Today Artur Tschistokjow had summoned his group leaders in Minsk. He was determined to conquer St. Petersburg and was already planning the next protest marches.
“This is the headquarter of the collectivists in St. Peterburg, it is the “brain” of the entire CASJ structure in this city. The “House of Justice” - in the Ulitsa Nekrasova.”
Artur Tschistokjow pointed at a big screen.
”And that's Theodore Soloto, the head of the St. Petersburg CASJ and the mastermind of Uljanin`s movement in western Russia!”
“What an ugly pig face!”, hissed Frank in German, narrowing his eyes to slits.
“What did you say?”, he heard behind him.
“Nothing important...”, said Kohlhaas, shaking his head.
Artur was talking faster and faster now, and Kohlhaas had to sharpen his ears.
“Soloto is a very dangerous and unscrupulous man”, explained the chapter leader of St. Petersburg, Yuri Lebed, a man with reddish blonde hair and a serious look.
“Can you tell us more things about him?”, asked Tschistokjow.
Lebed paused for a moment and replied: “Theodore Soloto is in my age. I've heard that he has studied philosophy and social sciences in Moscow. Eventually, he abandoned his studies and joined the CASJ. There, he had quickly made career. Many of us fear him because of his shrewdness and ruthlessness. He is clever, like a fox.”
“We will defeat him anyway! No matter how clever he is”, grumbled the Belarusian president and stared at the photo on the screen, that showed Soloto with a cynical grin.
“In June, we will demonstrate in the city center and directly pass the House of Justice!”, added the blonde rebel leader.
Frank gasped and some men looked anxiously around. One or the other expressed objections.
But Artur Tschistokjow interrupted them and said: “I understand, that you are afraid. And do not think, that I am not. It is not pleasant, but it is necessary if we want to win the battle for St. Petersburg.”
And the leader of the Rus was right, as Kohlhaas had ultimately to admit. Sooner or later, they had to venture into the heart of the metropolis. It meant, however, that hot days were waiting for them.
Alf was in Ivas to spent a few quiet days with his new girlfriend. Frank, however, was still in Minsk and tried to help Tschistokjow as good as he could. Wilden also visited him frequently and talked about the political course of the movement in the future.
Meanwhile, the general was exhausted and overwhelmed. Sometimes he was not even willing to answer a phone call anymore and was hiding in his apartment like a sick animal.
The last weeks had sapped his strength, and in the few quiet moments, he was musing about Julia and a common future in a time without endless fighting.
Even his friend Alf had already leapfrogged him in “women`s questions” and now he was constantly flirting and kissing with Svetlana. Although, the young Russian woman with the auburn hair and the bright green eyes was a nice and sympathetic person, he often felt a certain envy when he saw her with Bäumer, always laughing and smiling.
Svetlana had graduated at the university of Minsk, and wanted to become an elementary school teacher, just like Julia. She was always very polite, so it was difficult for Frank to understand how a women like this could fall in love with a warhorse like Alf. But in terms of Julia and him it was the same question, if Kohlhaas was honest to himself. Nevertheless, Julia had already been “shaped” by her father.
“Love is a factor, that can`t be calculated...”, said Kohlhaas sometimes in a state of melancholy, when he saw Alf and Svetlana together. They were a more than strange couple. The broad-shouldered, bearded street fighter from Dortmund and the aspiring elementary school teacher, who loved babies and puppies. But apparently, Cupid`s arrow had really hit them.
When Alf and Svetlana visited the general in his apartment in Minsk, Frank often only heard the excited, shrill voice of the young Russian woman in the background. And sometimes also the comfortable hum of his gigantic friend. Occasionally, Alf reminded Frank of a grumbling brown bear, who was lying on the sofa in his living room.
Frank waited a few minutes and grabbed the phone in a state of pleasant anticipation, while Agatha Wilden was looking for her daughter, somewhere upstairs. Alf's happy billing and cooing with Svetlana had finally inspired him to call Julia again. Some minutes later, he heard her voice at the other end of the line.
“Frank?”
”Yes, it's me! Hi Julia! I just wanted to talk a bit! Are you all right?”, asked Frank delightedly.
“Yes, everything is okay so far. Nice to hear your voice. When will you come back to Ivas?”
Kohlhaas paused. “I don`t know, if I`m honest. I`ll be in Russia for the next weeks.”
“I see...”, returned the young woman.
“But as soon as I can, I'll come!”, promised Frank then.
They talked about some meaningless stuff and Frank assured that he would miss her very much. Meanwhile, he was musing about the question, if he should ask Julia to move with him to Minsk. And finally he took heart.
“Uh, Julia, I wanted to ask you something else...”
“Really? Well, I`m listening!”
“Would you come with me to Minsk?”
She was silent for a few seconds. Then she replied: “I`ll reflect about it, okay?”
“You don`t have to leave Ivas completely, I mean because of your mother and so on, but I would be happy if you would...”
”You say it!”, interrupted him the young woman. “My father is somewhere out there. He is constantly on the road, just like you!”
“But it will not go on forever like this”, muttered Frank, but it seemed that he would not believe his own words.
“Not forever? Well, if you have liberated the whole world, then you`ll have some time for me - maybe”, said Julia dryly.
Kohlhaas paused and puffed into the phone. Then he hesitated for a moment and returned: “Really funny! You could just try it. I miss you so much. That's all I can say...”
“Please give me some time to think about it, okay?”
The rebel looked sad, because Julia had hit the bullseye with her hints. Then, they still phoned for a while. Finally, Frank went home and brooded for the rest of the day.
Alf came back to Minsk, while Svetlana remained in Ivas. The Varangian Guard set off, in order to patrol in the villages and small towns around Tula. There were no notworthy incidents in this rural area, although they did not enter Tula itself. The streets of this city belonged to the collectivists.
The mass demonstration through downtown St. Petersburg was planned for the 17th of June, and again the freedom movement started a huge propaganda campaign in the metropolis to reach as many people as possible.
Theodore Soloto regarded the march past the House of Justice as a brazen provocation and called his followers up to fight the Rus by hook or crook. The collectivists finally decided to march on the same route and prepared themselves for bloody conflicts with Tschistokjow`s men.
But this time, Vitali Uljanin would not come to St. Petersburg, leaving the fight against the Rus to Soloto. The collectivist leader himself was on the road in the Ukraine to build up his revolutionary movement.
Virtually all GCF soldiers had meanwhile left Russia and the World Government was glad, that they could be used as occupiers in the Middle East or other crisis regions.
Now the Lodge Brothers confided only in Uljanin and his collectivists. Furthermore, they were not all too interested in the ongoing conflict in western Russia, because it was not important on the global political stage.
Even if the freedom movement controlled some cities in western Russia, for the Council of the 13, the final triumph of collectivism was absolutely inevitable in the long run.
However, the Russian police behaved passively since months, because the ordinary officer had no interest to risk his life for a few hundred Globes anymore. Moreover, the policemen received their salaries irregularly, what made them even more let
hargic. Meanwhile, they were just watching and waiting, which revolutionary movement would win the struggle in the end.
Apart from that, in the areas that were controlled by the CASJ, they had already been replaced by CLJ troopers.
The command to fight on the side of the collectivists against the Rus was meanwhile ignored by the majority of the Russian policemen.
To the contrary, the most of the them showed more sympathy for the freedom movement than for the rampaging mobs of Uljanin. The leader of the Rus was quite satisfied with this situation, because now both sides could fight for the power in Russia among themselves.
Ultimately, over 70000 people came to Tschistokjow`s rally in the inner city of St. Petersburg. His supporters flocked together at the Mesto Lenina, while the collectivists were gathering for their own demonstration. And the red-black crowd was even bigger!
At 12.00 o`clock, the inner city resembled a seething cauldron. Like warring tribes, the Rus and their opponents shouted insults at each other, before they startet to throw stones, bottles and Molotov cocktails. It came to the first heavy clashes of the day with several dead and injured people.
But Tschistokjow and his followers did not waver and marched loudly screaming across the Liteynii Bridge, while thousands of collectivists followed them. Other opponents blocked the street on the opposite shore and could only be driven back after another riot.
At the same time, the Varangian Guard and the local CLJ had a wild shoot-out in the streets near the marching route. Everywhere, the air was filled with hateful screams and a background noise that already sounded like a rising civil war.
At 13.30 o`clock, Artur Tschistokjow led his crowd through the Zakhareyvskaja Ulitsa and finally entered a maze of narrow side streets, where the Rus were already awaited by thousands of collectivists. Both sides immediately attacked each other with clubs, iron bars, knives and brass knuckles. CLJ troopers started to fire from the house roofs, while the armed Rus answered with their guns. Dozens of protesters were hit by bullets and died on the asphalt. Nonetheless, the remaining demonstrants marched forward, steadfastly and stubbornly.
“Artur Tschistokjow! The liberator of Russia!”, it resounded out of the sea of waving dragon head flags.
“Reactionary pigs! Minions of the capitalists!”, yelled the enraged followers of Uljanin.
The Rus marched on, meter after meter, while the streets around them filled with screaming red-black mobs. But not even bullets stopped the crowd which was lead by Artur Tschistokjow himself.
Shortly afterwards, the Rus had almost reached the
House of Justice, but what they saw there, made even the hardest trooper become nervous. Theodore Soloto had called his followers together and hundreds of CLJ men were waiting behind barricades, while thousands of ordinary CASJ members were blocking every street around. They had armed themselves with everything they could find.
Then the CLJ troopers opened fire and a storm of bullets mowed down the Rus in the first rank. Tschistokjow`s armed gray shirts instantly hit the dirt and shot back. The deafening noise of rifle fire drowned everything else for a moment, then the collectivists rushed forward with a warcry on their lips.
This was already civil war! Within minutes, the demonstration turned into a giant street battle. Bones were broken and skulls were smashed, some men fired indiscriminately, while others beat or stabbed down anyone in their way.
Now Frank, Alf and the Varangians appeared with their trucks and immediately shot back. After a fierce battle, both sides parted again and the Rus were still trying to advance to the House of Justice. Some of them were bleeding or limping, others were lying dead or wounded on the asphalt.
Meanwhile, Tschistokjow`s followers could see the collectivist headquarter – it was only hundred meters away from them. But their enemies were still blocking the streets and their number was growing with each passing minute.
The leader of the Rus briefly mused whether he should order his troopers to attack the collectivists again, but finally
he decided to end the demonstration. For the many citizens of St. Petersburg, who had joined the rally today, even many women and old people, this would have been to dangerous.
“We retreat!”, said the blond rebel leader disappointedly and the demonstrators changed their route.
Now, the Rus marched across the Vosstaniya Mesto and finally reached the Ostrovskogo Mesto, a large square near the shore of the Neva river. Here the demonstrators stopped and Artur Tschistokjow delivered a speech.
Two hours later, the rally was over and the Varangians and troopers did their best to protect the participants on their way back.
But the riots still raged until deep in the night. St. Petersburg was shaken by a wave of violence, that devasteted large parts of the inner city.
Trains and trams were attacked, shops were looted or set on fire, and even more people were killed. Some young members of the freedom movement burned down a lodge house near the Mariinnsky theater, while collectivist mobs flocked together with gangs of non-Russians, spreading terror throughout St. Petersburg and beating anyone up who crossed their path. The next morning offered a gruesome picture of destruction. Shop windows had been smashed, burned-out cars covered whole streets of houses and dead people everywhere. The battle for the second-largest city of Russia had entered a new phase.
“Of course it has been a success!”, returned Frank annoyedly and gave his friend a nudge.
“But we did not make it till the House of Justice. Now the collectivists sell it as their victory”, said Bäumer.
“Fuck these bastards! Soon we will break their spine!”, grumbled Kohlhaas grimly, clenching his fist.
“Their number seems to be endless. Artur was right, when he stopped the march. Otherwise, even more people had been wounded or killed”, remarked Alf.
Kohlhaas uttered a few curses, stressing that he was already looking forward to drive the collectivists one day out of St. Petersburg.
“Believe me, in the long run, we will smash them. Meanwhile, more and more Russians are on our side. Even in St. Petersburg. If we increase our propaganda and fight back with all our might, we can finally make it”, growled Frank.
“But there are so many of them, and they are ruthless and brutal”, moaned Bäumer.
“Then we will answer them in the same language! Violence is the only thing they understand!”
“Anyway, let`s wait and see”, said Alfred and went into the secondary room.
Frank was staring at the TV screen and tried to calm down. He was watching a news channel from North America. Some kind of epidemic had broken out in southern India and several thousand people had already died, as the newscaster told. With a loud yawning, Kohlhaas switched the television off and left the living room too.
Both sides, the collectivists and the Rus, interpreted the events in St. Petersburg as their successes. Theodore Soloto said on the internet that the CASJ had stopped the “reactionaries”, while Tschistokjow stressed that the freedom movement had made it to march through the inner city, despite of the “collectivist blood mobs”.
The struggle for power in the heart of the metropolis was now continued with unabated force. Propaganda material of the two revolutionary movements was flooding the city and political violence was the order of the day.
The Rus did not relent in their efforts and steadily increased their activities. Soon the first Russian policemen joined Tschistokjow`s organization and their number was growing. But the most sympathy the Rus still found among the desperate, uprooted and disaffected Russians.
The CASJ slowly lost ground and had to ease its iron grip around the districts of the inner city. Uljanin started to criticize Soloto and looked at the development with anger and sorrow.
In August, Tschistokjow`s men made several smaller rallies in the city center. They were all spontaneous and after a short time, the demonstrants disappeared again, leaving the CASJ no room for organized counterattacks.
The collectivists f
inally reacted with the usual terror and tried to kill Yuri Lebed on the 16th of August. The head of the local chapter of the freedom movement was ambushed and stabbed down by his political opponents at a subway station.
Nevertheless, the tough man survived the attack, although he had to stay in a hospital for a long time. Shortly afterwards, the Rus stroke back and beat up several collectivists after a CASJ meeting.
Soloto`s men answered for their part with the murder of a group leader of the Rus in the following week. Tschistokjow`s followers reacted immediately and killed a CASJ functionary in front of his home with a headshot a few days later.
The whole August was characterized by a bloody guerrilla war that was raging in the streets of St. Petersburg.
But all in all, more and more people left the collectivist movement and supported the Rus. On the 29th of August, Artur Tschistokjow came back to St. Petersburg, in order to speak in front of several thousand people in a festival hall in the outskirts. One day later, a similar event followed at the other end of the metropolis. Slowly, the freedom movement was able to gain influence in the biggest city of western Russia.
The conference hall in the hotel “Himmelblick” was packed with people. About 500 Rus had gathered here today, among them many functionaries of the freedom movement and furthermore the officers and commanders of the Belarusian army. Frank and Alfred were sitting in the first row. Behind them, a few Russians in gray shirts were whispering, while they waited for the arrival of the president.
The great hall was hung all over with dragon head flags. It were dozens of banners, hanging on the sides of the hall or from the ceiling. Dozens of uniformed members of the Children of the Rus were also holding flags in their hands, standing in rank and file at the entrance.
Behind the stage, at the other end of the hall, a giant dragon head flag had been placed. Under it was a big banner with the inscription: “Victory through perseverance! Russia will live!”
When Artur Tschistokjow finally entered the hall, he was welcomed with a thunderous applause. Friendly smiling, he walked slowly towards the speaker`s desk, that was also decorated with the symbol of the freedom movement. Then he began with his speech:
“My dear comrades!
The next month will bring the decision in the fight for St. Petersburg. I have decided to occupy the city, because I think that we meanwhile have realistic chances. Currently, our enemies are confused and don`t really know how to stop us. That means for us: It is time to act!
And we have to act quickly before they can strengthen their position again. Soon our organization will start with the greatest propaganda campaign in the history of our movement and I am sure, that we can beat the CASJ, if we concentrate all our forces on St. Petersburg.
Regiments of the Volksarmee, armed troopers and of course also the Varangian Guard, furthermore thousands of other Rus, will now be mobilized.
We will occupy the strategically important targets in the city, organize strikes of the workers who have sympathies for us, and finally throw the CASJ out of St. Petersburg. The House of Justice and all other centers of the enemy must be taken as well. We must hit them hard with a sudden strike!
“Well, the band begins to play”, whispered Bäumer at his friend.
”We should try it, Artur is right”, replied Frank.
The blonde politician behind the speaker`s desk raised his fist and exclaimed: “Despite of the risk, that this will be the staring shot of a civil war in Russia, we will occupy the second largest city with one great assault! I say: Now or never, my comrades!”
“Civil war will come soon anyway”, shouted an elderly man from behind.
A group of young Russian troopers babbled loudly in the background and Artur Tschistokjow asked for silence.
“I know, that most of you are worried and I`m worried too. But we have to try it now, my loyal fighters! There is no other chance for our organization. Uljanin and his red-black poisoners will never rest and we can not either. Fate leaves us no other choice anymore!
From tomorrow on, we will start the great propaganda offensive in St. Petersburg - and the military attack will follow. If we should succeed in taking over this important metropolis, then the balance of power in western Russia will change overnight. Then we will have a mighty fortress, a bulwark! Do not forget that!
The time is right, the GCF has almost completely left Russia to give the collectivist pseudo-revolutionaries, these agents of the world enemy, free reign. Nobody stands in their way anymore - except for us. My comrades, we all know who is behind this devilry. Let us bring freedom to the Russian nation and the sword to Uljanin`s hellish breed!”
The rebel leader still spoke for more than an hour and the orders were clear after his stirring speech. A few days later, Frank, Alf and the Varangians began work.
In the first week of September, the members of the Freedom Movement of the Rus advanced deeply into the streets of the suburbs of St. Petersburg. They distributed countless leaflets, newspapers and data discs. Other Rus drove through the city with loudspeaker vans, implacably preaching the doctrines of Tschistokjow.
The Varangians were patrolling around the clock in almost all parts of the metropolis and tried to protect their comrades from collectivist attacks. Their watchful eyes always searched the dark streets and corners for the political opponents, but St. Petersburg was far too big to keep everything in sight.
In a suburb in north of the city, some CLJ troopers fired at the trucks from a rooftop. Frank gave his men the order to pursue the collectivists. The hooded men disappeared in a rundown apartment block and the Varangians tried to get them. The searched apartment for apartment, always the weapon at the ready.
Frank and his soldiers walked through dark corridors, which were littered with debris and trash, the kicked in the doors of the ugly dwellings to find filthy and impoverished Russians, sitting in the corners.
Many of these poor people were followers of Uljanin and stared at the Varangians with hateful eyes. Women met them on the hallway, hissing something in Russian, then they spat on the ground in front of the Varangians to trudge back then into their bleak home holes.
In the end, Frank and his men found no one. Presumably, the CLJ men had already escaped through a back yard. Angry and frustrated, they left the ugly block of flats, got into their trucks and drove to another point of the giant city.
The Varagians spent the night in general outside of St. Petersburg in an old gymnasium or other, shabby accommodations. Sometimes they were also out at night, patrolling in the streets of the suburbs. This was tiring and monotonous, a form of political struggle that tortured Frank and his soldiers.
In the second and third week of September, the Varangians started to distribute advertising material in the city center. Here, they often met hostile people, who railed against them behind their backs. They got used even to this. At night, they were on patrol again.
But the Varangians could not be everywhere. St. Petersburg was a huge moloch and a confusing maze of streets. So the conflicts between the Rus and the collectivists went on.
Over 30 Rus died only in September in the course of the propaganda campaign of the freedom movement. They were shot, stabbed or slain in dark corners or on open street. Nevertheless, the campaign continued, because it had to be done.
Occasionally, Frank phoned with Julia, promising her, that he would return to Ivas as soon as possible. But she had heard things like this a thousand times before. The young woman had become tired to listen to the same old assertions again and again. Anyway, there was still a big fosse between Frank and her, because Kohlhaas was an always turning cogwheel in the machinery of the revolution. When the young man was lying that night in his dirty sleeping bag for a few hours, he was found again by a strange dream vision...
Shots and explosions could be heard everywhere between the dark ruins. Frank was alone in this apocalyptic landscape of destruction, huddling behind a gray concrete wall that was littered with bul
let holes and burn marks.
Slowly, he crept forward, while a terrible slaughter was raging around him. GCF soldiers and armed men in the gray uniforms of the Volksarmee were savaging each other.
Flame-throwers whooshed in the distance, cloaking the ruins in an eerie glow. Then he could see the outlines of tanks that broke through the field of rubble, wildly shooting at everything in their way. Fear seized Frank's heart and made it difficult for him to breathe, while the stench of burnt flesh was stinging into his nose. The rebel jumped over a dead soldier whose blank eyes were staring at him out of a smashed, bloody face.
“I must find him!”, he whispered to himself, hurried across a street that was covered with corpses and rubble.
Then he ran down a dark alley and finally saw a group of bombers in the distance. They were racing across the sky with roaring engines and let their deadly cargo rain down on earth.
“Bam! Bam! Bam!”, it thundered from afar and bright light lit up the dim, cloud-covered horizon. Frank began to run faster and finally came to a big square, where a dark building towered up into the sky.
It was a huge pyramid with a red light on its top. The light resembled an evil eye, and its ray went down on him in a flash as he approached.
Frank summed up all his courage and climbed up some stairs to enter the pyramid. The stone gate at the foot of the mysterious building was open and it seemed to expect him like the maw of a demon. Kohlhaas went inside and walked through endless corridors, then he climbed up some more stairs and eventually came into a large hall, which was lit by smoldering torches on the walls.
Ancient columns with reliefs, showing death and war, carried the hall. Frank went further into the huge vault and finally met two persons.
He came closer and realized, that one of the two men was sitting on a throne, which was made of human bones.
The other person was a soldier who lifted his rifle menacingly, positioning himself in front of the gruesome throne.
”It's you, my boy!”, said Kohlhaas and introduced himself to the soldier. It was Nico, his nephew.
The man on the throne, wearing a fiery red dress, got up from his seat and went towards his guard. It was none other than the World President.
Nico looked as if he was in the mid twenties, Frank was puzzled. The young man stared at him with empty eyes, pointing with the gun directly at Frank's chest.
“General Frank Kohlhaas!”, whispered the World President into Nico`s ear and grinned maliciously. “This is your uncle, my boy!”
“Yes, I am. Your uncle Frank...”, said the uninvited guest and tried to smile.
Nico did not answer him and just stared into space. The World President put his arm around the shoulder of his bodyguard and hissed: “Your uncle Frank has long resisted us! He wants to kill your master! He has already killed many people and now he wants to take my life!” The soldier said nothing and kept a straight face.
”What`s wrong with you, Nico? What have they done to you?”, asked Kohlhaas his nephew with wavering voice.
“He is an enemy of humanity, an enemy of justice, an enemy of the brotherhood! Kill him before he kills your master!”, ordered the World President, clapping on Nico`s back.
Frank was scared and confused. He showed his empty hands to his nephew. “I do not want to kill anyone! Here, I have no weapon. I just wanted to see you again.”
“Do not listen to him! He must die! Kill him! Shoot him! I will give you a great reward! Kill him! Kill him!”, shouted the man in the crimson robe.
A shot rang out and Frank felt how he was thrown backwards. Incredible pain was rushing through his body and he was breathing heavily. With the last of his strength, he put his hand on the chest, where a warm flow of blood poured out.
“Well done, Nico!”, he heard the World President`s malicious voice. Shortly afterwards, he suddenly had the feeling to fly above his body, watching the scene from the ceiling of the hall.
The young soldier smiled meekly at his master and said: “I have killed him, my lord! Do I get my reward now?”
His master was silent for a few seconds, then he uttered a bloodcurdling scream and Frank saw his body burst like a breaking cocoon.
“What is happening to you, my lord?” Nico fell on his knees and was speechless with terror.
Finally, a huge snake with a forked tongue suddenly stuck its ugly head out of the red robe, leaving its decayed human body lay on the ground. Then the snake crawled towards Nico.
“What is happening to you, master?”, cried the young soldier again and tried to run away, but the snake lunged at him, slamming their fangs deeply into his flesh.
Nico struggled and screamed, but the snake completely devoured him with a loud smack within a second. It choked down the young soldier with skin and hair, to finally creep back to the awful throne, made of human remains.
“Your reward, Nico? Well, that was your reward! You were allowed to serve me as food, like all the other people too!”, hissed the snake and curled up happily.
Forward Ever, Backward Never!