On America

Below, a comment by Trainspotter about a January 2012 article at The Occidental Observer by Matt Parrott. Why this webzine has been deleting all threaded comments of old articles is inexplicable. The cited text is a gem I rescued:


Excellent essay by Matt.

A particular point made, which I had never thought of before, was the change in Mexican self-perception from the heirs of the great Spanish martial tradition to, well, just being Mexicans. What a let down, and the picture [see it: here] was worth a thousand words!

It is of course debatable as to whether Matt is correct about a future of soft crashes as opposed to a more defined, paradigm shifting moment. My money is on both. Yes, we have examples like Brazil in front of us, but we also have the Soviet Union.

Yet our present system is so complex and unnatural, not to mention vulnerable to systemic shock and disruption, that The Long Emergency (Kunstler’s term) could easily reach a point where things play out rapidly. In other words, where the whimper rapidly becomes a bang. To quote our esteemed former President Bush, “This sucker could go.”

And it will.

The system bleeds legitimacy by the day, and it is hard to see how it can get it back in a meaningful way. It won’t reform itself for the simple reason that it can’t. As the system weakens and decays through inevitable soft crashes, it will become ever more vulnerable to a paradigm shifting crisis that changes everything. Now, whether that change will work out in our favor is another question, but at least there will be opportunity.

In any event, again, the above is debatable.

What I hope will move beyond debate, and the sooner the better, is Matt’s conclusion about where to go from here. We are not going to recover the entire United States, as the United States. It’s simply too late, and like it or not, it’s no longer our country at a fundamental level. In truth, it hasn’t been for a long time, though it has only become materially apparent fairly recently.

This is a vital paradigm shift that we must go through, and if we can make the necessary psychological break in time, it would go a long way toward distinguishing ourselves from the trajectory of ancient India or Brazil.

Just as an aside, go through a quick mental exercise: imagine that, against all odds, we did recover the entire United States. Not just the territory, but the United States as a package. Put aside the fact that there are well over 100 million non-whites here now.

degenerate musicHow much of its history and culture would we have to disown? How much of its music would we have to repudiate? Its films? Its philosophy? Its wars?

It’s rather sobering to think about. Again, this isn’t our country anymore, and hasn’t been for a long time. All one has to do is turn on the TV or walk outside the front door for this to become readily apparent.

As Whites, we are an ancient people. As Americans, we are not. America was a vehicle created, fairly recently in historical terms, to meet the needs of our people and its posterity. Unfortunately that vehicle failed, and we were slaughtering one another, at least in part over black slaves, within a couple of generations of the founding. Then there was Reconstruction. That was bad enough. Moving forward, the record of that vehicle in the twentieth century was nothing short of disastrous for our people, both at home and abroad. In the twenty first century, these long term trends are only accelerating. All told, the vehicle known as America has allowed many whites to become materially well off, but it has been an utter disaster for the long term survival and prosperity of our people.

We were Whites before hopping into this vehicle, and we’ll still be Whites when we hop out. The wonderful things that many older readers may remember, such as close knit neighborhoods and high trust, are more a product of our racial characteristics than anything uniquely “American.” We will have those things under a new flag as well. I have a bit of a recollection of that from my childhood in the seventies. It was fading, but it was still there. Perhaps ironically, only with something new can we have that again.

This is not to say that we can’t take our heroes and icons from American history as appropriate, as that is the story of our people too. But let’s face it, many of the greatest heroes in our history on this continent were men who decided that they didn’t want to be Americans any longer, such as Robert E. Lee and Stonewall Jackson. I’ve heard that when the Confederacy was first established, there was an outcry not to replace the American flag. There is a deep and natural reluctance to make that break. But they got over it, and created flags of their own that speak to many of us even to this day. We’ll have to do the same.

We can take with us what is truly “ours,” while accepting that the vehicle known as America simply no longer belongs to us. In fact, living in that vehicle has become intolerable to us. Orwell wrote something to the effect of a boot pressing on a human neck, forever. We get the same boot, but just to pour salt in our wounds, imagine being forced to watch a black male and white female making out… forever. That’s pretty much what riding in this car called American has come to mean. Oppression combined with low rent degradation… forever.

So let it go. Perhaps one day in the distant future whites will control the entire geographical area of what is today the U.S., but if so it will be in a different political form, and under a different banner. A very different banner.

We need something that is based explicitly upon the protection and perpetuation of our own people, not just abstractions about liberty and equality, or making a buck. That’s not to say that what we come up with won’t offer liberty or the opportunity to make a good living. It can and it should. But if that’s all there is to it, then we’ll end up back in the cesspool again.

Bottom line: we need an ethnostate, a land of our own. A White Republic.


by Jack Frost

gran metafisico

A worldview is not a mere passive view, an act of looking at something, which might be suggested from the word, but actually a game plan for shaping it.

Christianity is the religion of whites and Christianity promotes an anti-racist worldview, which means that, with rare exceptions that were vigorously suppressed, the historical game plan of whites has been to deny the importance of biological race.

As their technological culture has now expanded to include all the races of the world, it’s quite obvious that the result has been and will continue to be to increase race mixing, and accelerate their own destruction as a race. As part of the game plan, it was easy to see this coming; but the problem was, with such a worldview, nobody really cared. In fact, they still don’t.

Whites value their technological culture more than their race, and because of this worldview, can’t see that the two are interconnected. This Faustian hubris is one of their defining characteristics and could well lead to their undoing. It’s possible that technological civilization may be able survive the demise of its founding race, but it seems at least equally likely that a permanent collapse may result. It’s the gamble of the ages!

Myopic white nationalism


“DEspañol YD India produce Mestiso” (Spaniard and Indian produce a Mestizo”) says the caption on this old painting, in the times when the Inquisition of New Spain was busy targeting crypto-Jews. (When the Spanish Crown ruled the continent recent Iberian conversos were banned from emigrating to the Americas.)

But what was the point of trying to construct a Judenfrei continent if the Spanish didn’t get the monkey of Christianity off their backs (interbreeding was approved in the 1530s by the Pope himself)?

In other words, once you introduce Latin American history into the scholarship of The Fourteen Words, you see that the current narrative in white nationalism—“Jewry as the primary cause of our woes”—is myopic to say the least.

For a detailed discussion of what we call the Christian problem, see The Fair Race’s Darkest Hour (cover image of the book and PDF link at the sidebar). See also another of my very brief articles, “On snatched Iberians and Criollos.”

White suicide

White nationalists have to study the history of so-called Latin America. Once you introduce it you see that the ethno-suicidal policies, specifically mestization with natives and blacks, started in the continent long before Jewish takeover of the US media. Let me illustrate it with a single example.

doctor_rodriguez_franciaIn 1814 the first president of Paraguay, José Gaspar Rodríguez de Francia, banned marriages between ethnic Spaniards. Iberian whites had to wed the brown natives, blacks or mulattoes!

Ward Kendall’s dystopian Hold Back This Day, depicting a future in which a totalitarian government promotes universal miscegenation to exterminate whites, had a precedent in real life in the Hispanic side of the conquest of the Americas.

On Thomas Jefferson

Thomas_JeffersonI find hilarious the recent exchange at The Occidental Observer between those American patriots who still believe that the US started unpolluted and those who, like Jack Frost, rub salt into their wounds. The fact is that the principal author of the Declaration of Independence and the third President of the United States either committed, or allowed among one of the male members of his family, a Sin against the Holy Ghost—having sex with a non-white! Why this is a sin that should not be forgiven is explained: here.

Replying to his angry critics, Frost said yesterday: “The fact is that the Jefferson Y chromosome entered the Hemings line [a Negro family], and it is still true that it came either from Jefferson himself or one of his male relatives. In the latter case, either he knew his slave was being used sexually, which makes him a pimp, or he didn’t know, which makes him a fool. The Hemings case was not inusual…”

New Aryan code

Yesterday at Counter Currents a Jarl commented in an article about miscegenation, a practice that incidentally I call the sin against the Holy Ghost:

My wife’s sister is married to a Ugandan and they have two children. She met him doing overseas charity work as a graduate nurse. She’s from a fairly conservative Christian family and no one had a problem with it, not even the grandparents who were born circa 1930. The eldest child of the marriage is going on three and speaking with his father’s accent. Needless to add, he looks more negro than white.

My wife knows my racial convictions and the result is profound cognitive dissonance that sometimes spills over into painful conflict between us. Obviously, the proper way to deal with a situation like this is to lie to some extent. Adopt a relatively respectable paleo-con type position a la John Derbyshire and say “I don’t have a problem with miscegenation, I just want a curtailment of mass immigration, a nation with a strong ethnic core, etc.” But I’ve been foolish enough to tell her my real views. So now we just agree not to talk out it. Fortunately we don’t see a lot of her family due to geography.

The political question that I think comes out of nasty situations like mine is, firstly, what should be our fully articulated, esoteric policy towards mixed race people, and secondly, does there need to be an exoteric doctrine for mass consumption?

What I find bothersome of this comment is Jarl’s feminized reaction. Not long ago, in a family meeting I told my sister that for a white to have children with a Negro is unforgivable as such behavior destroys Nature’s labor of millennia: it destroys it forever the bloodline of that particular family. She resented my comment but I am a real man: I care not for women’s sensibilities and used to believe that when they say anti-white things they should be talked back brutally.

However, it is useless to discuss with my sister. Recently I elaborated a code of speech that avoids any feminization like the one endured by Jarl, so concerned about political correctness that is even afraid of being frank with his wife. This is my new code. In your private life:

Thou shalt only speak to Aryan males.

You won’t believe it but this code avoids lots of trouble. I still can speak of inane subjects with women or coloreds, and believe me: there are millions of the later in the silly town where I’m living.

But about the real stuff I shall only speak with white males. If the Aryan guy happens to be brainwashed my code still makes conversation, or even discussion, much easier. At any event, what’s the point in trying to discuss with white women or non-whites? Women think with their emotions, and in these times of treason most of them have become the most notorious race traitors of history. A noble Aryan man, on the other hand, can understand that the sin against the Holy Ghost, especially the sin involving black blood, destroys his gene pool forever.

As to “an exoteric doctrine for mass consumption” that certainly must involve telling the masses that miscegenation is the ultimate sin. Don’t mind about their feelings. If the Jews are allowed to consider sinful marrying outside their group, why the hell can’t Aryans be allowed to do the same? If non-whites or women happen to listen that universal message it would be accidental. The sole purpose is that Aryan males get it.

Grant_Wood-American_GothicWives also should be treated according to my new commandment. There’s no point in trying to discuss with them when, by Nature, they side the current zeitgeist. And unlike the times of the painter Grant Wood, today the zeitgeist of the strong, the zeitgeist of the Judeo-liberals is certainly more powerful than the views of an alienated husband. We must fight for a society that puts women in their place, especially opinionated wives: Austen-like ethno-states where they will be prevented to sacrifice motherhood for careers. If a wife listens our hate speech that’s only because we invited our rude comrades to our homes and the submissive housekeeper happened to be serving them coffee.

“Everything about woman is a riddle, and everything about woman has a single solution: that is pregnancy” said Nietzsche. A good, marital rape like the one endured by Vivien Leigh when a drunk Clarke Gable carried her up the large stairs in his arms telling her, “This is one night you’re not turning me out” during that famous scene of Gone with the Wind will do the trick.

Rape hate, part 1

by Tom Goodrich

All wars are bad. All wars are evil. All wars are inherently bad and evil. And World War Two was the most inherently bad and evil of all wars. No matter what some desk-bound Jewish propagandist might scribble, and no matter what some Christian nightly news reader might mumble, there is no such thing as a “Good War” and there was no such thing as a “Greatest Generation.” War unleashes pent hate. War lends a degree of legitimacy to the basest instincts in man. War is organized savagery. And never was this on uglier display than in World War Two. And never has the term “hell on earth” come closer to an actual manifestation than on the Eastern Front.

As momentum swung to the Soviet Union late in the war, the Red Army turned viciously on the crippled German Wehrmacht. First through Russia, then through Poland, the Soviets ruthlessly pursued the German army until by January, 1945, the communists were on the very borders of the Reich itself. When the final push for Berlin began, and when Soviet forces finally rolled across Germany, it caused widespread panic among German civilians.

The following is from my books, Rape Hate—Sex & Violence in War & Peace, and Hellstorm–The Death of Nazi Germany, 1944-1947. It is not a pretty picture to paint. For over 70 years the world has been told only one side of that terrible war–the side that won. To this very day, unfortunately, these books and a handful of others remain the only books which actually attempt to describe what the war looked like to those who lost it. My hope when I began writing these books–my hope then, my hope now–was to tell the story as accurately and honestly as possible; to let the world know what actually occurred during that so-called “Good War,” not simply what we were told occurred. My hope then, my hope now, is that if enough people of good will read the books, understand the books, act upon the books, then the day will soon come when the world will rise up and with a united voice declare that nothing like this will ever happen again, not in their names, not in their times, not to them… not to anyone.

Unfortunately, and as horrible as the ensuing pages are, the reader should keep in mind that the following deals with only one nightmarish component of a war filled with Allied war crimes–terror bombing, torture, starvation, massacre, enslavement—crimes that are even now, after over 70 years, still largely unknown. Taken together, the ugly things that were done to the defeated Germans by the victorious Allies remain to this day the darkest and best-kept secret in human history.


Although millions of Germans were on the roads in full flight, millions more remained at their farms, villages and towns. Despite the rumors of Bolshevik savagery and the reality of Nemmersdorf the previous autumn, many Germans were determined to ride out the red storm, refusing to believe the situation was as bad as Nazi propaganda would have them believe

“About one thousand inhabitants defied danger and remained in Schoenwald,” ran a typical account. “[T]hey did not really believe that the Russians were as cruel and inhuman as they were reputed to be, but hoped to win over the latter by welcoming them and being hospitiable.”

“Things never turn out either as well or as badly as one expects,” explained an old German adage, an adage that those who remained now desperately embraced. Nevertheless, as a precaution, many in Schoenwald and elsewhere took time to bury valuables, hang out white flags and hide their liquor in cellars. When these last safety measures were taken, there was little the people could do but watch, wait and pray to God their decision had been correct. For many, an answer came soon enough. Wrote a priest from the city of Lauban:

In the evening I climbed up onto the roof of the church and gazed at the countryside around me. Without being a prophet I realized that disaster was about to overtake us—a terrible disaster, for the heathens were rapidly approaching.

I could see the reflection of a fire on the horizon. It seemed to be moving… It was as though a wind of destruction and desolation swept the countryside…

It was as though there were a sinister warning in the very air. The whole sky was ablaze and the air seemed to vibrate with the rumble of the Soviet tanks, as they came nearer and nearer.

For the next several days, the fight for Lauban went on. “Shells and artillery fire rent the air and the concentrated fire of the tanks grew fiercer and fiercer,” the priest continues. “The thunder of the cannon which continued without pause was deafening. There was a stifling smell of sulfur.”

[A]bout noon some German soldiers came to the convent and told us that the Russians were likely to arrive in about an hour’s time… The tumult and commotion overhead grew louder and louder. We could hear soldiers tramping about overhead, but we could not tell whether they were Germans or Russians…

[B]efore we had a chance to get out of the cellar the first lot of Russians appeared. They stood at the entrance to the cellar and were obviously very surprised to find human creatures down here. They soon disappeared again, however. They did not look as bad as we had expected and most of us were rather relieved.

In numerous other towns and villages, frightened German civilians were also “rather relieved” upon their initial encounter with the Red Army. “[T]he first Russian troops entered the village from the east,” remembered one witness from Schoenwald. “This went off quite peacefully, no shots were fired, the Germans served food and drink to the Russians, and the latter were very amiable. Any misgivings, which some of the inhabitants of the village might have had, vanished.”

“One moment the streets were deserted, and the next moment they were full of Russians,” added a little girl from another village. “I was in our bedroom upstairs at the time, watching from a corner window partly facing the street. I thought I’d carefully lift a corner of the blanket covering that window to take a peek… I was spotted by an old Russian soldier sitting in the front of a covered wagon pulled by two enormous horses. He smiled at me and waved.”

“Most of them were of strong and sturdy build,” a resident of Kunzendorf observed. “And all of them, as they confronted us, were armed to the teeth—with revolvers and pistols of every type… They were attired in dirty, brownish, padded trousers and jackets, and on their heads they wore fur-caps.”

Composed largely of White Russians and Ukrainians, many Germans were shocked that the enemy often looked, sounded, and acted, much like themselves. Recalled Lali Horstmann:

There was a loud hammering on the door, which echoed through the house. When my husband opened the door, a tall, fair-haired officer… stood on the doorstep… When he entered the room, the Russian Army itself was in our home, taking possession. As always, reality differed from anticipation, for it was not he who was violent, but Bibi who flew at his legs before we could stop her, while the soldier made a friendly gesture towards the outraged little dog… He talked in the serious tones of a kindly grown-up soothing frightened children, and helpless though we were, we had a mutual respect for each other’s unalterable position. He stalked through the rooms in a formal search for German deserters. Then, his duty done, he gravely saluted with great dignity and departed, leaving us speechless and trembling.

Unfortunately, the fact that one Russian like the above might display proper conduct did not guarantee that the next would. The lack of consistency or a predictable policy among Soviet front line troops was one of the most confusing and paralyzing aspects of the Russian occupation. From a rural estate, Renate Hoffman wrote:

[W]e saw a Russian ride through the main gate on a horse. He must have been drunk because he fell off. A second Russian came, then a third. They staggered and reeled their way to the door and entered the house. It was worse than we had ever imagined. One of them went straight to the telephone, ripped it off the wall, and threw it on the floor… Another Russian went to the radio and threw that on the floor, making sure we no longer heard any more news broadcasts. More men came in. They raged through the house, going from room to room. They stormed into the kitchen and demanded the cook make them something to eat. There must have been about forty soldiers.

I took the children outside and hid them behind some bushes. Inside, we ran from one corner to the other, not knowing what to do. A man from the nearby village passed by and reported that the Russians were acting like animals everywhere… After hours of this, a Russian officer showed up with an interpreter… He was wearing a perfectly tailored uniform, an impressive looking man, and also wearing white gloves! This officer told us, through his translator, that he was confiscating the house and was giving us five minutes to leave the estate.

Continues a witness from Kaltwasser:

When the shelling ceased we ventured out of the cellar once more, but we had only got as far as the stairs when we saw… a Pole, coming towards us with a Russian officer and another man. We hoped for the best, but the interpreter promptly demanded our watches and rings. In fact, he actually tore my watch off its chain, and made the women remove all their rings, bracelets, and necklaces. We were horrified when the Russian officer and the interpreter seized hold of Mrs. M. and my aunt and dragged them off. When they eventually came back we went to the vicarage. The house was full of Russians and they had already wrought havoc in all the rooms. Some of them had ransacked the pantry and were gorging the food they had found there. Others had opened all the drawers and cupboards and thrown the contents onto the floor… Russians continued to raid the house all day long. They played the mouth-organ and the harmonium and set the gramophone going. There was a bottle of pure alcohol in the house and they drained it undiluted. They swarmed into the pantry and ate all the preserves… When it grew dark they set fire to the school. We did not dare go to bed as one lot of soldiers after another kept raiding the house… At about three o’clock in the morning a savage-looking Russian appeared and searched us. We had already been searched innumerable times by other Russians… In the course of their searches one of them opened the wardrobe and slashed all the garments to pieces with his dagger.

Traumatic as first encounters were, when the shock troops moved off many Germans would concur that the experience had not been as bad as feared. While rapes had occurred and while many German men of military age had been marched east or shot on the spot, the front line soldier was more concerned with fighting and survival than with loot, rape and revenge. Not so with those who followed. In numerous instances, before Red combat officers and men pushed on they turned to the helpless civilians with stone-like faces: “The Mongols are coming… Very bad men. You go quick. Go quick.”

Composed largely of Mongols and other Asians, as well as convicts and Jewish commissars, these men who formed the second wave of troops were regarded, even by their own comrades, as utterly merciless. Terrified by the news, many Germans did attempt to flee and move in the wake of the first Soviet wave. Most, however, found themselves trapped and could do little more than hide young girls and once again pray that their worst fears were unfounded. After a wait of sometimes days, but normally only hours, the dreaded second wave arrived. There were no preliminaries.

Unlike storm troops, who cautiously entered towns and villages and slipped nervously from door to door, the rear echelons burst noisily into communities atop trucks, tanks or peasant carts crammed high with loot. Often wildly drunk, many wore a bizarre array of stolen clothes and gaudy jewelry. Adding to the chaos were herds of bellowing cattle and sheep.

“It was almost like a scene from the Middle Ages—a migration, no less,” said one stunned observer.

Soon after the “carnival columns” halted in a German town, hell on earth was unleashed. “It seemed as though the devil himself had come,” a witness from Silesia wrote. “The ‘Mongol barbarism of the Asiatic plains’ had come not in a propaganda phrase but in the flesh.


“The Monghols are coming!”

While flames shot up from different corners of the towns and gunfire erupted as citizens were murdered in the streets, the invaders soon began kicking in doors to homes, shops and churches. “[A] whole horde of Asiatic-looking fellows appeared and started searching the cellar,” recalled one priest. “The place was a dreadful sight by the time they had finished. The room was already full of smoke and I begged one of the Russians to let us out… Were they going to let us be burnt to death? After a while, however, a more civilized-looking Russian appeared and I repeated my request. He led us out to… the courtyard of the convent. The noise was deafening—the raucous shouts of the Russians, the crackling of the flames, the crashing of beams and brickwork.”

Many horrified Germans tried to greet with a smile their strange visitors. Revealed one woman from a boarding house in Berbitz:

As a precaution, the landlord, Mr. Grebmann, had lined the vestibule with liquor bottles in the naive hope that his house might thereby be spared from ransacking. To the succeeding troop of slant-eyed Mongolians, the tenants brought their jewelry and watches. Hysterical, Mrs. Friedel embraced one of the greasy Kirgis and drank with him from the same bottle, and the elderly Mr. Grebmann patted them familiarly on the back… One of the Mongolians held up my Tom’s tall leather boots triumphantly, the other one put my rings into his pants pocket…

Scarcely had this second detachment left the house and we were beginning to breathe freely, when fists once more thundered at the door: thus it kept up the whole day. The house doors were not permitted to be locked any more. Each took what he wanted either in a more or less harmless or in a malicious way. Soon we and the Russians were wading knee-deep in thrown-around clothing, laundry and bits of smashed dishes…

As soon as a new detachment of Russians entered the house noisily, we squatted trembling about the round table in Grebmann’s living room. One of the soldiers sat at the table with us with pistol disengaged and demanded schnapps or vodka, while the others rummaged around the house… [N]o one dared to speak. We women sat with downcast eyes and lowered head. Someone had told us never to look a Russian in the eye, otherwise we would be lost…

Before long the inside of the house looked as if a band of robbers had lived there… The fellows had cut the beds up into little pieces, slit open the upholstered chairs, thrown furniture around; had slashed pictures, despoiled books, cracked eggs against the wall; had poured liqueur over the rugs, torn curtains down, and scattered the entire contents of all the closets and drawers all over.

One of the most painful shocks for me was to see how two of the ruffians with their heavy boots kicked the chest in which I had my beautiful porcelain wrapped in tissue paper and cotton wadding. They were all treasured pieces… My most beautiful piece… was used by one of them as a toilet.

As a rule, the Soviets generally sought out gold and jewelry first, with an especial eye for “uri,” or wristwatches. It was not unusual to see Red troops laden with necklaces and gold chains or sporting as many as a dozen watches on each arm. When the people had been plucked clean of valuables, interest usually turned to liquor. In their mad quest for “wodka,” soldiers greedily imbibed everything from fine wines and champagne to rubbing alcohol and perfume. Red troops, observed one woman, were “crazy for anything even smelling of alcohol.”

And then…

“Rape was a word that [had] occurred again and again in [our] conversation,” admitted Lali Horstmann. “It was an expression which caused no pang of fear in our times for its meaning was purely figurative—‘to be ravished’ belonged to the realm of lyrical poetry. Now its original sense was terrifyingly restored and brought us face to face with a new peril.”

“Suddenly the door of the room we were in was opened and some soldiers entered,” a frightened boy recalled as he sat huddled with a group of women in a dark room. “One or two matches were struck and I saw that there were about eight Russians in the room who were obviously looking for women.”

The child continues:

As I crouched there in my corner I saw one of the Russians coming towards me. The match he held in his hand went out. I felt, rather than saw, a hand reach out towards me. I had a fur cap on my head, and suddenly I felt fingers tracing curl-like movements on my temple. For a brief moment I did not know what to make of this, but the next instant, when a loud “No” resounded through the room, I thanked God with all my heart that I was not a woman or a girl. Meanwhile the beasts had spotted their victims and shared them out. Then they suddenly started shooting at random. But it was dark in the room and no one could see where the shots were being fired or who was hit. I heard wails and groans and voices calling out to me to help, but there was nothing I could do. Right next to me poor defenseless women were being ravished in the presence of their children.

Merely because a female had been raped once was no guarantee she would not be assaulted again and again. “Many of the girls were raped as often as ten times a night, and even more,” said a witness from Neustadt.

“There was never a moment’s peace either by day or at night,” added another victim:

The Russians were coming and going the whole time and they kept eying us greedily. The nights were dreadful because we were never safe for a moment. The women were raped, not once or twice but ten, twenty, thirty and a hundred times, and it was all the same to the Russians whether they raped mere children or old women. The youngest victim in the row houses where we lived was ten years of age and the oldest one was over seventy… I am sure that wild and hungry animals would not have behaved any differently.

Wrote one girl from Posen who desperately clung to a cousin for safety:

When we were lying in bed at night we kept hearing steps coming up the stairs… They beat on the door with their rifle-butts, until it was opened. Without any consideration for my mother and aunt, who had to get out of bed, we were raped by the Russians, who always held a machine pistol in one hand. They lay in bed with their dirty boots on, until the next lot came. As there was no light, everything was done by pocket torches, and we did not even know what the beasts looked like.

Like hunted prey leading predators from their young, some mothers instinctively sacrificed themselves. Recorded one little girl, ten-year-old Mignon Fries:

[S]he told us in a stern voice to go outside to play and under no circumstances to come back in. No matter what we heard, until she herself would come for us, no matter how long it took. Fearfully we looked at her even though we didn’t know exactly what we were afraid of… We went outside and stood around for awhile not knowing what to do, just listening to the noise in the apartment. My mother had just closed all the windows but we could still hear the soldiers talking, laughing and shouting. Then the music started and before long the soldiers were singing…

The day gave way to evening, it got rather chilly and still we were outside and the “party” got noisier. Every once in a while a soldier would open a window and throw an empty vodka bottle outside. Sometimes the music would stop for a while, but the singing and shouting continued. As it got later and later we became very hungry and cold, but having been raised in an atmosphere of strict obedience we didn’t dare go back in the house against our mother’s orders and just huddled against the wall of the shed in the garden trying to keep each other warm… The music and the singing broke off as suddenly as it had started… Within minutes it was all over and all the soldiers left the house… But it was a long time before our mother finally came out to get us. She was very pale and hugged both of us very tightly for a long time and we could feel her body shaking.

If front-line troops had displayed unpredictability regarding rape, the second wave did not. “All of us, without exception, suffered the same,” revealed one victim.

“And to make matters worse,” added a witness from Neisse, “these atrocities were not committed secretly or in hidden corners but in public, in churches, on the streets, and on the squares… Mothers were raped in the presence of their children, girls were raped in front of their brothers.”

“They… raped women and girls… in ditches and by the wayside, and as a rule not once but several times,” echoed another viewer. “Sometimes a whole bunch of soldiers would seize hold of one woman and all rape her.”

For those Germans who had naively imagined that they might “win over” the Soviets with kindness and courtesy, they now understood, too late, that Nazi propaganda had in this instance grossly understated the threat, rather than exaggerated it. “[T]he atrocity reports in the newspapers were harmless, compared to reality,” one incredulous victim revealed.

While many upright Russian officers courageously stepped in and risked their own lives to stop the murders and rapes, their efforts were little more than a drop of water to a forest fire.

“[A]ll of us knew very well that if the girls were German they could be raped and then shot,” admitted Alexander Solzhenitsyn. “This was almost a combat distinction.”

“There will be no mercy—for no one,” ran one Russian general’s order to his men. “It is pointless to ask our troops to exercise mercy.”

“Kill them all, men, old men, children and the women, after you have amused yourself with them,” urged the Jewish propagandist, Ilya Ehrenberg, in his flaming leaflets that were showered down from airplanes. “Kill. Nothing in Germany is guiltless, neither the living nor the yet unborn… Break the racial pride of the German women. Take her as your legitimate booty. Kill, you brave soldiers of the victorious Soviet Army.”

Springing from house to house and victim to victim “like wild beasts,” the drunken horde was determined to embrace such words as the above at their literal worst.

“When the Russians eventually tired of looting, robbing, murdering, and ill-treating the women and girls, they set fire to a considerable part of the village and razed it to the ground,” said a survivor of Schoenwald, the small community that had dismissed rumors of Russian ruthlessness and opted to welcome them instead.

Much like Schoenwald, one town after another was swiftly enveloped by the howling red storm… with the same results.

“And as we were then hauled out of the cellar,” recalled a woman who, along with her mother and grandmother had been raped repeatedly, “and as they stood there with their machine guns, my mother said, ‘Well, now we’ll probably be shot.’ And I said, ‘It’s all the same to me.’ It really was all the same to me.”

You can imagine Asian cruelty. “Frau, come,” that was the slogan. “Frau, come.” And I was so furious, because I’d had it up to here… [H]e had me in such a clinch I couldn’t free myself; with my elbow I hit him in the pit of his stomach. That definitely hurt him, and he yelled, “You, I shoot.” And he was brandishing this kind of machine gun around my nose and then I said, “Then shoot.” Yelled it, yelled it just like he did. “Then shoot.”

Though this woman miraculously lived, many who offered even token resistance did not. Wrote a witness from Bauschdorf:

Emilie Ertelt… wanted to protect her fifteen-year old daughter, who had been raped sixteen times on one and the same day. Holding a lighted candle in her hand, Mrs. Ertelt, and all those present in the room began to pray for her daughter… [F]our shots were suddenly fired at us. After a few moments some more Russians appeared and started shooting at Mrs. Ertelt, wounding her in the head. The blood streamed down her face, and the nuns who were present went to her assistance and bandaged her head. Soon afterwards another Russian appeared, a brutal-looking fellow… and fired a shot at close range. Mrs. Ertelt was killed instantaneously.

german kids

German victims of Red Army savages

Surrounded by Soviets, flight was simply not a sane option for females—and yet, some tried. One young teacher from Kriescht ran terror-stricken into the nearby woods. The woman was soon found, however, and, according to a chronicler, “they drove her out on the road stark naked, and many soldiers used her one after the other. She reached her village crawling on hands and knees along the ditch, through mud and snow.”

Another group of females found temporary haven in a barn near Schoeneiche. But again, the refuge was swiftly discovered. Remembered one who was there:

They burst in, drunk with vodka and with victory, looking for women. When they saw only older women and children hiding behind a pile of carpets, they must have suspected that somewhere younger bodies were being concealed, and they started to ram their bayonets into the carpets. Here and there first and then systematically… Nobody knows how many young girls were killed instantly that night. Eventually, the muffled cries of anguish and pain gave the hiding places away, and the victors started unrolling their prey. They chased those girls that had remained unhurt through the barn… By then the barn looked like a battle field with wounded women on the floor right next to screaming and fighting victims forced to endure repeated and violent acts of rape.

Faced by relentless assaults, with flight out of the question, females tried a variety of stratagems to save themselves. “Some of us tried to make ourselves as unattractive as possible by rouging the tips of our noses, putting gray powder on our upper lips to look like mustaches, and combing out our hair wildly,” revealed Lali Horstmann. Others placed pillows under their dresses and hobbled with sticks to appear like hunchbacks. One crazed woman, clad in an alluring night gown, left her door open purposely to attract soldiers to where she was lying in bed, in the hope of finding a protector.

“Two Russians, who had entered for a moment stood speechless. Then both spat in disgust, using a coarse word, shocked to the core by a woman who could offer herself to them. They went on to the room next door, from where soon came cries for help from the girl’s grandmother, aged sixty-nine. Her valiant defense of her honor had made her more attractive than the pretty, too willing girl.”

Regarding “willing” women such as the above as “unclean,” Red troops were as likely as not to kill on the spot such individuals. Many frantic females mistakenly assumed a house of God would provide protection. In fact, churches were usually the rapists’ first stop. Agonized a priest from Neisse:

The girls, women and nuns were raped incessantly for hours on end, the soldiers standing in queues, the officers at the head of the queues, in front of their victims. During the first night many of the nuns and women were raped as many as fifty times. Some of the nuns who resisted with all their strength were shot, others were ill-treated in a dreadful manner until they were too exhausted to offer any resistance. The Russians knocked them down, kicked them, beat them on the head and in the face with the butt-end of their revolvers and rifles, until they finally collapsed and in this unconscious condition became the helpless victims of brutish passion, which was so inhuman as to be inconceivable. The same dreadful scenes were enacted in the hospitals, homes for the aged, and other such institutions. Even nuns who were seventy and eighty years old and were ill and bedridden were raped and ill-treated by these barbarians.

Those women pregnant, on their menstrual cycle, or enduring diarrhea, suffered like all the rest. Nothing, it seemed—not age, ailment or ugliness—could repel the Red rapist. Even death was no defense.

“I… saw some twenty Red Army men standing in line before the corpse of a woman certainly beyond sixty years of age who had been raped to death,” one sickened witness recorded. “They were shouting and laughing and waiting for their satisfaction over her dead body.”

As the above viewer went on to add, and as numerous examples attest, such ghoulish depravities were not isolated events.

Quotable quote

“When irreligion is prominent in the family, O Krsna, family ladies become corrupt, and from the fall from grace of womanhood, O descendant of Vrsni, comes polluted [miscegenated] progeny.”

—Bhagavad Gita 1:40

Published in: on April 4, 2015 at 9:52 am  Comments (7)  

The Day!

Feminized western males in the pro-white movement freak out when confronted with what William Pierce called “The Day of the Rope.” But the absolute need for retribution is understood when pondering upon the history of the Iberian Peninsula: what happened when Gothic values were replaced by Christian values. It is impossible to understand the brutalities of this quotation from Pierce’s most famous book without knowing what happens to Aryan nations after allowing mestization or mongrelization.

In honor to what my Visigothic ancestors did with the miscegenators when they ruled Spain, after the anti-white System collapses I look forward for justice for sins against the Holy Ghost. But I insist that without knowledge of the history of the peninsula the linked quotation of my favorite novel won’t be appreciated, and both Pierce and I could be seen as monsters.

March of the Titans

The following paragraphs of March of the Titans: The Complete History of the White Race by Arthur Kemp caught my attention:

Non-white immigration into the white heartlands

The dominating theme of European history in the last quarter of the 20th Century has been the large-scale immigration of non-White peoples and races into the modern era White heartlands of Europe, Australia/New Zealand and North America. This process has taken place via two avenues: legal immigration and illegal immigration: it is difficult to formulate estimates on which has been the greater. Whatever the channel used, the reality of masses of non-Whites settling in these territories can quite rightly said to be changing the face of these continents.

According to Eurostat (the Statistical Office of the European Communities) in their publication Migration Statistics, 1996, there is not one of the fifteen countries in Western Europe which, at the beginning of 1994, did not have less than 3-10 per cent of what they euphemistically call “non-nationals resident”.

France, Germany, Austria, the Benelux countries, Denmark, Scandinavia and England are all listed as having “non-nationals resident” of more than 10 per cent, with Germany in two regions registered figures of “more than 15 per cent.” An average of between ten and fifteen per cent of “non nationals resident” in Western Europe as of the mid 1990’s is therefore an accurate estimate, given that official figures are always behind actual statistics, as the number of illegal immigrants always closely shadows the number of legal immigrants.

Racial mixing has been extremely prevalent in Britain. According to the 1991 census, taken by the Office for National Statistics in London (ONS), 40 per cent of young Black men in Britain are married to, or live with, a White partner. The trend is less common on the other side of the sexual divide, where one in five young Black women has a partner who is White. Britain has, as a result of this large non-White influx, suffered a large number of Black riots, the most serious of which occurred in 1981, when countrywide riots saw large areas of many inner cities razed to the ground.

According to an article in the newspaper, USA Today of 17 June 1998, the number of mixed-race marriages in the USA was 150,000 in 1960. By 1998 it had increased to “over 1.5 million” and it estimated that the number of mixed-race children in America stood at “over 2 million.”

The 1960s will also go down in history as having introduced one of the most significant factors to affect White numbers in the entire history of the world: the development of the birth control pill, or oral contraceptive, which was first approved for use in the United States in 1965. Social demographic trends have shown that it is only in the Western, White, industrialized countries where contraception is used to any significant degree.

The reproduction rate in White countries (amongst their native populations) has, since the introduction of the pill, dropped to the point where in most White countries it is below the stable replacement rate of 2.4 children per female. In the non-White Third World however, no such restraints exist, and the population grows exponentially as fast as the White population declines in Europe and North America: this demographic time bomb will in the not to distant future have serious consequences for the entire earth.

The resultant massive overpopulation of the non-White lands of the earth provides the major driver for non-White immigration into the White heartlands of Europe, Australia and North America.

Battery Park, NY

Cloaca gentium – Battery Park, New York


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