The Turner Diaries
March 28, 1993. I'm finally back in the swing of
things now. Over the weekend Katherine answered many questions for me and
gave me the details, especially about local developments, which I failed
to get from Henry Friday.
While I was locked up the work on
our communications equipment had to go on, of course, and now there are
two other well-qualified people in the area handling that task. But
there's still plenty of technical work left for me. Bill is a fine
mechanical craftsman and gunsmith, but he can't handle the ordnance jobs
that require chemical or electronic techniques. He gave me a long list of
requests for special devices which came into our unit while I was in
prison and which he had been obliged to put aside.
We went
over the list carefully last night and decided which items are most
important for the current needs of the Organization. I then made up my own
list of supplies and equipment needed to begin work.
The
top-priority items on Bill's list of requests are radio-controlled
detonators and time-delay detonators and igniters. The Organization has
been improvising in the latter category-and getting too high a percentage
of misfires. We want a time-delay device which is adjustable from a few
minutes to a day or more and which is 100 per cent
certain.
Another category of items requested is disguised
bombs and incendiary devices. It is now just about impossible to get into
any government or media facility without walking through a metal-detector,
and all packages and mail are routinely scanned by x-ray. This will
require some cleverness, but I already have a few
ideas.
And then there is Bill's own project, on which he
needs some technical assistance: counterfeiting! The Organization is
already successfully printing money on a fairly large scale on the West
Coast, Bill said, and they want him to begin doing the same thing
here.
I understand now why the economic status of the
Organization seems to have improved so much in the last year! Actually,
since we switched to large-scale actions we've begun tapping some new
sources of contributions-mostly fat cats buying "insurance," I suspect-but
we are apparently still finding it useful to print some of our own
money.
Whatever genius is running our West Coast
counterfeiting operation made up a very thorough set of instructions,
which Bill showed me. The guy must have worked for the Secret Service or
the Bureau of Engraving and Printing. He really seems to know his
business. (Note to the reader: The "Bureau of Engraving and Printing" was
the government agency which produced paper money in the United States, and
the "Secret Service" was a police agency which combatted counterfeiting,
among other things. As we know, counterfeiting was later used by the
Organization not only to supply its units with funds but also to disrupt
the general economy. In the last days of the Great Revolution, the
Organization was dumping such huge quantities of counterfeit money that
the government, in desperation, outlawed all paper money, requiring all
monetary transactions to take place either in coin or by check. This move
played havoc with public morale and was one of the factors leading to the
final success of the Revolution.)
Bill has already finished
setting up nearly everything; he has a really fine shop for precision
printing. He just needs help with the fluorescence problem. The
instructions tell him what chemical additives to put in his ink, but not
where to get them. And he is not sure about how to make and use an
ultraviolet inspection unit for checking the finished product. That won't
be hard.
Our new working and living arrangement is
radically different from the one we had before. Instead of sneaking around
"underground," we are right out in the open now. There's a neon sign in
the window of the printing shop, and it's listed in the Yellow Pages.
During the day the shop is "open for business," with Carol behind the
counter, but Bill keeps his prices so high that just enough work to
maintain appearances comes in. His real work takes place after hours,
usually in the basement, where the armory is.
The four of
us live above the shop, like we did over the old place, but we don't have
to keep the windows blacked out. And Bill's pickup truck stays parked
right on the street in front. So far as the world is concerned, we are
just two young couples in the printing business
together.
The trick, of course, was in establishing false
identities that would stand up to System scrutiny, but the Organization
has developed an admirable degree of expertise along that line. We all
have Social Security cards, and two of us have driver's licenses. The
cards and licenses are genuine (I have heard some unpleasant stories about
how the Organization obtained them), so we can open bank accounts, pay
taxes, and do other things like anyone else.
I just have to
remember that my new name is-ugh!- "David J. Bloom." I am really being
ribbed about that. Fortunately, the photograph on the driver's license is
indistinct enough to pass for me, as long as I keep my hair
dyed.
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 the 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.