The Turner Diaries: A Novel Read online

  The Organization had no choice about establishing new identities for all of us who are underground. A person without a documented identity simply can't function in this society any longer. One can't buy groceries or even ride a bus without showing either a driver's license or one of the new identity cards the government has begun issuing.

  It's still possible to get by with a fake in most cases, but the computerized system will be completed in another few months, and then fakes will automatically be detected. So the Organization decided to do it right and give us "genuine" credentials, even though that's a slow and difficult job. A few special units handle that task with cold-blooded ruthlessness, but the demand for new credentials still far exceeds the supply.

  It also appears that the System has become even more ruthless in its campaign against us. A number of our people-perhaps as many as fifty for the whole country-have been murdered by professional killers in the last four months. It's hard to fix the exact total, because some we suspect have been killed have just disappeared, and no body has been found.

  When our people first began to disappear or to be found floating in the river with their hands tied behind their backs and six or seven bullet holes in their heads, there was a widespread assumption among the Organization rank and file that these killings were internal disciplinary actions by the Organization itself. In fact, there was a period last fall when we were losing more members because of disciplinary executions than anything else. That was a time when morale was very low, and it was necessary to use extreme methods to convince waverers to remain steadfast in their obligations to the Organization.

  But it was immediately apparent to Revolutionary Command - and it soon became apparent to everyone else-that a new element had entered the picture. From our contacts inside one of the Federal police agencies we learned that our people are being killed by two groups: a special Israeli assassination squad and an assortment of Mafia "hit men" under contract to the government of Israel. Where both these groups are concerned, U.S. police have been given a "hands off" order by the FBI. (Note to the reader: The "Mafia" was a criminal confederation, composed primarily of Italians and Sicilians but usually masterminded by Jews, which flourished in the United States in the eight decades prior to the Great Revolution. There were several half-hearted governmental efforts to stamp out the Mafia during this period, but the unrestricted capitalism then flourishing provided ideal conditions for large-scale, organized crime and its concomitant political corruption. The Mafia remained in existence until virtually all its members-more than 8,000 men-were rounded up and executed in a single, massive operation by the Organization during the mopping-up period which followed the Revolution.)

  All the victims so far have been among our "legals." Apparently someone in the FBI gives the names of persons suspected of being members of the Organization but not yet under arrest to someone in the Israeli embassy, and they take it from there.

  We have made some reprisals-in New Orleans, for example. After two of our "legals," one a prominent attorney there, were murdered Mafia-style about six weeks ago, we mined the nightclub which served as the local Mafia hangout. When the bombs went off and the place burst into flames during a birthday celebration for one of their "underbosses," the fleeing patrons were met with merciless hails of machine-gun fire from our people, who were stationed on rooftops across from the only two exits. More than 400 persons lost their lives there that night, including approximately 60 members of the Mafia.

  But this new threat still remains very much with us, and it has severely damaged the morale of those of our members and partisans who are exposed to it-namely those who, by retaining their status as law-abiding citizens and operating under their own identities, do not enjoy the anonymity of us in the underground. It is clear that we will soon have to move against the source of the threat.

  April 2. Supply problem solved-at least temporarily. It required another one of those stickup operations which I really detest. I wasn't as nervous this time as when Henry and I pulled our first one-that seems half a lifetime ago-but I still didn't like it.

  Bill and I broke our list of needed items up into three categories, according to their source. About two-thirds of the chemical items we needed were not readily available on the general-consumer market and would have to come from a chemical supply house. Then, I wanted at least 100 wristwatches for timing devices, and they would cost us too much if we simply purchased them. Finally, there were a number of electronic and electrical components, some items of general hardware, and a few readily available chemicals, all of which could be purchased without difficulty and within the resources of our budget.

  I spent most of Tuesday and Wednesday gathering up the items in the last category.

  The chemical problem was also solved Wednesday. That had been a worry, because suppliers of laboratory and industrial chemicals are now required to check out all new customers with the political police, just as are suppliers of explosives. I'd just as soon avoid that sort of scrutiny. But I checked with WFC and a found that one of our "legals" in Silver Spring has a small electroplating shop and could order what I need from his regular supplier. I'll pick the stuff up from him Monday.

  But the watches! I knew exactly what I wanted for our timers, and I wanted enough of the same style so that the timers could be standardized, both for efficiency in building them and precisely known behavior in operation. So Katherine and I robbed a warehouse in northeast D.C. yesterday and got 200 of them.

  It took two days of telephoning just to find the watches I was looking for. Then they had to be sent down to the Washington warehouse from Philadelphia. I told the man in Washington I was in a big hurry for them and would send someone out right away with a certified check for $12,000 to pick them up. He said they would be waiting for me in the front office. And they were.

  I wanted Bill to go with me, but he has been tied down with work at the shop all week. And Katherine really wanted to go. The girl has a wild streak in her that someone who doesn't know her well would never suspect.

  First, one of Katherine's makeup jobs, to protect my "David Bloom" identity and her own. Identity under identity under identity-I've almost forgotten who Earl Turner is or what he actually looks like!

  Then we had to swipe a vehicle. That only took a few minutes, and we followed the usual procedure: Park the pickup in a big shopping center, walk to the other side of the parking lot, find a car which is unlocked, and get in. I used a small bolt-cutter to cut the armored cable to the ignition switch under the dashboard, and then it was a matter of only a few seconds to find the right wires in the cable and attach clip leads.

  I had hoped there would be no violence at the warehouse, but my wish was not to be granted. We presented ourselves to the manager and asked for our package. He asked for the certified l check. "I have it," I said, "and I'll give it to you as soon as I check to see that the watches are the ones I ordered."

  My plan was to take the watches and just walk out the door, leaving the manager yelling for his check. But when the man came back with our package, two husky warehouse workers came with him, and one took up a position between us and the door. They were taking no chances.

  I opened the package, checked the contents, and drew my pistol. Katherine also drew her gun, and she waved the man near the door away. But then the door would not open when she tried it!

  She turned her gun on the worker and he quickly explained: "They have to push the buzzer in the office to unlock the door."

  I whirled back toward the manager and snarled at him, "Get this door open now, or I'll pay you for these watches with hot lead!" But he nimbly ducked out another doorway, from the office into the storage area, and slammed a heavy metal door behind him before I could react.

  I then ordered the female clerk at the desk to push the buzzer for the door. She, however, continued to sit as rigidly as a statue, her mouth wide open in an expression of horror.

  Beginning to feel desperate, I decided to shoot the lock off th
e door. It took four shots to do it, partly because my nervous haste spoiled my aim.

  We ran to the car, but the warehouse manager was already there. The bastard was letting the air out of our tires!

  I slammed the barrel of my revolver down on his head and sent him sprawling in the gravel. Fortunately, he had only partially deflated one tire, and the car could still be driven. Katherine and I wasted no more time getting away from there.

  What a life!

  It wasn't until this afternoon, when I had finished assembling and testing the first timer, that I was convinced that the fancy watches I wanted were worth the hassle it took to get them. The new timer works perfectly; it makes a positive, low-resistance contact every time, and I am sure it will reduce our percentage of misfires to practically zero.

  I also got Bill's UV inspection unit working for him, and he will be ready to print his first greenbacks as soon as I pick up his ink additives Monday. His product won't be perfect, but it should be close enough. In particular, it should pass all the standard tests used in banks to spot counterfeit bills. They'll have to take it to a lab to tell it's phony.

  And I finished designing three different bomb mechanisms that should pass an X-ray examination without arousing suspicion. One of them fits into an umbrella handle-batteries, timer, and all. The main shaft of the umbrella can be filled with thermite if one wants an incendiary device, or the handle can be detached and used as a detonator. Another timer-detonator combination will be built into a pocket transistor radio (that one can also be fired by a tone-coded radio signal), and the third will be an electric wristwatch, with the detonator and booster molded into the wrist band and fired by the watch's built-in battery. In each case, of course, the bulk explosives must be brought into an area separately, but they can be disguised in many different ways-cast like plaster, for example, into the shape of any familiar object, even painted the right color.

  Chapter XVI

  April 10, 1993. This is the first time in a week I've had some time to myself and have been able to relax. I'm in a Chicago motel with nothing to do until tomorrow morning, when I'll take a tour of the Evanston Power Project. I flew out here Friday afternoon for two things: the Evanston tour and a delivery of hot money to one of our Chicago units. Bill started his press up Monday night, as soon as we had mixed the chemical additives into the ink, and he kept it going almost continuously until the wee hours of Friday morning, with Carol spelling him twice for a few hours of sleep. He didn't shut down until he had used the last of the banknote paper acquired for the purpose. Katherine and I helped by doing the cutting and by handling the paper at both ends of the press. The work nearly killed all of us, but the Organization wanted the money in a hurry.

  They really have a pile of it now! I had never dreamed of seeing so much money in my life. Bill printed just over ten million dollars in $10 and $20 bills-more than a ton of crisp, new banknotes. And they look good! I compared one of Bill's new tens with a genuine, new one, and I couldn't tell which was which, except by the serial numbers.

  Bill really did a professional job all around. Every bill even has a different serial number. This project just shows what can be accomplished with careful planning, dedication, and hard work. Of course, Bill had six months to set things up and practice with dry runs, before I was available to help him with the ink additives and the UV unit. He had all the bugs worked out of the process before beginning his three-and-a-half-day run.

  I brought 50,000 of the new 20's with me and delivered them to my Chicago contact yesterday. His unit has the job of "laundering" the bills, so that an equivalent amount of genuine currency will be available for the Organization's expenses in this area. That's really a much trickier and more time-consuming operation than the printing.

  At the same time I left for here, Katherine was boarding a flight for Boston with $800,000 in her luggage. Later this week we will be making deliveries in Dallas and Atlanta. Getting through the airport security checks with all that hot money is a little ticklish, but as long as they don't do anything other than x-ray our luggage we'll be all right. The only things they seem to be looking for now are bombs and firearms. But just wait until they begin picking up our hot bills all over the country!

  I had a chance to do some thinking on the plane from Washington. From 35,000 feet one gets a different perspective on things. Seeing all those sprawling suburbs and freeways and factories spread out below makes one realize just how big America is and what an awesomely difficult task we have undertaken.

  Essentially, what we are doing with our program of strategic sabotage is hastening along somewhat the natural decay of America. We are chipping away at the termite-eaten timbers of the economy, so that the whole structure will collapse a few years sooner-and more catastrophically-than without our efforts. It is depressing to realize what a relatively small influence all our sacrifices are having on the course of events.

  Consider our counterfeiting for example. We will have to print and distribute in a year's time at least a thousand times as much money as Bill printed last week-at least $10 billion a year- before we will make even a barely measurable effect on the national economy. Americans spend three times that much just on cigarettes.

  Of course, we have two other money presses running on the West Coast, and we'll be setting up others in the near future. And if I can figure a way to take out the Evanston Project, that'll be a capital loss of nearly $10 billion in one stroke-not to mention the economic damage which will result from the loss of electrical power to industrial plants throughout the Great Lakes region.

  But we are doing something else which is really more important than our campaign against the System. In the long run, it will be infinitely more important. We are forging the nucleus of a new society, a whole new civilization, which will rise from the ashes of the old. And it is because our new civilization will be based on an entirely different world view than the present one that it can only replace the other in a revolutionary manner. There is no way a society based on Aryan values and an Aryan outlook can evolve peacefully from a society which has succumbed to Jewish spiritual corruption.

  Thus, our present struggle is unavoidable, completely aside from the fact that it was forced on us by the System and was not of our choosing. Looking at the events of the past 31 months from this viewpoint-that is, considering our constructive task of building a new social nucleus rather than our purely destructive war against the System-it appears to me that our initial strategy of hitting System leaders instead of the general economy was not really as bad a way to start as I had thought.

  It shaped the character of the battle from the beginning as us vs. the System, rather than us vs. the economy. The System responded repressively to protect itself from our attacks, and this caused it to isolate itself to a certain extent from the public. When we weren't doing much but assassinating Congressmen, Federal judges, secret policemen, and media masters, the people themselves did not feel especially threatened, but they resented the inconveniences caused by all the System's new security measures.

  If we had hit the economy from the beginning, the System could have more easily painted the struggle as one of us vs. the people, and it would have been easier for the media to convince the public of the necessity of collaborating with the System against a common menace-namely us. So our initial error in strategy has providentially made it easier for us to recruit now, when we are deliberately working to make things as uncomfortable for everyone as we can.

  And it isn't just the Organization which has been doing a lot of recruiting lately. The Order is also growing at a rate unprecedented in the last 48 of its nearly 68 years of existence. I surreptitiously made the Sign when I met our pickup man here yesterday-as I always do when I meet new Organization members now - and I was pleasantly surprised when he responded in kind.

  He invited me to be a guest at an induction ceremony last night for new probationary members in the Chicago area. I gladly R accepted, and I was astounded to count approximately 60
persons at the ceremony, nearly a third of whom were inductees. That's more than three times the total number of members the Order has in the Washington area. I was nearly as moved by the ceremony as I was by my own induction a year and a half ago.

  April 14. Problems, problems, problems! Nothing has gone right since I got back from Chicago.

  Bill can't find any more of the paper he used for the last batch of money, and he asked me to help him improvise. We tried tinting some slightly off-color paper of the same basic texture and composition, but the result was unsatisfactory. Bill will keep looking for another supply of the original paper, while I continue trying different tinting processes.

  Then there was the delegation from the local Human Relations Council which visited the shop yesterday. Four Blacks and a sick, sick, sick White male, all wearing Council armbands, came into the print shop. They wanted to put a big poster in the shop window- the same kind one sees everywhere now, urging citizens to "help fight racism" by reporting suspicious persons to the political police-and leave a container for donations on the counter. Carol was behind the counter at the time, and she told them, in effect, to go to hell.

  That, of course, wasn't the right thing to do, under the circumstances. They would have reported us to the political police, if I hadn't heard the commotion and intervened. I came up the basement stairs with what I hoped was a convincingly Jewish expression on my face and went into a "So, vot's goink on here, already?" routine. I laid it on thick-not too thick, I hope -so they would get the message: the shop manager here was himself a member of a minority group, a very special minority group, and could hardly be suspected of harboring any hostility for the Human Relations Councils or their commendable efforts.

  The head nigger began complaining indignantly to me about Carol's rebuff. I cut him off with an impatient wave of my hand and directed a look of mock shock at Carol. "Of course, of course," I said, "leave your collection box here. It's for a good cause. But no vindow poster-not enough room. I vouldn't even let my cousin Abe put vun of his United Jewish Appeal posters there. Come! I show you where."