Direct Action: Memoirs of an Urban Guerrilla

Direct Action: Memoirs of an Urban Guerrilla

Ann Hansen

Language: English

Pages: 512

ISBN: 1902593480

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

Direct Action chronicles the thrilling fast-paced action of the Guerrilla group that blew up the political activist scene of the 80's. Hansen and her Anarchist group Direct Action were responsible for numerous dramatic political acts, including the bombing of the Litton Systems plant in Toronto. After legal protest actions failed to stop Litton from making guidance systems for Cruise missiles, Direct Action defended the Earth, explosively. Additionally, Hansen with other radical feminists showed the Red Hot Video chain just how hot their illegal films depicting rape could become after being firebombed.

Ann Hansen served seven years in prison and is now quite at home in Vancouver with her three horses, three dogs, one cat and a bird.















I must admit that the plan worked: knowing they were sleeping a few feet away did distract me from thoughts of Nick, and it did create a stronger group bond. I was awakened even later that same evening by noises in the 174 / Direct Action: Memoirs of an Urban Guerrilla kitchen. I sat up and, seeing that Brent was still not in bed, tiptoed carefully over Doug. Brent was in the kitchen wolfing down a plate of Chinese noodles with some kind of Chinese fungus and soy sauce topping. "Why are you up so late?

It was so beautiful I wished I were building a cabin there instead of setting up a target range. But I knew my awareness of, and stand against, the clear-cut logging practices of the lumber companies would prevent me from enjoying anything like a survivalist lifestyle in these surroundings. The environmental destruction I saw all around me was compelling me to commit my life towards doing whatever I could to stop it. Finally we were ready. We each took turns standing, feet slightly straddled, with the stock of the rifle resting against the shoulder, slowly squeezing the trigger until it fired thunderously.

One of Doug's idiosyncrasies was a phobia about leaving British Columbia, but the whole point of living underground was to avoid meeting anyone we knew, even accidentally. After years of activism, Doug and Brent could easily run into someone they knew anywhere in the province. The closest big city outside the province was Calgary. Why not Calgary? Moving there would be inconsequential for Brent and me, but for Doug it would be a real test of commitment. When Brent suggested Calgary, we scrutinized Doug's face for a reaction because Going Underground / 155 we knew that he would never articulate his feelings.

The dogs barked angrily back, frustrated by these huge birds who could lift into the air just before their jaws could make their mark. It was an interesting dance between these two groups of predators, the eagles and the dogs. The eagles were the more formidable. The dogs, racing around yapping, baring their little white fangs, seemed no threat when one of these huge birds came diving down at them with its yellow hooked beak opened wide in a spine-tingling screech. Off in the distance we heard a low rumbling.

They were often the ones who didn't come from families that could afford the expensive education so essential for a job. As their music so frequently reminded us, theirs was a world of no future, no hope. Their music was filled with warnings of suicide and death, cries of anguish, despair, and anger. As we stepped into the Buddha, a local Vancouver punk band called the Subhumans was playing "Fuck You," written by Gerry Hannah. You call us weirdos, call us crazy Say we're evil, say we're lazy Say we're just the violent type Kind of dumb, not too bright We don't care what you say — fuck you You tell your friends we're really sick Short-haired fags on a commie trip And you should know 'cause you're so cool Number one, nobody's fool We don't care what you say — fuck you Well, come on, man, you better jump right in 74 / Direct Action: Memoirs of an Urban Guerrilla This is one game that everybody's in Don't care where you've been, don't care how you look It's hell's fire, man, you're in, you gotta cook We don't care what you say — fuck you.

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