In the Social Storm: Memoirs of the Russian Revolution By Boris Yelensky Chapter 22
Chapter 22
On Monday, September 19, 1919, we decided to leave Moscow, and that day will remain fixed in my memory until I draw my last breath. Our train was to pull out at 6 in the evening, so we came down to the depot an hour ahead of time. Aron Baron accompanied us to the station. We entered our coach and began to arrange our baggage and personal effects in our compartment. Suddenly the door swung open and we were confronted with eight uninvited guests; one of them showed us a Cheka identification card. They immediately went into action. First they turned their attention to Comrade Baron, frisking him from head to foot and minutely examined every scrap of paper they came across. They found nothing incriminating on his person and allowed him to step out of the compartment. My turn was next and with me also everything was in order and they allowed me to leave the compartment. When I emerged from the coach I could see that it was surrounded by armed Cheka members. I stood alongside of the coach waiting; every minute seemed like an eternity. The thought kept driving at me that possibly they had found some illegal article on my comrades. My eyes were glued to the door of the coach. A full twenty-seven Chekists came out of the coach, and then their chief apologized to me, saying it was all due to a misunderstanding.
I climbed into the coach and stood in the entranceway as if frozen. The train began to move and I still stood there motionless. When I finally regained my composure somewhat, I went back into the compartment to be confronted by two “living corpses,” for both Claudia and Mark were white as chalk. Many minutes passed and not a word was spoken. It finally became clear to me that my comrades had broken their promise and had taken along with them the forbidden proclamations from the underground group. Through mere chance the Chekists had overlooked one suitcase and that alone had saved us from certain death.
When the train had gained some speed and we had left the suburbs of Moscow behind, I shut the door of our compartment and flung the question at Mark and Claudia in three blunt words: “Have you that?” Their answer was, “Yes.”
Only a piece of good fortune had spared us. Claudia was carrying with her a small black handbag which contained the package of proclamations. When we entered the compartment, she placed the handbag in a corner of the lower bunk, and set my suitcase down next to it. When the Chekists searched my valise they laid my effects in the corner where the handbag was, covering it, and when they completed the search of my luggage they were unable to see what they were looking for so strenuously – and this saved our necks! When it grew dark outside, I removed the proclamations, opened the window and threw them out. I am not sure who it was who broke their promise but I rather suspect it was Claudia, under the prodding of Mark.
Needless to say, our journey to Ekaterinburg was none too pleasant after this incident. During the entire week the trip lasted, I could not recover my composure after this unsettling episode. The trip was also complicated by the fact that, up until a few weeks previously, the Kolchak forces had held sway here. The tracks were torn up and a number of bridges had been blown up, making it necessary to tow the railroad cars with horses.
When we finally reached Ekaterinburg we found a small colony of our comrades there. In addition to Ivan Apolon and Abram Christos, there were several others, including one woman. We found on our arrival that it had rained the whole day, but when we arose the next morning, we found the whole city blanketed by snow. It was only toward the end of September but that memorable Siberian winter was already moving in on us.
Apolon and Christos had entered the city with the Red Army men and had soon obtained two apartments with a courtyard. In the larger one they even came across a meal still hot, left behind by the fleeing residents who sought to avoid being seized by the Red Army. Thus they had the good fortune to take over these two apartments with all the conveniences. We counted a total of ten of our “gang” not counting those who would be visiting us from time to time from the surrounding country.
By the day following our arrival, Apolon knew what had befallen us in Moscow and during the long journey. Accordingly, our small colony held a meeting and the matter of how to order our daily life was discussed. Since they knew I possessed some culinary talents, it was proposed that I should function as cook and prepare the meals for the group. I eagerly accepted this charge and the other comrades each took over his or her share of the work in the house. In only a few days our little community was operating smoothly, with everyone fulfilling their appointed assignments.
About that time depressing news began reaching us. The Bolsheviks were having a hard time of it in Moscow and we learned that the underground group, together with the left-wing Social-Revolutionaries, had exploded a huge bomb at the Moscow headquarters of the Bolshevik party. An urgent meeting of all important persons was scheduled to take place and we braced ourselves for more trouble to come.
On top of this, the Bolsheviks decided to order full mobilization, including persons past middle age, for Denikin was rapidly approaching the gates to the ancient city of Tula. To be sure, we had not waged an open fight against the Bolsheviks; yet none of us had considered joining the Red Army or defending the dictatorship of the Bolsheviks. Among our comrades was a chemist and he was able to wash our passports with some chemical substance and enable us to alter them to make ourselves appear several years older, thus liberating us from the mobilization and leaving us in the apparent position of law-abiding citizens.
The group had a modest-sized printing press and all the necessary accessories for printing a newspaper or other material and this work was Apolon’s specialty. In addition there was a veteran comrade living in Ekaterinburg who was chief engineer at the platinum plant. Two more of our companions also assisted in the printing work, working at the little plant which was located at a secret spot when it was time to publish our journal, entitled “The Ural Tocsin.” Along with a few other comrades, I was footloose and this went against my grain. To be sure, I discharged my duties as cook, but this was scarcely sufficient outlet for my energies. I therefore, on one occasion, voiced my opinion that we must find some useful employment; first, so that we were not simply roaming about idle and second, because I was sure that the Cheka had us under observation. If we were to find jobs, it might create a more favorable impression. Thirdly, while our farmer comrades were bringing us sufficient produce from their cultivated land, it was still necessary to purchase certain items. All in all, I felt our position would become more secure if we obtained employment.
The comrades discussed my proposal and it was decided that Apolon and Christos, who had been in Ekaterinburg at the outbreak of the revolution and were acquainted with some of the leading Bolsheviks, should call on some of them the next day and try to procure work for us. However, it turned out there was no need to wait for the next day.
While we were engaged in this discussion, someone knocked on the door and, before we had the time to answer that it was not locked, it opened and a man rushed in. He was a highly nervous and excited individual, so much so that one might almost think him emotionally disturbed. He turned out to be a close acquaintance of Ivan Apolon, who introduced him to us and then asked him if he wouldn’t like something to eat before telling us his story. He readily accepted the food, and while munching on his grub, began to relate his tribulations.
The Party had assigned to him the mission of organizing the “Tsentro-Pechat.” Since the Bolsheviks centralized all activities, they likewise centralized all printed matter, including newspapers, books and all manner of propaganda material. While such centralization was efficient enough for production, distributing the publications throughout Russia was quite another matter. Since neither the post office nor the railroads were equal to the task, the Bolshevik masters in Moscow conceived the notion of organizing an agency or apparatus, which would be in charge of disseminating all this printed matter throughout the country. This new agency was given the title “Tsentro-Pechat.” In this connection, the government issued a stringent order to the effect that a plain freight car should be coupled to all passenger trains, in which, under the direction of a special courier, the various publications would be shipped. This courier would be charged with dropping off at the principle stations, the special packages of printed matter for that area.
This was followed by a decree that all provincial capitals were to organize Tsentro-Pechats of their own, in order to disseminate the material thus received throughout the gubernis, or province. So here was this hapless, distraught fellow, charged with organizing such a system and without the slightest notion of how to go about the task.
He then addressed himself to Apolon: “I got word today around town that several comrades have arrived from Moscow. I want to find out if any of them are looking for positions as there is more work to be done than there are available workers. If they will accept the jobs and organize the enterprise, I will see to it that they get good pay and other privileges.”
I personally was quite interested in such an enterprise and told the visitor I was willing to serve. Three more of my comrades followed suit, even though none of us had even the slightest specific knowledge how to go about such an undertaking. The following morning when we reached the appointed place, we found about a dozen men and women present, sitting by a hot stove trying to keep warm, while piled about the place were scores of packs of newspapers, many already weeks old.
Presently Kapilovich, the harassed fellow of the night before, arrived. It was difficult to understand how he had got hooked up with the Bolshevik party–he looked much more like a retail merchant.
At about ten o’clock, phone calls began to pour in from the Bolshevik chieftains with demands for the various journals. They needed these urgently in order to keep up with the floods of new party directives being published daily in Moscow. The distracted Kapilovich tried to move frantically in seven directions at once, but was quite helpless to satisfy their demands. Finally, almost as if by instinct, I walked over and took the phone from Kapilovich and addressed myself to the caller: “With whom have I the honor of speaking?” A voice replied that he was the secretary of the Bolshevik party in Ekaterinburg. I told him I was speaking for four new employees and was confident we could get matters organized so that the jounals would arrive on time to all official offices, but we would need two or three days to complete arrangements. He asked to speak to Kapilovich again and he in turn advised us that the time requested would be allowed us.
I now decided to exercise some initiative and directed the workers to unpack the newspapers and arrange them on the shelves according to date. I asked Kapilovich to prepare a list of who was entitled to receive which periodicals and how many. When this was completed, I directed the others to ascertain to what towns and cities these were to be dispatched, how many were allotted for each one and what means of transportation were to be employed. By the time Kapilovich had complied with these instructions, the “big shots” were already receiving the issues of the newspapers.
In short, each day, within hours of the time the packages of journals were brought in from the station, the head men among the Bolsheviks had them in their offices. It required more time, but we soon contrived to organize the distribution of the newspapers and other literature throughout the province. As a result, the party leaders began poking their noses in the doors of the “Tsentro-Pechat” to become acquainted with the persons who had achieved this marvel of organization and system.
Additionally, I had worked out a form for submitting daily, weekly and monthly reports showing quantities of each publication received, number distributed and to whom and other information necessary to present a clear picture of the entire operation. A copy of the monthly report was sent to the Soviet and one to the central “Tsentro-Pechat” office in Moscow. About two months later, a special representative and organizer from the Moscow “Tsentro-Pechat” arrived. It seemed that our monthly reports had made a favorable impression on the top officials. The visitor told me that, if I so desired, I could have a more important post as special representative with a considerably higher salary than I was receiving here, plus a special coach for traveling about Russia. The offer was tempting but for the time being I thought it more prudent to decline.
Things were looking quite rosy for the time being. We had more workers than we needed and the work was not too arduous. We were unaware that dark clouds were moving in on us. The bomb which had been exploded by the Moscow anarchists underground group was causing repercussions throughout Russia. The head offices of the Cheka issued orders to the local Checkas to arrest all anarchists that they could uncover. As Dzerzhinsky, the Cheka chief expressed it, he was collecting a “bouquet of anarchists.”
One evening when, luckily enough, not all of our group was present, there was a knock at the door and when we answered it, we found ourselves facing an armed squad of Chekists and Red Army men. We were each examined from head to foot and every scrap of paper we had was examined and taken away. Not a single book was ignored nor a single corner of the house left untouched in their search for anarchist literature. Early in the morning when their search was completed, they told us that while it was unpleasant for them to do so, they had orders to arrest us all and take us to Cheka headquarters. After enduring the official “procedures,” we were taken to a large basement already filled with over a hundred people. There was scarcely a free spot to sit down.
In the morning, we demanded an explanation for our arrest and a statement of the charges against us, and threatened to go on a hunger strike unless this demand was granted. An hour later one of us was finally summoned. The Commissar of the Cheka, with whom we were all acquainted, declared that we had been arrested on orders from Moscow, that our names had been cabled to him, and that now he was awaiting instructions as to what to do with us.
The other comrades who had not been home at the time of the raid had seen that the house was surrounded by armed Red Army men, deduced an arrest was in progress and taken themselves to the homes of friends for the nig
ht. The following morning they went to the house again, found no one there and gathered up some food, which they brought to us at the Cheka office.
We soon understood that our arrest was connected in some way with the bomb which had been thrown in Moscow and we began to fear that we would be sent to that city. Our arrest created quite a furor among the Bolshevik higher-ups and naturally the entire activity of the Tsentro-Pechat was paralyzed.
When our supervisor, kapilovich, learned of our arrest, he frantically appealed to the big shots, demanding our freedom. Otherwise, he warned, the entire Tsentro-Pechat project would go to pieces. The rest of our fellow-workers stood by us unflinchingly and began to tacitly sabotage the operation of the Tsentro-Pechat. As a result, the newspapers and the other literature distribution ground to a halt and the Bolshevik hierarchy became alarmed and complained. But Kapilovich simply insisted that only if we were set free could things return to normal.
The chairman of the Soviet and the secretary of the local Bolshevik party branch both maintained that they were powerless in the matter, since the order for the arrest came from Moscow. Thus three days went by in stalemate. We were on the point of exhaustion in our cellar where there was no fresh air and where we were pressed together like sardines in a tin. On the fourth day, Kapilovich came to us with the good news that he had prevailed upon the authorities to set us free for the entire day so that we could pursue our labors. We thanked him for his efforts, but refused to accept the offer. Our answer was plain: either we were set free completely or we could continue to languish in the cellars of the Cheka.
He left deeply disappointed, but returned a few hours later with a new scheme. We could be at liberty the entire and evening, but at night we must return to sleep under Cheka supervision. We told him to return later for our reply. Meanwhile, we had become more and more weakened and fatigued, since sleep in that basement was almost impossible. Besides the terribly compressed situation, throughout the night there was constant hubbub. Furthermore, Kapilovich’s appeal to us had evoked our sympathy and we decided to accept the proposal under one condition, that he should persuade them to liberate us from the cellar and at least give us a separate room where we would find it possible to get a little sleep.
When he received our reply, it required only about an hour to arrange for us to get out of the cellar and to be transferred to a separate room that had been prepared for us. As we left the building we observed that an armed Red Army guard was accompanying us; so we stopped near the building and told Kapilovich that we would not work under an armed guard under any circumstances. He hastened back to the Cheka Commissar and before long the Red Army escort was withdrawn. We then accompanied Kapilovich to the Tsentro-Pechat, where we continued working for a week, days and evenings, during which time we were free men; but at night we slept under Cheka supervision.
Finally, one morning as we were about to leave for our jobs, the Deputy Commissar summoned us to his office and returned to us all the personal effects that had been taken away from us at the time of our arrest. He then informed us that we were now entirely free to leave. This had been my first experience at being placed under arrest. For me, it was also the first evidence that the revolution was following a path of destroying everything which the great social upheaval had created, and that all revolutionary forces were being confronted with a bitter battle against physical annihilation.
Our own group engaged in very few activities except for publishing our own Uralsky Nabat from time to time and distributing it half secretly. There were a few other comrades in the city and they would come to us to discuss everyday problems. There were also some comrades from the smaller towns, as well as peasants who would call on us from time to time.
There were two comrades who worked as telegraphers, and through them we received daily reports about what was going on in Moscow, as well as concerning the entire political and military situation in Russia. The news about the latter was not cheerful.
After our liberation from the Cheka, we were no longer molested, and, because of our efficient work at the Tsentro-Pechat headquarters, the Bolshevik chieftains treated us generally in a courteous manner.
Ekaterinburg had been and still remained an historic city. It was there that the dynasty of the Romanoffs came to an end, a dynasty which had reigned over the Russians for more than 300 years. Near the edge of the city stood a large, abandoned house, which gave the impression it was in the midst of a dangerous epidemic. The building was kept locked and people would cross the street to avoid walking by it. Through an acquaintance of mine, we succeeded in obtaining permission to enter it. The man who conducted us to the building was one of those who had taken part in the liquidation of the entire Czarist family. He took us into the room where the Czar had been executed, as well as to the other chambers where the rest of the royal family had been slain. One could still see the traces on the walls of the bullets that had put an end to this tragic family. It was here that the last chapter of the story of a dynasty that had lasted for 300 years had been written.
Our group was joined by guests from Moscow. The underground group knew very well about our attitude toward their terrorist activity, but since Mark and Claudia had taken along their proclamations, they decided to send Comrade Aranchik, an immigrant from the United States, with a sack full of them. Since Apolon was more or less “leader” of our group, he instructed Aranchik that he must not disseminate this propaganda as long as he was with us, particularly in view of the hardships we had so recently undergone as a result of their group’s activities. We never did learn precisely what he did with the proclamations and a few days later he returned to Moscow.
Our problem of how to obtain literature was solved unexpectedly. A letter arrived from the head of the Tsentro-Pechat in Moscow notifying us that a gathering of all the executives of Tsentro-Pechat was being convened. Our supervisor, Kapilovich, declined to travel such a long distance; however the local Soviet and the party secretary wrote to Moscow that they needed more literature, and kapilovich was obviously not in a position to act against the wishes of the Secretary and the Party. He came to me and asked me whether I would not like to travel to Moscow to represent the Ekaterinburg Tsentro-Pechat. I promised him an answer the following day.
After supper that evening, I told my companions of Kapilovich’s proposal and they were all in accord that I should make the trip and try to bring some of our literature. A few days afterwards I was on my way to Moscow in a special coach which also carried a number of important figures traveling on the same mission. My official errand was accomplished in two or three days and I persuaded the powers that be to have the Tsentro-Pechat assign more literature to Ekaterinburg. That would, of course, facilitate taking along our own books.
When I reached Moscow I found a mood of depression among our comrades. Most of the participants in the underground group were dead. Denikin’s army was nearing the gates of Tula, with the Allies furnishing military contingents for his army. In addition, reports were reaching us that, after Denikin’s armies occupied some of the areas, they were followed by the former barons and landowners who proceeded to reoccupy land which the peasants had already divided among themselves. As a result, the peasants formed partisan units and launched attacks on army trains. Simultaneously, Makhno’s army tore up the railway bridges and carried out devastating attacks on the supply lines to Denikin’s front. While it was obvious that the bulk of the population had no great love for the Bolsheviks, their hatred was even greater against the intruders who would help to restore the despotic Czarist regime. Signs began to appear that Denikin’s army and the military contingents of the Allied powers were about to collapse and that civil war might come to an end.
The Chief Commissar of the Tsentro-Pechat was a social-revolutionary, of the left-wing persuasion. Shortly before my departure he requested that I visit him. He voiced the opinion that the civil war would come to an end before long and that soon special organizers would be needed. Since he knew of my work in the Ural areas, he was anxious to have me return to Moscow, where I would be given the post of a special representative and organizer of the Tsentro-Pechat. A special railway coach with three assistants would be assigned to me. If I was willing to accept the offer promptly, he would cable an order to release me from the present position. I replied that, while his proposal interested me, before I could accept such a post I must find my family, whom I had not seen for a full seventeen months. I did, however, promise not to accept any other position.
The comrades I contacted reported that they had endured a difficult and dangerous ordeal when the Bolsheviks decided to arrest all anarchists following the aforementioned bomb explosion. There was a time when it seemed likely that a large number of our comrades would be executed. This episode in itself illustrated how weak and ineffectual our movement was in the heartland of Russia, for it consisted mostly of individual comrades whose effects on society as a whole were very meager.
On our way back to Ekaterinburg, we received the first reports that General Denikin’s army had begun to retreat; that was toward the end of March, 1920. When we arrived in Ekaterinburg, we learned that the majority of the railroad bridges had been blown up by the partisans and that Denikin’s forces were in headlong retreat toward the Black Sea and the Crimean Peninsula. The Allied powers had brought in a large stock of war material and this vast inventory pf weaponry fell into the hands of the Red Army.
My supervisor was highly pleased with the pack of literature I had brought with me, but was disappointed when I informed him that, as soon as the news was received of the liberation of Novorossiysk, I would return there to try and rejoin my family. Our own group was re-animated upon receiving a generous supply of our literature and promptly proceeded to distribute it throughout the province. They were also pleased that contact had been re-established with Moscow and began to assemble more often and even at times to entertain special guests. One of these for instance, was a comrade who owned a large farm. In appearance he resembled a genuine Siberian farmer. On his visits to us, he never failed to bring a generous supply of fruits and vegetables – usually enough to last until he returned. Meanwhile, our colony had shrunk somewhat; Mark Mrochny and Claudia had accepted positions as teachers.
It can be stated frankly now that there was one occasion when a comrade deserted our ranks and became a Bolshevik. To be sure, after the October revolution, several of our followers became eager “fellow-travellers” or even actual members of the Bolshevik party. Such was the case with Alpha, who had been a well-known and active activist abroad. We also had one comrade who worked in the cultural department of the Red Army. One of his co-workers was a member of the Kharkov group, an emigre from Philadelphia named Yoshka-Meyers. The first comrade had begun to notice that Yoshka was behaving in his work more and more like a Bolshevik than a member of the Nabat group and finally presented charges to that effect before our group. We had previously had no intimation of this sort of thing at all. Meyers had visited us from time to time, but no one suspected his “conversion” to Bolshevism.
Ivan Apolon wrote him a letter and asked him to come to see us. Shortly afterwards, when Yoshka made his appearance, none of us believed that he was capable of such a thing. During supper, Ivan began to quiz him about the kind of work he was doing, and finally bluntly told him of our reports we had received of his becoming a Bolshevik. At first, Yoshka denied the accusation, but when Ivan persisted in his interrogation, he finally confessed that the charge was true. In the middle of the night, Apolon ordered him to leave the house at once and Yoshka then became a full-fledged member of the Bolshevik party.
Reports continued to reach us of Denikin’s army retreating in panic toward the Black Sea. When word came to us that he had abandoned Rostov-on-Don, I decided to prepare for my trip. Work in the Tsentro-Pechat was organized well enough by now, with each one doing his share. Kapilovich stoutly opposed my departure, but he realized that I was set on my course. We made plans for Abram Christos to take over my post.