The Turner Diaries
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."
As I officiously led the
delegation toward the door, I ordered Carol back to work in my best Simon
Legree manner. "Yes, Mr. Bloom," she said meekly.
Out on
the sidewalk I overcame my revulsion while I chummily put an arm around
the shoulders of the Black spokesman and directed his attention to a store
directly across the street. "Ve don't have so many customers here," I
explained. "But my good friend Solly Feinstein has many people going in
and out. And he has a big vindow. He vill be happy for your poster to be
there. You can put it right under where it says 'Sol's Pawn Shop,' and
everybody vill see it. And be sure to leave him a donation box- two
donation boxes; he has a big store."
They all seemed
pleased by my friendly suggestion and started across the street. But the
White, a sorry-looking specimen with pimples and an imitation Afro,
hesitated, turned, and said to me: "Maybe we ought to get that girl's
name. Some of the things she said to us sounded definitely
racist."
"Don't vaste your time on her," I responded
brusquely, dismissing his suspicion with a wave. "She is just a dumb
shiksa, She talks that way to everybody. I get rid of her
soon."
When I re-entered the shop Bill, who had overheard
the episode from the basement stairs, and Carol were convulsed with:
laughter. "It's not really that funny," I admonished them with an effort
at sternness. "I had to do something right away, and if my pucker and my
phony accent hadn't fooled that crew of sub-humans we'd be in real trouble
now."
Then I lectured Carol: "We can't afford the luxury of
telling these creatures what we think of them. We have a job to do first,
and then we will settle with that bunch once and for all. So, let's
swallow our pride and play along as long as we have to. Those who don't
have our responsibilities can get themselves investigated for racism if
they want-and more power to them. "
But I could not repress
a grin when I saw the poster go into place in the pawn shop window across
the street, blotting out most of Sol's display of used cameras and
binoculars. He must really have had to bite his tongue! And now all the
people who see that particular poster will make the correct mental
association between the Council's thought-control program and the people
behind it.
The last thing to go wrong was Katherine coming
down with the flu last night. She was scheduled to take a load of money to
Dallas this morning, but she was too sick to go, and it looks like she'll
be in bed for another two or three days. Which means that I'll be stuck
not only with a trip to Atlanta tomorrow, but I'll also have to make the
Dallas delivery. That'll be a whole day wasted on planes and at airports,
and I need the time badly for getting ready for the Evanston
operation.
We want to hit the new nuclear power complex at
Evanston during the next six weeks, while they're still guiding tourists
through it. After the first of June, when it will be closed to the public
permanently, knocking it out will become much more
difficult.
The Evanston Power Project is an enormous thing:
four huge nuclear reactors surrounded by the biggest turbines and
generators in the world. And the whole thing sits on concrete pilings a
mile out in Lake Michigan, which supplies the cooling water for the
reactors' heat exchangers. The Project generates 18,000 megawatts of
electrical power-almost 20 billion watts! Incredible!
The
power is fed into the power grid which supplies the entire Great Lakes
region. Before the Evanston Project went into operation two months ago,
the whole Midwest was suffering from a severe power shortage-much worse
than we have here, which is bad enough. In some areas factories were
restricted to operating only two days a week, and there were so many
unexpected blackouts in addition that the region was on the verge of a
real economic crisis.
If we can take out the new power
plant, things will be even worse than they were before. In order to keep
the lights on in Chicago and Milwaukee, the authorities will have to steal
power from as far away as Detroit and Minneapolis, where there is none to
spare. All of that part of the country will be hit hard. And it took 10
years to design and build the Evanston Project, so they won't be able to
remedy the situation very soon.
But the government has
thought about the consequences of losing the Evanston Project too, and the
security there is pretty formidable. One can't get near the place except
by boat or airplane. And there are searchlights, patrol boats, and strings
of buoys with nets of cable between them all around it, which makes the
approach by water almost out of the question.
The shore for
miles in either direction is fenced off, and there are a number of
military radar and anti-aircraft installations behind the fence, making
any attempt to crash an airplane loaded with explosives into the plant
very unlikely to succeed.
It seems to me that about the
only way we could mount an attack on the place by conventional means would
be to sneak some heavy mortars within range, somewhere near the shore
where there is a possibility for concealment. But, to my knowledge, we
don't have that kind of weaponry available at the moment. Anyway, the
really vital parts of the power station are in such massive buildings that
I doubt a mortar attack could inflict more than superficial
damage.
So, Revolutionary Command asked me to tour the
place and come up with some unconventional ideas-which I have done, but
there are still several tough problems to be solved.
My
visit there last Monday gave me a pretty good idea of the strengths and
weaknesses of the security arrangements. Some of the weaknesses are really
quite astounding. Most astounding of all is the government's decision to
let tourists into the place, even temporarily. The reason for that
decision, I am sure, is the big fuss the anti-nuclear crazies have been
making about the plant. The government feels obligated to show the public
all the safety features which have been built into it.
When
I signed up for the tour, I deliberately loaded myself down with all sorts
of paraphernalia, just to see what I could get into the plant. I carried
an attach_ case, a camera, and an umbrella, and I filled my pockets with
coins, keys, and mechanical pencils.
On the ferry boat
which takes tourists out to the plant there is very little security. They
merely made me open my attach_ case for a cursory inspection. But when I
got into the guard station at the plant itself, they divested me of my
case, camera, and umbrella. Then I had to walk through a metal detector,
which picked up all the metal junk in my pockets. I emptied my pockets for
the guards, but then they handed the stuff back to me. They didn't look
closely at any of it. So, one can at least sneak an incendiary pencil
in.
What really interested me, though, was that one old
gentleman in my group was carrying a cane with a metal head, and the
guards let him keep it during the tour.
In essence, my idea
is this: Since there's no way a single tourist can sneak in enough
explosive material to wreck the place-nor any way he can position the
small amount he could sneak in so it would be really effective, like
punching a hole in one of the reactor pressure vessels, we may as well
forget about explosives. Instead, we'll try to contaminate the plant with
radioactive material, so that it can't be used.
What makes
this idea feasible is that we have a source, inside the Organization, for
certain radioactive materials. He's a chemistry professor at a university
in Florida, and he uses the materials in his research.
We
can easily pack enough of a really hot and nasty radionuclide- something
with a half-life of a year or so-into a cane or a crutch, together with a
small explosive charge for dispersing it, to make the entire Evanston
Power Project uninhabitable. The plant won't be damaged physically, but
they'll have to shut it down. Decontamination will be such an enormous
task that the plant may very well stay closed
permanently.
Unfortunately, this will be a suicide mission.
Whoever carries the radioactive material into the plant will already have
been exposed to a lethal dose of radiation before he gets to the plant
gate with it. There's just no practical way to provide for any
shielding.
The biggest worry is the radiation detectors
which are all over the plant. If one of those gets a whiff of our man
before he's ready to do his thing, it could get sticky.
I
noticed, however, no detectors in the entrance station of the plant, where
the guards check the incoming tourists. There are several in the huge
turbine-and-generator room, where the tourists are taken, and there is one
beside the exit gate used by the tourists-presumably to guard against the
unlikely event of a visitor somehow pocketing a piece of nuclear fuel and
trying to sneak it out. But it seems not to have occurred to them that
someone might try to sneak radioactive material into the
plant.
I remember pretty well where all the detectors are,
and I'll have to consult with our man in Florida on the likelihood of one
of them picking up something at a given distance from the material he will
supply us. If an alarm goes off after our carrier is in the plant but
before he gets to the generator room, he'll just have to make a run for
it. But we'll try to design our gadget so as to give him the best possible
chance.
The whole plan is pretty scary, but it has one big
advantage: the psychological impact on the public. People are almost
superstitious in their fear of nuclear radiation. The anti-nuclear lobby
will have a field day with it. It will catch people's imagination to a far
greater extent than any ordinary bombing or mortar attack. It will horrify
many people-and it will knock more of them off the fence.
I
must confess that I'm glad at this point that my probationary period still
has 11 months to run and that I won't be asked to volunteer for this
particular mission.