Artur Tschistokjow had expected about 1000 people, to come to his first public demonstration, and his men had drummed up business for the event for weeks. Already in the early afternoon of 26.07.2033, hundreds of mainly young people had come to Nowopolozk, in order to protest. Until the beginning of the event at 15.00 o`clock, finally over 4000 supporters and sympathizers joined the crowd.
Three days before the rally, the local authorities had received a message and had called together all available policemen in the inner city of Nowopolozk. When they saw how many men and women had come out of the trains, and what great number of people was still coming by car, they nervously called for back-up from Vilnius, Minsk and the other cities. It should become an eventful day.
Frank, Alf, Wilden and John, the Irishman, arrived at Nowopolozk at 14.00 o`clock. Three further cars from Ivas followed them, coming via other access roads to the city, so that they did not form a too long and conspicuous motorcade. The trip to Nowopolozk was uneventful and when they finally reached the city, they could already see a big crowd of people with flags and large banners from a distance.
The policemen, who had taken up position in some side streets, did not dare not intervene so far, to avoid an early escalation. John Thorphy parked his car near the meeting point and Frank and the others walked fastly in the direction of the protesters. Then Artur Tschistokjow recognized them, waved them nearer and shook their hands with a broad smile.
“Welcome, my friends!”, he said. “I am delighted that you are here. Come still more of you from Ivas?”
“Some more are on their way...”, answered Wilden briefly and started to grin.
“You have said, however, about 1000 people would come today. But there are many more!”, said Frank, looking impressedly at the Russian rebel and the crowd behind him.
“I did not think that so many people would come to Nowopolozk. And many more from my group will still come!”, returned Tschistokjow proudly.
“Don`t be too enthusiastic, buddy! The number of cops around us seems to increase...”, muttered Alf quietly.
“The whole thing will end at 16:00 o`clock. Until then, hopefully, there will be just these few cops in the side streets. And they won`t do something!”, reassured them the village boss.
Frank remained silent for some minutes and watched the men and women, who had gathered here today. He had never participated in a demonstration and it was, although the young man had had a lot of excitement in the last years, a great feeling to be part of a protesting crowd like this. Kohlhaas looked forward to shout out his rage about the World Government, despite a subliminal sense of worry, that some legions of heavily armed policemen would suddenly pounce on them. Even if he had to shout in Russian, he would shout – at the top of his lungs.
“It`s better to mum!”, advised Wilden. “The cops are making photos of us and will evaluate them afterwards. If they can`t hold us back today, they will try to identify and catch us after all this.”
Frank, Alf and the others masked themselves with black scarves and put on sunglasses. Furthermore, they wore baseball caps or even balaclavas. Wilden was right, the rally would be filmed and photographed by the security forces, lurking in the side streets around them. Most of the others had already masked themselves too, as Frank recognized. There was no other chance for the protesters.
Who was clearly identified by the police as a participant of an illegal demonstration, could expect some really big problems in the near future. However, Artur Tschistokjow did not mask himself at all. His face was already well known, and he had moreover planned to deliver a short speech today. Apart from that, he even wanted to be seen. This rally was supposed to make him and his organization famous.
”Have you seen any camera crews or reporters?”, asked Kohlhaas the village boss.
“Not yet! But they media won`t ignore this. Wait and see, my friend!”
Tschistokjow walked through the crowd again and shouted some instructions at his followers. Frank could recognize Peter Ulljewski between some young men and saluted him from afar. The sturdy Russian smiled, pointed at the pistol on his belt and appeared belligerent. Meanwhile, more and more people came from all sides and Tschistokjow started to convoke the clusters of people, standing around, to from a long line.
“I just hope that we come out of this city again, and everything runs smooth”, said Frank, looking nervously at Wilden.
His green eyes carefully probed the vicinity, but it really seemed that no further police forces would arrive at Nowopolozk today.
“I think that Artur has planned this rally cannily. The Rus have posted scouts at the major access streets to the city. They will warn us, if more cops come from outside. He has at least explained it to me this way”, answered Wilden.
Apparently, he was that impressed by the young Russian, that he totally gave him credit for the perfect planning of an illegal demonstration.
The rally started. A command was yelled and hundreds of men and women started moving forward. The rebels from Ivas remained at the end of the long line of protesters, marching through the streets of Nowopolozk. Alongside them were some tall Russians with guns, Tschistokjow`s new guardsmen. The leader of the Rus intended to lead his followers from the city center to a densely populated estate of prefabricated houses, about two kilometers away. There he wanted to deliver his speech.
The demonstrators walked slowly through the streets, waving a lot of Russia and dragon head flags which were officially banned by the Medschenko regime. Someone shouted slogans into a megaphone. Meanwhile, the dragon head had become the symbol of the freedom movement.
It had been designed by Artur Tschistokjow himself. A white flag with a black dragon`s head to commemorate the founders of Russia, the Varangians or Rus. The symbol was referring to the dragon heads of their Viking long boats.
The marching crowd repeated the slogans with a furious screaming. It was so loud, that Frank`s ears hurt after a while.
“What are they yelling?”, he wanted to know from Wilden now.
“Freedom for Belarus! Down with Medschenko!”, explained the former businessman and smiled at him.
“Okay!”, muttered Kohlhaas and looked around. Finally, the men from Ivas joined the shouting and repeated the Russian slogans in a strange gibberish.
Shortly afterwards, they marched through a rundown shopping center and some citizens hailed them. More and more people came out of their houses and applauded loudly. They laughed and shouted something in Russian. Frank could only understand “Artur Tschistokjow”.
A little later, they turned into another street and marched towards a gray estate of prefabricated houses. Frank saw the outlines of shabby, huge apartment blocks above the heads of the screaming protesters from a distance.
“God bless Ivas! This quarter is more than ugly”, he said to Alf.
”What?”, asked Bäumer who could hardly understand his own word.
“Ivas is much more beautiful than this ghetto!”, shouted Kohlhaas in his ear.
“Yes, you`re right!”, answered his sturdy friend, looking around in disgust.
Then the demonstrators stopped yelling, while many people opened their windows and screamed something for their part. Some of them even hung out the Belarusian flag or joined the mass. The long worm of men and women had finally reached the second rallying point.
Ugly apartment blocks surrounded them now. The mass formed a giant circle, while Artur Tschistokjow gave some instructions. Frank, Alfred and Wilden made their way through the crowd and walked to the front ranks. The leader of the freedom movement took a bullhorn and started his speech with a booming voice.
“What did he say?”, asked Frank the village boss again.
“He has introduced himself to the people as the coming liberator of their country”, said the gray-haired man.
“That`s what I call pride...”, muttered Kohlhaas.
“What did you say, Frank?”
“Nothing, it`s all right!”
“He promises the peo
ple to give them work!”, thought Kohlhaas. “This must sound like music in the ears of these poor guys.”
Tschistokjow`s voice surged like a hurricane through the streets and he passionately gestured with his hands, while his supporters cheered and applauded as loud as they could. Now dozens of people streamed out of their dilapidated apartment blocks and joined the crowd. The impassioned speech of the young politician lasted half an hour and finally ended with a thunderous applause.
Meanwhile, about hundred policemen had gathered at the end of the street. They behaved guardedly and Artur asked them to make the way free for the return march. Some of the Russians threatened them with pistols and rifles, but the officers just stepped aside and allowed the demonstrators to pass.
„He has said one hour! Now, it`s a quarter past four, Tschistokjow shall end this rally immediately!“, nagged Bäumer.
“Just wait and stay cool! He will end it in the next minutes”, said Wilden annoyedly.
The procession of protesters marched slowly back towards the city center and their chants echoed from the dirty walls of the apartment blocks around them.
“Look! The number of cops increases”, said Frank and felt his inner tension rise.
As the crowd reached a square with a big fountain in its middle, a murmur went through the ranks of the demonstrators and the long human worm suddenly stopped.
A group of policemen had surrounded the area around the square and further officers were waiting in some side streets. Slowly it became uncomfortable. Artur Tschistokjow yelled something from the front of the procession and his followers became increasingly restless.
“What`s up now?”, shouted Frank, while Wilden grabbed his arm and pulled him back.
“Artur has just said that the rally is over! All shall go home now!”, translated by the village boss. “And he has asked the police, to allow his men to leave the city in peace...”
Suddenly, a police officer shouted a response into his megaphone. Artur Tschistokjow answered him in the same way. Meanwhile, Frank tried to look at the front rows and was bouncing nervously up and down.
Finally, the crowd moved on and reached the police cordon. A police chief shouted some warnings at the protesters, while more and more of his colleagues appeared in the side streets.
“They should let us go. Otherwise, some people will die today!”, muttered Bäumer.
Frank told his comrades from Ivas to prepare for a possible confrontation. Wilden had already become pale. His trip to Nowopolozk seemed not to be that funny as he had thought at first. A group of young Russians roared something at the police, then the situation got out of control. Weapons were drawn and Artur Tschistokjow gave his guardsmen the order to attack the policemen, because they still tried to block the way of the demonstrators.
Some shots could be heard and the crowd ran forward with a loud scream. Frank and the others could hardly stay on top of things in the outbreaking chaos. Screams resounded around them and the outnumbered policemen started to flee. Some of them still fired a few shots at the demonstrators, but finally they withdrew.
Over 4000 people rushed forward now, completely disorganized and some of them ran into the side streets as fast as possible to get away. The rebels from Ivas struggled through the crowd and tried to identify Tschistokjow somewhere in the excited mass, while Frank heard several shots in the distance.
“Let`s get away from here, run to the cars!”, shouted Wilden nervously and hurried past a group of Russians.
Frank and the others turned into a side street and took their weapons. There was nobody. Apparently, the policemen had fled and were waiting for reinforcements. The Russian rebel leader had already disappeared in the crowd and had probably taken a different escape route.
Soon after, Frank, Alf and the rest reached their cars and drove away with roaring engines. Behind them, they saw a group of protesters, also jumping into their vehicles.
“Damn! These motherfuckers are waiting for us!”
Bäumer pointed at some policemen who were standing on the street, excitedly waving their hands.
“Stop! Stop!”, they yelled, while John Thorphy stepped on the gas.
“Drive on!”, shouted Frank at the Irishman, who raced towards the officers with screeching tires.
Wilden tried to keep his head down and was gripped by sheer panic. Meanwhile, Kohlhaas had rolled down the window and fired several shots at the cops. One of them collapsed with a loud scream. Then the enraged officers fired back, while the shabby car came nearer and nearer.
“Down!”, shouted the Irishman and two bullets hit the windshield above their heads and shards of glass rained down on them.
But the car did not stop and was still dashing straightforward. Suddenly the police officers jumped to the side with a loud cry. Some bullets banged against the rear of the vehicle, while it shot across an intersection at full speed.
“Shit! We must get out of this damn city now!”, grumbled Frank and wiped off some small flinders from his pants.
Wilden fumbled on his DC-Stick with sweaty fingers, while John Thorphy hit the gas and drove at breakneck speed across a wide main street, ignoring several red lights.
“Now right, and then there must be a feeder road out of Nowopolozk!”, groaned the former entrepreneur, whose nerves were raw.
They finally reached the feeder road, left the city and drove away as fast as they could. After they had left Nowopolozk behind themselves, the came to a larger freeway. Roadblocks had not been set up by the police yet, because the most cops were still in the inner city.
”Give it to me!”, said Frank and grabbed Bäumer`s machine gun. He loaded it, while a cold wind whistled through the broken windshield.
“If the cops try to block the road somewhere, I will give them some little gifts – some bullets!”, muttered Frank, staring at the street.
But nothing happened anymore, on that day. Outside of Nowopolozk, the underpaid local police officers had just been overwhelmed by the whole situation. They had not had enough time to block any streets or to roll back the protesters.
As Frank later learned, about 200 demonstrators, who had not left the city center in time, had been arrested. Three police officers and about a dozen protesters had been wounded or even killed after the rally. All in all, the demonstration had been a success, and the reinforcements had finally come almost two hours too late. Furthermore, Artur Tschistokjow and the other rebels from Ivas had escaped the police. The leader of the Rus had disappeared in the chaos and some of his supporters brought him out of Nowopolozk a few days later by night.
“Ha! That was brilliant!”, said Wilden and enjoyed a sip of vodka.
“Well, I don`t know. Artur`s demonstration of power has been successful in any case, I have to admit”, returned Frank and looked thoughtfully at the village boss. “Nevertheless, five protesters have been shot by the cops!”
“Nobody has dared to do something like this in the last years. No doubt, it was a great thing. I`m curious what the news will show us”, said Wilden proudly and seemed to feel like a young revolutionary again.
”John is certainly less enthusiastic, because of his destroyed windshield”, muttered Kohlhaas. “And his car has some bullet holes too.”
“Oh, the windshield! So what?”, laughted Wilden. “This is kid stuff. He can repair it...”
”Thank God that he has previously exchanged the license plates. The car has surely been filmed somewhere”, added Frank and switched on the television.
“Don`t you think, that they can track our way back to Ivas, Thorsten?”, worried Bäumer.
“No, they won`t find us. Keep your head, Alf!”, answered Wilden and continued drinking.
As expected, the rally in Nowopolozk was the main topic
in the evening news. The Belarusian television showed some pictures of masked protesters and also the short gunfight with the police, while the journalists screamed bloody murder.
Even sub-governor Medschenko expressed his sorrows an
d pointed out that the authorities would now proceed more decisively against Artur Tschistokjow and his organization.
Finally, the excited reporter went to the police chief of Nowopolozk and demanded an explanation from him, because of the deficient preparation of his men on the illegal demonstration. The man just stuttered something in front of the camera and gave the impression, as if his days as police chief of the industrial city were already numbered.
At last, television showed a reward poster of
Artur Tschistokjow and asked the people for informations, where he could be. Frank and the others could not resist a sardonic grin. This time, apart from the fact that they had taken a lot of risks, they had beaten the powerful in the sub-sector “Belarus-Baltic”.
While the media proudly spoke of a “series of arrests”, the rebels hoped that all this had been factored in by Tschistokjow, and that the detainees would not tell the police any important things.
But they were wrong. The Belarusian police treated the prisoners with sheer brutality and forced their unfortunate victims to give them a lot of new informations about the Freedom Movement of the Rus. Furthermore, the local officers were supported by foreign GSA agents who were mostly successful with their ruthless methods of interrogation. Some of the men they had caught, were never seen again.
Soon, the authorities knew that Tschistokjow was living in Vitebsk and scoured the city for him to the last corner. But only Peter Ulljewski and a very small number of Artur`s closest friends knew, where the dissident hid. Nevertheless, he moved to Pinsk, for safety reasons, where a discreet sympathizer of his organization had rented an apartment for him outside the city center.
In the next weeks, the young politician came several times to Ivas to work on his illegal Internet sites with HOK`s assistance. Wilden and he “conspired around” and organized one publicity campaign after another, while the young men from Ivas were sent out to Belarus to distribute leaflets. Meanwhile, the underground newspaper of the freedom movement had almost tripled its circulation. And it was the same with the number of supporters of the organization. The intelligently constructed “cell system”, whereby each local group received only limited informations, had safed the organization from major damage yet, although the police was arresting new suspects almost every day.
Meanwhile, Frank and Alfred tried to stay away from any political agitation, leaving it to Wilden and the young people who were eager for new activities after the thrilling rally in Nowopolozk. The village boss really flourished in these days, and soon felt like a true commander. His organizational genius and his comprehensive knowledge helped Tschistokjow in many situations and when the month of August came to an end, the Freedom Movement of the Rus had become a much more “punchy” organization.
Moreover, Tschistokjow`s men had infiltrated a number of industrial complexes to prepare strikes and to raise the workers against the government.
The group of armed guardsmen for special events and rallies had been restructured and was much better organized now. Even more weapons had been stockpiled for the future.
In addition, the propaganda machine was running at full speed and Wilden was pumping a lot of money into it. A small “secret service” had lastly been established by Tschistokjow and him which kept an eye on suspicious and not trusty members.
Wilden, however, was some kind of “PR manager” and reformed the whole propaganda concept of the movement, changing the content of leaflets, newspapers and flyers in a way, that even the mass of the people could understand everything.
“Effective propaganda explains a difficult topic with a few words!”, said the village boss.
Besides, he and Artur Tschistokjow wrote a varied program with clear claims and political goals for rebuilding the country and overcoming the social crisis, which had driven countless Belarusians into poverty. Matsumoto`s policy partly served them as a model.
Moreover, the village boss told his Belarusian friend that the supporters of the freedom movement would need some kind of uniform to give them a recognizable look at demonstrations and rallies. Finally, they chose gray shirts and black trousers.
The symbol of the organization, the black dragon`s head on a white background, was designed much more eye-catching and Wilden even changed the flag of the Rus by adding two red stripes at the top and bottom of it.
In the meantime, Artur Tschistokjow had written an open letter that was sent to all police stations in the country, in which he apologized for the riot in Nowopolozk, stressing that his movement would see “a brother in every honest Russian policeman”.
On the new leaflets was basically a photo of him and he was introduced to the readers as the coming “liberator of Belarus” - or even as “last hope for the people.”
It had been Wilden`s idea to build up some kind of “leader cult” around Tschistokjow, because the mass of the people did not identify with abstract political programs, but with a single person who represented them.
“An angry crowd is helpless without a man who leads it. It is never able organize itself on its own. Furthermore, it can not be convinced by arguing, because crowds are always driven by instincts and emotions. This is the first rule of every revolution!
Moreover, the crowd is not able to think objectively. It thinks only in categories of “good” or “evil”, “black” or “white” – and so on. Our propaganda must consider this, if it wants to be successful. Artur Tschistokjow is always right and good, the World Government is always evil and wrong. This is the first rule of propaganda!
A true revolutionary movement does not want to change a wrong system, because it can not be changed. It always wants to destroy and replace it! We shall never make compromises and we shall never tolerate the wrong faith! Our faith is the only true faith! Our truth is the only truth! Therefore, the first principle of a revolutionary movement is: “Thou shalt have no other gods before me!”
Without considering these maxims, we will fail. They have always been valid and will always be vaild!”, lectured Wilden.
Tschistokjow tried to follow these rules and especially among the young men he found more and more supporters, who joined his organization.
The harvest had begun in Ivas and the young men and women had worked for days on the fields around the village, in order to take as many fruits from the soil as they could for the winter. Today the were working on the farm of the Westermanns, who cultivated potatoes.
“Do you really think that Artur Tschistokjow will ever be successful?”, asked Frank, panting and digging out a thick tuber.
“Well, he just impresses me. He can talk to the people like a real leader. I would say, he is a born leader!”, said Sven and wiped the sweat off his disfigured face.
“Yes, the demonstration has been impressive, but it is nothing but a little stitch for the system”, answered Kohlhaas soberly.
“I have already been on the road with the other activists, several times, and we have distributed leaflets and so on. Artur has really grown in popularity, even if the media constantly slander and berate him as a madman or even terrorist”, replied the blond man who obviously enjoyed it, to be a part of Tschistokjow`s movement.
“Don`t chat about politics – work!”, said Julia Wilden with a charming smile behind them.
“Yes, Hasi! We work hard since hours!”, returned Frank and winked at her.
Sven cleared his throat and looked with his remaining eye at him, then he continued: “When I was in Minsk with the others, we have met some activists from St. Petersburg. In Western Russia are already a few cells of Tschistokjow`s organization – as they have told us. Believe me, this man spins his threads everywhere and he has a lot of underground contacts to Russia and the Ukraine. He is a genius!”
”I think he is very clever and also courageous, but a rebellion always needs a bang. If you know what I mean?”
“No!”, answered Sven.
“It must go a jolt through the masses. An event that makes them very upset and awakes them. One t
hing, that brings the anger to overflow - a new tax hike or something like this...”
“But millions of people are already very poor. They have hardly a Globe in their pockets anymore. Two months ago, I have been with the others in Minsk. The city is rotting! Thousands of beggars fill the streets. Many people are hungry and find no more jobs...”, elucidated Sven puzzledly.
“Yes, but they have not the courage to stand up, because they think that they can`t achieve anything alone. And some of them still have enough money to live and they would never take a risk which could ruin their life.
Believe me, every rebellion needs a ignition spark. Probably, the time has not come yet”, said Kohlhaas.
Sven murmured: “Maybe you`re right. But until then, we must preach Artur`s ideology to the people. We must give them a new hope - and this hope is called Artur Tschistokjow!”
“Well said, my friend. He also seems to be your hope”, joked Frank, eyeing a rotten potato.
”Yes, he is!”, returned the blond man
“How do you do, beside that? What`s about your depressions? Can you handle them?”, Frank suddenly asked and his words pierced into Sven`s tender spot.
The young man hesitated for some seconds and twisted his mouth. He looked, as if someone had simply removed half of his facial skin. His remaining eye turned to Frank and stared at him.
“Well, just look at me, then you got the answer. I am crippled, but I try to accept it. I have not fought in Japan, where they have smashed my ass, to give up the fight now, Frank. Apart from this, I have nothing to lose!”, opined Sven with a sad face.
“All of us are nothing but outlaws! Some of us have visible wounds, others have crippled souls – like me. You will overcome your pain, and I will overcome it too. Just visit us in the next days and we`ll have a booze. That`s a good idea, isn`t it?”
“This is always a good idea!”, replied Sven, smiling.
Frank clapped the young man on the back and carried a sack of potatoes into the storage room behind the house of the Westermanns.
Meanwhile, Artur Tschistokjow had planned a major event in the northwest of Belarus. He had chosen a barely inhabited village near Maladziekna and hoped that the police would not bother them too much. Wilden was excited and tried once more to convince the other villagers to come with him to the meeting. Most of the young men from Ivas, and even their families, were eager to follow him. They had great expectations, because Tschistokjow had promised them an unforgettable day.
Frank and Alfred were still unsure, whether they should attend the meeting. Meanwhile, Wilden`s permanent planning, arranging, conspiring and his open cooperation with Artur Tschistokjow and his men, worried them more and more.
“If the Russians constantly go in and out here, then I`m curious, when the first GSA agents will visit us”, said Frank and Bäumer nodded.
“Wilden only talks about Artur and the coming revolution. If the cops get wind of it, we can ask Matsumoto for asylum one day. Maybe the authorities already know about our sweet little village...”
“If this ever happens, we should hope that we have a revolution tomorrow, even here in Lithuania. Otherwise it could become very uncomfortable”, grumbled Kohlhaas.
The two men went into the living room of their shabby house and sat down on the old, tattered couch. Alf booted up his laptop and examined the website of the Freedom Movement of the Rus. Then they watched their latest videos. Some Russian activists had filmed the demonstration in Nowopolozk and had made something like an own video review. The video had already over 200000 hits.
”Anyway, they are pretty active!”, mumbled Bäumer with a touch of respect.
“Look at this! They spray slogans on some walls!”, Frank pointed at the bottom of the screen.
Another video showed a group of graffiti sprayers in a foggy night in Minsk. A masked man waved his hand before the camera.
“Artur Tschistokjow gives you work and freedom!”, translated Alf quietly.
Other videos were about members of the organization with black hoods, distributing leaflets in an estate of prefabricated houses.
Frank grinned. “For some of these guys, it probably seems to be some kind of adventure!”
“But a damn dangerous adventure!”, returned Alf.
“They are daring, these Russians. I somehow like it”, said Frank.
Suddenly someone knocked on the door. The two men startled and ran into the hallway. It was Wilden. Frank rolled his eyes.
The village boss told them with great enthusiasm about the preparations for the next event. Sven and about 20 other young men from Ivas had driven to Minsk to support the Rus again. They wanted to stay there for another week, said Wilden, and was proud of the young activists.
“Yes, yes! We will come with you, Thorsten. Please no more lectures...”, interrupted him Frank and smiled at the older man.
”I knew it! Distributing leaflets and spraying on walls is just below your level, I know this. But this is also a part of the political struggle”, said the former businessman and tried to flatter Frank and Alf.
“We can`t be constantly at war - like in Japan. And I`m damn happy about it”, answered Kohlhaas soberly.
“If there would ever be one here, I`d know where my best soldiers are! You are the elite of my men!”
“Yes, Thorsten. You say it three times a day”, grumbled Bäumer, perking his eyebrows up.
“I just wanted to annotate...”
”Okay! We will still watch this freedom movement for a while. If we decide to join Artur`s organization one day, we will do our best. You know that!”, remarked Frank.
“Sure!”, answered Wilden impatiently. “So you will come with me to the rally?”
“Hell! Yes!”, groaned the two.
The leader of Ivas nodded and turned on his heel. Then he went to the front door, opened it and left the house.
”It will be a great thing! Believe me!”, they heard Wilden shout from the street.
“He is the world`s biggest gadfly!”, moaned Frank.
Great Speeches and New Problems