“Are you ready to die?“, yelled Frank and waved a squad leader nearer. The man grinned cynically, while Kohlhaas gave him some instructions in broken Russian. Shortly afterwards, the armed guardsmen flanked the demonstration at a distance of five meters.
Meanwhile, most of the Russians seemed to respect him. After all, they had not forgotten that he had saved Tschistokjow`s life. A huge crowd of people had gathered today in the eastern part of Grodno, near a abandoned shopping street. Frank looked around and saw vacant shops and rubbish on the street in front of him. This city was slowly dying, like the rest of Belarus too.
Hundreds of unemployed and homeless people came from everywhere, welcoming the Rus with loud screams and cheer. Artur had allowed some of them to join today`s rally, if they behaved properly. But a few of them were already much too drunk and the guardsmen had to send them back home, because Tschistokjow did not accept any boozy squallers. Finally, over 20000 people had come to Grodno today, including many citizens from Gomel. Obviously, the massacre had not broken their will, to the contrary, now they had nothing to lose anymore and viewed Tschistokjow as their last hope. Frank was curious, what was awaiting him today.
Julia had not come with him. And for good reasons. If there would be bloody street fights like in Gomel, it was better for a young woman to stay in. However, her heartthrob Viktor was here somewhere. The handsome, charming Russian had led the group of Grodno over a longer period, but a few months ago, he had stepped back into the second rank and had left the leadership to another man. Perhaps this change of heart had something to do with Julia, as Frank thought. He still mused about this since the early morning hours, searching the crowd for his hated rival.
Around noon, the protest march began. Hundreds of dragon head and Russia flags waved above the heads of the demonstrators. Half a kilometer away from their meeting place, the police and even GCF soldiers were waiting for the Rus. So far, they just observed everything.
At the top of the long human worm, Artur Tschistokjow walked beside some bodyguards with assault rifles in their hands. The Russian stared at the policemen with a black look and waited. Frank and Alfred finally came from behind, while Wilden stayed in the rear of the crowd. Meanwhile, the two German guardsmen had mummed.
“It was better to watch these cops, who had come to Ivas, from the distance. At first, I wanted to go to Thorsten to ask him what they wanted, but this would have been the wrong decision”, said Frank.
“Maybe they already know our faces. I`m still worrying about that whole thing”, returned Alf.
Although the two men from Ivas had once more hidden their faces behind broad sunglasses and black scarfs, they had been a bit too careless at some other rallies in the last months. Any camera had already recorded their faces for sure, meant Bäumer.
Today, both men wore old steel helmets which John Thorphy had bought for them somewhere in Russia. The helmets were some remainders of the former “peace troops” of the UN, that had finally become the “Global Control Force” after 2018. In addition, they wore bulletproof vests.
“Look at this!”, said Frank with a grin, pointing at a hulking Russian trooper in front of him.
“This looks more than weird...”, muttered Alf, because of the strange sight.
The Russian had a battered fireman`s helmet on his head and a steel plate, attached on his chest. He looked like one of the rebellious peasants from the Middle Ages, who went to war with a hastily clobbed together armor to fight their evil landlord.
“I don`t think that this will proctect him from any bullets!”, joked Frank and Alf giggled.
“Nevertheless, it shows some goodwill!”, laughed Bäumer.
“Give all power – to Tschistokjow! Down with Medschenko!”, resounded a loud chorus out of thousands of throats through the streets. The crowd marched across a large square, surrounded by beautiful old buildings, and moved then towards a long main street.
On the sidewalks, many citizens applauded and yelled. Meanwhile, the most Belarusians seemed to like the freedom movement. Only a bunch of non-Russians was screaming some insults in the background. However, this large crowd was an inspiring and impressive sight, without any doubt. The Rus finally reached another square in the middle of the city, right in front of the town hall of Grodno, the residence of the local administrator. Tschistokjow started his speech and greeted his supporters and the countless citizens. Meanwhile, the police had gathered around the crowd, but was still outnumbered many times over. Shortly afterwards, even some anti-riot tanks appeared.
“If you believe, that we are already many people, then just wait and see, how many we will soon be in Minsk, when the people of Belarus will finally rise against their oppressors!”, shouted the blond man into the microphone.
Thousands cheered. Frank could see that even some policemen smiled pleasantly. Artur continued in his usual manner, accusing the World Government and Medschenko to promote the decline of folk and country. His voice resounded across the square and he electrified the mass around him once again.
“There! Look!”, Frank pointed at the old town hall, where a man looked out a window on the upper floor.
“Look at him, my Belarusian brothers and sisters! Can you see him? That man at the window of this beautiful town hall? We all know this man! It is Jaron Kaminer, the administrator of this city, a minion in the service of the World Government! Yes, take a good, long look, Mr. Kaminer! Soon, we will send people like you packing!”, yelled Tschistokjow.
The man disappeared behind the curtain and the angry crowd sent him a wave of insults and curses. Some troopers even pointed their guns at the window and shouted threats, but Frank called them to order.
“To the policemen, I have the following request: I promise by my honor that there will be no violence today, if you just let me speak!”, proclaimed the rebel leader.
The officers did not react and remained as silent as before. Some of them nodded until their superior yelled at them angrily. Apparently, also the policemen seemed not to be interested in another shootout. The police chief finally took a bullhorn and interrupted Tschistokjow. The crowd seethed.
“The next street fight starts in two minutes!”, moaned Kohlhaas and took his gun from the shoulder.
The GCF soldiers, who all were no Russians, positioned themselves alongside the police and loaded their weapons. Frank gave some orders to the guardsmen who were also waiting for another firefight.
“This demonstration is illegal and all people have to leave this square immediately!”, ordered the police chief.
“Let me speak for twenty minutes, then I will end this demonstration!”, answered Tschistokjow.
“I have the orders to shoot at you, if you don`t stop this rally, Mr. Tschistokjow!”, shouted the officer. “I don`t want a second Gomel. Even my men have families!”
“Well, I would like to speak for ten minutes, then we will leave this city – no riots, no violence. I promise it!
I also want no second Gomel and I regret it very much that we had to fight against our Belarusian brothers from the police. Don`t waste your lives for politicians, who are nothing but traitors, leading this country into chaos. They don`t care about your lives, you are their slaves, like everyone else. Do you really want to die for 500 Globes a month?”, called the rebel leader.
“Please wait, Mr. Tschistokjow!”, replied the squad leader and consulted some of his colleagues.
Artur exhorted his followers to remain calm and peaceful, while Frank, Alfred and Peter Ulljewski rebuked some aggressive, young Russians.
It lasted ten tense minutes until the police chief took his bullhorn again and answered: “All right, Mr. Tschistokjow! I give you ten minutes!”
“Thank you!”, returned the leader of the Rus happily.
While Tschistokjow ended his speech in time, within ten minutes, and finally gave the order for an orderly retreat towards the eastern part of Grodno, chaos broke out on the opposite side.
The police chief of Grodno and the leading officer of
the GCF occupation troops started to argue loudly and Frank heard the men insulting each other in broken English. Shortly afterwards, the Belarusian policemen just walked off the square, leaving the GCF soldiers alone. However, this was an outrageous scandal, and its ramifications should become clear in the following weeks. The march ended peacefully. Only some young Russian hotspurs had tried to start a brawl, but the guardsmen had immediately restored discipline.
“This is no adventure holiday for knuckleheads who want to make trouble. Those who can`t behave, have to leave this demonstration. I have promised the police, that this day will end without another fight and you should thank me for this!”, explained Tschistokjow his supporters again and again on the way home.
“It has simply been an unbelievable success, hasn`t it?”, said Wilden.
The men, who were walking on this sunny day beside him across the village square of Ivas, agreed. However, only a few of them did really understand the full meaning of the incident in Grodno. But as always, the head of the village community lectured and tried describe the whole political situation, omitting no detail.
“Instead of a bloody streetfight, the Belarusian police has cooperated with us”, avered Frank.
“Now you exaggerate! Cooperated? Well, they just haven`t been in the mood for murder and manslaughter again - as little as we!”, answered Alf.
“Anyway, some of the cops have shown sympathies for us”, remarked Sven.
Kohlhaas looked at Wilden. “The system has avoided a confrontation, and finally lost a big part of its authority. The Belarusian policemen have violated their orders to safe their lives, in an important city like Grodno. This is, without any doubt, a huge success and shows that the freedom movement is meanwhile a political factor!”
“Frank is right! I have already discussed it with Artur. We will conquer the rural areas now, develop improved structures and recruit more guardsmen units in every village and every smaller town. They are no longer able to stop us!”, said the village boss.
“What is the sense of this?”, asked one of the young activists.
“The sense? Well, the great day! When the government in Minsk bites the dust”, Frank told him emphatically.
The group sat in Steffen de Vries` cafe which was almost overcrowded with so many guests. The thick Belgian hastily came to their table and took some orders.
“Today, we are cafe house revolutionaries!”, joked Wilden.
Some of the others looked at him with questioning glances and the village boss laughed and said:
“All right, folks! I`m just kidding!”
Then he rubbed his hands, grinned and drank a delicious milkshake – Steffen de Vries` speciality.
The media in the administration sector “Eastern Europe” almost hushed up the big demonstration in Grodno. In some news reports the protest march was only mentioned with a few words. On television, they spoke of “several hundred anarchists and extremists” and simply ignored all other facts. Meanwhile, heads started to roll at the Grodno police department. The squad leader and his entire staff were removed for disobeying an direct order from the government and the Scanchips of some policemen were blocked for an indefinite time. Now, many of the despaired officers openly complained about the situation in Belarus, what meant even more drastic measures against them.
The GSA, which had paid little attention to Belarus so far, sent now a small special unit to Minsk that should analyze and monitor the behavior of the local police. But all in all, the Lodge Brothers did not expect a serious uprise in the small Eastern European country with its population of hardly a dozen millions. No further GCF units were sent to Belarus, because they were needed much more urgent elsewhere. The GSA was more concerned about Russia and the Ukraine, where poverty and discontent were spreading like a plague, and also could become explosive one day.
While rebellious underground groups played no significant roles in Russia and were furthermore hopelessly fragmented, Artur Tschistokjow had formed a powerful movement under his leadership. Nevertheless, the GSA did not take him all too serious – and this was his great luck!
It was a warm evening and a mild wisp of wind blew across the meadow in front of Sven Weber`s house. Frank and Alfred had returned to Ivas a few days ago, after they had met with Tschistokjow and other members of his organization in Slonim.
While the Russian politician let no day pass without expanding his freedom movement, laying the groundwork for a rebellion of the masses, led by him, Frank and Alfred had decided to enjoy some free days in their home village. This evening, they had gone to Sven and were sitting with him and his parents in the garden, drinking a cold Lithuanian beer.
“Artur is planning a nationwide strike in Belarus and Lithuania in the middle of October. If his plan is successful, we`ll have good chances”, said Frank.
Sven`s remaining eye looked at him annoyedly and his disfigured face betrayed that he did not want to talk about politics today.
“What`s up?”, asked Kohlhaas.
“Let`s choose another topic!”, suggested Alf.
Frank put him off. “Okay!”
“Yes, may Tschistokjow do whatever he likes. Another cool blonde*?”, said Sven, reaching into a small cold box on the ground.
With a faint clicking sound, he pulled a beer out of it. Alf`s eyes gleamed. “Good idea, bring it on!”
“Cool blonde? Cool blondie! This rather reminds me of Julia Wilden!”, muttered Frank. Mrs. Weber grinned and winked at him.
“Here we go again! Now, it`s Julia time!”, moaned Bäumer, rolling his eyes.
“Alf also needs a woman, what do you think guys?”, asked Frank into the round and clapped his tall friend on the shoulders.
“You should find a girl at first, buddy! And if you still have another woman left, you can give her to me”, replied Alf.
“Mr. Bäumer!”, said Mrs. Weber with a chuckle.
“Leave me alone with that women thing!”, hissed Sven.
At this moment, he became aware of the fact that every woman would try to run away, when she saw him. The Japanese war had reversed the former undoubtedly attractive face of the young man with a maimed grimace.
“My little boy, you`ll also find a nice woman one day. Every Jack has his Jill!”, remarked Mrs. Weber and patted her son.
”I know what you mean. My Jill would look like Frankenstein`s bride”, answered the young man with a cynic smile.
Sven`s father avoided any comments and his son seemed to be happy about it. Frank tried to turn the conversation to another topic.
“Have you seen these young boys again, who have done that spraying in our neighboring village?”