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Thread: The Rodina and the Shackles of Humanity

  1. #141
    Comrade Great Old One cthulhu's Avatar
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    He smiled at his image in the mirror. The face was broad and the deep set small dark eyes gazed back with coldness - this of course was in contrast to the wolfish grin. The fairly large nose had clearly been broken at least a couple of times, and the mouth was wide with thin lips, and a square jaw. His crew cut reinforced the brutish impression his face and tall muscular body gave. Boris Kirillovich Volosatov whistled as he shaved off the beard that had grown during his voyage from Petrograd to Hamburg. He loved his foreign assignments and the constant changes of surroundings. It made his practice of non attachment much easier, maybe too easy. He decided it would not be a problem, in time he would be stuck at some position in Russia. The days on the freighter had been quite boring with the exceptions of the conversations he had had with Mikhail Borodin 1 who had been fascinating. Apparently he was bound for China as soon as they were done in Hamburg. Maybe he will team up with Propykin in Shanghai, Volosatov thought with a pang of envy, and laughed as soon as he was struck by the feeling. Envy was for the sleeping mass of mankind to take seriously. Still, one could learn much from an experienced operative like Borodin, and he wouldn’t have minded doing just that.

    His thoughts returned to last night as the freighter, now named ‘Loke’ and under Swedish colors, had slowly made its way into Kiel’s huge harbor. The scene had been lovely - lights from the city and the dark silhouettes of the warehouses. The docks and the black water, it all gave him goose bumps. He had taken a deep breath, enjoyed the sense of danger and felt a deep awe of life. The tired port officials either had been bribed or were loyal communists so the unloading went under way without problems. They were all tense however - the German authorities might have gained knowledge of the illegal cargo from their numerous sources - and he had nervously fingered the safety of his pistol before he commanded himself to relax and accept the tension in his body. The crates contained arms, mainly rifles and revolvers and ammunition, for the German proletariat. The quality was questionable since most was worn and poorly maintained weapons used in the Great War and the subsequent Russian civil war. The cargo was loaded onto trucks and were then driven to a railroad yard outside the port city were it would be transferred onto a train bound for Hamburg. Borodin continued on to Hamburg on business unknown to Volosatov, who had been ushered to a safe house in central Kiel. The apartment was sparsely furbished but the pantry was well stocked with foodstuffs. He made himself a sandwich and drank a beer before going to sleep on the bed covers, not bothering to undress.

    He had awoken at just before ten and got up, removed his clothes and started with a short workout and then a cold shower to dispel the tiredness and to become fully alert. He had gone on to some do refreshing asanas 2 and meditation. Volosatov’s mind returned to the present, to his image in the mirror and the razor gliding across his left check, making a scratching sound as it cut the stubbles. I have done it again he thought. Despite all his training and his rigorous mental and physical exercises he had disappeared into the land of fantasy and memories. His eyes focused on the razor he held in his right hand and then he punished himself by making a short cut in his left palm. He licked the tiny wound and fully took in the pain and the taste of blood. The door to the apartment was opened and people entered, he quickly moved over to his black leather jacket lying on a chair and got his pistol. “Hallo Genosse! 3” someone cheerfully shouted from the kitchen. Volosatov kept the weapon lowered and moved slowly through the bedroom and when he reached the living room he saw three Germans in simple clothes sitting down around the table. He recognized one of them from last night, it was the man who brought him here; his name was Stefan Kräft. He smiled and lay the pistol on the coffee table and joined them in the kitchen. “So, Comrades, will you show me the town today?” Volosatov spoke German fluently – his mother was a Volga German who had fallen for his Russian father’s charms.

    “No Comrade, we brought you some fresh food for today,” Kräft motioned to the bag on the kitchen table; the others opened beer bottles and passed them around, “you can stay here for the three days until the freighter leaves.” Volosatov gulped down some excellent German pilsner, “nah, that’s not what I had in mind at all. What are you guys doing today?”

    Kräft gaped alarmed, “We are responsible for you as long as you are here. We cannot risk…”

    “Bollocks!”

    “You can come with us if you want.” One of the others grinned.

    “No he cannot!” Kräft protested.

    “Sure I can. What’s your name?”

    The man smiled but shot a nervous glance at Kräft, “Peter Raabe.”

    “Comrade Raabe, where are we going?”

    “Well, we’ll join the demonstration at one a clock and then afterwards we’ll go to ‘our’ Pub and have a pint or two afterwards.”

    “Good man. Sounds fun. What are we demonstrating against or for?”

    Raabe cleared his throat, “we’re, um, protesting against the government, the capitalists, the the, the church and the…landowners?”

    Kräft scowled, “And work for all, education, social justice, salaries we can live on – the inflation is killing us.”

    “Outstanding! It’s been a long time since I demonstrated. I might be a little rusty. Can I hold a placard?”

    “If, if you like.” Kräft was clearly not happy with where the conversation was going.

    “Just let me finish up in the bathroom and we’ll go.” Volosatov drained the beer and he heard Kräft argue with the others as he returned to the mirror. He laughed. A demonstration, a fucking demonstration - it was hilarious and a great opportunity to beat some stupid ugly brown shirt senseless. He felt eager to experience the mass of people again, all of them asleep, how they came together as one huge powerful beast that was so dangerous and yet so easy to manipulate. Havel’s words came back to him “In order to see clearly, you cannot see through labels, you cannot see through words. People believe in things and these beliefs color their perception of reality. It makes everything into a delusion - an illusion. Nonsense and ideals are what they believe in. They're basically fodder - fodder for the great machine. They're being ground up. It doesn't bother them because they're not capable of much more.” Sadness came over Volosatov and he concentrated on the sensation of the movements of his body as he finished shaving and got fully dressed.


    * * *






    The air was quite cold and the sky was overcast with a gray cloud cover that delivered the occasional drizzle. Despite the melancholic weather they kept their spirits high with songs, and chanting political slogan as they marched from the southern suburbs toward the ‘Kieler Rathaus.’ 4 Volosatov had a great time among his fellow German Comrades and chatted with housewives and factory workers while Kräft and his men anxiously kept up with him. There was something reminiscent of Petrograd 1918 in the air, but naturally the determined desperation was missing. Things were not that bad. Not yet anyway. As they entered the city centre, detachments of uniformed police officers appeared; some only standing in formation in streets they passed while one detachment moved up and marched behind them, keeping a respectful distance, this was a legal demonstration after all. To Volosatov’s disappointment, the police effectively kept them apart from any larger group of reactionaries and fascists. At the square, local communist leaders held speeches that were uninspiring and boring – Volosatov used the time to do some Pranayama 5. It took awhile for him to notice the last speaker’s superior oratory skill, fully concentrated on his breathing as he was. He asked Kräft who was speaking and was told that it was Ernst Thälmann, a rising star in the Hamburg section of the KPD 6. It was a rousing attack on international capitalism and Germany’s feeble government. Afterwards, the crowd broke up and he immediately went to work on a group of pretty seamsters, using tricks and charm he convinced the young girls to accompany him and his guardians to their favorite hangout. During the walk, he focused on Lisl, a short red haired girl with a hungry mouth.

    The Pub was a worn and dreary place decorated with red banners with political slogans and the photos of the local football team. The beer was excellent however, but Volosatov kept his body’s enthusiasm for it in a tight leash and only drank as much as necessary to fit in the group. He and Lisl soon sat down together at a small table and his jokes and interest in her made her happier than she had been for a long time. This exotic foreign man really got her and he did not spend the time talking about himself. Later, they snuck out together, avoiding Kräft and the others, but drawing some lewd comments from other men who knew Lisl and her friends. Outside the pub, they decided to go to his place, since she shared a room with three of her friends. They walked along empty streets under the moon and the stars and only their voices and her cute laughter broke the silence. They reached the tram stop and joined the young woman with a small child who waited there. Volosatov held Lisl and they kissed and she embraced him and their tongues wrestled lustfully. They lost time enjoying each other.

    “What the hell? Look lads, a commie pig and his little whore.” There was laughter and he looked up to see four brown shirts approaching. Volosatov cursed, he had forgotten to remove the red handkerchief he had tied around his left arm. Lisl was terrified and he moved between her and the approaching fascists. He was calm, the slight intoxication should not be a problem but four against one was dangerous if they knew how to fight. “If you leave her with us, we might consider letting you go.” Their faces were flushed and their eyes dull by too much beer. “No way, this one is mine.” Another blurted. Volosatov had no interest in delaying and simply kicked the man closest to him in the face, taking him by complete surprise, in mid-sentence – he had started to explain all the pain Volosatov and Lisl would experience by their hands. The impact sent the man backwards, falling down on the cobble. Two of the others moved to outflank him on both sides while the third standing raised his hands in a boxer pose and approached. The thugs were moving too slowly and he quickly moved to the left, struck the off balanced man right in the throat and he fell over his closest friend. With all but one of the brown shirts standing at them moment, Volosatov pushed his advantage by executing what Lisl could only classify as a ‘flying kick’, which struck the German in the chest. He lost his breath, but managed to stay on his feet. The men were no fools, instead of making a new attempt they simply fled into the night, leaving their gasping and near unconscious friend. Volosatov walked over to Lisl, “Are you alright?!” She looked at him with newfound respect, “where have you learned how to move like that? I have never seen anything like it.” They were interrupted by an approaching tram’s horn. The brown shirt struggled feebly to get up – he was lying on the tram tracks. Volosatov considered his options for a second and then went over and dragged the man to safety. The tram reached them and stopped. They got on and he paid for them both as well as the young woman. She mumbled thanks and led the child to the seat furthest from him. Lisl watched the SA-man sit up as the tram moved on. The magic of the evening had been dispelled by the attack so when they finally arrived to the apartment they just had some tea and then went to bed. Volosatov immediately fell asleep. Lisl was surprised at his ability to relax after such an ordeal. She lay listening to his breathing while she replayed the scene in her head, again and again. It took her quite awhile to drift off to sleep.

    The sun’s warm rays woke them up. He got up and opened the window to let in some fresh air. Lisl tried to talk about last night but he kissed her and drew her close to him. She protested feebly but was soon distracted by his caresses. The love making was like nothing she had experience before. Granted she had only been with two men before but this man seemed to know more about her body than she did and had control over his own body. He gave her, her first orgasm using his tongue and then went on the give her several more in the more traditional manner. Amazingly enough, and a bit insulting to her she had to admit, he did not allow himself to climax at all. She felt drained and tired after their marathon, but very very relaxed, in a way that was new to her. He then made them breakfast and they ate like two hungry wolves, barely saying a word to each other. She then took a shower while he sat in the window and looked out over Kiel’s rooftops. It looked as if he was lost in thoughts. This was far from the truth. He was integrating energy from them both, which was coursing through his body. When done, he enjoyed a pleasant buzz in his gut and images of great golden copulations in deep elder forests filled his mind.




    1 Mikhail Markovich Borodin - Soviet arms dealer and Comintern agent
    2 Body positions in Yoga
    3 Genosse – Comrade in German
    4 Kiel City Hall
    5 A Yogic breathing exercise which supposedly vitalizes the ‘energy’ flows in the body.
    6 Kommunistische Partei Deutschlands - The Communist Party of Germany
    Last edited by cthulhu; 26-04-2010 at 15:51.
    The Rodina and the Shackles of Humanity - A Soviet HOI3 AAR


    "The Italians have a saying, Lemon, 'Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.' And, although they've never won a war or mass-produced a decent car, in this area they are correct." - Jack in 30 Rock

  2. #142
    Strategy Cognoscenti Demi Moderator Myth's Avatar
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    Hmm, a bit of demonstrating and a little scuffle. I'm sure back in the Soviet Union that'll bite him in the ass somehow.
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  3. #143
    Human Enewald's Avatar
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    What Red Superman is he?
    He cannot be just a mortal man...

  4. #144
    Comrade Great Old One cthulhu's Avatar
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    Myth: Yes, his GPU superiors will not be too pleased if they learned about his shenanigans.

    Enewald: You're referring to his sexual prowess no doubt?
    The Rodina and the Shackles of Humanity - A Soviet HOI3 AAR


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  5. #145
    Field Marshal

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    ahhh another aryan woman stolen by forreigner! what a tragedy to SA!
    lol... he could have faken the orgasm... that would be a great revenge on behalf of all men that where fooled by women

    anyway why is he in Germany? i hope he'lll mobilise communists to new revolution

  6. #146
    Lt. General von Sachsen's Avatar
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    Gaah! I can't tell if the small hints of the supernatural are just that or nothing at all!
    And the Lord spake, saying, "First shalt thou take out the Holy Pin, then shalt thou count to three, no more, no less. Three shall be the number thou shalt count, and the number of the counting shall be three. Four shalt thou not count, neither count thou two, excepting that thou then proceed to three. Five is right out. Once the number three, being the third number, be reached, then lobbest thou thy Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch towards thy foe, who being naughty in my sight, shall snuff it." Amen.

  7. #147
    Comrade Great Old One cthulhu's Avatar
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    Deus Eversor: Yes, another pure aryan woman have fallen for the charms of an untermensch. The same untermensch that kicked their lilly nazi asses all the way back to Berlin in our time line. We'll see if they manage to do better in this AAR. :-)

    As for Volosatov assignment in Germany, he was there mainly to ensure, together with Borodin, that the clandestine arms shipment was successful.

    von Sachsen: Good. Very nice to see you're still following this one, sir. I was afraid I had lost a lot of readers during my hiatus. I'll start working on the next update tomorrow.
    The Rodina and the Shackles of Humanity - A Soviet HOI3 AAR


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  8. #148
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    The SA enter the stage - or rather stumble on it

    Did Volosatov "pick" a seamstress for comfort, or for more practical reasons...
    "Mankind has only one science. It is the science of discontent." -- Count Hasimir Fenring
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  9. #149
    Comrade Great Old One cthulhu's Avatar
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    Lordban: He he, indeed. The SA men were as graceful as ever... And you pose a good question.
    Last edited by cthulhu; 13-05-2010 at 23:29.
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  10. #150
    Comrade Great Old One cthulhu's Avatar
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    The delegates of the twelfth Congress of the Russian Communist Party rose in enthusiastic and thunderous applause, as Lev Trotsky gathered his notes and smiled at the enthusiastic crowd. His speech had as usual been expertly delivered and the writing, which was outstanding, was his own. The clapping and cheering continued as he descended the podium and walked along the front row where his hand was shook repeatedly by enthusiastic party comrades. Neither Kamenev’s nor Zinoviev’s speeches, held previously, had roused the audience in such a manner. Three pair of jealous and hateful eyes followed Trotsky’s progress through the crowd, but he was too elated by the successful speech to take notice. As he ascended the stairs on his way to join Christian Rakovsky and Mikhail Ivanov on one of the boxes with a view over the congress hall, they exchanged glances; they had both seen the faces of the trio. Rakovsky wore a suit, while the General wore the typical nondescript brown uniform of many Bolsheviks, as if to say, today I’m not an officer but a party member as everyone else.

    Trotsky entered. “Superb speech, Lev Davidovich!” Rakovsky was enthusiastic.

    “Yes, Comrade, outstanding as usual.” Ivanon was seemingly impressed but unaffected. Trotsky joined them looking down on the podium as order was restored and the General Secretary, Joseph Stalin was introduced.

    His voice was quite weak, the tone amiable but still betraying insecurity. The thick Georgian accent was unmistakable, “Comrades, the central committee of our party has asked me to report on the relations of our nation’s various nationalities, both between themselves and with the party both locally and centrally. This congress is representative of our various backgrounds, here all you delegates of various nationalities meet and decide the direction for the future and we do so with respect for each other, no matter who belongs to which nationality. The Great-Russian chauvinist spirit is gaining strength and this it owes the New Economic Policy, which fuels the groups in our society the hopes for our failure and dreams of a restored Russian Empire in some form. These people can be found in any strata, but we find the expression of this chauvinism in the arrogantly disdainful and heartlessly bureaucratic attitude on the part of Russian Soviet officials towards the needs and requirements of the national republics. The multi-national Soviet state can become really durable, and the cooperation between the peoples genuinely fraternal, only if these corroding elements are vigorously and irrevocably eradicated from our state institutions. Hence, the first and most urgent task of our Party is to fight Great-Russian chauvinism wherever it is found.”

    Stalin paused for effect and the audience clapped their hands. He continued with a much sterner voice, “While fighting this remnant of old Russia, we must remain vigilant so that not other similar elements within the ranks of party members of other nationalities exploit this focus on Russian chauvinism to further their own nationalist agenda. We have been disheartened to see Comrades in Georgia embracing National Communism and blatantly attempting to obtain privileged positions for Georgians at the expense of other nationalities. Ossetians and Abkhazians, for example, have become victims of local chauvinism and imperialism. The Georgian leadership obviously has been trying to oppress their smaller neighbors. In their leadership roles, both Comrades Budu Mdivani and Filipp Makharadze have been demanding special economic concessions for Georgia. In their relentless attempts at reaching this goal they have openly disobeyed the decisions of the Central Committee of our Party. When repeatedly corrected by the firm but still friendly hand of the Central Committee, these Comrades have chosen to violate Party discipline, and directly contacted our dear Comrade Lenin, and in doing so endangering his health with intrigue.” Stalin then continued speaking about the challenges that faced the Party in the area of nationalities.

    Trotsky and his friends sat down on the chairs in the back of the box. Rakovsky lit a cigarette and said, “Lev, what we knew beforehand is now official, Stalin indeed broke his word to you and Lenin and is now crushing the Georgian leadership just to install his old pals there.”

    “We knew this would happen and this is neither the time nor the issue to oppose the trio on. I will oppose them on the issues where they are clearly wrong and in the longer perspective the Central Committee and Politburo will see that and it will have consequences for them.”

    “Lev, you underestimate them and you overestimate the maturity of our party. Didn’t you react at them making a special point on the agenda to welcome back that old hack Martynov 1 back into the Party. He has never been a friend of yours and he will probably be used against you in the area of economics. But most alarming of all is that they are clearly moving to having me removed from office. The writing is on the wall, I won’t last through the summer – the trio is not only installing their own cronies on the regional level of government, they’re also aiming at removing your allies. I won’t deny that prestige is involved for me personally but my main motivation is to save this Party from the menace of Zinoviev, Kamenev, and Stalin. The gloves must come off and you must come out and fighting them officially. With your stature, you will crush them!”

    Trotsky was clearly uncomfortable, “You must understand old friend, that independent action on my part would univocally be interpreted as my personal fight for Lenin’s place in the Party and State. The very thought of this makes me shiver.”

    “This might be the price you have to pay to save the soul of the Party.” Ivanov said.

    “If I was to do this, and even if I am victorious, it will bring such a complete demoralization in our ranks that we will have to pay too painful a price.”

    “It will be even worse if the trio wins, Lev. You must act!” Rakovsky’s voice was full of desperation.

    “It’s too early to speak of this. Lenin lives. He might still be able to state his own views and this would tip the balance in our favor.”

    Ivanov leaned forward, “Time is something that works for Stalin, not you. Even if Comrade Lenin recovers and is able to state his views one day, it might very well be too late for him and you. They control party bureaucracy and are gaining control of the major newspapers. Your position, well established and lofty as it is, can be undermined with time.”

    “Why are you so eager to confront the trio? Surely they’re not threatening your position or that of the Red Army.”

    “Zinoviev and Kamenev are buffoons and such men are not fit to rule this nation. I’m sure Stalin will get rid of them when they have served their purpose. He’s a cunning man and not dumb but he’ll never be a statesman. His flaws, and they are many, are of the kind that will poison the entire system and creativity, happiness, and love will die. The poison will remain decades after his fall, and fear, paranoia, pain and death will be his legacy.”

    Rakovsky ventured a smile, “You sound like a prophet.”

    Ivanov remained serious, “Maybe I am.”






    1 Alexander Martynov - a Menshevik before the Russian revolution of 1917, and for a few years after the revolution an opponent of the Soviet government.
    Last edited by cthulhu; 14-05-2010 at 21:54.
    The Rodina and the Shackles of Humanity - A Soviet HOI3 AAR


    "The Italians have a saying, Lemon, 'Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.' And, although they've never won a war or mass-produced a decent car, in this area they are correct." - Jack in 30 Rock

  11. #151
    Strategy Cognoscenti Demi Moderator Myth's Avatar
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    Maybe Ivanov is indeed a prophet! Trotsky seems too kind-hearted, or perhaps too deferential to Lenin, to really be able to fight it out bureaucratically with his rising opponents, who he barely seems to identify as such!
    Read about my full body of AAR works here!

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  12. #152
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    Uncle Josif won't be that bad.
    I am sure of it.

  13. #153
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    TROTSKY! YOU IDIOT!

  14. #154
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    The writing is superb and Trotsky is a fool!

    Keep it up

  15. #155
    Comrade Great Old One cthulhu's Avatar
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    Myth: He was more than able to eliminate the external enemies of the revolution. So his squeamishness when it comes to the internal ones is quite surprising.

    Enewald: Ah, good to hear from Salin's fanboy.

    Deus Eversor: Comrade Trotsky is indeed something of a klutz at the moment.

    Dr. Gonzo: Thank you! Much appreciated. Update in the works!
    The Rodina and the Shackles of Humanity - A Soviet HOI3 AAR


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  16. #156
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    i remember from what i was researching for myself few years ago, Trotsky was well... all the way the same... avoiding confrontation... and i wouldn't like to spoil things but i think i know what will happen(ed) when Lenin dies...

  17. #157
    Comrade Great Old One cthulhu's Avatar
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    Prague in June is not a bad place to be, Boris Volosatov though as he strolled from the bus stop he had just gotten off the bus at. The temperature was just about perfect, and he smiled at the sun that stood high in the perfectly blue sky. The residential district was clearly for the affluent upper middle class and the lawns and houses were kept spotless. He was glad to be out of Germany for awhile and among his Slavic brethren the Czech. The beer was better and the women generally more to his taste than the fraus and freuleins back in the Reich. He had arrived with train from Berlin to Prague yesterday and spent the night at a luxurious hotel. All at the expense of his German comrades; he grinned. They thought he was on a secret mission for the GPU, but in reality this was a mini vacation and a chance to visit an old friend and mentor. There were couples and families out strolling since it was Sunday and they eyed him with a slightly suspicious interest. His clothes were that of an well off artist or bohemian with the exception of his black leather jacket perhaps. He smiled and greeted everyone in Russian, which was close enough to Czech to be understood. He reached the address he had been looking for and came upon a beautiful villa with a lush but well kept garden. To the right of the garden gate was bronze plaque with the text “Kristof S. Havel Doctor of Medicine & Psychiatrist.” Volosatov entered and closed the gate behind him before approaching the house. He could hear music from the backside of the house and decided to walk there through the garden. It was Beethoven’s ninth symphony he could hear. He turned the corner and saw his mentor sitting on the large porch in a steamer deck chair and enjoying a glass of white wine. Kristof S. Havel was in his early late fifties, his head partially bald with quite unkept gray speckled black hair and a full beard. He was clad in a navy blue shirt with white slacks and loafers. He rose beaming at the sight of Volosatov, who could see that the old man seemed to be in great shape as always. “Boris! What a splendid surprise! Come here and give me hug.” Havel’s Russian had just a hint of Czech in it. The men hugged like affectionately. “What on earth are you doing here? I thought I wouldn’t see you again for a long time when I left Russia last year.”

    “I’m on assignment in Germany, mostly in Berlin, and thought that since Prague is next door, why not go and see my old guru?”

    “Excellent, just excellent. Can I offer you a glass of whine? Perhaps something to eat?”

    “A beer would be perfect.”

    “A beer it is.” Havel disappeared into the house and Volosatov sat down in the deck chair beside Havel’s. He felt good sitting in this lovely garden watching the sunlight filter through the leaves. The music was turned off and Havel soon appeared again and poured him a Krušovice 1 before sitting down.

    “So Germany. Are you still working for the crazies in the GPU?”

    “I am.”

    “And you’re in Germany to fuel the flames of revolution?”

    “Yes, that and getting laid.” Both men laughed at this.

    “So, is your and your comrades’ work successful? Will Germany’s proletariat rise against their slave masters?”

    “I’m doing my best within the directives of my assignment but I’m doubtful. Together with Karl Radek, I attended a meeting of the German Central Committee last month. He said, and I quote, “'Today we are not in a position to establish the proletarian dictatorship because the precondition is missing, the revolutionary will amongst the majority of the proletarians!” I think that sums it up quite nicely.”

    “Indeed. As you know I’m not too impressed by the Bolsheviks. Sure there are brilliant men in the leadership like Trotsky but you have a terrible counter weight in schmucks 2 like Kamenev, Kalinin, Rykov and Stalin who will no doubt make a joke of the spirit of October, given enough time. As I see it, the problem you have is not the situation in Germany. It will worsen before it gets better. The problem is of leadership. Zinoviev is a weak and spineless man without a revolutionary vision. Under such a leader, the Comintern will not be able to respond to this fast developing situation to gain the upper hand in the class struggle in Germany, if anywhere. There are many parties that are waiting in the shadows so to speak, waiting for the right movement to influence the direction of coming events. You communists are only one of them and could have been the strongest if it hadn’t been for the KPD 3 leadership and Zinoviev.”

    Volosatov enjoyed this immensely. When in this verbose mood, Havel would give his views on a variety of interesting subjects and it was always entertaining and insightful. To boot the man often seemed to know more about what was going on in the world than the major intelligence agencies. “Who are these other parties? The capitalists, the church, and the officer class?”

    Havel sipped his wine, “Yes, of course, there are various capitalist interests involved, both national and international as well as the officer corps, the church, as well as remnants of the redundant landowner class that doesn’t realize it has outlived itself. There are foreign powers involved and criminal organizations as well as various so called secret societies.”

    “Secret societies?” Volosatov raised an eyebrow.

    “You call yourself an intelligence officer?” Havel teased. “Yes, secret societies, of which two are influential and powerful enough to warrant keeping an eye on. The Thule-Gesellschaft 4 is one and if you look beyond the crackpots you will find some very interesting characters that are either worthy of notice themselves or connected to people with power. Keep an eye on the NSDAP 5 and its leader Adolf Hitler. While the KDP will likely miss the opportunity for revolution, the chaos will strengthen the various Völkish 6 groups including the National Socialists.”

    “I’ve been told that Hitler is a public speaking genius, but is really the shame of Versailles and anti-Semitism enough of a political platform to be successful in national elections?”

    “Well, it’s more than that of course. The movement is at a first glance politically syncretic, incorporating policies, tactics and philosophies from right- to left-wing ideologies, as if it was trying to steal the best, so to speak from all competitors. In practice, of course it’s an extreme far right party. Essentially, its German fascism with a chosen people dogma attached to it. Of course since the Jewish people are also a chosen people and considered foreign, they’re the perfect scapegoat for all ills.”

    “How is the Thule-Gesellschaft connected to the NSDAP?”

    “Primarily through Dietrich Eckart, a successful playwright, journalist, amateur politician and mentor of Adolf Hitler. Less know is that he is a committed occultist and self proclaimed master of sorcery. I have met the man a long time ago and although intelligent he was quite delusional when it came to politics and knowledge of transcendence. He was obsessed by petty mind tricks and Tantric 7 techniques that were most unsuitable for such an amateur to dabble in. It’s very easy to get stuck in the darkness. Most of humanity is estranged from their primal essence. Hence their ability to transcend human suffering and engaging in the work of the divine image is severely limited. There are basically four factors that contribute to this form of self alienation which our species thinks it can eradicate through ridiculous and absurd means. Anyway, I suspect Eckart has trained Hitler in methods promoting self confidence, self projection, and perhaps even more esoteric techniques suited for seducing the masses. Skills that nicely complement what I have been told the Reichwehr had already taught him as persuasive oratory and body language, and discursive sophistry. Of course Eckart is also a rabid anti-semite.”

    “It always seems to get back to that with these people, doesn’t it? I will advice my superiors to allocate more resources to keep track of and learn more of Hitler and the rest of the leadership. I’m sure our German comrades will be helpful in this.” Volosatov finished his beer. “And the second one?”

    “Hmm, what?”

    “You said there were two secret societies that was worthy of notice.”

    “Ah, yes, the second one is quite notorious and you have probably heard of them – the Bavarian Illuminati.”

    “Erm, the one founded in Ingolstadt during the late eighteenth century by Adam Weishaupt? Supposedly behind the French Revolution etc?”

    “Exactly, or at least an organization that wants you to believe that it indeed is the Bavarian Illuminati.”

    “How do you know of them?”

    “Well, for one thing, I have been approached by one who claimed to represent them. A certain Wilhelm Uhde, an art collector and dealer of some repute, as well as author and critic. Right now I believe he’s working actively to further the pacifist agenda in Germany. He said that as an adept of the traditions of the ancient mystery schools, my knowledge was of outmost importance to preserve and that I could contribute actively to their agenda. He told me a lot of other things I won’t repeat. Some of which I could corroborate with other sources or which corresponded to information I already had.”

    “So you’re a card carrying member now?” Volosatov grinned.

    Havel laughed, “Of course not. I’m an individualist, and a humanist to an extent.”

    “So despite your bleak view of humanity you still have hope?”

    “Yes, maybe I have a glimmer of hope.”

    “So what do they want?”

    “The Illuminati?”

    “Sure.”

    “Basically the same as all of humanity’s leaders in the so called modern capitalist nations. They do what they can to create an environment where breeding and consumptive habits are not interfered with by either real knowledge of transcendence or by the exploitive sociopaths that live off the mass of mankind. The difference being that their leadership to a large extent understands the importance of esoteric knowledge and techniques but they don’t believe it should be shared with the rest of humanity. An enlightened elite must rule mankind. This is unacceptable to me. All genuine seekers must be accepted and given a chance.”

    Volosatov was skeptical but intrigued, “It seems if they do exist, they are natural enemies of the NSDAP and other reactionary or fascist organizations.”

    “That they most definitely are and that’s also a difference compared to the capitalists and church in general. Those fools would most likely seek to work with Hitler or other likeminded men in misguided attempts to save them from you Godless communists.”

    The men sat in silence for a while and enjoyed the tranquility of the garden. Memories of earlier talks they had had when Volosatov was disciple and Havel guru surfaced. It was something he had said earlier. “You mentioned the four factors that contribute to humanity’s self alienation, when you spoke of Eckart. Now I remember previous references to them. Which are these factors?”

    Havel’s dark eyes gazed into Volosatov’s as if to find something in them and just as the Russian started to feel uncomfortable, the older man seemed content and relaxed back into his chair. “The human race seems to think it is a perfect species. Since we are the highest animal on the planet we can understandably fall for this illusion. But it is an illusion, our brain in no way works the way we think it does. We are dictated to by our lower animal centers and we have very little control over our behavior, our thoughts, and our fantasies and our will. In essence, throughout history, we have been deluded to thinking that education is the way out of this. This delusion is one of our greatest errors, because we have a problem with how the brain works. So to simply think we can simply teach people things, provide them with information and knowledge and that they will improve themselves and not be the foolish people that they are, in fact is a fantasy. You see this everyday in newspapers, radio, and in schools, that all we need to do is to teach properly. Child rearing practices are another thing. They are primarily derived from the bible. Children are not small adults. Their brains do not work the same way adults’ brains work. Their ideas are different even if they use the same words. Their ideas of the world are different. Keep that in mind if you ever become a father, eh?”

    “Heh, I promise.”

    “Every culture is nothing more than the result of interaction by a specific race and geography over time. What that means is that a specific race will interact with a specific environment and it will develop specific behavioral patterns and methods for surviving and procreating. Then by happenstance, these methods become rigid and firm and they begin to affect the brain and develop a sense of rigidity and create fear in relationship to the patterns and methods that this particularly group happen to establish. This includes religion as well of course. Obey now and get rewarded afterward is the essence of the three monotheistic religions.”

    “Does your old friend, Doctor Freud 8 agree with you on this?”

    “Freud and I are still writing each other occasionally. He’s a very gifted man, and we all benefit from his pioneering work and I have learned a lot from him. I feel however, that I have more in common with the likes of Carl Jung, Georg Groddeck, and Wilhelm Reich. But I digress. Our ability to communicate with language, use concepts and develop ideas gives us the impression of free will. In interaction with people I don’t focus on what they say unless they’re actually saying something of real value. What I do focus on is what their intentions are. Most people are nothing more than automatons. They are alive but not living. They are not willful and intentional people, as your former guru Gornostayev is fond of saying. Every culture is basically reinforcing the human race’s compulsiveness and shaping it to make our sole ambitions to reproduce and consume. Take a look at the people around you, they’re all doing basically the same thing and yet they are all convinced it’s something new. It’s something new to get married, buying furniture, having children. Where poverty reigns, this can easily be understood but what about the wealthy middle class in the west? Don’t they have a sense of history? Don’t they know this has been done over and over again, one generation to the next? That most of what they think, and say and do, has been done before? It appears not. The reason you sought and found Akuan and then me was pain. You were suffering and wanted to be free of it. Luckily there are a few of us who are around to slap seekers in the face and wake them up; to show you an alternate path through this veritable house of mirrors. But pain is important. Without it, most people would do nothing to improve themselves.” Havel took a deep breath and sighed, “Were you paying attention? What were the four factors?”

    “As I understood them, they are the design flaws of the species, poor child rearing practices, cultures & religion, the illusion of language as intelligence and free will?”

    “Excellent. I could go into more detail but I won’t bore you.”

    Volosatov laughed, “I don’t think you’ve ever bored me.”

    “That’s because I know when to stop.”

    “So how’s the practice going?”

    “As you know, I no longer need to work, so I’m only accepting the patients I find really interesting. Otherwise I spend most my time writing. I want to share my conclusions and methods with the rest of the psychoanalytical community. Freud is too dominant and we need a healthy climate of open debate.” Havel rose from his chair, “Will you stay for dinner?”

    “I’d love to, but I must get back to Prague tonight. My train back to Berlin leaves at nine fifteen.”

    “I will drive you. You will love my new Packard.” The servants were informed of the dinner plans and the two friends continued to discuss various subjects until the sun set.





    1 The Royal Brewery of Krušovice is a Czech brewery, established in 1517 by Jiří Birka in the village of Krušovice.[29] The brewery gained a contract to provide beer to Emperor Rudolf II in 1581, allowing them to use the Imperial Crown of Austria as part of the company's logo. Cthulhu: It’s a great beer. Try it if you haven’t.
    2 A common pejorative of Yiddish origin
    3 Kommunistische Partei Deutschlands - Communist Party of Germany
    4 Thule-Gesellschaft - The Thule Society.
    5 Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei - National Socialist German Workers' Party
    6 The Völkisch movement was the largest group in the Conservative Revolutionary movement in Germany. The völkisch movement had its origins in Romantic nationalism born during the Napoleonic Wars.
    7 Tantra (Sanskrit: "weave" denoting continuity) is a philosophy according to which Shakti is usually the main deity worshipped, and the universe is regarded as the divine play of Shakti and Shiva. The Tantric practitioner seeks to use the prana (divine power) that flows through the universe (including one's own body) to attain purposeful goals. These goals may be spiritual, material or both. Most practitioners of tantra consider mystical experience imperative.
    8 Sigmund Freud - World famous Austrian neurologist and the father of the psychoanalytic method of psychiatry.
    Last edited by cthulhu; 02-12-2011 at 23:36.
    The Rodina and the Shackles of Humanity - A Soviet HOI3 AAR


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  18. #158
    Strategy Cognoscenti Demi Moderator Myth's Avatar
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    Whoo, secret societies and the basis of all wisdom! The scope of events is opening up ever further. Plus I like how Volosatov's first thoughts about Czechoslovakia were beer and women.
    Read about my full body of AAR works here!

    Fan of the Week 13/08/09

  19. #159
    Colonel Dr. Gonzo's Avatar

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    Quote Originally Posted by Myth View Post
    Whoo, secret societies and the basis of all wisdom! The scope of events is opening up ever further. Plus I like how Volosatov's first thoughts about Czechoslovakia were beer and women.
    They certainly are Prague's strength I'll give him that.

    Great update, Havel seems the nice chap and the Nazi occultism rears its head once more!

  20. #160
    Human Enewald's Avatar
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    Too much talk and too many great ideas, I need proper action.
    Not that I would not like your walls of text, which keep proving to be always as intriguing if you just manage to catch enough of it.

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