You’re using your head.”

  “Then something came up that’s the perfect opportunity for us,” said Hatfield, pulling out a copy of the Daily Astorian. He pointed to an article that was headed A HELPING HAND ACROSS THE RACIAL DIVIDE IN SEASIDE. “You remember a black family named Chambliss that our guys burned out in Portland a month or so ago? Chambliss is some affirmative action nigger in a suit with some big title and a $100,000 a year paycheck, who bought himself a nice big mansion in some ritzy white gated community.”

  “Mmm, yeah,” said Donner, glancing over the article. “Actually, that wasn’t the NVA per se. That was some local white kids who took advantage of the unsettled political situation. The two teenaged Chambliss monkoids had been doing some bad acts. They tried to force their attentions on a couple of the kids’ sisters after getting them high on weed, brought in their gang-banger friends who did some swaggering and shoving at the clubhouse swimming pool, little white kids got head lice from playing with the picannins, played their blaring hip-hop at all hours, usual congoid crap. After they’d torched these coons’ upscale crib, the teenagers wrote NVA on a nearby wall. We were glad to take credit, though, and we’ve made contact with the boy who led the bonfire party. He’s got potential.”

  “You see whe
re these bubble-lips are now ensconced in a lovely beach house down in Seaside? Breathing the clean ocean air and walking in the untroubled, non-racist air of wonderful liberal Clatsop County, which just oozes with tolerance and diversity and brotherhood, where all us honkies just love them to death and tap-dance and bow and scrape to them?” asked Zack with a sneer.

  “Mmm, yes, I see,” said Donner dryly. “I also see in this picture the very type of cute little picanninny with the missing front tooth and the braids in ribbons whom I just told you to lay off of. I can envision that picture going nationwide as a victim of wicked evil racist violence and a collective aawwwww going up from every skull full of mush. Birmingham, remember?”

  “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. Okay, after the hit, you will need someone to watch the local sheriff’s office, the hit scene, and the entrance to the Coast Guard station, which is probably where they’ll bunk for the night and maybe even set up their operations room, although they might trust the local sheriff’s department enough to do that in his offices. The idea is to get names of the feebs if possible, but especially descriptions of them and the vehicle or vehicles they’re driving. I think they’re too rattled to check in at a local motel, but you never know. When you take credit for the first hit, the Goldmans, you’ll need to state that you’re D Company of the First Portland Brigade. Maybe that will throw the FBI off enough to think you came down from the city and the NVA doesn’t have anyone local they need to worry about.”

  “I think by then we’ll have someone in the sheriff’s department who will tell us what’s going on,” spoke up Ekstrom.

  “You’re sure?” asked Donner.

  “Not completely, but I think so, yes,” Christina’s father replied.

  “I don’t need to know who,” warned Donner. “Especially a sensitive contact like that. Just be very, very sure. 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? Do you want me to send down a couple of buttons from Portland? We’ve got some heavy hitters shaping up in the City of Roses.”

  “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. “Now, a few words on the Goldman hit itself. We’re starting to pick up enough experience in Portland and elsewhere so I can give you some tips. First off, try to take them down outdoors if you can. Remember, we’re still looking at full CSI and forensic workups, and an indoor homicide scene always yields more evidence. If you have to break into a house or something, wear gloves, of course, latex throwaways—QM, you need to lay in a supply of those—but in an indoor crime scene there’s always more chance of somehow leaving a fingerprint. Always make sure you destroy the gloves afterwards, because they can lift prints from the inside fingertips. Any time you’re indoors you always traipse in something from outside, enough dirt on your shoes to leave a print, stuff like that. Now, Mr. Black, you mentioned that among all those weapons you acquired, there are a number of more downmarket handguns? Saturday Night Specials? .32s, .22s, .380s, off-brand nines, Brazilian knockoffs, and so on?”

  “Dozens,” said Ekstrom.

  “Well, Brigade has asked me to relieve you of some of them. Believe it or not, we’ll need them more than a lot of the heavier stuff, at least for a while. We call those e-pieces, execution pieces. Short-range killing weapons for down and dirty wet work on the street, which can be thrown away afterwards without losing a really valuable heavy gun you might need for a firefight later. 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, until we can no longer be milked or sheared, and then when we grow old and can no longer make profits for our masters, we’re thrown away like empty beer cans. 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 and our old people are injected with poison and murdered or simply left to die of neglect because they’re no longer economically productive.