Martyr's Day
In Honor of Robert Jay Mathews and the Bruders Schweigen

by Erik Baldur Minner(741) December 8, 2003

Today is Martyr's Day. It is the nineteenth anniversary of the federal
government's murder of the bravest white man to ever walk the North American
continent, Robert Jay Mathews.
There are those of our folk who honor this hero's memory and those (Knights
of the Inkpot / Intellectual Escapists / Publishing Fuhrers etc.) who claim
that Bob and the Order were nothing more than low-class criminals who
accomplished nothing and made the work of the meet - eat - retreat crowd more difficult.

Apparently these "stuffed shirts" feel they are superior to men of action
because of their alleged "intellectual superiority," their numerous college
degrees, and their six figure incomes. Quoting David Lane, "Intellectual escapists
will always slander men of action in order to cover up for their own
cowardice." I'm not attacking the decent men who are part of the educational and
propaganda arm of our struggle. Men like Billy Roper, Pastor Richard Butler, and
Tom Metzger belong to this category, but they still honor the fallen heroes
and the P.O.W.'s. They deserve the utmost respect. They are not "intellectual
escapists."
Bob was a member of one of these "stuffed shirt" organizations (the National
Alliance) while he was alive. Bob did speak highly of the N.A. while he was
alive, but if he were alive now he would agree that that organization has
developed into a bunch of whiny, pathetic, hollow men who believe that leafleting
(littering) is a big accomplishment. They are nothing more than soulless
business men in cheap suits. A bane upon them and their souls. All of their
members combined weren't half the man Bob was.

The publishing fuhrers believe that our task in promoting our ideas is more
difficult and we're being oppressed worse because of what the Order did. Since
whites have allowed things to get this bad, we don't deserve to have it
easy. We should be eating out of trash cans and living terribly. Maybe all this
difficulty will finally force white men to re-attach those parts that make them
men and stop being such spineless wimps. Bob Mathews was correct when he
stated that white people have devolved into some of the most cowardly, sheepish,
degenerates that have ever littered the face of the planet.

There was a movement in Germany called National Socialism back in the 1920's,
30's, and 40's. It did achieve success for a while and it did do some nasty
things to some of their own people. After their defeat, the whites who were
trying to spread the message of white solidarity found it to be very
difficult. I guess, according to the logic of the "stuffed shirts," we should insult
and degrade Hitler, Hess, Goring, and all the N.S. leaders. By blaming The
Order or the National Socialists for our current plight is absolutely absurd.
The National Socialists, The Bruders Schweigen, and many others are our
folk's heroes. They gave up their lives or their "freedom" in an attempt to secure
the existence of our people and a future for white children. Bob and the
Bruders Schweigen did what was morally right. They recognized the U.S.
government (controlled by that god damned, parasitic, racial/religious tribe) as the
tyranny it was and knew its goal was the extermination of our race. Remember
that a tyranny can only be overcome by force. If the Order were successful, I'm
sure the intellectual bastards would have nothing but good things to say
about them.

The importance of what the Order stood for and attempted to do has not been
really recognized as of yet. Their impact will be much greater in the upcoming
years. The Order should stand as an example to us all. No matter what we
are doing for our race, we can still do better. Robert Mathews fought off the
federal devils incarnate on Whidbey Island for 36 hours and gave them the
toughest gun fight they ever had by their own admission. Bob died for us and its
up to us to honor and respect his memory. Defeat Never! Victory Forever!

May the Gods of our folk bless Robert Jay Mathews, The Bruders Schweigen and
all fallen kinsmen who have stood up, fought, and given up everything for the
survival of our race.

We must secure the existence of our people and a future for white children.
Because the beauty of the white Aryan woman must not perish from the earth.

From Justina WR


For the past decade I have been a resident of Northern Pend Oreille County. When I first arrived in Metaline Falls I had only twenty-five dollars to my name, a desire to work hard and be left alone, and the dream of someday acquiring my own small farm. During my three years at the mine and seven years at the cement plant I can safely say that I was known as a hard worker. I stayed out of the bars and pretty much kept to myself. Anyone who is familiar with Boundary Dam
Road knows how my late father and I carved a beautiful place out of the woods. All of the goals I had when I arrived were accomplished but one....I was not left alone.

Within months of my arrival the FBI went to the mine office and tried to have me fired from my job. I was working in the electrical department at the time and my foreman, fortunately, had a deep and lasting dislike for the Feds. He was informed of the situation by the mine secretary. Had it been the mine manager instead of the secretary that the government goons talked
to, I would have lost my job. The campaign of harassment and intimidation began because of my involvement in the Tax Rebellion Movement from the time I was fifteen to twenty years old. The Government was on me so much in Arizona that during one incident when I was eighteen, IRS agents shot at me for nothing more than a misdemeanor tax violation.

I left Arizona and the Tax Rebellion when I was twenty. I left not out of fear of the IRS or because of submission to their tyranny, but because I was thoroughly disgusted with the American people. I maintained then as I do now, that our people have devolved into some of the most cowardly, sheepish, degenerates that have ever littered the face of the planet.
I had hoped to start a new life in the state of Washington, but the ruling powers had other plans for me. When I learned of their highly illegal attempt to have me fired, I wrote a letter to their Seattle office and told them, " I would take no more, to leave me alone, or I would respond in such a way that could be very painful to certain agents." After the letter they
gradually started to let me be.

I soon settled down to marriage, clearing my land, and reading. Reading became an obsession with me. I consumed volume upon volume of subjects dealing with history, politics, and economics. I was especially taken with Spengler's "Decline of the West" and Simpson's "Which Way Western Man?" I also subscribed to numerous periodicals on current American problems,
especially those concerned with the ever increasing decline in White America. My knowledge of ancient European history started to awaken a wrongfully suppressed emotion buried deep within my soul, that of racial pride and consciousness.

The stronger my love for my people grew, the deeper became my hatred for those who would destroy my race, my heritage, and darken the future of my children. By the time my son had arrived, I realized that White America, indeed my
entire race, was headed for oblivion unless White men rose and turned the tide. The more I came to love my son, the more I realized that unless things changed radically, by the time he was my age, he would be a stranger in his own land, a blond haired, blue eyed Aryan in a country populated mainly by Mexicans, Mulattos, Blacks, and Asians. His future was growing darker by the day.

I came to learn that this was not an accident, that there is a small cohesive alien group within this nation working day and night to make this happen. I learned that these culture distorters have an iron grip on both major political parties, on Congress, on the media, on the publishing houses, and on most of the major Christian denominations in this nation, even though these aliens subscribe to a religion which is diametrically opposed to Christianity. These are the same people who ex-Senator William Fulbright and the late General Brown tried to warn us about. Henry Ford and Charles Lindburgh tried vainly to warn us also. Had we been more vigilant, my son's future would not be so dark and dismal. Thus, I have no choice. I must stand up like a White man and do battle.

A secret war has been developing for the last year between the regime in Washington and an ever growing number of White people who are determined to regain what our forefathers discovered, explored, conquered, settled, built, and died for.
The FBI has been able to keep this war secret only because up until now we have been doing nothing more than growing and preparing. The government, however, seems determined to force the issue, so we have no choice but to stand up and fight back. Hail Victory! It is at this point that I wish to address the multitude of lies that the Federals have been telling about Gary
Lee Yarbrough and myself.

Gary did not "ambush" any agents. For weeks prior to this incident they had been harassing Gary, following him everywhere, even to the hospital to visit his gravely ill daughter. The day of the mythical ambush, Gary was out in his yard when he saw a forest service truck driving across his property in obvious disregard to the numerous no-trespassing signs scattered about his
land. He yelled at the truck to stop but it kept coming towards his house until it crashed into and destroyed a gate. At this point, Gary fired warning shots into the air and the truck drove away. That.... was the big ambush. The newspapers are saying now that Gary not only ambushed three agents, but that he hit three of them. Gary did not even realize they were FBI at
the time, which is fortunate for them because Gary is an expert marksman and had he decided to ambush the FBI he easily could have killed every Fed within range of his weapon.

It was not until 8:00 P.M. that night that Gary realized what was actually taking place. That is when approximately thirty agents drove up to Gary's house. Gary and a young house guest went outside to investigate the commotion. When the Feds started yelling at Gary he dropped to the ground and rolled into a ditch behind the line of government vehicles. The young
house guest went running back into Gary's residence. After waiting for three hours the FBI used Gary's wife as a shield and a hostage and went into the house. What brave men they are. As incredulous as it sounds Gary laid in the ditch behind the agents for five hours with his gun aimed at their backs. Had Gary really wanted to ambush these invaders, then that was a wonderful opportunity to do so. Gary chose instead to give them quarter, something he would later come to regret.
Gary eventually slipped out of the ditch and into the woods.

The incompetence of these gun toting bureaucrats never ceases to amaze me. Especially after their attempted ambush and murder of myself in a Portland motel. First, let me say that the FBI was not there to arrest Gary, but to ambush me. They didn't even know that Gary was in the room. The only reason they were able to find me was because a trusted friend in room 14 was actually a traitor and an informant. The FBI has vast resources and the latest technology, but the quality of their agents is going downhill with every new recruit. That's because most of the best White men in this country are starting to realize that to be an FBI agent is to be nothing more than a mercenary for the A.D.L. and Tel Aviv.

When I stepped out of my motel room that morning, a gang of armed men came running at me. None of the men had uniforms on and the only thing they said was, "Stop, you bastard." At this, I yelled to Gary, who was still inside, and I leaped down the stairwell and took off running into the parking lot. A woman agent shot at my back and the bullet missed and hit the hotel
manager. I rounded the corner of the motel and took off down the hill into a residential area. After running for two blocks I decided to quit being the hunted and become the hunter. I drew my gun and waited behind a concrete wall for the agents to draw near. When I aimed my gun at the head of the closest agent, I saw the handsome face of a young White man and lowered my aim to his knee and his foot. Had I not done so I could have killed both agents and still had left the use of my hand which is now mangled beyond repair and which I might very well lose altogether. "This is the last time I will ever give quarter."

As for the traitor in room 14, we will eventually find him. If it takes ten years and we have to travel to the far ends of the earth, we will find him. And true to our oath when we do find him, we will remove his head from his body. I have no regrets or apologies to make for Gary or myself. In fact, I am proud that we had the courage and the determination to stand up and fight for our race and our heritage at a time in our history when such a deed is called a crime and not an act of valor.

Approximately nine months ago the FBI went to my house while I was away and threatened my two year old son. That was a very big mistake on their part. After the Portland shootout they went to my house and threatened my sixty-three year old mother. Such brave men they are. I am not going into hiding, rather I will press the FBI and let them know what it is like to become the hunted. Doing so it is only logical to assume that my days on this planet are rapidly drawing to a close. Even so, I have no fear. For the reality of life is death, and the worst the enemy can do to me is shorten my tour of duty in this world. I will leave knowing I have made my family and friends love me and support me. I will leave knowing I have made the ultimate sacrifice to secure the future of my children.

As always, For blood, soil, honor, for faith and for race.
Robert Jay Mathews

Also from Justina WR

A Giant Amongst Men – A Tribute to Robert Jay Mathews
Family Support Networks within our Folk Communities
SIGRDRIFA’s Seconds Please

He was not a tall man. He stood about 5’7”, yet he was a giant amongst men. Wide in the shoulders with bulging biceps, Robert J. Mathews was known as a no-nonsense guy in the community of Metaline Falls, Washington.

This Selkirk Mountain town employed miners, woodsmen, and blue-collar union men in season. It was known more for bars and taverns than its churches, thought Bob was too busy to hang out for a beer after work. He would work his 8-12 hour shift in the Bunker Hill zinc mine and would spend the remaining daylight hours falling timber on a forty-acre parcel he had purchased on Boundary Dam Road. Like his ancestors that tamed the West, Bob was determined to clear and fence a small parcel to raise Scottish Galloway cattle. In the town, he earned the moniker “Badger Bob” for his hard work and determination. He cleared and prepped an area for two doublewide trailers on this land, one for himself and one for his elderly parents. Without much help from anyone else, he built a chicken coop, a root cellar and a barn. After pulling up all the stumps and seeding a five acre pasture, he brought in a bull and three or four cows. Near the creek in the woods, close to his house, he placed some benches in a mossy grotto-like area with a small waterfall, so he could sit and relax at the end of the day, enjoying Nature’s beauty. In the evenings, he would read from his extensive library until he could barely hold his eyes open. Oftentimes, the book would tumble to the floor and he’d be found snoring in his easy chair. Then, in the morning, he’d start his day at the crack of dawn with John Philip Sousa marching music, or the Black Watch playing reveille on the pipes, blaring on his phonograph. His breakfast, every single day, 365 days a year, had to include grilled eggs (slightly running) and a bowl of oatmeal because he had read somewhere that the Scottish Highlanders would carry oatmeal in their sporrans when they went to battle and would live off the land supplementing their diet with pillaged eggs or small game.

In the early 1980’s, Bob had created a movement called White American Bastion (W.A.B.) and was active trying to get people to move to his corner of the Pacific Northwest. He felt that if whites would move out of the urban cesspools, they would return to their idyllic tribal roots. The bad part was that jobs were few and far between in this utopia. A recession was going on in the country at this time. Farms were being lost to foreclosures. The logging industry was depressed, and many of the mills shut down. The zinc mine was no longer operating. The union at the cement plant was going on strike. Unemployment was 20%, or worse, as many jobs in Pend Oreille County were seasonal.

…Yet Bob was undeterred. One day, he invited a number of people he had met at Aryan Nations Church in Hayden Lake, Idaho, up to his place for a potluck dinner. After the meal, while the wives and children stayed in the house, the men moved out to a building Bob, and I, and two others, had built that summer.

Bob sat us in a circle of chairs he’d placed in the upstairs room. In a very serious manner, he explained to us what he perceived to be a major conspiracy against our race, our families, and our way of life. He showed us articles pulled from the Spokane newspaper that would prove to us our people were under attack. Mostly these were article on farm foreclosures with violent endings, or court decisions pushing affirmative action to the detriment of White communities. He reminded us of what was said at the 1983 Aryan Nations Congress about how money was scarce for our Folk. He gave us examples of how people on our own community were struggling to make ends meet. Less than half the men in the circle that evening had steady jobs. One man’s family was living in a dirt floor cabin without running water.

He asked us if we could think of ways to make money. Dan Bowers suggested sponsorship by appealing to wealthy donors and creating some equitable means of distributing the proceeds. Most of us viewed this idea as too labor intensive to set up on short notice for our immediate needs. Kenneth Loff suggested we bid on forest service trail cleaning jobs. Someone argued that we would have to put up money to bid on the contracts as a promise we’d complete the job; then someone suggested doing robberies. None of us had engaged in criminal activity before and most of the men were very much against it; Most of the men were Identity Christians and could not justify it by their faith. Most of us agreed that people worked hard for their money and we didn’t want to rob them of their hard earned property or savings. It was suggested that money from banks was insured, but none of us were prepared to take such a drastic step. The general consensus was that we’d try to create jobs in our area and would make it a point to help one another.

Then Bob told us to wait in the circle while he ran downstairs. In a moment, he came back carrying Jamie Ann Loff, Ken’s infant daughter. He placed her on a blanket on the floor in the middle of the circle, lit some candles and dimmed the lights. He told us he wanted us to make a pledge to one another; he said was just as sacred, if not more so, than a wedding vow. He impressed upon us that this oath was so unlike any other that, if we wanted, we could leave the room with no hard feelings. No one moved. There was a moment of silence as all of us stared at the child in the center of our circle. Bob told us that the oath we were about to swear was directed toward all White children, which were represented this night, by this one child. It was a pledge to defend the children at any cost.

We all raised our right arms as Bob began reading prepared words from a sheet of paper, in a trembling, yet determined voice. As he read a line, we would repeat after him. The moment was so moving I could feel the energy generated by each one of us, fill the room. Tears filled my eyes as I felt a deep connection to each of the men standing in the circle. Like a pebble dropped in a pool of still water, I could feel the energy radiating outward, through space and time, to our brethren not present with us on this evening. We were pledging to give our life for our folk and would use all our resources to protect this child and all White children, to defend their safety and honor. From this moment on, our lives were thoroughly charged.

Ultimately, we did take action, engaging in more than a years worth of criminal activity to support our cause. Many of the men in the circle that night were fortunate enough to get a bit of prison time for their involvement. They would have a chance to re-evaluate and examine where they went wrong and how to do things better in the future, but not Bob; he gave his life.

After a two-day stand off with scores of government agents, Robert J. Mathews was killed in a fiery blaze; a Viking funeral pyre. When they located the charred remains of his body the next day, a gun was found melted into each hand. His Bruders Schweigen medallion was melted onto the Kevlar vest where his chest had been.

With his passage went his dream of creating his White American Bastion, a community of families banding together in support of one another in a little town called Metaline Falls.

His ashes were scattered beneath an apple tree on his property on Boundary Dam Road. Though they were able to destroy his body, they couldn’t kill his spirit. Wherever people gather to work for the glory and honor of our Folk, the spirit of Robert J. Mathews is alive and well, his dream renewed. Hail Robert J. Mathews!

- Richard Kemp

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly…” -Theodore Roosevelt

I have choosen to post about RJM today because today was the day he brutally murdered. There are ALOT of other Martyrs. Please feel free to add to this list.
JusTina