Letter to Editor: R.J. Mathews

[4 images, one music video]

On this page is the last public communication of Robert ("Bob") Jay Mathews. He wrote this letter to the Newport Miner, a newspaper published in Pend Oreille County in Washington State.  He died a short time later in a conflagration set by flares, purposefully thrown into the 2 story Whidbey Island cabin he was holed up in, by the F.B.I. Hostage Rescue Team

bob mathews

It can certainly be said the Bob Mathews died like a Viking, for Vikings considered it an honor to die in battle with one's sword in hand. Mathews was reported to of kept firing his fully automatic weapon at Federal Agents out the second story windows as the flames from the bottom floor licked up at the second. Mathews chose to die with his "sword" in his hand, and, like a Viking, was "buried" in flames as in a Viking funeral pyre.
  

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Ancient Warriors, would of called his death a "Beautiful Death" for he willingly chose to die in battle against the Foe, and refusing to surrender to Enemy. Mathews was of the same BLOOD as the 200 or so men of the Alamo that defied the 1,500 man Mexican Army...and... Mathews had the same spirit of HONOR as the 300 Spartan Hoplites and approximately 1000 Greeks that fought to the death defying the tens of thousands of invading Persians at the Battle of Thermopylae.

the order

 

TO THE EDITOR:

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. This 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 this 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 s 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 on subjects dealing with history, politics and economics. I was especially taken with Spengler’s “Decline if the West” and “Which Way Western Man?” I also subscribed to numerous periodicals on current American problems, especially those concerned with the ever increasing decline of 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 blonde-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 by 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 J. Fulbright and the late General Brown tried to warn us about. Henry Ford and Charles Lindbergh 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 left but to stand 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 that 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 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 down hill 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 ADL 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 at 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 motel 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 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 the use of my hand which is now mangled beyond repair and which I might very well lose altogether. That 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 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 my 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 that I have made the ultimate sacrifice to ensure the future of my children.

As always, for blood, soil, honor, for faith and for race,

Robert Jay Matthews

 

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In addition to posting Mathews's last written public communication (above) I believe it is fitting to include what is reported to of been his actual last writing. Mathews is said to of been seen writing this last communication, by some of his Bruders, with a bandaged hand that had been hit with buckshot from a Federal Agent's shotgun days before during a failed attempt to capture him at a hotel. He wrote it in the cabin on Whidbey Island, where he and his Bruders were rendezvoused at, and where he would, in a matter of hours, be burned alive. The following may read, to some, like a "suicide note", or a fatalistic final statement, but it should not be seen in that way. When reading the following final writing of Mathews  a contextual understanding is extremely important so that the whole picture can be seen. The writing, personal, emotional, and yet solemn, is but the words of a man knowing he is about to die.  

It does not matter how brave, courageous and unafraid of death a person is, if given space and time to reflect upon both one's life and imminent death, waves of thoughts and emotions flood in and can be overwhelming.

It must be noted that Mathews never expressed, nor showed, regret for his Acts of Patriotism. Instead, he was proud of his "tour of duty" and considered himself a "good solider" . When reading his last written communication in the proper context it can be understood that Mathews was not suicidal, depressed, regretful or fatalistic.  It was reported by the F.B.I. Agents who had surrounded the cabin and had Mathews under siege that when asked to surrender he replied:

"I want parts of eastern Washington, Idaho, and Montana set aside as an Aryan Homeland, where my kinsmen will be free to live as they choose"

And now the last writing of Robert Mathews...

We all knew it wold be like this, that it would be our own brothers who wold first try to destroy our efforts to save our race and our terminally ill nation. Why are so many white men so eager to destroy their own kind for the benefit of the Jews and mongrels? I see three FBI agents hiding behind some trees to the north of the house. I could have easily killed them, I had their faces in my sights. The look like good racial stock yet all their talents are given to a a government which is openly trying to mongrelize the very race these agents are part of . Why can't the see? White men killing white men, Saxon killing Dane; When will it end? The Aryan's bane? I knew last night that today would be my last day in this life. When I went to bed I say  all my loved ones so clearly, as if they were there with me. All my memories flashed through my mind. I knew then that my tour of duty was up. I have been a good soldier, a fearless warrior, I will die with honor and join my brothers in Valhalla.  For blood, soil, and honor.  For faith and for race. For the future of my children.  For the green graves of my sires.

Robert Jay Mathews

 

Song by the band NO REMORSE song title Robert Mathews

 
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