I Speak For The Silent Prisoners Of The Soviets

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3 1148 00184 3903

I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

Prisoners of the'- Soviets

VLADIMIR V. TCHERNAVIN

cc My sentence

Jive years of

forced labor**

From a photograph of the author taken in Finland
immediately after his escape from the U. S. S. R.

VLADIMIR V TCHE&N:AV|N

I SPEAK
FOR THE SILENT

PRISONERS OF THE SOVIETS

TRANSLATED FROM THE RUSSIAN BY

NICHOLAS M. OUSHAKOFF

ILLUSTRATED

BOSTON F^ NEW YORK

C

HALE, CUSHMAN & FLINT

COPYRTGHT 5 1935

BY HALE, CUSHMAN & FLINT, Incorporated

All rights reserved no part of this book may be reproduced in any form
without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer
who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review written
for inclusion in a magazine or newspaper.

First Printing, February 1935
Second Printing^ February 1935
Third Printing* February 1 935

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
AT THE PLIMPTON PRESS * NORWOOD * MASS.

PUBLISHERS' NOTE

A HE story of Professor Tchernavin's escape into Fin-
land with his wife and son who had been visiting him in the
Soviet prison camp, where he was serving a sentence, has
been dramatically told in Madame Tchernavin's book,
ft 'Escape from the Soviets. 3 ' When her book was published
the reproduction of photographs of either Professor Tcher-
navin or his wife was considered unwise, as it might enable
the GPU agents in Finland to trace them. We are fortunate
to have obtained the author's permission now to reproduce
photographs of himself, of his wife and of their son Audrey.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

To THE READER i

PART ONE
WE ARE WORKERS AT MURMANSK

i "OPEN! THIS is THE GPU" , . 3

ii FISHERIES IN THE FAR NORTH 9

in FIVE-YEAR PLANS FOR FISH 20

iv " ONE AND A HALF MILLION TONS " . 28

v FORGED LABOR 37

vi FACE TO FACE WITH THE GPU 47

vii ON TO Moscow 57

vni THE BLACK CROWS MOVE 67

ix 48 To BE SHOT 76

x REAL WRECKERS OF RUSSIA 85

PART TWO
WE ARE PRISONERS IN LENINGRAD

xi ARREST 91

*. xn CELL 22 96

XIII " YOU WILL BE THE 49TH " 100

xiv BANDITS HAVE RIGHTS 109

xv SECOND INQUISITION

^xvi DAILY LIFE IN PRISON

xvii OLD MEN AND BOYS 131

xvni PRIESTS, WORKMEN AND POETS 141

xix GEPEISTS, SPIES AND FOREIGNERS 149

xx A BULLET IN THE HEAD

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

xxi " NEVER TRUST THE EXAMINER " 164

xxn TAIROFF ALLEY 169

xxm "NOVELISTS" 178

xxiv THE SPREAD OF DISEASE 186

xxv WE MOVE TO " KRESTI " 190

xxvi "Tms is NO TRIAL" 194

xxvii TORTURE IN THE LICE CELL 199

xxviii THE " CONVEYOR " 205

xxix DYNAMITE AND IMAGINATION 210

xxx THE DEATH CELL 219

xxxi MY SON TAKES A MESSAGE 227

PART THREE
WE ARE CONVICTS OF SOLOVKI

xxxn THE CONVICT TRAIN 233

xxxin " WELCOME " TO SOLOVKI 240

xxxiv THE LUMBER CAMPS 251

xxxv THE SIGN OF THE ELEPHANT 258

xxxvi VEGUERASHKA 265

xxxvii ASSIGNED TO DUTY 270

XXXVHI SLAVE LABOR AND BIG BUSINESS A STATE

WITHIN A STATE 277

xxxix SENTRIES SPIES EDUCATORS 287

XL THREE PILLARS OF SOLOVKI 294

XLI " THE TERM GOES ON " 304

XLII WHAT PRICE FUGITIVES? 314

XLIII I Go EXPLORING 324

XLIV SOLD: ONE CONVICT 336

XLV I PREPARE FOR ESCAPE 343

XLVI FREEDOM OR DEATH 352

APPENDIX. THE " ACADEMIC CASE " . . . . 359

ILLUSTRATIONS

VLADIMIR V. TCHERNAVIN Frontispiece

TATIANA TCHERNAVIN: THE AUTHOR'S WIFE Facing Page 92

ANDREY: THE AUTHOR'S SON " " 228

THE AUTHOR 1934 " " 336

MAPS

SKETCH MAP OF NORTHWESTERN U.S.S.R, AND

THE FINNISH FRONTIER Facing Page 3

AUTHOR'S MAP SHOWING DISTRIBUTION OF
SOLOVETZKI AND WHITE SEA BALTIC
PRISON CAMPS, ETC Endpapers

PART ONE
WE ARE WORKERS AT MURMANSK

I

TO THE READER

TELL my own story because I believe that only in
this way can I discharge the moral obligation which
a kindly Fate imposed upon me in helping me to
escape from the Soviet Terror the duty to speak for
those whose voices cannot be heard.

In silence they are sent away as convicts to the
concentration camps; in silence they suffer torture
and go to meet their death from Soviet bullets.

Nothing is invented in this book and I stand back
of every statement I have made. In a few instances
to protect others I have been compelled to conceal
the identity of certain people, but I have indicated
that fact in each specific case. All those whom I
describe are real persons and everything is true to
the minutest detail.

This is a narrative of what befell a Russian scien-
tist under the Soviet regime. More than that, it is
the story of many, if not most, people of education
in the U.S.S.R. today.

As you read, please remember that I speak of
myself only because it enables me to tell the story of
others. Remember, also, that, in the Soviet Union,
innocent people are still being tried for " wrecking"
and that intelligent men are still being forced by
torture to "confess" to crimes which they never
committed.

Remember, too, that thousands of Russian men
and women of education are still languishing in the
filthy cells of the GPU prisons and in the cold bar-
racks of the concentration camps, poorly clad and
starving, breaking with exhaustion under the hard-
ships of inhuman slavery.

VLADIMIR V. TCHERNAVIM

December, 1934

CHAPTER I
OPEN! THIS IS THE GPU

I

COULD not sleep. It was a night at the end of March in
Murmansk, far up beyond the Arctic Circle. The wind
howled outside my lodgings one room and a tiny
kitchen and a frozen rope, put up to hang the wash on,
banged against the wooden wall of the house. The North-
ern Lights played in the sky and, as if in answer, the elec-
tric wires sounded, now with only a quiet hum, now with
the roar of a steamboat siren. My wife and little son were
at our home in Leningrad and as usual I had been spend-
ing the evening alone in my room. It was not a gay apart-
ment; two tables, three chairs, a bookshelf and a sofa
comprised all of its furnishings.

On the sofa which was my bed I had been trying to sleep.
Suddenly I heard a noise in the house, and loud footsteps.
Something must have happened at the wharf, I thought,
and the sailors have come to get the assistant manager of
the trawler fleet. The poor man never had any peace, day
or night. I listened. Yes, the knocking was at his door.

It ceased. Two hours passed. Then came a loud knock-
ing at my own door. I hated to get up it must be a mis-
take, I thought. Perhaps some drunken sailor has come to
the wrong door. The knocking continued. I got up from
my sofa, and without putting anything on over my night-
clothes went to the door.

" Who's there? " I asked.

" Open! " a voice commanded.

4 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

" Who are you, and what do you want? "

" Open! "

" What is this nonsense? Trying to get into a strange
apartment at two o'clock in the morning! Who are you
and what do you want? "

" Open at once! This is the GPU." l

" Oh! Well, please come in. If you had said so at first,
I wouldn't have kept you waiting."

Three men came in, two in the military uniform of the
GPU and carrying revolvers, the third a Red guard with
a rifle. I stood before them in my night shirt and bed slip-
pers.

" Have you firearms? " they asked.

" No."

I could not help smiling how could I hide firearms
under a night shirt!

I let them search me, then dressed and sat down on a
chair in the middle of the room. The Red guard stood lean-
ing against the door, while the GPU men began to go
through my things. I watched them. What could they be
looking for? They turned over everything on my table,
which was littered with manuscripts and notes which they
could not have understood. They put these back, however,
with some care; it seemed that my papers did not interest
them. Then they searched through my wearing apparel

i GPU are the initials of the Russian words meaning State Political
Administration, a Soviet organization of secret political police which suc-
ceeded the Cheka. Although similar in some respects to the secret service
of other European nations, the GPU has functions of a far wider scope
both as to authority and administration of power in the U.S.S.R. GPU (or
Gay-Pay-Oo) is an abbreviated form of the official title, OGPU, or Central
State Political Administration, and although commonly used in referring
to the OGPU, it is the correct title of the branches of this organization in
the provinces, which branches often act as quite independent units. OGPU
refers to the headquarters of this organization in Moscow and is used in
all formal orders and announcements coming from there and in speeches
when a note of authority is desired. TRANSLATOR.

" OPEN! THIS IS THE GPU " 5

and raked all the ashes out of the stove. I wondered what
they expected to find hidden in a stove that was still warm.

They ransacked my bed; they looked into every book.
On my shelf were several little bags of grits and sugar
from the cooperative store. These they carefully emptied
and looked through the contents.

What were they looking for? They had now been at it
for hours, searching one small room with scarcely anything
in it, and they had not even read my papers. It was begin-
ning to get tiresome and I stopped watching them. I was
thinking that if they arrested me now and began dragging
me from prison to prison, I should not be able to let my
wife know what had happened to me and she would be
distressed and anxious. At last one of the men turned to
me and asked if I had an axe.

" What for? "

" We must tear up the floor/' he said in a businesslike
manner.

This puzzled me. It seemed strange to enter the house of
a scientist in the middle of the night, search for something
in little bags of sugar, rake hot ashes out of his stove and
as a climax wreck the floor of a building which belonged
to the government.

" I can find an axe," said I, and brought it from the
kitchen myself.

But now, to my surprise, their energy seemed to leave
them. After consulting for a few minutes, they decided to
let the floor alone. This was the end of the show. They
wrote out a statement to the effect that nothing incriminat-
ing had been found during the search and then departed.
They had not arrested me after all. I was completely at a
loss as to the meaning of the whole procedure.

It was now six o'clock in the morning. What ought I
to do? Now that they had gone I became nervous and
angry.

6 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

" Idiots! " I cried aloud. Whatever did they want? What
a stupid comedy!

I was not sleepy now, but I was shivering from a sleepless
night. I felt that I needed a drink. I looked on the shelf,
but there was no vodka, so I lit my camp stove to make
some tea. As I was doing this my next-door neighbor
knocked lightly.

" You are not sleeping? May I come in? "

" Yes, indeed! Come in! Glad to see you. I was just mak-
ing some tea. I'm almost frozen and have no vodka."

" Let me bring you some. I'd like a drink, too. I haven't
slept all night."

He came back with a pint bottle. " I'm sorry, but there
isn't much in it for two," he said.

" It will do. You will have to excuse me, I've nothing to
go with it."

" We need nothing we shall drink it in the Murmansk
way with ' salt tongue ' for an appetizer."

In Murmansk provisions were very scarce and hard to
get, and when they had nothing else, the inhabitants would
put a pinch of salt on their tongues after drinking and jok-
ingly say they were eating salt tongue with their vodka.

After we had finished our vodka and hot tea we grew
warm and calmer.

" I had visitors to-night," said my neighbor looking at
me significantly,

" I had some, too," I replied. " They stayed about four
hours and have just gone. You see the disorder."

" They visited everybody in the house except Daniloff;
they must have left him alone because he is a Communist.
You know my room there is nothing in it except a bed
and a stool, so they tore up the floor. They took my silver
watch that I bought in 1910 in Norway. They took Vasily
Ivanovitch's old sweater and a pair of stockings from his
wife, saying these things were contraband. He was too

" OPEN! THIS IS THE GPU " 7

frightened to protest, but his wife tried to argue, saying
that the things were not contraband that she had bought
the stockings a year ago at an auction in the custom house
and that the sweater had been given her husband three
years ago by the Trust. Still, they took the things. I was
given a receipt for my watch. What do you think will
I get into trouble over it? Everyone here knows I had it
before the War."

This story made me feel better; perhaps after all they
were only looking for contraband. Of course it was stupid
and provoking, but we were living near a port where for-
eign ships came in, bringing coal and salt, so that smug-
gling was possible. And the raid was so strange; they did
not take a single paper and had only glanced at the manu-
scripts on my desk. Oh, this everlasting Soviet suspicionl

Alas! Within a few hours I knew that my optimism was
groundless. Scherbakoff, who had actually created the en-
terprise which had come to be designated as the North
State Fishing Trust, and Krotoff, a member of its board
of directors and manager of the fleet of trawlers both of
them my close associates here at Murmansk had been
arrested during the night. The houses of all the non-Com-
munist employees of the Trust, regardless of the length
of their service, had been searched and in most cases the
GPU men had been very rough; in two places they had torn
up the floor.

It was clear that the Murmansk GPU was staging a big
" case." The thoroughness of the search and the tearing up
bf floors was meant to show that the GPU had strong evi-
dence against those whose apartments had been searched.
The large number o raids indicated that our whole or-
ganization was to be involved. The arrest of the heads of
the Trust proved that the GPU was out for something big.
In the U.S.S.R. everyone knows that he may be put in
prison even though he is not guilty; therefore, we all lived

8 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

with the same thought in mind when would our own
turn come? This attitude very naturally tended to lessen
the efficiency of our work. We had a faint hope, or rather
deluded ourselves into hoping, that these raids and arrests
were being carried out by the Murmansk GPU on its own
initiative and that, when the case came to the attention of
Moscow, it would be ordered dropped so that it would
not cause a disruption in the work of the fishing industry.

In the meantime, however, the GPU was very busy. All
the employees of our Trust the North State Fishing
Trust, of which I was Director of Research were ques-
tioned in turn and, in spite of the signed pledge of secrecy
that was required of them and the threat that any disclos-
ure of the subject of the inquiries would lead to one's com-
mitment to the convict concentration camp at Solovki, the
news spread quickly.

Within only a few days everybody knew that the GPU
was looking for proof of "wrecking " activity. 2

2 " Wrecking " is an official Soviet expression used to describe any ac-
tivity undertaken for political reasons with intent to damage the industry.
TRANSLATOR.

CHAPTER II
FISHERIES IN THE FAR NORTH

A

LND now, before I go on to tell what happened after
this strange midnight search and the arrest of ray two
friends, Scherbakoff and Krotoff, in Murmansk, let me
explain as simply as I can how both I and those working
with me came to be stationed in such a remote outpost of
civilization, and how that very work to which we were giv-
ing our conscientious and untiring efforts ultimately,
though for no fault of our own, was to bring only misery
and distress to ourselves and to our families.

Technically and according to the many questionnaires
which I had to fill in during my life in the U.S.S.R. I be-
long to the nobility. To the Soviet Government this means
that I am a class enemy, but, as is often the case among the
Russian nobility, neither my parents nor I possessed any
money or property which we had not acquired by our own
honest efforts and work. I was fifteen years old when my
father died. I had an elder sister and four younger brothers,
the youngest a child of three. A life of hardship and uncer-
tainty lay ahead of us.

As a boy I succeeded in joining the expedition of the
well-known explorer of Altai and Mongolia, V. V. Sapoj-
nikoff, in the capacity of collector-zoologist. With him I
first saw nature in the wild, often visiting places not yet
shown on maps; one summer we travelled through road-
less territory for more than 2,000 kilometers on horseback.
This was the beginning of my work of exploration, which

10 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

I later carried on independently. For a while I acted as a
zoologist for such expeditions and then became the leader
in a series of scientific expeditions to the Altai and Sayan-
skii Mountains, to Mongolia, to the Tian-Shan Mountains,
the Amur, the Ussurisk region on the Siberian-Manchurian
border and to Lapland.

I believed that regular study was unnecessary and that
I could succeed without it. Already earning my living at an
early age, I was engaged in various activities such as prepar-
ing scientific materials and drawing anatomic charts. The
necessity of earning more money gave me the thought of
studying ichthyology the science of fish a subject
which I felt had a wide practical application. I, therefore,
undertook to get a knowledge of the sea and became pro-
ficient in the use of oars and sails. But I finally realized
that the specialized work in which I wished to be engaged
demanded a technical training and so I entered the uni-
versity. The War interrupted my studies there and when
I returned again to private life I was crippled. At first it
seemed as though I should never regain my health, but
within a year I was able to discard my crutches and,
although still lame, go on a scientific expedition to the
Amur.

Later I did receive a university diploma and was offered
a steady position, but it was not long before the Revolution
broke the normal course of my life and the institution
where I worked was closed by the Bolsheviks. But I lost
nothing in the Revolution, for like many others I had
nothing to lose.

During the general disorganization which followed this
upheaval in Russia, when hunger and cold had to be corn-
batted not only for myself, but also for my wife and for the
third and newest member of our family who required
warmth and milk, I obtained several jobs, each of which in
the " capitalistic " world would have been considered of

FISHERIES IN THE FAR NORTH 11

high standing and would have enabled my family to live
in comfort. But in the U.S.S.R. the only job that was allow-
ing me a reasonable income was a course I was giving at
the Agricultural Institute. This particular work I had
sought out because it entitled me to a bottle of milk a day
and sometimes a few beets and a little oats and mash which
the professors of the Institute were allowed to have from
the rations of the cattle which belonged to it.

In spite of the hunger and cold, I succeeded during that
winter in finishing my thesis and receiving a degree. And
my scholastic work having thus been terminated, I agreed
to take part in an expedition to Lapland, an expedition or-
ganized by the " wealthy " Supreme Council of People's
Economy. Before starting I tried to get one poud (36 Ibs.)
of salt instead of the million paper roubles which were due
me for the three months that the expedition was to last.
This salt would have served my family as a means of ex-
change in the villages for potatoes and milk. My request
was rejected and I was told that salt in such a " large quan-
tity " was not available, but I nevertheless went on the
expedition because it interested me.

The journey to our destination, a distance of 1,100 kilo-
meters, was made in freezing weather in an unheated box
car packed full of people and baggage and took fourteen
days. Death among passengers in such cars was a usual oc-
currence. The conditions of our expedition were most dif-
ficult, but we still went on with our work with as much zeal
and energy as we had given before the Revolution when
we were never subjected to such trying situations. There
was every reason why the Bolsheviks should have become
convinced that the Russian intellectuals were working
conscientiously and honestly. New discoveries of great
importance and about which the Bolsheviks boast contin-
ually were made by Russian scientists under the most diffi-
cult conditions, but during the actual work of research not

12 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

one of the Communist " party " men ever helped; they
came forward only when and where it promised to be of
advantage to their career.

When in 1921 Lenin declared a respite the NEP
(New Economic Policy) life changed with fantastic ra-
pidity. The country began to prosper. Food and clothing
became more available. One could then buy wood for fuel
as well as for repairing. Electric light service was resumed
as well as street car and taxi services. Life was returning to
the " bourgeois " aspect under the leadership of the Bolshe-
viks themselves. They came out with a new motto: " A
Communist must be an industrialist and a trader."

What did the intellectuals and scientists gain in this
change? Their general living conditions improved, but as
compared to the advance in the standard of living of other
classes of the population they were left far behind. The
campaign of economy affected first and hardest all scien-
tific and educational institutions. The funds appropriated
for them were so miserly that any typist in a commercial and
industrial enterprise was receiving more pay than profes-
sors and scientific experts. At the same time, due to con-
tinually advancing prices for rent, street-car and railway
transportation and postage, as well as for everyday necessi-
ties, life for scientists not connected with any industrial
organization was becoming exceedingly hard.

In spite of these material hardships Russian scientists
continued to work as before. At this time, however, the
Bolsheviks, having gained strength through the NEP, be-
gan an active persecution of any theoretical work which,
according to their judgment, did not agree with the Marx-
ist theories. I realized that my own scientific and theoreti-
cal work was at an end. I felt that I was up against an im-
passable wall. Life was hard. The career I had chosen for
myself from the time of my youth, that career which I had
stubbornly and persistently followed, could not go on. I

FISHERIES IN THE FAR NORTH 13

must give up purely scientific work for a time at least
and turn to something more practical.

Early in 1925, at the time when the NEP was particularly
flourishing, I was offered the post of Director of Produc-
tion and Research Work of the North State Fishing Trust,
the State-owned industry which had been set up to deal
with the fishing business of the region on the Arctic Ocean.
I accepted this offer in the hope that it would give me an
opportunity to return to research work. And after a time,
indeed, I was able to leave the production side and to or-
ganize in Murmansk a scientific biological and technologi-
cal laboratory.

The North State Fishing Trust's work was carried on in
that part of the Arctic Ocean which is called the Sea of
Barents, the shores of which are for the most part Russian
territory: the Murman coast of the Kola Peninsula, the
Kanin Peninsula and the Lapland coast of the continent.
Russian fisheries had existed here since the sixteenth cen-
tury, but the conditions of life were so hard that only about
five hundred families had settled on the Murman coast
as colonists, with other fishermen going there only for the
Bummer fishing season.

The Murman coast is exceptionally austere, its granite
cliffs descending in steep steps and abrupt declines straight
into the ocean. There is scarcely any vegetation; only those
slopes sheltered from the wind are sparsely covered with
grass and a few low-growing polar willows and birches.
Elsewhere the only growth is moss and rock creepers.
Patches of snow remain on the beach throughout the sum-
mer. The ocean, however, never freezes and at tempera-
tures of fifty degrees or more below zero the black water
and floating ice are covered by a dense white fog. In winter
the sun does not rise above the horizon. The settlements
of the " colonists " are hidden from the winds in deep in-
lets or built like birds' nests in the cliffs above the level of

14 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

the tide which sometimes rises to a height of five meters.
Some of these dwellings can be reached only by wooden
ladders, one end resting on floating boats, the other reach-
ing to the doorstep of the rain and wind-battered huts.

The colonists earned their living by fishing and they, as
well as the men who came only for the summer fishing sea-
son, used the primitive methods of their ancestors three
or four centuries ago the same deckless, clumsy open
rowboats, trawl-lines (long lines with several thousand
hooks baited with small fish to attract the cod) , or the
hand-line with its sinker, hook and metal bait-fish. Ob-
viously with such equipment, fishing could take place only
near shore and depended entirely on the weather and the
approach of fish from the deeper waters.

Attempts to change to more modern methods and to go
farther out into the open ocean had been made in pre-war
times but they were unsuccessful because of insufficient
capital. In the Barents Sea before the War only four Rus-
sian trawlers were at work.

After the Revolution and before the Reds came to Arch-
angel, a fishing company had been formed by the industrial-
ist Bezzubikoff with the participation of the Centrosouse
(Central Union) . Twelve trawlers were procured from
the government and remodeled for fishing purposes, but
this company's activity was scarcely begun when it was
stopped by the arrival of the Reds. These trawlers and
their shore base near Archangel then became the founda-
tion of the Soviet State fishery organization in the North.

In spite of the fact that they began working with a con-
cern that was already organized, there were great difficul-
ties during the first years of this State enterprise. The Mur-
mansk and Archangel Soviets were in a state of nearly open
warfare against each other, a situation which meant a
great deal because of the then prevalent " power of local
government." As the trawlers' base was in Archangel (a

FISHERIES IN THE FAR NORTH 15

port that is frozen seven months of the year) , the entire
concern was looked upon as belonging to Archangel and
the Murmansk authorities would not allow the trawlers to
enter their ports which were open the year around. There-
fore the trawlers could work only five months in the year.
No orders, threats or arguments from the " Centre " were
of any avail. It was not until 1924 that the warring factions
were brought together by the organization of a new con-
cern, the North State Fishing Trust, of " All-Union impor-
tance," with both the Archangel and Murmansk Soviets
as " shareholders " and with the trawling base transferred
to the ice-free port of Murmansk.

Murmansk, the chief town of the province, had been
founded in 1916 to serve as the terminus of the new, hastily
erected railroad, built to bring to St. Petersburg military
supplies furnished by the Allies. The town is on the Kola
bay, sixty kilometers from the ocean, at a point where the
bay narrows down to one and a half kilometers and rather
resembles a wide river than an oceanic bay. Only the tide,
which rises more than four meters, and the smell of salt
water show that this is a part of the Arctic Ocean. High,
rocky shores here bank in the bay and the town is built
on a small and steep plateau. During the World War there
was some construction here landing places, repair shops,
a temporary electric power station, a primitive system for
bringing water down from a mountain lake above the
town, and only the most indispensable buildings, built like
barracks. There were no real nouses in the town, only some
so-called " trunks," dwellings made out of sheets of corru-
gated iron bent to form a half-cylinder, the base of which
was boarded in. There were no streets or sidewalks, no
horses or automobiles; in winter the Laplanders drove in
on reindeer. Twice a week the mail came in by train. Win-
ter lasted not less than eight months, more than two months
of which were complete night.

16 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

The authorities o the town members of the GPU,
the executive committee and other indispensable Soviet
organizations were Communists, banished to this deso-
late spot as punishment for theft or drunkenness. And
all their energies were spent in trying to be recalled.

Those of us who went to Murmansk in 1925, to take our
several special parts in the organizing and carrying on of
this new State industry, did so of our own volitions, for at
that time there was no compulsory assignment of experts
to such work, and we could all have found employment
elsewhere. But the newness and the scope the very chal-
lenge of the enterprise, which was planned on an un-
precedented scale, beckoned to us. This was to be the first
great Russian trawling development. We, like the English
and the Germans, would now go out into the open ocean.
We would be laying the foundations of a tremendous in-
dustry.

From the very beginning of our work, the business began
to develop with remarkable success. The experts of the
North State Fishing Trust, by systematizing the data they
were receiving, learned to know the Sea of Barents and its
fish life as did none of the other scientific organizations
working in that region.

We did not expect any praise or even recognition of our
work in Sovietland this is not the custom but we
could not fail to love it, in spite of the terrible conditions
under which we had to live. To the yearly catch of the local
fishermen, which remained at its former figure of about
9,000 tons, we added a rapidly increasing catch which in
1929 reached 40,000 tons. This result was attained not only
by the addition of several new trawlers, but chiefly by basic
improvements in the work year-round fishing, the speed-
ing up of each trawler's turnover and the improvement of
fishing technique.

The methods of curing fish were also radically changed.

FISHERIES IN THE FAR NORTH 17

Instead of stinking cod unfit to bring into the house, we
produced white and clean fish, not inferior to that of Astra-
khan. And for the first time, the Trust succeeded in deliv-
ering fresh sea fish to the Leningrad and Moscow markets
and was at last even successful in exporting fish to the
English market. Our success had not been equalled by any
other fishing trust of the U.S.S.R.

The whole enterprise was reorganized and with it the
town of Murmansk itself. A large and excellently equipped
harbor was built; a huge reinforced concrete warehouse of
5,000 tons capacity with concrete tanks for salting fish; a
three-story reinforced concrete refining factory for the
manufacture of cod-liver oil; a by-product factory for the
production of fodder flour out of fish waste all this in
the course of four years. A refrigerating plant and a barrel
factory were under way; a branch railroad was extended to
the harbor; a water system installed for the use of the plant,
a repair shop for ships and a temporary electric power sta-
tion, since the city station was unable to give us as much
electricity as we needed. Electric cranes were installed for
unloading trawlers.

Murmansk began to grow upon the solid foundation of
a developing industry. Houses put up by the North State
Fishing Trust were located with a certain order and so
formed the first real streets in the town. Its population was
increasing. From a town of barely fifty families it grew
about as follows: in 1926 it had 4,000 inhabitants; in 1927
7,000; in 1928 12,000; and in 1929 15,000.

The greatest difficulties encountered were in the build-
ing of or otherwise obtaining new ships. The limit of our
dreams was to have seventeen new trawlers, as seventeen
of our old ones, taken over from the navy and rebuilt, were
going out of commission on account of their age. However,
Russian factories were not building them. To order them
abroad foreign exchange was necessary and to obtain the

i8 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

authorization for such expenditure was extremely difficult.
Orders must be placed through the Commissariat of Trade,
which did not enjoy a reputation for honesty, and a Com-
munist who knew nothing about the trade had to be sent
abroad for the drawing up of contracts with the various
firms. That a Communist, finding himself in " rotten, de-
moralized" Europe, begins himself to get pleasantly de-
moralized is a well-known fact, and our Communist was
no exception to this rule. However, our North State Fish-
ing Trust succeeded during these five years in purchasing
one trawler abroad and building four, so that together with
the old ones we finally had a total of twenty-two units.

During these years the fishing industry throughout the
U.S.S.R., like all the other Soviet industries, was required
to plan production, and considering the hazards of our
work, one can well understand that many difficulties might
be encountered. To be able to foretell a year or more in
advance just how much fish would be caught in a certain
region, how much equipment would be necessary, as well
as predetermining both the cost and the selling price of the
finished product presented no small problem. The quota
requirements were increased from year to year, but, in
spite of the severity of the conditions under which our
trawlers had to work and the difficult conditions of life in
the Murmansk region, the North State Fishing Trust suc-
ceeded in fulfilling each year these plans. During these
years of its development up to 1929 it was making a real
profit, so exceptional an occurrence in the Soviet fishing
industry that our Trust received the nickname of " White
Crow."

Our success was due to a number of causes. One was the
fact that the enterprise was a new one, well organized, ap-
plying new methods and striving all the time to improve
its work. And no little credit was due to the small but
highly efficient staff of non-party experts and the excep-

FISHERIES IN THE FAR NORTH 19

tionally fine contingent of sea captains natural seamen,
accustomed from childhood to the rugged conditions of
Arctic navigation. With a few exceptions all of these men
had worked for the State fishing industry in the North from
its very foundation in 1920. Such a stable staff of employees
was a rare exception in a Soviet enterprise, where the usual
rate of turnover of employees was at least once a year. It was
necessary to be a strong man to withstand the hardships of
work under Arctic conditions and this work could retain
only those who were truly loyal to it. In addition to these
reasons, the change to year-round fishing, the finding of
new fish banks, improvements in the loading and unload-
ing of trawlers, all gave us increasing production for
several years in succession, so that we were able to keep
pace with the ever-increasing planned requirements.

We clearly realized that such a happy state of things
could not last forever and that a year would come when,
because of senseless orders from above, we would not be
able to make such increase in the catch as would be neces-
sary to fulfill that year's plan.

Up to 1929 we had been left to work in peace, relatively
speaking as much so as is possible in the U.S.S.R. None
of our experts had been either thrown into prison or exe-
cuted by the Soviet Government. Then our Trust attracted
the attention of the Government and this was the begin-
ning of the failure and ruin of the whole business.

CHAPTER III
FIVE-YEAR PLANS FOR FISH

E

OR a better understanding of the Soviet regimentation
of industry in Russia and the resulting effect upon the
North State Fishing Trust and all those connected with it,
let me here explain the general procedure of Soviet plan-
ning. As I have already said, in the earlier years plans had
been called for on a yearly basis, setting a goal that in some
branches of industry could not be reached. Due to the ex-
treme instability of the economic and political programs
of the government it was rare for a year to pass without
radical changes being made in the preparations which had
been planned there was disaster in many of the indus-
tries, with considerable losses.

How can one speak seriously of a planned economy in a
state where everything is governed by the day, where those
in power fling themselves from one extreme to the other,
where all the factors controlling industry are unceasingly
undergoing the most drastic changes and where the slogan
of the moment is of more importance than any plan?

It was under such conditions that in 1924 some organi-
zations had received orders to draw up, in addition to their
usual yearly plan, a five year plan of their work. The fol-
lowing year all industries were ordered to draw up a five
year plan for the period 1925-1930. Some industries were
required to make plans for ten and even fifty years ahead.
During the period from October i, 1925 to October i,
1928 a five year plan had been drawn up anew every year,

FIVE-YEAR PLANS FOR FISH 21

for, owing to drastic changes in political and economic con-
ditions, the plan as originally drawn up could not be con-
tinued into the next year. So it was, that in addition to the
first or trial five year plan of 1924 four new five year plans
were drawn up during a period of four years. The last of
these, that of 1928-1933, became world famous as the Five
Year Plan the Piatiletka. Rigid and detailed instruc-
tions were given to all industries for drawing up their new
five year plan and mention of any previous plan was held to
be counter-revolutionary. Jokes concerning how many
years the first year of the Piatiletka was going to last became
popular. According to directions received from above the
work was to be undertaken in a " new way." The " indices
of production " called for unexampled growth of all indus-
tries. Enormous sums in chervontzi the greatly devalu-
ated Soviet currency were appropriated as well as a re-
stricted amount of foreign currency. From the speeches of
leaders and from the press it was clear that the Five Year
Plan would turn into a political slogan rather than an in-
dustrial plan, a slogan which would serve to mark and at
the same time mask a turn to the left and a return to the
pre-NEP Communistic experiment.

For us who had to deal with the practical problems of
production under this Five Year Plan, the plan consisted
of a multitude of sheets of tabulations which, due to their
large size, we called " bed sheets." Figures compiled by
expert statisticians for five years hence were supposed to
represent future work and achievements in strict accord-
ance with the instructions received. Material requirements
had to be completed for every year of the five though pre-
liminary projects could not be prepared before the plan
was approved. It had been possible to prepare the yearly
plans with some degree of accuracy because those in charge
of the various enterprises had had experience. The Five
Year Plan, however, demanded a development which no

22 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

producer could actually visualize, and to reach the " con-
trol figures " required estimating by pure imagination.

Each unit or department of an industry drew up its own
five year plan with great care. These plans were then com-
bined by the management of the industry and sent to the
" Centre " in Moscow. There the plans were again com-
bined into larger units until a whole industry in each
Commissariat was combined, and lastly, these plans from
all the Commissariats were sent to the State Planning Com-
mission and incorporated into a final general plan. The
results were multitudes of tabulations by which it was pos-
sible, for instance, to see where and how much roofing
iron, shoes, caviar, horseshoe nails, tractors, wheat, pork,
eggs, milk, butter, fish and so on would be produced and
also how they would be used at any given moment of the
Five Year Plan. These tables also showed how much any
article produced in each year of the five would cost, the
quantity and quality of man power necessary at a given
moment in any branch of industry, the wages for every
category of labor, the housing requirements, in fact, every
conceivable detail. Such was the plan sternly decreed for
the next five years. In the face of the ever increasing short-
age of food and other necessities, the need of sacrifice for
the first two or three years of the working of the plan was
stressed, but future benefits were widely advertised and
promises made that ultimately the plan would bring higher
wages and an ample supply of food and clothing.

Soon the government press there is no other in the
U.S.S.R. began spreading the news that some concerns
had decided to accomplish their part of the Five Year Plan
in four, three or even two years, praising this as the highest
degree of enthusiasm on the part of the workers. And it
appeared that within a comparatively short time some had
already not only fulfilled their plan, but were exceeding it.
If, however, the Five Year Plan had been a really workable

FIVE-YEAR PLANS FOR FISH 23

plan, any deviation, whether over-fulfillment or the op-
posite in any given industry, would necessarily cause gen-
eral disruption. If, for instance, our Fishing Trust had
caught twice as much fish as the plan called for, twice the
salt would have immediately been needed, twice the pack-
ing material, transportation facilities and labor. If the
shipbuilding trust had fulfilled its quota of trawlers in
advance of the fixed time, harbor facilities would not have
been available and the capacity of the fishing industry
would not have been in a position to put them to use.

So it was that, instead of the working out of an orderly
plan, chaos prevailed. There was a catastrophic shortage of
building materials, and many State enterprises sent special
agents and representatives to various towns of the U.S.S.R.
where, by personal contact and enterprise, they strove to
divert materials already assigned to other industries. Often
substitutes of inferior quality had to be used. Many build-
ings remained without roofs or window glass. Some fac-
tories were without machines, and in the case of others
machinery lay in barns because the factory buildings were
not ready. There was a shortage of qualified labor and in
many places inferior labor had to be employed.

Before long the Political Bureau of the government
began to interfere directly in the work of the different
branches of industry and even with separate units and, as
will be seen in the case of the fishing industry, to raise their
Plan quotas even in the middle of a year, so that by the
end of the first year of the Piatiletka it was evident that
nothing remained of the so-called Five Year Plan devised
only the year before and both industry and government
were working and building at random.

In our North State Fishing Trust before the introduc-
tion of the Five Year Plan we had, like other enterprises,
been endeavoring to develop our business, to obtain larger
apropriations, to increase our production and to speed up

24 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

the building of ships and new plants. In those days we were
continually being held back by the " Centre " and had had
to struggle hard for every facility granted us. Now it was
exactly the reverse, for categorical instructions were being
received from the " Centre " to " expand" at a rate which
corresponded neither to the supply of materials to be had
nor to the available labor.

Thus, for instance, in the early part of 1928, after two
years of effort, we had at last obtained authorization to
purchase ten trawlers abroad. This license, however, was
revoked before our representative, who had already left
for Germany, had had time to give the order, and we had
begun to doubt whether our seventeen antiquated trawl-
ers could be replaced before they were worn out or
wrecked. Now, however, everything was suddenly changed,
and in the latter part of the year, after the inauguration
of the Piatiletka, we were ordered to consider, in planning
our operations for the next five years, the construction of
seventy new trawlers and an increase of catch to 175,000
tons per year. This meant developing an enormous enter-
prise. Our trawling base, built in 1926-27, could not
handle at the most more than one third of this amount and
our pier was barely large enough to service the number o
trawlers we then had. Extensive construction work must
be undertaken under extremely hard conditions and at
any cost.

In the summer of 1929, when conditions, especially in
Murmansk, had become so difficult that the question arose
more than once whether any construction work whatever
could be continued, when workmen were fleeing because
of insufficient food rations, when in spite of all efforts pro-
duction was lagging behind the plan by ten or fifteen per
cent, the North State Fishing Trust received the following
laconic telegraphic instructions from Moscow: Change the
Five Year Plan, basing the new figures on 150 new trawlers

FIVE-YEAR PLANS FOR FISH 25

and a catch per ship of 3,000 tons per year, instead of the
previously estimated 2,500. Three consecutive telegrams
further increased the assignment, bringing the number of
trawlers up to 500 and the yearly catch up to 1,500,000
tons! x

The order was unaccompanied by any directions or ex-
planations, its form was categorical and without appeal.

If one takes into consideration that the whole of pre-war
Russia, which in the fishing industry competed for first
place in the world, had in all its fisheries taken together
Caspian, Azof and Black Seas, Siberia and the Far East
produced only 1,000,000 tons of fish a year, and that fish-
eries were numbered in the thousands and the labor
employed by them in hundreds of thousands, it will be-
come clear how unreal and impractical were the figures of
the new Plan for a fishing trust which had been founded
only a few years before and, furthermore, was situated be-
yond the Arctic Circle in a town of only 15,000 inhabitants.

What happened? The President of the Board of Direc-
tors at once decided that he must go to Moscow, leaving
the difficult and unpleasant task of solving the problem to
others. A brief description of this man will perhaps explain
how a man holding such an important position could be-
have in such a cowardly manner. T. A. Mourasheff who
was, of course, a Communist, had been clever enough to
pick up a few superficial ideas of the fishing business; he
could talk glibly enough of the affairs of the Trust and he
produced on the uninitiated the impression that he was a
man of business experience. Formerly a roofer, he had
been deported to Kem in 1905 for participation in the ac-
tivities of the Socialist Party. There he had married a

i Shortly after this it was announced that, due to exceptional progress,
the Five Year Plan was to be completed in four years, namely, by the first
of January, 1932. In the course of three years we were, therefore, required
to increase our normal yearly catch of 40,000 tons to 1,500,000 tons that
is to say, multiply it by nearly forty.

s>6 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

school teacher who seems to have supported him until the
Bolshevik Revolution broke out. At that time he became
a Communist, left Kern and his wife and went to Lenin-
grad to make a career. There he immediately obtained the
important position of superintendent of the water supply
and sewer system, but made some slip and was sent to Mur-
mansk to direct the fishing industry. When the North State
Fishing Trust was formed he was made its president. He
did not know and did not like the business, believing that
for such a great man it could serve only as a stepping-stone
to a more responsible position in the " Centre." As life in
Murmansk was hard and dull, he spent most of his time in
supposed business trips to Moscow and Petrograd, at health
resorts taking reducing treatments, but chiefly abroad,
where he spent months at a time.

Here is a little scene typical of this man. His new wife
I don't know whether it was his third or fourth a
stenographer of the Berlin " Torgpred " (Soviet Trade
Organization) , was coming direct from Germany on the
newly built trawler, Bolshevik. All the Murmansk authori-
ties and the workmen of the fisheries, with a band, as-
sembled at the wharf to meet the new trawler. When the
boat arrived, Mourasheff, as President of the Trust, as-
cended the captain's bridge and delivered a speech, boast-
ing of the fact that the Bolsheviks had been able to force
the Germans to write the name " Bolshevik " on the
trawler built for the U.S.S.R. and of the awe-inspiring
meaning of this word to Europe.

For the great occasion Mourasheff had changed the for-
eign-made suit and rich fur coat he usually wore for an
old, worn overcoat, but the foreign typist standing on the
deck gave him away completely by her greeting.

" Whom did we come to welcome," joked the workmen,
" the new trawler or the fourth wife? "

" It's only the third one, I tell you I "

FIVE-YEAR PLANS FOR FISH 27

" No, it's the fourth. As if we didn't have enough women
here already! "

But such shortcomings were not his only defects. He was
ready at any moment to denounce the best workers, of
whose honesty he had no doubt, just as he would betray
the interests of the business if this could benefit him in
any way or save him from harm.

CHAPTER IV
" ONE AND A HALF MILLION TONS "

LFTER the President of the Board of Directors, Moura-
sheff, went to Moscow his assistant, the Vice-President,
a canny peasant, in order to shift the responsibility from
his own shoulders, called an " enlarged conference " of the
Board, summoning to it all the "non-party" experts and
department managers. The Vice-President, like his im-
mediate predecessor, was a peasant from the Archangel dis-
trict who had joined the party after the Revolution, an
illiterate drunkard who had served in the GPU and, being
a representative of the Archangel Executive Committee,
was ready to bring about the ruin of the fishing business
in Murmansk. He and his Communist associates knew
nothing about the fishing business nor did they even try
to learn; they knew well that they could obtain anything
they desired through the GPU and that the chief thing in
business was to avoid responsibility. One of the vice-presi-
dents during this period became quite proficient in that
respect. He learned to write on reports " Refer to So-and-
So for resolution." A report can probably be found even
now in the files of the North State Fishing Trust on which
at the Leningrad office of the fisheries this vice-president
made the notation " Refer to the Murmansk office," and a
few days later, having returned to Murmansk and finding
that the report had not yet been taken care of, he wrote
underneath his previous notation the words: " Refer to the
Leningrad office " and sent it back.

" ONE AND A HALF MILLION TONS " 29

The Vice-President opened the " enlarged conference "
solemnly by reading a telegram which the president had
sent after reaching Moscow. In the telegram he repeated
the requirements and stated that they were definite: 500
trawlers and 1,500,000 tons of fish per year by January ist,
1933 and he called upon the entire staff to strain every
effort and fulfill this plan.

Then came the Vice-President's speech. The real reason
for the terrifically large assignment now came to light. It
was plain, from his talk, that this assignment had come di-
rectly from the Political Bureau itself, and not from the
Moscow organizations in charge of the fishing industry.
The affair had deep roots. Peasants driven by force into
Collectives (Communal farms) had destroyed their cattle
and other live stock so thoroughly that the country was
left without meat, butter, milk or poultry, and there was
no hope of obtaining these products for the next few years.
It was first decided to raise pigs, which multiply quickly,
but that project had not succeeded. Then it was remem-
bered that in 1919 and 1920 fish had saved the urban popu-
lation from starvation. Fish are plentiful in the sea, do not
require to be raised, watched or fed, they need only be
caught. Fish, therefore, must help the population to live
through the period of " disorganization and growth " and
thereby help to establish the foundation of Socialism. Thus
fishing had become no longer simply an economic prob-
lem; it was now a political problem. So it was that the total
amount of fish which had to be caught was figured out by
the " Centre " and then allocated to the various districts,
the share of the North State Fishing Trust coming to
1,500,000 tons. Each trawler must catch 3,000 tons per
year and, therefore, the number of trawlers must be in-
creased to 500. The money necessary for this expansion
was assigned, or rather was promised.

From his two hour speech it was impossible to under-

30 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

stand the Vice-President's own attitude towards the new
demand. He announced the figures with exaltation: " One
and a half million tons! Almost one hundred million
ponds! That's no joke! These scientists here (nodding at
me) say that England has been developing its fishing in-
dustry for many centuries, has many ports and harbors and
2,000 trawlers and her catch is only half a million tons
a year, but we, in three years, will catch in our Trust alone
one and a half million tons! One trust three times more
than all of Englandl "

At this point he evidently remembered that we actually
had nothing, that seventeen of our twenty-two trawlers
were obsolete, that the new ones built in Germany were
unreliable, and that we had no harbor to accommodate the
large number of proposed ships. Energetically scratching
his head and other parts of his body, he then continued:
" Well, it is necessary, in a word, to make a great effort.
... It is necessary, in a word, comrades, to try and . . .
and . . . brace up, and in the meantime, in a word, it is
necessary to talk it over because the problem is very seri-
ous, very serious. Well, who wishes to speak, to talk it over,
in a word? "

For us " to talk it over " was no easy task. The Vice-
President and the other party men understood as well as
we did that the assignment was impossible to fulfill and
that it would unavoidably result in the ruin of the enter-
prise and probably of the whole Russian trawling busi-
ness. But what did they care about the enterprise and the
Russian fishing industry! Yesterday this very vice-president
had been in the lumber industry, had ruined it and given
his experts away to the GPU; now he was about to take
part in the wrecking of the fishing industry and would
doubtless give us away; and so he would pass on to some
other business. A " party " ticket, together with submission
to the " general line," guaranteed him full immunity from

" ONE AND A HALF MILLION TONS " 31

responsibility. The " party " men knew perfectly well that
we were the ones who would be held responsible. They
were now waiting for us to speak, no doubt inwardly jeer-
ing, " What are you going to say now? Are you in a hole?
Experts, scientists, how are you going to get out of it? "

They knew very well, that if one of us dared to express
the thought each of us had in his mind that the assign-
ment could not be fulfilled he would immediately be
accused of sabotage, of " wrecking " the work of the North
State Fishing Trust. Such views on our part would be
called a " bold attack on the part of the class enemy" and
then would come the GPU prison Solovki or
death. On the other hand, if we now remained silent, then
in a year, or at the utmost in two, when the plan fell
through, we would be blamed for not having objected to
it, and the plan itself would be attributed to us as a
"wrecking plan," and then the GPU prison So-
lovki or death.

To keep silent would at least defer the day of reckoning,
but in spite of this we all spoke up and, without using the
dangerous words " impossible " and " unfulfillable," con-
scientiously pointed out all the obstacles: that the Five
Year Plan adopted in 1928, under which work had been
already carried on for a year, together with the projects
of new constructions actually under way would be can-
celled by the new plan. All construction work would have
to be stopped and a new plan and new projects in con-
formity with the new assignments would have to be drawn
up. It would be fruitless to continue building a barrel fac-
tory and a refrigeration plant for a 175,000 ton catch when
the assignment had now been changed to 1,500,000 tons.
New construction plans, with all their preliminary draw-
ings and specifications, would have to be drawn up. The
new projects would necessarily be so complicated, varied
and enormous that we would have to enlarge our offices to

32 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

take care of it all. Moreover, such a huge construction
would necessitate an extensive prospecting o the shore
zone of the gulf and the adjacent region, and the cost of
this new work would amount to approximately a thousand
million roubles.

Under the most favorable conditions it would be pos-
sible to begin working on the preliminary projects in
January 1930. One year would be needed to complete
them; it would, therefore, be not until January 1931 that
they, together with the new plan, would be presented for
approval. They then would have to pass, according to the
established routine, through a number of administrative
organizations: The Fishing Directorate, the Construction
Directorate, the Scientific Technical Committee, and re-
ceive their final approval by the People's Commissariat.
Many of the projects would have to pass through additional
stages: the Refrigeration Committee, the Port Committee,
Public Health Commissariat, War and Navy Commis-
sariat, and many others. If everything went smoothly and
no project was turned down, this routine procedure xvould
take a half a year, so that the preliminary projects would
be finally approved in July 1932 and only then work on
final plans, working drawings and specifications could be
started. They would be completed in 1933. But the Five
Year Plan, as every one of us was only too well aware,
had to be fulfilled by January i, 1933. So by January i,
1932 we were required to have in use 300 trawlers and
increase our "catch up to 1,000,000 tons per year, at which
time even the preliminary projects would not yet be ready.
How could such difficulties be overcome?

Attention was drawn to the fact that the Murmansk
single-track railway, even as things were, found it difficult
to handle the available freight, and the projected expan-
sion would require the daily movement of two hundred
cars of fish alone, not to mention the other freight. A sec-

" ONE AND A HALF MILLION TONS " 33

ond track would have to be built, no easy job 1,500
kilometers over hills and through swamps.

And the labor problem! Murmansk had a population of
only 12,000 to 15,000 and already living quarters were
greatly over-crowded. With the projected expansion the
number of workmen would have to be increased at least
to 50,000 men who, with their families, would bring the
total population up to 200,000 people. For such an increase
it would be necessary to build not only houses, but also
bath-houses, schools, stores, canalization, an electric power
station, and so on, and this building development, in its
turn, would lead to a further increase of the population.
The building of a new town and a railroad could not be
undertaken by a fishing enterprise, yet without this con-
struction the fishing plan could not be fulfilled.

The training of ships' crews would also present con-
siderable difficulties; 25,000 men would be needed for the
servicing of the 500 trawlers, including 2,000 pilots and as
many mechanics, and 300 skippers and 300 mechanics
would be required yearly for filling vacancies. Futher-
more, the skippers would have to be specially trained to
know not only navigation, but also how to hunt for fish
banks, how to catch the fish and how to handle it. Already,
with only twenty-two ships we were having difficulties in
keeping a full staff of captains and mechanics. Now, in the
remaining three years of the Five Year Plan we would
have to build up a whole fleet. How could it be done? A
skipper's diploma, or that of a mechanic, required gradua-
tion from a high school, and a special four years' course at
the marine school of technology. Only the Archangel Tech-
nology prepared skippers for navigation in northern seas
and it graduated every year only twenty-five skippers and
twenty-five mechanics. To have a sufficient supply of cap-
tains we would need eighty such technologies, with build-
ings, instructors, school supplies and so on, not to mention

34 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

the four thousand healthy young men with a high school
education, who would be willing to give their lives to navi-
gation on the rugged Arctic Ocean in small, dirty fishing
vessels. Furthermore, we would have to have radio opera-
tors, specialists in trawling, salting, and many other second-
ary specialists and technicians.

All this, we pointed out, should be brought immediately
to the attention of the Government, for we had no right to
conceal the true situation. We knew very well that in spite
of convincing arguments, in spite of all the evident ab-
surdity of the Plan, nobody would listen to us, but we were
doing our duty.

One of the representatives of the " workers-ownership "
replied to us. He was just a boy, a real Communist and a
" confirmed Marxist." He sat with his cap on, his face dull
and cruel. What he said was well known to everyone and
could serve for every occasion, chiefly quotations from edi-
torials of provincial " Pravdas " published in every town
from Vladivostok to Murmansk. 1

" Comrades! Our party and government positively under
the leadership of our leader, Comrade Stalin, are certainly
making unheard-of strides in the development of our indus-
try as such. They certainly are realizing the motto ' over-
take and outstrip ' the capitalistic countries struggling in
the clutches of a world crisis which, due to the joined ef-
forts of the proletariat, is becoming a real fact.

" It is necessary, comrades, to strain every effort and as
correctly pointed out by Comrade President in a word
to brace up. Unquestionably the assignment of the party
and government must be fulfilled and exceeded, accom-
plishing the Piatiletka as such in a minimum of four
years." (Words like minimum and maximum were always
being wrongly used by such orators.)

i Pravda is the Russian word for " truth." This newspaper is the official
organ of the Communist Party. TRANSLATOR.

" ONE AND A HALF MILLION TONS " 35

" Here we have listened to various references and vari-
ous facts. Of what use are they? Bourgeois parasites insert
themselves into the ranks of the proletariat by means of
sallies of the class enemy; this is of no use either.

" Comrades, we must unite into a steel wall and fight
with all our proletarian determination and healthy self-
criticism. We must strike a hard blow against those who
deserve it. We must engage in a pitiless fight against Leftist
deviations as well as against Rightist leanings which rep-
resent the chief danger in the given stage of development
whatever side they come from. Certainly we all, as one man,
will defend the plan and the ' general line ' of workers'
enthusiasm as such. ' Shock work ' and ' Socialistic competi-
tion ' should, certainly, be carried out without forgetting
for a minute leadership and workers' initiative and inven-
tiveness. We unquestionably must, comrades, not only
fulfill . . ."

" Shut up, Kolka, stop agitating," interrupted his neigh-
bor, also of the same species of the " self-conscious." " We
have been sitting here for four hours and I have two more
meetings to attend to-day. Keep closer to business, present
the workers' resolution."

" All right, comrades. As it is getting late, unquestion-
ably, I offer concretely not only to fulfill but, of course,
even to exceed by 120 per cent the government's assign-
ment; also to decisively disregard the objections raised by
the opponents and to accomplish the Piatiletka as such
in a minimum of two and a half years." So saying, he sat
down.

The workers' resolution was not discussed. The Board,
however, decided to send a report to the Moscow Fishing
Directorate pointing out all the difficulties which lay in
the way of fulfillment of the assignment and asking for
instructions.

The meeting adjourned. The Vice-President, with a

36 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

worried expression on his face, went up to the " representa-
tive " who had spoken at the meeting; one could hear that
he was scolding him.

" What's all this nonsense you were talking? We don't
know what to do. This isn't the time to antagonize these
experts it's exactly the time we need them."

The representative gave the following as his defense:
" In the true Bolshevik spirit of not dodging an issue,
Comrade President, I must recognize my mistake, but all
this is unquestionably the result of my having a headache.
I was drunk yesterday."

And so the meeting ended.

CHAPTER V
FORCED LABOR

W.

E came away from the meeting thoroughly discour-
aged, and we spoke freely to each other. " It is senseless to
work any longer for the Trust." "Yes, within a year
their plan will fail and they'll begin to look around for the
' guilty '; try to prove your innocence then! " " But they
can't send us to any place worse than Murmansk."

Another cautioned us, " Never forget the Soviet saying:
'Whoever is not in prison will be there; whoever was
in prison will return there/ " And, finally, still another
added: " I handed in my resignation to the president after
that first telegram about the 150 new trawlers, but he
wrote ' refused ' on it and added that he did not ' advise '
my making such an ' attempt.' "

Nevertheless, when later I made a trip to Moscow, I
asked to be transferred to some other place or to be dis-
charged. The Chief Director of the Fisheries, a Communist,
answered literally as follows: " We consider your work at
the North State Fishing Trust so valuable that we cannot
allow you to leave and, if necessary, we will find, with the
help of the GPU, a way to make you work.",

Possibly it may seem, to persons tainted with a " rotten
liberalism," that since we could neither resign nor obtain
transfer to another post, all of us at the Trust were actually
working under compulsion and were not free men. I will
not discuss that question here, but it leads me to speak of

3 8 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

that unmistakable slavery forced labor which I first
met at Murmansk in 1928 and observed in the years that
followed, until my own turn came.

That autumn (1928) , under the pressing requirements
of the Five Year Plan, the North State Fishing Trust had
been faced with the problem of finding highly qualified
specialists, such as engineers and ship-builders, willing to
go to Murmansk with its vile climate and wretched living
conditions, when they could easily find occupation in Len-
ingrad, Moscow or some southern town.

All the efforts of the Trust were in vain. The situation
seemed hopeless. The labor exchange offered to enlist,
under a contract, first-year students from various special
technical schools, giving them scholarships for four to five
years until they graduated. But the Piatiletka had to be
completed by the time these young men could finish their
education. Construction work had to be started at once.
The Trust needed engineers who were already experi-
enced; it had no time to train new men.

Finally, one of the Communist workers had the brilliant
idea of applying to the GPU. We had heard a rumor that
the GPU traded in experts, with a large number of engi-
neers of every specialty at its disposal, but we somehow
could not believe it. The Communist Bagdanoff, the man-
ager of our Trust, was asked to make inquiries. The rumor
was confirmed and he set out for Kern, the administration
center for the famous Solovetzki concentration camp, with
instructions to purchase a whole squad.

Within a few days he had returned, his mission success-
fully accomplished, but the Kern impressions were too
strong for even a Communist to keep to himself and he
could not refrain from talking about them even to us non-
party men.

"Can you imagine that there (the administration of
the Solovetzki camp) the following expressions are freely

FORCED LABOR 39

used: ' We sell! ' 'We discount for quantity! ' ' First
class merchandise! ' ' The city of Archangel offers 800
roubles a month for X. and you offer only 600 1 . . . What
merchandise! He gave a course in a university, is the author
of a number of scientific works, was director of a large fac-
tory, in pre-war time was considered an outstanding engi-
neer; now he's serving a ten-year sentence at hard labor for
" wrecking "; that means that he'll do any kind of work
required of him, and yet you quibble over 200 roubles! '
Nevertheless, I bargained and they finally agreed to reduce
the price, because we purchased at wholesale fifteen engi-
neers. I picked out wonderful men! Look at the list: K..,
shipbuilding engineer, one of the best in the U.S.S.R.
he used to get rations of the rd category as a scientist; P.,
electrical engineer, has been director of the electrical in-
dustry in Moscow; K. and E. are architects with wide ex-
perience. And all of them are sentenced for ' wrecking *
that means they will do conscientious work."

"What are the terms of this purchase? " I asked, uncon-
sciously lowering my voice, so monstrous did the question
sound.

" The men we buy are entirely at our disposal," replied
the manager; " we may detail them to any kind of work
and to any responsible position. The GPU guarantees
them and they are under the surveillance of the local GPU.
We aren't held liable in case they escape. The GPU, how-
ever, is sure they won't escape, because they all have wives
and children, living in other towns, who are actually
hostages.

" We pay the GPU monthly 90% of the agreed rental
and the remaining 10% we give to the prisoner according
to his work. As we pay a much higher price for them than
the established tariff, they are ranked as experts in respect
to work and no time limit applies to them. If we wish we
can make them work twenty-four hours a day. The GPU

40 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

attorney laughed when he said that we wouldn't be trans-
gressing the labor laws if we disregarded the provisions
about working hours, because the prisoners are sold as
specialist-experts and have to work as such.

" What scoundrels! " he added, after a moment of silence,
remembering the scene of the purchase.

" Did you actually sign a written agreement? "

" Of course! Is it possible to trust the GPU without a
contract? "

" And all this is stated in the contract? "

" Certainly. The lawyer approved the deal and the Chief
of the camp, as well as the head of the department, signed.
Everything was according to form."

" And did you see ' them? ' v we asked.

" No, I didn't look them over; it was a little embarassing.
They offered to show them to me, but I bought them ac-
cording to their papers."

" Will they come to Murmansk soon? "

" As soon as we send in our first payment. It's done very
simply; they say that if they get our message even one hour
before the train leaves they will immediately send out the
whole group. Talk is short with prisoners there."

" And if they refuse to work or do not fit the job? "

" That's also taken care of. In case of a complaint on our
part the purchased man is immediately removed from the
job and sent back to the concentration camp, where he is
disciplined. In his place another man of the same specialty
and qualifications is sent out."

" And if they do not have any? These are really excep-
tional men."

" Not have any? What are you talking about? They can
get anyone they want. Besides, they have a good supply of
' ready ones.' Some of the best engineers and professors are
now working in lumber camps as woodcutters under con-
ditions that are horrifying even to hear about. It's good

42 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

passed almost unnoticed among the many new faces. Two
of them were appointed to executive positions as chiefs of
the technical and rationalization departments respectively.
The new head of the technical department was the en-
gineer K., a man already advanced in years but still excep-
tionally energetic. He had the responsible post of directing
all repairs of the fleet, the work of the machine shops,
foundries and the power station. He was also in charge of
the drawing up of projects for the enormous construction.
Not only our Trust but practically all the other institu-
tions and concerns in Murmansk were continually calling
for his services as consultant. His expert advice was often
sought by captains of foreign ships in need of repair, when
they came to Murmansk to load lumber delivered from
the forced-labor lumber camps of Solovki. Surely the for-
eigners who dealt with tins man of authority did not
realize that he was a convict, serving a ten-year sentence!

The Planning Bureau of the Trust was also composed of
purchased engineers. These " purchased men " lived in the
new houses built by the Trust two or three men in each
small room. A few boards laid on a trestle served as beds,
a few stools and a board table as furnishings. They worked
from early morning until late at night and they never
talked of themselves or their iormer life in the concentra-
tion camps. No one questioned them. It was known, how-
ever, that they had families in dire need, whom they could
not help, and that some had suffered confiscation of all
their property at home.

How many more years were they destined to live like
this? It was a frightful thought. Nevertheless, theirs was
the lightest form of forced labor. The other, which I also
came in contact with while working in the North State
Fishing Trust, that at Cape Zeleny, was much more hor-
rible. As a part of the Five Year Plan, construction on a
large scale was to be undertaken in Murmansk. A special

FORCED LABOR 43

wharf was to be built where the trawlers could take on coal,
at some distance from the trawler base, to avoid the pene-
tration of coal dust into the warehouses used for fishing
products designed for export to England. The site selected
was several kilometers north of the town, on the eastern
side of the bay, near Cape Zeleny, where the land was high
above the water and had to be dynamited and leveled. The
Trust decided to employ a contractor for the excavation
and dirt removal but, there being no private contractors in
the U.S.S.R., did not resort to open bids, but sent specifi-
cations to several State construction concerns, requesting
them to name their prices.

Quite unexpectedly, among the few competitors, the
GPU intervened with a statement that it could do the work
at a figure 10% below the lowest bid and in a shorter
period than the specifications required. The Trust had to
accept this offer of the GPU. One of the functions of the
GPU was to watch over the economic activities of all en-
terprises. Had its bid not been accepted, it would certainly
have prosecuted the Trust for " wasting the people's
money/' The Trust, therefore signed a contract with the
GPU tor the job at Cape Zeleny, involving the expendi-
ture of several hundred thousand roubles. 1

i Besides the conn act at the North State Fishing Trust, the GPU ob-
tained sevcial other contracts in Murmansk and was also electing buildings
for the needs oi its own administration and employees, all this in only one
relatively small section of the north-western region.

Up to 1931 the GPU \\as the largest producer of export lumber in
Karelia, besides building roads from the White Sea to the borders of Fin-
land and engaging in extensive land reclamation work. In 1931, when, un-
dei pressure from abroad, the GPU was forced to discontinue its lumber
operations in Karelia, it turned to supplying wood for fuel to Moscow and
Leningrad, to consttuctmg the canal joining the White Sea with
the Baltic, and it enleied the fishing industry. From 1931 the GPU was
the only organization successfully preparing salmon for the English market.
In other sections of the U.S.S.R. the economic and construction activities of
the GPU were still greater. I will not describe them as it would lead me
too far afield.

44 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

The reason for the low cost of the GPU work and pro-
duction was no mystery they used convict labor alone:
peasants as well as men of higher education, many of whom
had university degrees. The engineering and technical
personnel was also composed of prisoners.

Labor and the supervisory personnel were brought to
Murmansk from the Solovetzki camp, where they were
serving sentences of from three to ten years for " counter-
revolution " and " wrecking." They were not paid for their
work; there were no fixed working hours; those who did
not fulfill their quotas, figured on a sixteen hour basis, had
to stay at their jobs until their assignments were completed
and, in addition, they were deprived of bread rations and
dinner and were not allowed to return to their camps for
the night. It goes without saying that the GPU did not pay
any premiums into the social insurance fund, which pre-
miums, for other organizations, amount to as much as 22%
of the total payroll. Neither did the GPU issue any cloth-
ing, as other concerns were required to do; the laborers
were dressed in the clothes they had on when arrested
many of them were barefooted and half-naked. For those
working on the Cape Zeleny construction temporary
wooden barracks were erected. The uniformed "guard"
composed of prisoners (criminals, bandits, Chekists and
party-men who were under sentence for theft or other
crimes) had better living quarters and larger food ra-
tions. Only a few of them were free employees on salary.

The work was done in a most primitive manner, by
hand, with spades, picks and crowbars. When an un-
limited free supply of labor is available mechanization is
superfluous. The only item of expense was food for the
prisoners and even that was not large one kilogram of
black bread (baked by the prisoners themselves from flour
furnished at a minimum price by State organizations) and
a " dinner " of two courses, " soup," i.e., water with a small
amount of grits, and " cereal," i.e., grits with a large

FORCED LABOR 45

amount of water. Under such a system as this, it can readily
be seen that nearly all the money received by the GPU on
their contracts was clear profit.

The townspeople of Murmansk knew very little about
the life of these prisoners. It was forbidden to talk to them
or approach their barracks. At first their starved appear-
ance, swollen or emaciated faces, their ragged clothing and
bare feet excited horror, but later the people became ac-
customed to the sight the sensitiveness of Soviet citizens
has become dulled. The workmen and the peasants of
Murmansk established a clandestine business intercourse
with the wretched prisoners, some of whom contrived to
do small repair jobs on household utensils which, due to
a complete lack of such articles on the market, could not
be replaced or repaired elsewhere. The method of pro-
cedure was this: when the prisoners were being led to work,
the article in need of repair would be shown to them from
a distance and then dropped into an old barrel that was
nearby. Next morning the repaired utensil would be re-
turned with a slip of paper stating the price of the work,
which was always amazingly small. On the following day
money in payment would be deposited in the barrel. How
the prisoners ever succeeded in accomplishing this work,
sometimes quite complicated, at night and with great
secrecy, is a mystery. It could be done only by men of long
prison experience and driven by dire need. (My descrip-
tion of this secret cannot hurt anyone in Murmansk now.
Since the protests which appeared in the European press
against forced labor, the GPU has discontinued its activi-
ties in the districts visited by foreign ships and has trans-
ferred its prisoners from Murmansk to enterprises in other
sections of the country.)

Isolated though they were, the most striking incidents
in the life of these GPU prisoners were known in the town.
The first was an epidemic of typhus at Cape Zeleny which,
in the filth and crowded condition of the barracks, spread

46 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

with amazing rapidity. A few cases appeared in the town
itself and there was a panic. To localize the epidemic the
GPU isolated the sick in special barracks, where they were
left to die without any help or medical attention. The sec-
ond incident was an attempt to escape in fact, two at-
tempts. Only despair could have forced anyone to such an
act. The country round Murmansk is most unfavorable:
there are hills and great rocks piled up in such disorder
that it is almost impossible to find one's bearings; the low-
lands are covered with impassable swamps. Nevertheless,
two bands of four men each obtained row-boats, crossed to
the western side of the Kola Bay and set out towards the
Finnish frontier. One band was rounded up by natives who
were promised a bag of flour for their capture; the other
four men perished from hunger and exposure. The cap-
tured men were shot.

A third incident was the execution of the engineer Tres-
ter, who had supervised the building of GPU houses and
had enjoyed considerable freedom of action. It was ru-
mored that when the construction was completed Trester
was taken under heavy guard back to Kern. There, accord-
ing to the rumor, he was accused of " wrecking " and was
shot because the construction had been finished two weeks
behind schedule. Later I found out that this story was not
quite exact; for the delay in construction Trester was
sentenced to one year's solitary confinement at the Solo-
vetzki camp and the GPU official who was taking him to
his cell shot him on the way. I don't remember the name
of this official but he was widely known for his excep-
tional cruelty and for frequently murdering prisoners
without cause. Such cases were usually reported as " shot
in an attempt to escape."

These were the only things the population of Murmansk
knew about the life of the GPU slaves by whose hands the
Five Year Plan was being carried out.

CHAPTER VI
FACE TO FACE WITH THE GPU

T

JL c

o resume my narrative: we, the " non-party " men,
were discouraged and apprehensive as the winter months
of 1930 wore on. The working force of the Trust was
enormously increased. Two new members of the Board
ot Directors appeared Communists, of course. They had
no comprehension of our work, acknowledging freely that
before their appointment to the Fishing Trust they knew
fish only as an appetizer to go with vodka. Now one of them
was the head of the rationalization and mechanization of
the whole enterprise, while the other was to direct the con-
struction of the trawling base which, according to the Pia-
tiletka, was to be the largest and most up-to-date fish trad-
ing harbor in the world. Both brought with them from
Leningrad their own staffs complete, from engineers to
typists, and went strutting about the base giving orders and
loudly criticizing everything.

Our station, which had been successfully accomplishing
its practical work, was now to feel the effect of purely fan-
tastic plans. The aim of die new administrators was not
the dexelopmeiit of the fishing enterprise; their interest
was only in construction. How could they now use our re-
finery for medicinal oil, if its output was only 1,000 tons a
year, when the new plan called for a factory with a 15,000-
ton output? The newspapers reported every day similar
ambitious increases in the plans of other industries. The
program of the rubber trust was being increased tenfold;

48 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

the output of the tractor center eightfold, and so on. News
writers and the " directors " of the industries cited these
as tremendous achievements, but we knew that it meant
only the wrecking of what had already been accomplished.
The Piatiletka was becoming the destroyer of all industry.

It was sad to see our refrigeration plant, which we had
begun to build after dreaming of it for so many years, de-
molished because its capacity planned a year and a half be-
fore was now considered too small. The foundations of the
barrel factory were abandoned, because the plans were
being changed. The wharves under construction, badly
needed to serve the increasing number of trawlers, stood
unfinished, awaiting new and more grandiose plans. It was
heartbreaking to see the chaos. I tried to avoid, so far as I
could, the scenes of destructive construction. My days, from
eight in the morning to eleven at night, I spent entirely in
my laboratory and, as I said at the beginning, my late
evenings alone in my room.

After the March night when the search of my little apart-
ment occurred, as I have already related, the rumors that
were being whispered everywhere made all of us " non-
party " men feel that our position was fast becoming dan-
gerous. The speed of the work inaugurated under the new
Plan was being scrutinized; clearly something sinister was
in the wind. The more impossible our task the more clearly
we would be marked as the victims of those who set the
task. Communists, too, were being questioned; this was
their opportunity to even up old scores, to get rid of any
possible rivals and by destroying us to improve their own
chances of promotion. It was no secret, and soon everyone
knew that they were " helping the GPU discover the
wreckers."

The system of questioning was quite obvious:

" Do you think that ' wrecking activities ' are possible
in our Trust? "

FACE TO FACE WITH THE GPU 49

Generally the Communist witness thought them quite
possible.

" Is it possible that the specialists have an anti-prole-
tarian or anti-Soviet psychology and could, therefore, be
' wreckers '? "

" Undoubtedly, Comrade, the psychology of the special-
ists is anti-proletarian, and they could certainly be
' wreckers.' "

These general ideas having been entered in the state-
ment, the examining official would adopt a threatening
tone.

" You know the punishment for false testimony? Belong-
ing to the Communist party cannot save you. Your words
are down in the deposition. Perhaps you can substantiate
your accusations with facts? "

The poor witness would willingly accuse the specialists
of anything, but he was afraid of being held responsible.
The examiner, seeing then that he was ready to sign any-
thing, would help him with leading questions which he
was expected to answer in the affirmative.

" Were not the wrecking activities of Krotoff responsible
for the poor catch at the fisheries last year? "

" Quite right, Comrade," the witness would answer with
relief.

" Did he not hold the trawlers in the harbor intention-
ally? "

" Yes, Comrade, he undoubtedly did."

And thus the witness and the examiner arrived at a com-
plete accord.

The GPU could and did procure any amount of such
" testimony," not only from Communists, but also from
some of the non-party men frightened by threats of im-
mediate arrest. I heard, for instance, that one of the old
captains, S., gave his testimony in just such a way. This was
of great value to the GPU, because the evidence supplied

5 o I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

by Communists was rated rather cheaply even by the GPU
itself, while S. was an old non-party worker, a specialist of
many years' standing. Poor man! He was mentally unbal-
anced. Twice he had suffered attacks of insanity at sea and
both times the ship was brought into harbor by his mate.
He could not be placed in a hospital for they were over-
crowded; in consideration of his past services he was given
a job on shore. He did not believe that he was sick; he
still wanted to go to sea and considered he had a grievance.
He was terribly afraid of the GPU. I was told that one of
his comrades, also an old captain, asked him if he were not
ashamed of his testimony.

" But what could I do, if the GPU gave me orders? I
didn't want to be shot. Besides, it serves them right for
pushing an old man out of his job! "

The situation was made still more hopeless by the fact
that " witnesses " were not required to give concrete facts,
but rather a psychological explanation whereby any simple
act might be interpreted as intended to harm industry.
Furthermore, if a " witness " did not categorically deny the
possibility of wrecking intentions, the GPU assumed that
the intentions had existed.

My turn came at last. One morning I received a notice
requiring me to be at the GPU office at six o'clock that
evening. I notified the president of the Trust and as many
of my co-workers as I could, hoping that, in case of my dis-
appearance, the news would reach my wife. How many
people in the U.S.S.R. left home after such a summons and
never returned! I found an opportunity also to send a short
note to Leningrad, telling my wife about the search and
the numerous arrests, so that she would be prepared for
any emergency.

Slowly I approached the long building of the GPU. Like
most houses in Murmansk it was not fenced in. The dirt

FACE TO FACE WITH THE GPU 51

around it was as bad as everywhere else; in front of it pigs
wallowed in filthy garbage holes.

The anteroom, or room for the orderlies, was divided by
a low partition, behind which were two men in Red Army
uniforms. One was turning the handle of an ancient tele-
phone. The other one was yawning as he looked me over.

" Who do you want? "

I handed him the summons without a word.

" You will have to wait."

I sat on the bench, gloomily watching the hands of the
clock that moved so slowly. The men were talking of what
could be had in the cooperative store. At last a Red soldier
came up to me.

" Come! "

He walked behind me down a corridor. Was I under
arrest already, I wondered.

The corridor was wide, dirty and dark. On the right a
row of padlocked doors the cells where Scherbakoff and
Krotoff, perhaps the most respected men in the Trust,
must be. At the end of the corridor the guard told me to
wait. Then he knocked lightly at one of the doors and led
me into an office, with dirty wooden partitions, an un-
paintcd floor, two tables, three chairs. At one of the tables
sat a woman a stenographer, I thought. When she spoke
I was astonished, for I could not imagine that the GPU
official would be a woman.

" Sit down, Comrade Tchernavin we have quite a lot
to talk about."

She pointed to the chair in front of her table. The lamp-
light was shining on my face, the woman sat in shadow.
She was small, thin, and pale, about thirty years old,
with a dark complexion, harsh features and a big, unpleas-
ant mouth. In front of her were two opened packages of
cheap " Poushka " cigarettes, which she smoked incessantly,
throwing the stubs on the floor. Her hands were shaking.

I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

It was my first real encounter with the GPU. The con-
duct of my examiner seemed to me ridiculous, although
apparently she was taking great pains when questioning
me. At times she spoke in a friendly and sincere way, then
suddenly she would search my face with a piercing look.
In turn she was threatening and indignant, then kind and
almost tender. Afterwards I learned that this is the accepted
method of questioning used by the GPU agents. At the
time, however, her behavior reminded me of a second-
rate tragedienne on the provincial stage. It would have
been very amusing if I had not known that I was com-
pletely at the mercy of this unbalanced woman and her
confederate, a tall Lett in a military uniform, who seemed
dull and slow.

The examination continued for six hours and the two
examiners twice relieved each other. Four of the six hours
of questioning were spent over one sentence: " So much
the worse for them; it's all an absurdity, and let them take
the consequences."

Who said it? When? In what circumstances? I did not
remember ever hearing this sentence and even now I do
not know where they got it.

" How do you explain this sentence? " asked the woman.
" Don't you see ' wrecking ' in it? "

" Wrecking? " I replied, puzzled.

" Of course, wrecking; how can you explain it other-
wise? I am very curious to hear your explanation." This
was said threateningly.

" I don't understand this sentence," I answered. " It has
no meaning to me: I don't know what it is about, or who
said it, in what circumstances or on what occasion."

" It's no use, Comrade Tchernavin, trying to evade an-
swering the question."

I can't answer questions I do not understand."

You understand perfectly that the person I won't

n
n

FACE TO FACE WITH THE GPU 53

name him yet who said it, referred to the Piatiletka as
the ' absurdity ' imagined by the Soviet Government."

" How could I know it? " said I, trying painfully to
remember whether I had ever uttered those words. No, I
could not have said them; but then, who could? It might
have been Mourasheff, the Communist president of the
Trust; at one time he had not minced his words about the
Five Year Plan.

" Now you can admit that it is wrecking," insisted the
woman.

" Excuse me, why is this wrecking? "

" So you think it is all right? "

" I did not say so."

" Then it is wrong? Answer me! Is it right or wrong? "
she insisted, getting angry. " Well ? "

" To say that the Piatiletka is an absurdity is wrong."

" Only wrong? I think it is criminal."

I remained silent.

" So you don't see wrecking in this sentence," she per-
sisted.

" I don't understand how one can see wrecking in a
sentence. I understand by wrecking an action that harms
a business and not a sentence taken at random from a con-
versation of an unknown person in unknown circum-
stances."

" How well you know what wrecking is! " she exclaimed.
" But we shall come to ' actions ' later. So you see no ele-
ments of wrecking in this sentence? "

"No."

"Comrade Tchernavin," said the woman, suddenly
changing her threatening attitude to a friendly one, " we
value you very highly as a specialist, and we sincerely wish
you well. I advise you not to be stubborn. You see "
she pointed to a fat envelope on the table " this is the
' case ' of your wife. If you tell the truth now and help us

54 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

sincerely, we shall destroy it, but if you continue as you
began to-day, we shall act on it and then you will have
only yourself to blame."

" What nonsense," thought I; " there can be no ' case '
in Murmansk against my wife. She has been here only once
for ten days about a year ago, she knows nobody here and
she couldn't be accused of anything, yet that envelope con-
tains at least a hundred sheets."

In answer to this threat, I shrugged my shoulders.

" I am hiding nothing and I have nothing to hide. I am
telling the truth."

Now the man took up the inquisition. He began to
enumerate methodically all the mistakes, real or fancied,
made by the North State Fishing Trust during the ten
years of operations. Most of them occurred before the
foundation of the Trust: in 1920 a whaling schooner had
been caught in ice fields; in 1921 someone had bought a
harpoon schooner in Norway and, in the opinion of the
GPU, had paid too much for it. In 1925 the catch of her-
ring had been smaller, he said, than it was supposed to be;
in 1927 one of the electric cranes had been out of order for
some time. In January, 1929, the trawlers had fished for
cod in the Gulf Stream region, when, according to the
GPU, they ought to have gone to the region of the Bear
Islands. And so on.

He spoke slowly, going into many details, often consult-
ing notes in front of him evidently accusations or testi-
mony of various people. He seemed to expect to annihilate
me with each of these accusations.

" You see what a lot of evidence we have? Of course, we
understand that some mistakes could naturally take place
in production, but here they seem to be systematic. It is
clearly a case of wrecking."

The woman agent came back and they continued the
inquiry together.

" But consider," I could not help exclaiming, " the gen-

FACE TO FACE WITH THE GPU 55

eral results of the work of the fisheries! Don't they prove
conclusively that there couldn't have been any wrecking
activities? The work of the Trust is expanding all the time,
the size of catches is increasing, the length of time the trawl-
ers stand idle in the harbor is diminishing. The Trust
yields a profit which is turned in to the State. And this
enormous enterprise has grown where once there was noth-
ing. How can there be any question of wrecking? For in-
stance, you say that in 1929 fishing was intentionally car-
ried on in the wrong place. To do that the captains and
the crews of the trawlers must have been in league with
the ' wreckers ' in the administration of the Trust; other-
wise the crews would never have risked the loss of the
premiums awarded them for good catches. Who would be-
lieve it? "

" Comrade Tchernavin, we are speaking only about
strictly proven facts and in this case we have the testimony
of a very competent comrade," said the GPU woman, re-
provingly.

" I know of no person more competent than our captains
in knowing where to find the fish! " I answered, beginning
to get irritated.

" I can name them to you. They are the experts of the
Oceanographic Institute working under Professor Mesiat-
zeff. I have here their testimony proving that the ships
were wilfully directed to the wrong fishing regions."

" That's absurd! I remember perfectly that in January
the results of the trawling were very good. We knew from
British trade papers that there were fish near the Bear Is-
lands, even without the help of the Institute, and our cap-
tains had been notified. They did not go there because
there was plenty of fish much nearer."

I knew of Prolessor Mesiatzeff. His relations with the
GPU were not a secret. His professional success was based
on his party affiliations and not on scientific ability.

" Perhaps you could find time to give us a written state-

56 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

ment of your considerations regarding the work of the
Oceanographic Institute? " politely suggested the exam-
iner. " What do you think, for instance, of their estimate
of the fish reserves in the Sea of Barents? "

" I am not acquainted with the work of the Institute in
this direction/' I parried, having no intention of falling
into the trap and being caught as a " denouncer/'

" And you, personally what do you think about the
possibility of finding in the Barents Sea the quantity of
fish required by the Plan? "

This was the main point of the inquiry, I realized at
once, and it had been left to the last. Evidently they meant
to accuse me of not believing in the Piatiletka. The basis
for this accusation might well be an opinion I had given
to the Board of Directors that it would be wise to estimate
the probable supply of fish in the Barents Sea before be-
ginning to build three hundred or five hundred new trawl-
ers for operations there. . . . Finally, after requiring a
written answer to this last question, they solemnly admon-
ished me: " We are astonished at your obstinacy, your ob-
vious wish to shield somebody instead of helping us to
expose the shortcomings of the Trust. We are not accusing
you of anything, but you must prove to us by your acts
your sincerity and loyalty to the Soviet Government. We
must be convinced that you are not in sympathy with the
wreckers. We expect you to give us important information
and to give it of your own free will. We are giving you
time to think. You can call us by telephone and we will
hear you any day at any time. We don't want to interfere
with your work/'

They made me sign a promise not to talk about this inter-
view, and then they let me go out into the frosty night.
Only then did I realize how tired I was and how helpless.

CHAPTER VII
ON TO MOSCOW

N,

EXT morning, when I entered the office of the presi-
dent of the Trust, Communist Mourasheff, he was savagely
ringing the telephone bell and shouting:

" Hello! I can't speak! Every time you tap the line to
listen in you disconnect it! ... Do you hear, Comrade?
. . . Why don't you answer? ... I know you are there!
... If the GPU has no electrician capable of fixing your
line so you can listen in, I'll send you one from the Trust!
. . . No it's hopeless! " He threw down the receiver
and turned to me.

" Hell! Since the last arrests I can't use the telephone.
When they tap my line I can't hear a thing. . . . Good
morning. You have been to confession; tell me all about
it; nobody will hear us."

" I signed a pledge not to speak of it."

" What nonsense! With me it will go no farther! What
did they ask? Did they mention my name? "

" They wanted to know details about the shipbuilding
and about your journey abroad." I knew that was his weak
spot.

" The cads! I'd like to see these scoundrels do any real
constructive work. I'll have to go to Leningrad. No one
here can think of anything but arrests and grillings. No-
body is doing any work. Damnation! And you will have to
go to Moscow. You're wanted by the United Fisheries to
confer with them about the Plan."

5 8 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

" The GPU will not let me go."

" We can arrange with the GPU."

In spite of this assurance I was still afraid that the GPU
would prevent me from leaving Murmansk. Two more
cross-examinations followed in which they threatened me
because of my " insincerity," as they termed it, meaning
my refusal to make false accusations against my friends
and co-workers. Nevertheless, a few days later they did
let me go, although I did not feel sure, even aboard the
train, that I would not be arrested before it left the station
for that was a common practice of the GPU. But at last
I heard the whistle and the train began to move. Through
the window I could see the miserable buildings of the
town. Approaching the GPU barracks the train slowed
down to allow one of their agents to jump off the mail car
where he had been sorting out letters for the censor. That
was my last impression of Murmansk. The train took on
speed and I could settle down in peace.

The first stage of the journey would carry me to Lenin-
grad; this would take two days and during that time at
any rate I would surely be free from arrest. Nor did I think
I would be arrested upon my arrival. I could see my wile
and boy again. The Soviet citizen is not exacting! For the
moment I was almost happy.

I still cherished the vague hope, shared by all my fellow
workers, that in Moscow we would find protection from
the stupid tyranny of the Murmansk GPU, that the Com-
munists at the head of the United Fisheries the central
department of the whole country's fishing industry hav-
ing known the accused men and their work for so many
years, could not suspect us of wrecking activities. Besides,
I was sure they would understand how these arrests were
upsetting the entire industry.

Fortunately for me our train was fifteen hours late, so
that I missed connection with the train for Moscow that

ON TO MOSCOW 59

evening and was able to spend a whole night and day at
home. But the news I heard there was not cheerful. From
my wife I learned of the senseless and cruel mass arrests of
the intelligentsia both in Leningrad and Moscow. Young
and old alike were being swept into prison; those who were
well-known before the Revolution and those just out of
Soviet universities. No distinction seemed to be made be-
tween those who had refrained from politics and those who
had been active in the Bolshevik campaigns, nor between
the men engaged in pure science and those working as
scientists in industries. Among the arrested were historians
of world-wide reputations, many museum workers, engi-
neers of every specialty, doctors and, as always, many
former army officers and members of the clergy. These
victims had one thing in common they were all intellec-
tuals. Without the slightest doubt it was a campaign against
the educated. Two years before, the world had heard of
the " liquidations of the kulaks as a class "; now it was the
turn of the intelligentsia. Our position was in a way even
worse than that of the kulak. The prosperous peasant could
leave his house and land, go to a town or another dis-
trict, become a proletarian and lose himself in the mass.
We could not. Our capital and property was our knowl-
edge, our training, our education and it was just this
that made us envied and hated by the Bolsheviks no matter
where we were or what we did. Only death could deprive
us of this property, and so we were made to suffer more
cruelly than the kulaks.

My home in Leningrad had not been searched. The
GPU are never logical; in Murmansk they had investigated
my supply of sugar and flour and had raked out the ashes
of my stove; in Leningrad they paid no attention to my
real home. I knew, however, that sooner or later they would
come, so I carefully looked over everything I had old
letters, photographs, manuscripts. I saw nothing that could

6o I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

possibly be incriminating, but I burned everything, even
the photographs of my boy, to prevent their falling into
the hands of the GPU.

I went on to Moscow without difficulty. Three trains left
every evening and arrived in Moscow the next morning,
equipped with many upholstered cars and a few interna-
tional sleeping cars. On the train one could get bed linen,
and tea with rusks, articles which had long disappeared
from the general market. Most of the passengers were gov-
ernment officials but there was a scattering of foreigners.
It was chiefly for their benefit that the station was kept in
order sometimes, when some important foreigner was
passing through, the station was temporarily decorated
with palms and laurel trees to give an effect of prosperity.

Two or three years before, on your arrival in Moscow
you would have been met at the station by a double line of
hotel agents vying for your patronage; and outside the
station there had stood a long line of taxis. But in 1930 all
these had disappeared. It was nearly impossible to find
a hotel room and nobody dreamed of looking for a taxi.
Everyone struggled for a foothold on the street cars, and
the only way to spend a night was with friends, if only in
a chair or on a chest.

Moscow always affected me by its special, quite individ-
ual, atmosphere; this the Bolsheviks could not destroy,
however hard they tried. The Red Gates were standing at
this time, though marked for removal. The Miasnitskaya
was still the same, although nearer the center of the city
the crowd was so big that the sidewalks could not hold it
and pedestrians overflowed into the middle of the street.
The street cars were filled to the utmost and many were
always left waiting at every stop. There was little other
traffic; occasionally an old, decrepit horse-drawn carriage
or an official automobile speeding by with loud blasts from

ON TO MOSCOW 61

its horn. In spite of all the Bolshevik boasts about the mo-
torization of Russia, there were very few busses even in
Moscow. Taxis could never be found at their stands, for
they were always being used by government organizations.

The old and the new buildings of the GPU stood as
monuments of Socialistic construction in the large space
between the Lubianka and the Miasnitskaya. Never before
had such a prominent site been chosen, or so much money
spent, to house the secret police. The old Butyrki prison,
accommodating 15,000 had proved quite insufficient for
the purposes of the GPU and so they built the immense
" Inside Prison " within the square formed by their other
buildings. Here, close to headquarters, prisoners could be
examined with the most up-to-date technique. No foreigner
would ever guess that this place of terror flourished there,
right in the heart of the old city.

From the windows of the street cars the inhabitants of
Moscow watched with interest the long lines in front of
some shops.

" What are they giving out today? " one would ask.

"Vodka. See the people standing with bottles one
must bring one's own."

" It would be better if they sold some food," said another
gloomily.

The Iverskaya chapel was demolished, but the inscrip-
tion on the former town hall opposite it still remained:
" Religion is opium for the people." A bright French cor-
respondent at one time glibly rendered this: " Religion is
the opinion of the people," and quoted it as proof of the
Bolshevist broad-minded view in religious matters.

The gates of the Kremlin were closed and guarded by
strong detachments of soldiers, and when they were opened
for the passage of a government automobile one got a
glimpse of the empty and lifeless Kremlin Square. Behind
the strong walls and bayonets hid the " People's Govern-

62 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

ment " by whose will and behest many of the worthiest
people of the country were put behind other strong walls
where they too were guarded by sentinels and bayonets.

The University and the Rumiantseff Museum were un-
touched and in good repair, especially outside, to show the
respect in which culture is held. The Church of the Saviour
was still standing at the time of my visit, but was already
doomed. Behind it, on the other bank of the Moskva River,
an immense building was being erected the " House of
the Government." While still under construction its pur-
pose had been changed several times. The architect and
several firemen had been shot because of a fire which
started once in the scaffolding. In front of the " House of
the Government " a new stone bridge was being built.
The embankment was piled with marble slabs procured
in Moscow cemeteries, on some of which one could still
see parts of inscriptions such as " Here rests," " buried,"
" loving memory." It was said that these slabs were to be
used to beautify the square.

On the Prechistenka in the house of F. B. Chelnakoff
was the famous Tolstoy Museum, and in Morosoff's house
the museum of new French paintings to which had been
added the Schukin Collection. Some of the pictures had
been sold, and the people of Moscow were sure that these
collections would soon share the fate of the many others
which had been liquidated. Already gone were the museum
of rare china, the museum of furniture in Nescoutchnoe,
the museum of the " forties " on the Sabatchi Place and
many others. The era of Soviet liberalism and regard for
the Fine Arts had ended.

When I went to Moscow I always stayed with V. K. Tols-
toy, a great friend of mine who lived on Zuhoff Square.
We had grown up together from childhood and had been
brought still more closely together by our interest and
work in the same field of science.

ON TO MOSCOW 63

Tolstoy came from a poor family not belonging to the
nobility. His father was a physician and had no other in-
come than that which he earned by his modest practice.
He had had five children and it was all he could do to pro-
vide for their education. They had lived very plainly and
even the furnishings of their house consisted of nothing
but beds and just the indispensable number of chairs and
tables.

While still a student at the University, Tolstoy became
interested in ichthyology and after graduation made it his
specialty. He became well known for his serious and scien-
tific research work. After the Revolution he gave himself
with the same enthusiasm to practical work on a large scale
and for eight years was director of the State fishing industry
of both the Azof-Black Sea and Northern regions. During
this time he published numerous articles on questions of
fishing activity which showed that he had not entirely given
up research; he also lectured from time to time on fishing
at the Petrovsky Agricultural Academy. In 1929, when the
direction of the fishing industry was transferred from the
Fishing Union to the Political Bureau, a change which was
decidedly leading the industry to its ruin, Tolstoy suc-
ceeded, after great difficulty, in being transferred from the
Fishing Union to the Scientific Institute of Fishing Econ-
omy, where he engaged in purely theoretical work.

Tolstoy was not capable of simulating or of adapting
himself to the requirements of the moment. With great
persistence, intelligence and knowledge he approached the
problem of planning for the fishing industry, patiently and
insisteVitly striving to introduce reason and sensible restric-
tions into the wild experiments of the Bolsheviks. He was
in despair every time Party directives tended to destroy
that which had been built up with such effort, threatening
by their unfulfillable requirements to ruin the whole
work. He would then go to the chiefs and insist on prov-

64 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

ing to them the folly of their orders and the injury they
might cause the business, without ever stopping to con-
sider the effect his persistence might have on his own
position.

When the Bolsheviks preplanned the i,5oo,ooo-ton
catch for our North State Fishing Trust, Tolstoy under-
took, by assignment from the Scientific Institute, an enor-
mous and highly interesting research study on the basis of
which he proved the inefficiency of using more than 125
trawlers in the restricted region of the Sea of Barents.
When Tolstoy read the report on the results of his research
at the Scientific Institute and later before the Technical
Council of the Fishing Union none of the Communists
present raised any objections. How much courage was
needed to present such a report can be seen from the fact
that many of the Communists were afraid even to go to the
meeting, and those who could not avoid going remained
silent, although they clearly understood that the Govern-
ment assignments were unfulfillable and perhaps they even
hoped that Tolstoy's report would cause these to be modi-
fied. Not one criticized the report, but neither did anyone
uphold its author.

Tolstoy lived alone and very poorly. Even during the
period of the NEP he never had money enough to be prop-
erly dressed even by Soviet standards, and would joke good-
naturedly about the holes in his boots.

Upon my arrival in Moscow, I was very glad to find him
at home. I immediately asked him what steps were being
taken in Moscow to obtain the release of Scherbakoff and
Krotoff, my associates in Murmansk, and what were the
general conditions.

" My dear friend," said Tolstoy, " we have done every-
thing we could, but we understand nothing. We have had
a vague sort of promise that the GPU would set Scherba-
koff and Krotoff free, but arrests are going on everywhere

ON TO MOSCOW 65

and no one feels safe. Here in Moscow Patrikeeff of the
Fishing Union has been arrested, probably because he once
served in the army. Frumkin has just returned from the
Far East where he found everything in good order; but,
in spite of this, arrests are taking place there; yet he, the
chief, does not interfere with them. Something incompre-
hensible is going on. And it's fearful to think what will
happen at the end of the year, for in all the regions, the
same as in yours, impossible assignments have been given.
In the Far East, for instance, they've included in the pro-
gram the construction of two hundred trawlers, where now
they have only one boat, and that from Germany. They
don't know even where to look for the fish or what kinds to
catch. They don't know whether they should fish in the
Japan Sea, the Bering Sea or the Sea of Okhotsk. They seem
to be in a worse position than your Trust. Neither the
Japanese nor the Americans have ever used trawlers in
that region, and now we are going to build two hundred.
There are no men, no wharves, no base but the order
is to build at any cost."

Tolstoy shook his head in despair and then continued:
" The general assignment for this year for the whole indus-
try is 1,900,000 tons of fish; we shall be lucky if sixty per
cent of this is filled. That means more arrests! Next year
the order is to catch 2,200,000 tons. Pure madness! I'm so
glad I gave up work in the industry and have nothing more
to do with planning. It's enough to drive anyone crazy!
Scientific work is much more peaceful."

As soon as he had finished talking I told him in detail
about how things stood in Murmansk, how our Vice-
President, Gasheff, had decided that we could increase
production by 25% and so attempt to fulfill the plan by
salting the cod with their heads on, and what arrests had
been made. I also informed him about the perquisitions
and cross-examinations. We seemed able to talk only of

66 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

unpleasant and terrible things, in spite of the fact that we
had rejoiced at meeting one another again.

The following day I accompanied Tolstoy to the Fishing
Union where Kryshoff, the senior director of the Fishing
Industry, offered me the position of President of the Com-
mission developing the plan for the Northern Fishing
Region. Knowing, as I did, that the plan could not possibly
be finished in the time allowed I refused this offer, but as
I had no desire to return to Murmansk, I agreed to remain
in Moscow as a consultant.

CHAPTER VIII
THE BLACK CROWS MOVE

HE summer of 1930 was full ofi disquiet. The effects
of the unsuccessful Piatiletka experiment were felt every-
where. Food was becoming scarce. One by one the neces-
sities of life were disappearing from the market galoshes,
soap, cigarettes and even paper. In Moscow, where I was
staying, expensive, decorated cakes were on display in the
show windows of State confectionery stores, but baker-
ies had no bread. It was quite impossible to buy under-
wear or shoes, but one could get a silk tie and a hat. Food
stores carried only caviar, champagne and expensive
wines.

Hungry citizens spoke openly and sarcastically about the
results of the " Plan." Who was at fault? Some explanation
of this state of affairs had to be given immediately.

The official answer was nai\e: the shortage of foodstuffs
and items of general necessity was caused by the growth in
purchasing power of the masses and the rise in the cultural
level of the workman and peasant! This was repeated over
and over again in the official press. The slogan was " Diffi-
culties of Growth."

According to the Soviet reports the fulfillment of the
Piatfletka was proceeding much faster even than antici-
pated, production in all branches of industry was increas-
ing with marvellous rapidity and it was this very success
which furnished more " difficulties of growth." Such ex-
planations might have seemed quite convincing to visiting

68 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

foreigners or to foreign readers of Soviet newspapers
but to no one else.

Government reports announced that the 1930 produc-
tion of cotton and sugar-beets was twice that of pre-war
days yet there was no cotton cloth for sale and sugar was
a great luxury. A notable increase in the production of all
earthly blessings was being promised for 1930-31.

The same newspapers, however, with their boastful arti-
cles, published the gloomiest reports of " breaches " on
all fronts: the coal front, the metallurgical, the lumber,
rubber, chemical, footwear, and others. These failures
were attributed to the " wrecking activity " of individual
experts, to campaigns carried on by foreign elements and
to the bureaucracy of old-regime state functionaries.

Lines which stretched along whole blocks formed wher-
ever anything was being sold. They were becoming a sore
spot. In the attempt to find scapegoats the GPU spread
the rumor, immediately taken up by the press, that there
was fraud on a large scale in the distribution of food cards.
The acute shortage of meat was explained by failure to
follow the " directives of the XVI Party Congress," and by
the " wrecking activity " of veterinaries who, it was said,
gave poisoned injections to pigs. Daily articles appeared
with ostentatious captions: " Vegetables perish by fault of
producers " " Who interferes with the supply of vegeta-
bles?" "Call to answer for the unsanitary storage and
handling of vegetables and foodstuffs" There was a short-
age of vegetables in August when all truck gardens should
have been full. The papers, however, failed to mention
that in the spring of that year all the larger vegetable gar-
dens had been taken away from private owners, and the co-
operative work groups and other new fiat organizations
could not cope with the job.

The situation in the fishing industry was disastrous.
Men, fishing tools, ships and materials were lacking. But

THE BLACK CROWS MOVE 69

in spite of such conditions the authorities continued to in-
crease the plans for the industry, thereby rendering utterly
impossible any satisfactory fulfillment of the assignment.

The methods offered for correction of the hopeless situa-
tion were of truly Bolshevik character. On August 7, 1930
there was published the resolution of the Council of Peo-
ple's Commissars regarding the steps to be taken to increase
the fish supply.

" Point one: All work to be carried out in ' shock tempo '
and in the autumn to cover the deficiency of the spring
catch."

Then followed seventeen points of the same nature, of
which the seventeenth was the most extraordinary.
" Within two months work out instructions for deep sea
fishing and the improvement of processing fish; take meas-
ures for the amelioration and the breeding of fish. Signed
Rikoff."

The editorials of all papers recommended applying the
following most important measures under all circum-
stances: " Fight for the extreme development of counter-
plans," " stimulate social competition and shock work,"
" form shock brigades, planning groups, rationalization
brigades," " organize light cavalry attacks " and so on, with-
out end.

Under all these measures, offered by the government
and by alert reporters, actually lay the same idea of " shock
work " overtime work of hungry and exhausted people.

" Counter-plan " meant an irresponsible increase of al-
ready impossible assignments. " Brigades," " cavalry " and
so forth were similar evidence of interference in the busi-
ness by completely ignorant but extremely self-assured
" Komsomoltsi ," who did no work themselves, but engaged
in " self-criticism," which was directed to those who really
worked under insuperable difficulties.

Then came the arrests of specialists of all ranks and

70 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

classes, in all branches of industry, in the provinces and at
the " Centre " arrests carried out at such a pace that the
GPU appeared to be accomplishing its own Piatiletka at
" shock " speed and to the full capacity of the prisons. The
papers seldom wrote about the arrests, but everyone knew
that under the headings " Who interferes with the supply
of vegetables? " " Why is prosecution inactive?" were con-
cealed arrests of scores and hundreds of people. Electrical
engineers, chemists, experts of any prominence in rubber,
agronomy and geology, all were being arrested. In August
almost all the staff of the Caspian (State Planning Com-
mission) were arrested, and at the head of the list was the
first vice-president, Professor Ossadchim, who at the " mine
trial " had been the public prosecutor.

In this way, by the fall of 1930, the end of the second
year oi the Piatilcfka, the country had been reduced to
such a shortage in consumers' goods, man power and the
necessities of life, that not only the development of con-
struction activity was unthinkable, but it was becoming im-
possible to live or work normally. Everyone felt that the
impossible pace adopted would bring ruin. The Govern-
ment, however, instead of realizing this and calling a halt
to try to find some reasonable way out of the situation,
strove with hysterical outbursts and relentless obstinacy
to increase the pace still more, hiding behind knowingly
false figures of fictitious " attainments " and " victories."
Its wrath, fanned by the consciousness of its own helpless-
ness and defeat, was directed against the peasantry and
those experts who were working most actively. The short-
ages and all other failures were laid at their door by the
authorities in an effort to incite the workmen against them.
But the workmen remained indifferent to this campaign.
The country, to the victorious cries of " fulfillment " and
" overfulfilment," was plunging into complete poverty
and disastrous famine.

THE BLACK CROWS MOVE 71

Everywhere the approach of something ominous was
being felt. Communists and experts close to Communists
who held positions of importance in the fishing industry
were hurriedly leaving Moscow. They sensed something,
or rather knew something, about the impending destruc-
tion of their comrades, and somebody's benevolent hand
led them away from the place which was destined to be
shelled.

Kryshoff, a Communist and senior director of the fishing
industry since the beginning of the Revolution, found time
before his departure to publish an interview in the " Izves-
tia " of August 2, 1930, obviously meant for the enlighten-
ment of the GPU. In this interview, without mentioning
him by name, he clearly pointed to Michael Alexandro-
vitch KazakofF, accusing him of favoring the idea of pri-
vately owned fisheries and, by the measures he put through
for fish preservation, of intentionally interfering with the
development of the State fishing industry. It had been Kaza-
kofF, one of the leaders in the fishing industry, whose offer
that I take charge of the planning division had resulted
in my being engaged in the work at Murmansk. Kryshoff
knew well that under Soviet conditions it was impossible
for Kazakoff to refute such a libel as his. It is quite possible
that this denunciation of Kazakoft was in its way a bribe
which Kryshoff gave the GPU, in order to be allowed to
leave the business which he himself had headed for so many
years and for which he should have been the first to be held
responsible.

Kazakoff was an outstanding man. Long before the Rev-
olution he had worked for the preservation of the natural
fish resources of the country. He was the chief factor in
all the fishing conventions drawn up with other countries.
To his brains and energy alone was due the arrangement
that the Bolsheviks succeeded in making with Japan in
regard to fishing rights and this in spite of the impossible

72 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

behavior of the Bolshevik diplomats. He was an expert on
fishing law and had lectured on the subject in the Petrov-
sky Agricultural Institute in Moscow. It was my good for-
tune to be his closest assistant and to work with him in
those conferences on the fishing industry to which he was
called.

The Communist rulers needed someone on whom to
blame the growing shortage of food and so they accused
Kazakoff of being the leader of " wreckers " in the fishing
industry. They could, of course, give no proofs of these
alleged wrecking activities and, therefore, had to resort
to the favorite GPU method of " voluntary confession of
the accused/* No one with the slightest knowledge of the
facts believed this confession, but the desired result was
obtained an honest and incorruptible man, devoted to
his work and his country, was removed from the path of
those in whose way he stood.

On September nth I met him. He asked me: "Aren't
you afraid for yourself? Almost all the prominent experts
of the fishing industry are being arrested and, you know,
you are very much disliked by the Communists/' Just a
few hours before his own arrest, it did not enter his mind
that he also might be in danger.

In the same issue of " Izvestia'' x August 2, 1930, the Red
professor, Communist T. Mesiatseff, tried to prove on the
ground of scientific investigation that the Piatiletka drawn
up for the northern fishing industry was entirely possible
and that up to that time the trawlers had been bringing
in only 5% of the potential catch. Moreover, he tele-
graphed the Fishing Union that fifteen million tons of fish
were available in the fishing region of the Barents Sea
alone. These " discoveries " gave the GPU ample material
to consider as " wreckers " all those who spoke of the im-

i Izvestia is the Russian word for " news." This newspaper is the
official organ of the Soviet Government. TRANSLATOR.

THE BLACK CROWS MOVE 73

possibility of fulfilling the Piatiletka in the north. This
blow was directed chiefly against my friend, V. K. Tolstoy.

Then began a series of arrests of members of the Fishing
Union and the Scientific Institute of Fishing Economy.
The first one in the latter organization was that of seventy-
year old T. G. Farmanoff, a scientist and expert of the Insti-
tute and professor of the Agricultural Academy.

His arrest happened as this kind of thing always happens
in the U.S.S.R. One day the expert does not turn up at
his office, and the more apprehensive of his co-workers im-
mediately begin to worry. The optimists are reassuring:
" What of it? Perhaps he's only sick." His home is called
on the telephone, and the answer comes in ambiguous
terms: " He can't come." Then it is clear he has been
arrested. After that everyone refers to him with a certain
wariness and avoids his unoccupied desk, which alone
serves as a reminder that the man is still living and as yet
not even dropped from the list of employees. His wife or
mother waits in vain at the closed door of some influential
Communist in the naive hope of finding in him a protector
for the husband or son arrested by the GPU. " He knew
my husband so well; he visited us. It's impossible that he
will do nothing. . . ." 2

Then followed, one after the other, the arrests of many
more. Rumors were circulating of the complete havoc
caused in all regional fishing trusts.

In the Scientific Institute one of the first to be arrested
was the scientist P. M. Fishson, a prominent expert in fish-

2 After the arrest of T. G. Farmanoft, in the summer of 1930, I heard
nothing of him until the summer ot 1931, when at the Solovetzki con-
centration camp I found out that he was there on Popoff Island serving a
sentence of ten years in connection with the case of the " 48." His name had
never been mentioned either in the newspapers or in the text of the ar-
raignment and sentence. During his first days in prison he had been
stricken by paralysis and lost the use of his legs; he was not present at
his own " trial," and was sentenced to ten years' hard labor without any
charge having been made against him.

74 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

ing economy. Calm, controlled and loyal to his work, he
had kept entirely away from politics, avoiding even the
most ordinary conversations on political subjects. A few
days later his brother, G. M. Fishson, one of the foremost
workers in the Fishing Union, was also arrested. In con-
trast to his brother, G. M. Fishson was full of life and en-
ergy; he worked with flaming enthusiasm and never spared
himself, in spite of being ill with tuberculosis. I met him
on the eve of his arrest. He was depressed by his brother's
arrest, was thinking only of him and had given no thought
to the danger with which he himself might be threatened.

And still the arrests continued. As soon as night fell the
" black crows " (large closed GPU automobiles) would
rush roaring through the streets in all parts of Moscow.
But later, in order to be less conspicuous to the terrorized
population, the GPU devised a new system of procedure
whereby at nightfall the " black crows " would be sent to
the various district police stations and there hidden in
back yards. The GPU agents would then go out in groups,
pick up their victims and bring them one by one to the
station. When a party of about thirty prisoners was thus
collected, they would be packed into the automobile and
the " black crow " would rush them to the Lubianka or
Butyrki prison, unload the spoil and hurry back for its
next load of victims.

Strangely enough, those who had not been arrested were
allowed unbelievable freedom of movement in the U.S.S.R.
Thus, in August 1930, my good friend Tolstoy left on a
business trip for Baku, whence, if he had so wished, he
might easily have escaped to Persia. During his absence the
GPU visited his apartment, not knowing that he was away.
Evidently they had not been watching the movements of
this " state criminal connected with the international bour-
geoisie," were not worried about his possible escape, and
were in no hurry to detain him after his return to Moscow,

THE BLACK CROWS MOVE 75

where he continued to work in the Scientific Institute up
to the very day of his arrest, September 12th. And even
during his last days of freedom, Frumkin, the chiet of the
Fishing Union, was constantly calling on him for advice.
At that very time the GPU had already prepared " testi-
monies " dated September 9th which '" exposed " Tolstoy
as the initiator and leader of " wrecking activities " in the
Northern and Azof-Black Sea regions.

S. D. Shaposhnikoff, engineer and expert oi the Scien-
tific Institute, the foremost autlioiity in the U.S.S.R. on
refrigeration for the fishing industry, was about to leave for
America to study the rehigeratioii business there. The
GPU gave him a permit to leave and then arrested him at
the railway station.

Arrested during these same days was Professor M. T.
Nazarevski, 3 arid a little later A. A. Klykoff, a well-known
expert in the field ol marketing.

So many arrests were being made in the fishing industry
that by the middle ot September there was nobody left
to do any work. In the Fishing Union the experts were re-
placed by workmen; in the Scientific Institute the desks
were left unoccupied and there were some offices left with-
out a single occupant. Those who remained wandered
around aimlessly, expecting to be arrested at any minute.

3 Professor Nazarevski was deported for a term of ten years to the
Solovetzki concentration tamp.

CHAPTER IX
48 TO BE SHOT

I

HAVE no power to describe what I felt after the arrests
of my fellow-workers. I knew that I was standing over an
abyss and that there was nothing I could do. The fact that
I was still free was pure chance and could only be explained
by inefficiency on the part of the GPU, which did not have
my name on its lists merely because I had just recently
arrived in Moscow from the provinces.

Not knowing which way to turn in the midst of this con-
fusion, I demanded a leave of absence. Evidently the Com-
munist chiefs must have been affected by the general con-
fusion arid have let their natural suspicions lapse, for I was
granted this leave and went at once to Leningrad to rejoin
my family.

I had no hope for a favorable outcome of the cases of my
associates and co-workers in the fishing industry, for I knew
that the GPU, in depriving the country of indispensable
specialists, was acting according to instructions received
from the Political Bureau. Nevertheless, it was a shock
to me when I saw in the morning paper on the 2 2nd
of September the following headlines printed in huge
letters:

"THE DISCLOSURE OF A COUNTER-REVOLU-
TIONARY ORGANIZATION OF WRECKERS OF
THE WORKMEN'S FOOD SUPPLY SYSTEM."

48 TO BE SHOT 77

And below in smaller, but sufficiently prominent type:

" The GPU has disclosed a counter-revolutionary,
wrecking and spying organization within the system sup-
plying the population with the most essential food prod-
ucts (meat, fish, canned foods, vegetables), which had for
its aim the producing of famine in the country and the
causing of dissatisfaction among the workers thereby at-
tempting to precipitate the downfall of the dictatorship
of the proletariat. The following institutions were con-
taminated by this wrecking activity: (he Meat Union, Fish-
ing Union, Canning Union, Vegetable Union and the cor-
responding branches of the Commissariat of Trade.

" The counter-revolutionary organization was headed
by Professor Riazantseff, former land-owner and Major-
General, and Professor Karatigin, before the Revolution
chief editor of the ' Trade and Industrial Paper ' and the
'Financial News.' The members of the counter-revolution-
ary organizations in their majority belong to the nobility,
are former Tsarist officers and supply corps men, former
fishing industrialists, manufacturers and Socialists-Men-
sheviki.

" This counter-revolutionary wrecking organization was
in close contact with the While emigration and representa-
tives of foreign capital, receiving from them financial aid
and directions. This organization is now completely ex-
posed.

" The case has been handed over to the GPU."

Below this announcement followed the " confessions "
and " testimony " of the accused men, in which the most
prominent professors, scientists and specialists of the coun-
try told in an incoherent and contradictory manner of the
" wrecking " activity, of their attempt to produce famine

78 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

in the country, of receiving for their " wrecking work "
money from abroad in mysterious and incomprehensible
ways. These statements were simply incredible. From the
point of view of evidence they were absurd.

In that part of the " incriminating " material, presented
by the GPU, which dealt with the leaders of the " organi-
zation " there was not a single document proving the stated
" facts "; everything was based on " voluntary confessions,"
but these not only did not confirm the " facts," but on the
contrary contradicted them as well as each other. At the
same time one could not find in any of the "confessions"
an indication of the slightest desire on the part of the
" guilty " to reduce the extent of their " crime " or to shift
it to others; on the contrary, every one of them sought to
emphasize that he had played an important, leading and
active iole in this " wrecking" organization. Each one, ap-
parently, endeavored to do everything possible to further
his own conviction and execution and made no attempt to
shield others they all named many persons and gave
many " facts."

It is difficult to say by what means such " confessions "
and " testimony " were obtained. Although the true pic-
ture of this terrible case will probably never be revealed,
one thing is clear that all the information published by
the GPU bore the unmistakable sign of careless and cyni-
cal falsification. The " testimony " of the rank and file
members of the " organization " is of such chaotic nature,
that not only is it hard to analyze, but in many instances it
is incomprehensible. Evidently, its main purpose was to
show concretely what "wrecking" was and to explain the
reason why the country suffered famine when the Piatiletka
was supposed to be progressing so successfully.

Deprived even of a chance of defending themselves in a
Soviet court these scientists had been blamed and arrested
because of the very apparent failure of the Five Year Plan

48 TO BE SHOT 79

in the food industries. After the publishing of the inco-
herent and contradictory materials everybody expected a
summing up by the prosecution and a report from the
GPU which might throw more light on the whole case.
But events moved too swiftly. The very same day that the
" materials " appeared in the papers, workmen and em-
ployees of all enterprises and institutions of the U.S.S.R.
were ordered to attend meetings at which they were forced
to vote for resolutions calling for the execution of " all the
wreckers."

At such meetings not only the voicing of a protest against
possible injustice in the accusation or the expressing of a
doubt as to the fairness of GPU procedure, but the merest
question which might seem suspicious or the failure to
vote for the resolution submitted invariably led to loss of
work and often to imprisonment and deportation. 1 There-
fore, the resolutions concerning the " wrecking organiza-
tion " were unanimously approved, although it must be
said, to the honor of Leningrad workmen, that all the meet-
ings did not proceed smoothly. I later met one of these
workmen who was serving a prison term because his be-
havior at such a meeting had been judged unreliable by
the authorities.

On September 2$rd and 24th the newspapers were filled
with the resolutions so heartily approved at the meetings,
as well as with disgusting articles, rhymes and cartoons all
demanding the death penalty. Obviously the GPU was pre-
paring for an execution.

On September 25th appeared the announcement from
the GPU:

" The Council of the GPU having by order of the
U.S.S.R. Government investigated the case of the counter-

i The woid " deportation," as used by the author, does not mean the
act of sending a person out of the country, but rather commitment to a
concentration camp, or exile to some remote district of the U.S.S.R.
TRANSLATOR.

8o I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

revolutionary wrecking organization in the field of public
supply of food products, the materials on which case have
been published in the 'Pravda' on September 22, 1930,
condemns (then followed a list of the names of forty-eight
professors, scientists and experts) .... TO BE SHO T.
" The sentence has been carried out.

(( President of the OGPU Menzhinsky."

Such a monstrous slaughter was beyond belief forty-
eight of Russia's foremost scientists had been shot without
trial. The most pessimistically inclined could not have
imagined anything so horrible.

All those who had been executed were without excep-
tion " non-party " experts of the food industries, holding
positions of responsibility in the central institutions in
Moscow and those who had been directing the activity of
Trusts and other big enterprises in the provinces. It was a
list of administrative posts rather than of private indi-
viduals. Those in high positions who were spared were
Communists. If a certain important position was being
held by a Communist, the " non-party " expert who had
held it previously was executed. If the post had been occu-
pied by a Communist for a long time, he had been re-
placed just before this case came up by a " non-party " man
who became one of the " 48."

A large number of those executed I knew personally,
others I knew by reputation. Among my friends and co-
workers prominently associated with the fishing industry
and shot as members of the " 48 " were the following:

V. K. Tolstoy The former director of the Northern
and the Azof-Black Seas regions, whose story I have al-
ready given. 2

M. A. Kazakoff An outstanding leader in the fishing

2 The Communist who held this position at the time of the arrests was
spared.

48 TO BE SHOT 81

industry whose record and achievements I have already
stated. He was accused of being the " leader of the wreckers
in the fishing industry."

P. M. Fishson Inspector of the State Fishing Industry. 8

G. M. Fishson One of the foremost workers in the
Fishing Union.

N. A . Ergomysheff A prominent expert and director
of the Far-Eastern Region.

M. P. Artsiboosheff An expert who was made director
of the Volga-Caspian Region just before his arrest.

P. /. KarpofJ The foremost Russian expert in the
manufacture of fishing equipment, who for many years had
directed the manufacture of fishing nets for the whole of
the U.S.S.R. and was the technical director of the Setesnast
(Fishing Equipment Trust) . Although his name was not
mentioned in the " materials ' published on September
22nd, he was executed as one of the " 48 " seemingly be-
cause of his past.

S. D. Shaposhnikoff The most prominent refrigeration
specialist in the Russian fishing industry. His name was
not inserted in the " arraignment," and in the official list
of those executed, instead of a statement of his crime, the
following short announcement was made: " Engineer,
former owner of a refrigeration enterprise." In sentencing
such prominent experts to death the GPU did not even
deem it necessary to mention a reason for their execution.

S. V. Scherbakoff The creator of the northern trawl-
ing enterprise and leader of the men working in the North
State Fishing Trust. He had been arrested in March at the
time when my quarters in Murmansk were searched. 4 I

3 The senior director in the production department of the Fishing
Union, the Communist G. A. Kryshoff, whose work Fishson had often done,
was spared.

* Krotoff, who had been arrested with Scherbakoff in Murmansk in the
spring of 1930, could never have been guilty of any crime. A more honest
and conscientious man was not to be found and he never concerned him-

82 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

cannot think of him without emotion. No one who worked
with Scherbakoff can ever forget him. Here is his story:

Of peasant origin from the Astrakhan district, Simeon
Vassilievitch Scherbakoff learned to read and write in a
village school and at the age of ten got a job as " boy " in
one of the fisheries owned by the big firm of Bezzubikoff.
There he rose to the position of manager of the northern
section of the firm. Calmly and confidently he conducted
this large fishing business, no part of which belonged to
him and from which he received only a very modest salary.
He accepted the Revolution as calmly as he met everything
else in life. He had begun life too early and had seen too
much of it to be moved by anything that could happen.
After the Revolution he accepted new work without loss
of time, because work in the fisheries was his only interest.

Industrious and endowed with exceptional ability, he
was a man of the highest character in every way. He had
no personal ambitions or interests; at home and in his office
he lived exclusively for his work. Although he had received
no education, he was able to solve in his head the most
complicated problems; he understood perfectly the in-
tricacies of bookkeeping; he kept up-to-date in his reading
of specialized literature, sensed by extraordinary intuition
what of it was valuable and then boldly introduced it into
his own enterprise. While directing the whole business and

self with questions of general policy. However, as he was the second in
command in the North State Fishing Trust, he had to be removed to
strengthen the accusation of " wrecking activity." Alter the execution of
the " 48," he was held for another half year in prison and subjected to the
most cruel tortures in an attempt to force him to denounce those ol his
fellow -workers who were still alive. He became very sick with scurvy, suf-
fered from hallucinations and was almost insane. 1 was told that under
the strain of terrible suffering, completely exhausted and yearning for
death he finally wrote the fatal words. " I admit myself guilty." The cross-
examiners could not force him to denounce others. He was shot in April

48 TO BE SHOT 83

rebuilding it, he never lost touch with the production end
and knew the current life of the entire enterprise down to
the last detail.

He was the only one who was able to go on working with
two Communists continually on his neck the president
of the Trust and his assistant with incessant interference
into his business matters by the GPU, and with every dis-
gruntled workman using libel and false accusation against
him as weapons of revenge. All this he was able to regard
coolly as unavoidable difficulties of the trade, like the bad
weather and storms which forced the trawlers to remain in
the harbor. It must be said that the Bolsheviks forgave
those of us for our education received in a formal way
much more easily than they did him. It was unpleasant for
many of them to come into contact with his sound mind
and clean conscience; therefore, he was one of the first to
perish at their hands, although he could in no way be
ranked as a " class enemy."

In every section of the industry one non-party expert,
the most prominent, had been shot and, in the published
list of the executed, after each name, stood the notation:
" Leader of wrecking activity in such and such a Trust.
. . ." This left the way open for a further " uncovering "
of their " followers." But there were twelve experts who,
in the testimony, had figured as participants in the wreck-
ing organization, whose names did not appear in the fatal
list of the " 48." Concerning these the GPU made no com-
ment; they did not feel obliged to explain in any way why
these men, previously accused of being " wreckers," had
been replaced by others at the time of execution.

By the execution of the " 48 " the Soviet Government
demonstrated to the whole world that there is no justice
in the U.S.S.R., that whenever it finds it suited to its wishes
it can send anyone to death and that the citizens of the

84 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

U.S.S.R. not only will not dare to raise their voices in pro-
test, but at a word of command will give their votes of ap-
proval of such slaughter and of their gratitude to the GPU.

The day after the executions I met one of the technical
experts of the fishing business. He was very depressed. As
nobody could overhear us we spoke openly of what lay on
our minds.

" Whose turn is it now? I feel it will be mine. Well, let
them go ahead I'm only sorry for the children," he said,
as he looked at his watch. " I must be going now/'

" Where to? " I asked.

"General meeting to express contempt for the exe-
cuted, to voice disapproval of wrecking activities and to
vote that the GPU be awarded the ' Order of Lenin ' for
its good work! You'd better come, too/'

I expressed my thoughts with a glance and shrugged my
shoulders.

" I advise you to go," he said seriously. " Why be quix-
otic? Believe me, your absence will be noticed."

We parted. I never saw him again.

CHAPTER X
REAL WRECKERS OF RUSSIA

D

ESPAIR and panic ensued. No one thought of work;
everyone feared for his own life, expecting at any moment
to be seized and to see his friends and relatives arrested.
The Communist chiefs recommended calmness, assuring
us all that those left free were safe, but their efforts were
in vain. Nobody believed them. It was too well known that
the termination of a trial, the announcement of a sentence
and even the fearful words " carried out " do not mean,
in the U.S.S.R., the end of arrests, but are only preludes
to more repressions and executions.

The sentence itself contained clear indications that it
was only the beginning. In the announcement of the exe-
cution of many of the " 48 " the GPU had stated: " leader
of a group of wreckers in such and such a trust," " initiator
of wrecking activity in such and such a region." It was clear
that now they would go after the participants of these
" groups " and " organizations " which they had " discov-
ered." Realizing, as we did, that no such groups or organi-
zations had ever existed, we did not feel secure from arrest
simply in the knowledge of our own innocence.

Subsequent events quickly proved that the case was being
carried on further, that the Political Bureau and the GPU
were not satisfied with the number of victims they had
already sent to their deaths. A second " weeding out " proc-
ess in all those institutions mentioned in connection with
the case of the " 48 " was announced, in spite of the fact

86 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

that, in the summer of 1930, before the arrest of the " 48,"
a drastic " weeding out," with the active participation of
the GPU, had already been effected. At that time they had
found the very ones who were later shot in connection
with the case of the " 48 " to be loyal workers. The new
" weeding out " was to serve the special purpose of expos-
ing the " concealed accomplices of the wreckers/' At meet-
ings held for this purpose the GPU not only gained new
victims but also collected more evidence against those al-
ready detained in prisons. It was a great temptation to
those still at liberty, for by actively coming forward at these
meetings to denounce their fellow-workers they could thus
gain a reputation for reliability in the eyes of the GPU.
There were some who basely succumbed to this temptation,
while others, fearing for their skins, went even further.
Thus Professor F. I. Baranoff came out with a base and
libelous article in the magazine " Bulletin of Fishing Econ-
omy," under the title of " Lessons of Wrecking " wherein
he attempted to prove that "as he now understands" it
the work of those executed had been of a " wrecking na-
ture " and that those who had opposed his scientific work
had done so with only one purpose " wrecking." *

It was not long before new arrests were made in all the
institutions and enterprises of the food industry in Moscow
as well as in the provinces. In the Institute of Fishing Econ-
omy Professor N. N. Alexandroff, A. F. Nevraeff and a
number of other employees were arrested; in the Direc-
torate of Fisheries, the well-known experts, S. A. Tikhenko
and S. I. Parakhin; while in the Fishing Union there re-
mained not one of the old employees. And similar arrests,

i As I was later to discover, Professor Baranoff had originally been
one of the chief suspects in the case of " wrecking " in the Institute of
Fishing Economy, but by his subsequent activity and his false condemnation
of his fellow-workers he succeeded in saving his life and winning a " par-
don " from the GPU. When last I heard of him he was still carrying on
his professorial work in safety.

REAL WRECKERS OF RUSSIA 87

all of more or less prominent specialists and employees,
were taking place in the provinces.

By the autumn of 1930 the disruption of the fishing in-
dustry in all its branches scientific, administrative, pro-
duction and distribution was complete. Of the old staff
of experts there were left only units and these made up
mostly of men who had carefully avoided taking part in
practical work, of a few good practical workers spared by
chance because they held secondary positions and, finally,
of individuals connected with the GPU.

Such Communists as had succeeded since the Revolution
in acquiring some education and some knowledge of the
fishing business, due to their work in contact with special-
ists, were also being removed and transferred to other
positions. Such were the cases of Frumkin, Kryshoff , Babkin
and many others. The entire industry was handed over into
" proletarian " hands, that is, into the hands of men who
knew nothing about the business. The results were what
might have been expected and were felt almost imme-
diately.

I cannot here give a complete statement of the havoc
wrought in the fishing industry some future historian
will, no doubt, be able to do it much better than I could.
I can only say that during the short period of 1930-31, out
of the scientists and highly qualified specialists in the fish-
ing industry whom I knew personally or of whose fate I
have been definitely informed, twenty-six were shot and
thirty-four deported to concentration camps. Many more
whom I did not know were either killed or deported at
this same time. In the Far East alone five were shot and
sixty sentenced to hard labor.

Without any doubt the systematic destruction of the
remaining specialists and men of culture is even now being
continued in the U.S.S.R. No disaster, no epidemic, no
war could destroy with such selection the cream of experi-

88 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

enced and active workers in the industries which the GPU
attacked. This wholesale destruction of specialists could
not fail to have fatal results for the fishing business. In
spite of the large sums of money spent by the Bolsheviks
and the enormous efforts exerted to develop the industry,
it was broken down at the root by this mass destruction of
specialists in 1930-31, and all endeavors later to revive it
were defeated because of the absence of men with a knowl-
edge of the business.

The same conditions prevailed, in general, in all the
industries of the U.S.S.R. I specifically mention the fishing
industry of the north only because I know it so well, but
it presents no exception and was only in line with the
other industries in all parts of the country.

The Bolsheviks for the second time were leading a rich
and prosperous country into terrible poverty and dreadful
famine. " Wrecking " did, indeed, exist, but it was wreck-
ing of unbelievable proportions, preplanned by the organi-
zation headed by Stalin, the Political Bureau and the GPU,
together with their thousands of branches, called nuclei,
of the Communist Party.

A time will come when these real wreckers will have
judgment passed upon them by a true court of justice.

PART TWO
WE ARE PRISONERS IN LENINGRAD

CHAPTER XI
ARREST

.FTER the execution of the " 48 " I knew that sooner
or later I too would be arrested. In the order for their exe-
cution V. K. Tolstoy, my best friend, was designated as the
" leader of wrecking activities in the North Region," while
S. V. Scherbakoff, the man closest to me among the workers
of the Trust, was described as " the head of the counter-
revolutionary organization in the North State Fishing
Trust." And now that these accused " leaders " had been
done away with, the " organization " itself must somewhere
be found. Since it did not exist, the most likely people in
the opinion of the GPU would be accused. Besides Scher-
bakoff, the only arrest yet made in the North State Fishing
Trust had been that of K. I. Krotoff who had been in prison
now for more than half a year but this was evidently not
enough for an " organization." There remained four spe-
cialists holding executive positions: Scriabin, the engineers
K. and P., and myself. Scriabin might possibly be spared
since his father, a peasant, had once been exiled by the
Tsarist Government. The engineers K. and P. did not
quite fit the role of members of the " organization " as they
were already serving a sentence of hard labor, having been
sold to the Trust by the GPU. And since the GPU was re-
ceiving income for their work, it would have been foolish
to lose it by accusing them for a second time.

It was therefore clear that I would be the next victim.
I would either be sent to Solovki or executed there

gs? I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

could be no other alternative. Life was finished for me.
What would happen to my wife and my boy eleven
years old for whom there had been tragedy enough
already?

Bewildered and not knowing what I should do, I de-
cided definitely not to go back to Murmansk. What had I
to lose? I might look for work in the provinces, take my
family with me and try to escape across the border. In
applying for such work I must, if possible, make it appear
that I did not want to be assigned to a frontier region;
otherwise the GPU would never permit me to work in such
a place. I discussed this with my wife. It seemed the only
way out. But the accomplishing of such a scheme took time
and dismal days of waiting followed.

I shunned mankind. Any contact with a man in my posi-
tion might prove dangerous. If by chance I met acquaint-
ances, they passed me by in a panic. The few who did stop
to assure me of their sympathy stressed the fact that in spite
of everything they were not avoiding me.

Each evening, when the boy was in bed, my wife and I
would sit together for a long time waiting. We never
spoke of it, but we both knew for what we were waiting and
that these might be our last hours together. Nearly a month
had elapsed since the executions. Many people had been
imprisoned. Why was I being spared? Sometimes I even
felt ashamed that I had not yet been arrested. How had I
earned the mercy of the executioners, I who had not taken
part in a single meeting at which the so-called " wreckers "
had been denounced?

It happened at last, and very simply.

I was at home alone. My son had gone to the " movies "
he, too, was restless and nervous. My wife had not yet
come home from work.

The bell rang. I opened the door and saw the house

TATIANA TCHERNAVIN

THE AUTHOR'S WIFE

We determined

to escape together 3

ARREST 93

superintendent with a stranger in civilian dress. I under-
stood.

The stranger handed me a paper the order for search
and arrest.

I let him in.

He entered the room which served as both bedroom and
study and began the search. It was a very superficial one,
only a formality. From the mass of papers and manuscripts
in my desk he took only one notebook lying on top.

When my wife came home the search was finished and
I was preparing for my " journey ": two changes of under-
wear, a pillow, a blanket, a few pieces of sugar and several
apples there was no other food in the house. I changed
my clothes.

" I am ready," I said to the GPU agent, thinking to my-
self, " ready for death."

It was a long time before they took me away. The prison
vans were so busy.

I will not attempt to describe those last minutes I
cannot, even now.

In the prison van I was alone, though ten or twelve peo-
ple could easily have been placed in it. I must be an impor-
tant criminal. Through the small barred window in front
I could see the backs of the chauffeur and the guard and
catch glimpses of familiar houses and streets which I was
seeing for the last time.

Here is the Palace Bridge. Now comes the decisive mo-
ment where am I being taken to the prison on the
Gorokhovaya or to the Shpalernaya? We stop. The van
doors are opened. Now I will be dragged out! The street is
empty. At the gateway stand two men in leather jackets;
their loud voices echo down the street. The air is warm and
damp a light breeze coming from the sea. We halt for
some time. We must have stopped for another passenger.
He is hustled in and we start again. The new one sits op-

94 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

posite me all hunched up, holding his belongings in his
lap. His face is drawn and frightened.

We are taken along the Millionnaya, the quay. We turn
to the Shpalernaya and stop in front of the " House of Pre-
liminary Detention." The gates are open; the guards inter-
rupt their rough talk to order us out.

" Get along! "

We climbed out and up some stairs. The office of the
prison was dirty and reeked of tobacco. I waited while my
companion filled out his questionnaire. The GPU clerk
put the questions lazily and indifferently; my companion
answered in the manner of a diligent pupil loudly and
with great readiness, looking his inquisitor straight in the
eyes. From his tone it was clear to me that he was sure of
his innocence and convinced that his arrest was a misunder-
standing.

" How many times have you been arrested? " growled the
clerk.

" This is the first time."

" Have you been in court before? "

" No, no, of course not! "

He sounded excited, nearly joyous, as though he thought
he could never be held after such good answers.

He was led away. No attention was paid to me and I
waited a long time. At last they gave me a questionnaire to
fill in by myself. This is better than answering oral ques-
tions one has time to think. I was especially glad of this
because I had on my mind one sin against the Soviet au-
thority I had concealed the fact of having seen military
service. I must not give myself away.

" Did you serve in the Old Army? " " No."

" Have you served in the Red Army? " " No."

In answering the first question I lied, as I had served
during the War. I signed under the statement that I knew

ARREST 95

the penalties for false testimony. What did it matter?
Things could not be worse and I must fight to the end.

I was taken upstairs to the fourth floor and on the land-
ing they searched me and took away my necktie, braces,
garters and shoe-strings to prevent suicide. It was disa-
greeable to be left in such an untidy state. After all, one can
hang himself with trousers more easily than with a necktie.

One of the men who searched me was good-natured and
treated me with some sympathy. He saw the apples I had
brought.

" These aren't allowed, but, well, keep them. How about
your bag? Well, take it, and get into your cell quickly! "

The other warden returned.

" Take him to No. 22."

The clock in the corridor showed 3 A.M. It would soon
be morning.

CHAPTER XII
CELL 22

I

T was almost dark in the cell. At the noise of the open-
ing door a man in underclothes got up from a nearby cot
and, without paying any attention to me, spoke reproach-
fully to the warden.

" Comrade, you promised not to give us any more; I
have nowhere to put them. There are less than a hundred
men in No. 20, and here we have a hundred and eight/*

" We are also adding to No. 20," replied the warden in-
differently, turning the key in the enormous lock.

The man in the underclothes turned to me. " Take off
your things, Comrade, and hang your coat over there/* he
said, pointing to a nail near the door, already overloaded
with coats and jackets.

I took off my overcoat and threw it in a corner near
the grill.

As soon as my eyes became accustomed to the darkness
I looked about the cell. It was a large, almost square room
with a floor area of some seventy square meters. The ceil-
ing, slightly arched, was supported in the middle by two
thin, metal columns. Opposite the entrance were two
grilled windows.

A platform raised about forty centimeters from the floor
covered the entire cell. On this platform lay sleeping fig-
ures: along the side walls two rows with heads to walls and
feet inward, in the midle two rows with heads to the center.
Between every two rows was a narrow passage, but in places

CELL 22

where tall men lay there was no way of getting by. At
right angles to these a fifth row lined the wall adjoining the
corridor. No passageway whatever was left here.

Some of the men raised themselves and stared at me with
curiosity.

" In this passage, to the left, under the boarding, the
third place is unoccupied. Lie down there," said the man
in the underclothes. " If they won't let you in, insist.
There's room enough."

" What do you mean, under the boarding? " I asked
him.

" Why yes, on the floor under the boarding," he re-
peated.

I took a few steps forward to the spot pointed out to me
and was amazed to find that on the floor there was a lower
layer of sleeping bodies. To squeeze myself into it seemed
impossible; I decided to return to the door.

" What's the matter, Comrade? "

" If you permit I will stay here till morning. It's too
crowded there and I don't want to disturb the sleeping
men."

" Well, we must think up some arrangement for you.
Have you just come from freedom? It shows. I've been here
nine months already. Engineer L ," he introduced him-
self.

I also gave my name.

" By the way, I'll enter you in the book," he said, " I had
thought I'd wait till morning. I'm the foreman of this cell
and I've kept this book for four months. See how many
names! Thousands have passed through the cell."

" A curious document," I remarked, " a good memorial
for posterity."

" Remember your number, you are logth, and now come,
I will show you a place, but it's near the toilet. And please
be quiet. Not even whispering's allowed at night. Rules

9 8 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

are posted on the column, read them to-morrow or you
may be fined."

We squeezed our way along the rows of men to the very
wall. In the corner, next to the toilet were two cots, close
together, occupied by two sleeping men.

" Lie down here," said the foreman, " it's a good place;
the toilet is near, but the windows are open all night."

With difficulty I crawled underneath the cots, arranged
my pillow on the floor between them and stretched myself
on my back. The two cots above almost touched each other;
it was possible to pass one's head between them but not the
shoulders. To sit up was impossible. A heavy, disgusting
smell was spreading along the floor from the toilet seat
which was not more than a yard from my head; a pile of
stinking sawdust almost touched my pillow. Several men
stood in line in front of the toilet.

I felt very badly, a degrading helplessness was overcom-
ing me. It was impossible to sleep, impossible either to get
up or sit up, and there was nowhere to move as the whole
floor was taken up by sleeping bodies. To save my pillow
I pulled it down onto my knees, stuck my head out between
the cots and leaned my shoulders against the wall. Dark,
crawling dots were moving over the pillow in all directions.

So began my prison education. For a novice it was quite
enough.

Morning came at last. The cell began to wake up. Those
who occupied the twenty-two cots were getting up cau-
tiously and approaching the lavatory in a line. All the
others remained in their places, although apparently the
majority of them were awake. Evidently everything was
being done according to a strict routine.

A command resounded from some distance along the
corridor.

" Get up! Get up! Time to get up! " And as it was re-
peated, it came nearer.

CELL 22 99

The foreman got up and in a dry voice commanded:
"Get up! Smoke! "

The cell became alive with motion and noise: talk,
laughter, quarrelling. Smoke from hand-rolled cigarettes
no others were permitted rose on every side. Long
lines were formed in front of the toilet and lavatory. Now
I could see how such a quantity of people had found room
there during the night. It certainly was a clever arrange-
ment.

The whole cell, except where the twenty-two folding
cots were disposed at opposite walls, was covered by wooden
boarding, the ends of which rested on low supports. On the
top boarding slept the upper layer, under it, on the floor,
a similar layer. All had straw mattresses a luxury in
prison. It was impossible for those lying underneath to turn
over, much less to sit up. Only after the top row had risen
and the boarding had been removed could those beneath
begin to move about and stretch their cramped bodies.

When morning came the boards and mattresses were
taken up and stacked. Then the general confusion became
such that it seemed utterly impossible that order could ever
be restored. The boards and mattresses were taken out for
the day into an empty pasageway adjoining the cells. This
was done by the prisoners themselves with extraordinary
efficiency and speed. Once these were removed the chaos
subsided somewhat; there remained, however, 109 men
in a cell seventy meters square, part of which was taken up
by the toilet, lavatory, cupboard for metal mugs and soup
bowls and the personal belongings of the prisoners.

I attempted to approach the washstand, but was told that
I must wash last in accordance with the order of entry into
the cell. Evidently everything here required special train-
ing and exact determination of rights and duties, but be-
fore I had time to learn and understand the rules of the
cell I was summoned to my first examination.

CHAPTER XIII
" YOU WILL BE THE 4gTH "

.CHERNAVIN! "

My name was called loudly from the other side of the
grill. A passage-way was made for me and as I walked
through the cell the eyes of my companions followed me
with curiosity a newcomer. At the door stood a prison
guard, a Red Army soldier. He repeated my name.

" Tchernavin? "

" Yes."

" First name and father's name? "

" Vladimir Vyacheslavovich," I replied.

" Get going! to the examining officer! "

One of the prisoners stopped me and whispered hur-
riedly, " You are being taken to examination. Take some
food with you, and remember one thing never believe
the examining officer."

I went back and put an apple in my pocket.

" Well, get going! " hurried the guard.

Out into the corridor I went.

Again along stairways, through grilled partitions in
each story, with clanging bolts and grinding doors which
guards shut noisily behind me. The second floor the
lunch-room for examining officers and on the counter im-
ported cigarettes, cakes, sandwiches and fruit. Such a lunch-
room could be found nowhere in the U.S.S.R. except in
the GPU and Kremlin offices. Through another grilled
corridor which led from the lunch -room we marched, the

" YOU WILL BE THE 4gTH " 101

guard following at my heels until he stopped me before a
door and knocked. An indistinct answer came from within.

" Get going," the guard commanded. 1

I opened the door and entered the office. It was a small
room, the size of a solitary cell plain painted walls, a
small office desk in the middle with a chair on either side.
On the desk was an electric lamp with a strong light di-
rected toward the chair to be occupied by the prisoner. It
was morning, but inside the room the dawn could not yet
be felt.

" Good morning," the examining officer greeted me,
calling me by name. " Sit down." He was a young man of
about thirty, fair, pink-cheeked, well-groomed and well-
fed.

" Well, let's talk," he began. " Why do you think you

were arrested? "
" I don't know."
" How is it you don't know? Don't you even have an

idea? "

" I have no idea."

" Think well. Is it possible that you never even thought
you would be arrested? No? Try to remember."

" No."

I was looking straight and firmly into his eyes. I was
thinking no, my friend, you will not catch me on this,

it's too simple.

" No," I repeated again. " I haven't the slightest idea.
I had hoped that you would give me some explanation."

" In good time. Meanwhile, remember that we are in no
hurry; we have no reason for hurrying. An investigation

i In the terse prison language " Get going " has many different mean-
ings, depending upon the words with which it is qualified. " Get going
is often used as a command to go out for exercise; " Get going, with over-
coat, but without things " means being taken to certain torture; while
" Get going, with things " means execution, or, in extremely rare cases,
freedom.

102 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

rarely lasts less than six months, usually nine months, very
often a year. You'll have plenty of time to think things
over. And so, you will not tell me that you were expect-
ing your arrest? "

" No, I didn't expect it."

In this fashion we argued for a long time, still with the
same result.

" Well, maybe later you will become more compliant.
Let's get on to the questionnaire."

He went over all the questions that I had answered the
night before and I replied firmly without contradicting
what I had written he would not trap me here.

"Well! well! a hereditary nobleman and I, the man
questioning you, am a hereditary proletarian," he drawled,
accentuating these words with a ridiculous emphasis as he
lolled in his chair.

I was looking at him and thinking: " probably the son
of a merchant; the face smooth, hands well kept, not
those of a working man; you have never seen work in your
life, and I have had to work with both my head and lianas
since I was sixteen."

" Your attitude towards the Soviet Government? "

" Sympathetic."

He laughed.

" Why not tell the truth? You might better say ' loyal/
this is false."

" I say sympathetic."

" No, I won't enter it on the questionnaire, it's too ab-
surd. Listen, this is a little thing, has no importance. I am
asking this question only in order to verify your sincerity.
Tell me the truth and I will deal with you in the future
with full frankness. Believe me, I sympathize with you
sincerely. We value and take care of specialists, but you do
harm to yourself from the very beginning . . ." he was
speaking in the light tone of a man of society.

" YOU WILL BE THE 49 TH " 103

I have heard all this already at the cross-examinations
in Murmansk I thought and repeated with insist-
ence; " Sympathetic. On what grounds don't you believe
me?"

" I could refuse to answer your question, but to prove
my sincere good will towards you, I will answer. You are
a nobleman, the Soviet Government has deprived you of all
privileges; this alone is sufficient to make you a class enemy,
even disregarding your convictions which are well known
to us in every detail."

" You arc wrong. I have never had a chance to make use
of any privileges of the nobility. I lived on what I earned
myself; my scientific career was not interrupted by the
Revolution. I want to remind you that this same nobility,
his rank of a General and a high position, did not prevent
my own uncle from becoming a loyal servant of the Revo-
lution and a member of the Revolutionary War Council.
You must have heard of him."

, The examining officer kept silent, not knowing how to
jjarry this unexpected move. He waited a few minutes, then
rilled in the questionnaire, " Is in sympathy."

Here at least was one small victory for me.

I understood why he was insisting. If it could be estab-
lished that I belonged to the nobility and was not in sym-
pathy with the Soviet Government, " wrecking activity "
would be a logical deduction.

He made another attempt.

"But you have criticized the actions of the Soviet Gov-
ernment 1 "

" No."

" Again you don't want to be frank, even in a small
matter like this. I will not conceal from you that your situ-
ation is very serious, the evidence against you is very
strong, you are in danger of being shot, but I am sorry
for you. Be frank and I will endeavor to come to terms

104 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

with you. Is it possible that you can assert that you never
criticized the actions of the Soviet Government? "

" Yes, I can."

" What are you doing this for? We Communists, we the
GPU workers, don't we criticize the actions of the Soviet
Government? "

" I don't know. But I never did."

" Let's take an example: didn't the bread lines ever
arouse your indignation? "

" I believed the bread lines were not ' actions of the
Soviet Government.' "

" All right. Let it be as you please." He picked up his
pen. " No, we will not put this down."

" As you see fit."

And here again his way of procedure was quite clear
to me. If I had admitted that I had " criticized " he would
have forced me to say that it had happened more than once,
would have questioned me regarding when and with whom
I had carried on such conversations, and this would give
material for a " frank confession " which would have been
classed according to Article 58, Paragraph 10 as "counter-
revolutionary agitation " punishable by three to ten years
in a concentration camp. The persons I might have men-
tioned would become the " counter-revolutionary organi-
zation," to which would be added the names of those at
whose homes we could have been meeting, and this in its
turn would be interpreted, according to Article 58, Para-
graph 1 1 as " counter-revolutionary propaganda "; the two
points combined would call for the death penalty.

He thought for a while and decided to make one last
attack in the same direction.

" Is it also possible that you never told any anti-Soviet
jokes? "

" No, I don't like jokes."

" And you never heard any? "

" YOU WILL BE THE 4gTH " 105

" No, I never listened to them,"

The face of the examining officer was becoming cruel
and cold. He was looking straight into my eyes, watching
every movement I made.

" And do you know that one should not lie at a cross-
examination? "

" I know. I didn't tell and didn't listen to anti-Soviet
jokes."

We looked at each other suspiciously.

This time my lie was quite apparent: there is not a single
man in Sovietland, high or low, who does not tell such
jokes. It is the only bit of freedom of speech left in the
U.S.S.R., something that cannot be throttled by any cen-
sorship or any terror, in spite of the fact that the spreading
of such anecdotes is punishable as counter-revolutionary
agitation by sentences of ten years in a concentration camp.

" Very well. Your character and your ' sincerity * are clear
to me. We will take it into account during the further
conduct of the investigation. But " he suddenly again
changed his threatening tone to an expression of friendly
and frank advice "I advise you to give good thought
to the way you behaved at this cross-examination. You are
bringing about your own destruction. You belong to the
nobility. We are not persecuting for social origin, but it is
clear to us that you are our class enemy if only on account
of your parentage. We need proofs of your sincere desire
to go with us and not against us," recited the examining
officer repeating words he had probably said hundreds of
times before.

I replied coldly and with reserve that I was guilty of no
crime, that I was quite certain that it was all a misunder-
standing which would soon be cleared up and that I would
be released.

" The GPU," he said, " never makes an arrest without
sufficient grounds, especially in the case of an important

io6 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

specialist working on production. It was only after the evi-
dence had been thoroughly checked and all the facts against
you well appraised that I received authority from the
Council for the search and your arrest."

It was true. My arrest was at least a month late.

" I am not going to submit these facts to you now, be-
cause I want to give you the opportunity to sincerely repent
and yourself give us all the information in detail. Only
under this condition will your life be spared, but in any
case you get ten years in a concentration camp this has
already been decided. You see, I conceal nothing from you,
I give you time to think it over. It's hard to act more hu-
manely."

I kept silent.

He also stopped talking; then, looking me straight in
the eye, he said harshly:

" You will be the igth."

Evidently the first part of the program was completed.
The examining officer looked at his watch. I had com-
pletely lost track of time: the gloomy autumn day was well
advanced. I did not feel hungry, only tired, although I
had had nothing to eat or drink for twenty-four hours.

" Unfortunately I have to leave now. Sign your deposi-
tion." ^ *

I carefully read over the scant information entered on
the official questionnaire, drew lines through all the empty
spaces and signed my name directly after the last word of
my testimony. I knew that empty spaces in lines could
easily be filled in.

He folded the sheet I had signed and put it in his brief-
case.

" I will be back soon. In the meantime prepare a report
on the privileges and duties you had at the institution
where you worked. Then state the most important works
you have recently completed in your laboratories."

" YOU WILL BE THE 4 9 TH " 107

He put on his coat and went out, and his place was taken
by his assistant, who had directed the search in my apart-
ment and conducted me to the prison. He read a paper,
while I picked up a pen and enumerated my former privi-
leges and duties. This was only a pretext to keep me longer
and subdue me by exhaustion. Obviously the initial stage
of the examination was over. They had not bothered to
obtain exact information about me. That was clear. For
some reason they needed my "testimony" and "confes-
sions "; they would endeavor to force these from me, but
would not forge them. This also was of importance.

The short autumn day was over long ago. Lights were
turned on again, but I was still sitting in the same chair I
had taken in the early morning.

At last my first inquisitor reappeared.

" Well, have you finished? "

" I have written down the privileges and duties; I have
not made out, however, the list of my works, because I
published an article in a technical magazine a month ago
where such a list was given. I have nothing to add; it's
difficult to reproduce it exactly from memory I might
make a mistake. You may get my article and add it to the
case, if that is necessary."

For some reason this did not please him.

" Remember once and for all," he said in a voice of sharp
reprimand, "we don't believe in any printed material.
You might have written anything there."

" The article is signed by me and I am responsible for it.
I can't write anything different."

" Then you must write it down again."

I was obliged to pick up the pen and write, although I
was beginning to feel very tired.

He kept me for about two hours more and then told me
I could go back to my cell.

" I advise you to remember what I have told you and to

io8 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

think it over carefully. Behavior like yours today will lead
to nothing good."

My mind was incapable of realizing anything but the
fact that at last I was permitted to go.

Again the lighted GPU lunch-room, where examining
officers in military uniforms were eating at small tables,
and with them girl employees in short skirts and with
painted lips. Beyond the now familiar staircase with
grills, and the celL I already knew where to go; the guard
marched indifferently behind. In the cells lights were
dimmed. Everything was ready for the night, so it must
have been after nine I had been summoned shortly after
seven in the morning.

My first examination had lasted fourteen hours.

CHAPTER XIV
BANDITS HAVE RIGHTS

XVLTHOUGH the cell was supposedly settled for the night,
no one was sleeping. The foreman was standing by his cot
in heated argument with two prisoners at the opposite end
of the cell near the window. By the door stood a man in a
fur coat holding his things evidently a newcomer. He
seemed completely bewildered; here he was in prison and
there was no room for him. He was the i loth occupant of a
cell meant for twenty-two prisoners.

I stood and waited, listening to a fellow-prisoner who
explained what was going on.

" Those two are criminals bandits. Their places on
the floor next to the window and lavatory are a little wider
than those under the boarding, but cold because the win-
dow is open all night long. The foreman told them to take
in this newcomer, but they refused, claiming that he has
no right to put anyone in a place already occupied. He's
a little at fault; he ordered instead of requesting them and
this made them angry. They're not bad fellows, although
real bandits, store robbers. The shorter one is Pavel Sokol,
Sokoff, or Smirnoff he's the active leader. The second
one, Vania Efimoff, is from his gang. There are nine of
them in prison: two here, six in adjoining cells and one
works in the kitchen and sleeps in the workmen's cell.
The examining officer deprived them of the privilege of
exercise in the yard so that they couldn't talk to each other,
but just the same they talk through the grill. They're quite

Yio I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

reckless. You'll see, even the cripple will come. He's in the
opposite cell, No. 21. His two legs are cut off above the
knees. He was their scout and receiver of loot their spir-
itual leader. In the cell they behave excellently although
they were put in here with us purposely. Attempts are
made to incite them against us by telling them that we
report their conversations. But they can't be taken in by
such nonsense: they understand men better than the ex-
amining officers."

" Examining officers have no need of understanding,"
commented some one. " They sentence you to be shot
and that's all."

" Yes, it's certain they will be shot; it's a pity though,
they're good fellows, not like petty thieves."

While we were talking the quarrel was still going on.
Sokol's voice carried loudly and clearly across the cell.

" Comrades, you are wasting time. We have as much
right to our two places as you have to yours. It's true that
we are bandits, plain people, uneducated and you are pro-
fessors and engineers; but we also are able to stand up for
our rights. We won't give in. The foreman has no right
to order us. I'm going to call a general meeting of the cell
to discuss his action. I'm going to insist on his removal.
In the meantime you'd better find another place for this
newcomer."

I decided to intervene, feeling that I could come to some
understanding with these bandits. I asked the loreman in
a low voice whether he had any objections.

" You can try, but I doubt if you succeed you can see
for yourself how stubborn they are."

I made my way to the window and in the same low tone
said to Sokol, " Let me in with you. My place is next to the
toilet; I can't sleep there. I've spent all day at a cross-
examination and had no sleep last night. We'll give my
place to the ' novice.' "

BANDITS HAVE RIGHTS 111

" Well all right. Vania, shall we let him in? "

Vania growled sulkily: " Oh, let him in."

Then in a somewhat milder tone, he said to me, " It's
cold here, you'll catch cold. The window is open all night.
We're hardened to it."

" I'm also hardened," I replied and, gathering up my
belongings, moved over to my new place.

" Lie down in the middle," invited Pavel. " It will be
warmer and in the morning, when they come to wash, it
won't be so wet,"

I thanked them and lay down. This was the beginning
of a real friendship with the bandits whose attitude towards
me was deeply touching.

One of the prisoners brought me some cold soup and
some cereal hardened into a gluey mass. I could not eat it.
I drew out of my pocket the forgotten apple to the sur-
prise of my neighbors.

" An apple? Raw? How did you manage to get it
through? It is strictly forbidden."

" I don't know; they let it pass. I have some more, do
you want one?"

" Why of course we do," Pavel replied, with excited
eagerness in his voice. " We're terribly in need of some-
thing green. Here we are given nothing raw. That's to pro-
duce scurvy. Vania is getting it already." Pavel nodded at
his companion. " We get no fats either and that's why we
have ulcers; sometimes they're simply terrible, especially
on the stomach and back. Vania show your back! See! "

Vania turned up his shirt. All his back was covered
with dark purple circles the size of a pre-war five kopek
piece.

" Have you been long in prison? " I asked.

" Oh, some time."

The wind was blowing straight on us from the window
and was drawn along the floor to the barred wall opposite.

112 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

There was no smell from the toilet here. I rolled myself in
my blanket and fell asleep.

I was awakened by my neighbor raising himself up and
calling:

" Pavel Constantinovitch."

At the bars stood a guard. It was still night.

" Come on, to cross-examination! "

Pavel began to dress leisurely.

" Vania, you'll be called out too. Remember what we
agreed not a word. Let them talk themselves." And he
added something in thieves' argot unintelligible to me.

The guard spoke to him impatiently.

" All right, there's plenty of time, it's not a fire alarm,"
Pavel replied and continued to dress carefully.

He was about thirty-five, of medium height, well-built,
broad-chested. His features were regular, his face very pale,
with a black, curly beard and small mustache which did not
hide the outline of his upper lip. His black, soft, curly hair
was carefully combed and trimmed a thing very rare in
prison. With his dark eyes and shapely eyebrows he would
have been quite handsome except for his apparent short-
sightedness and his lips which were too soft and full. His
whole appearance was that of a stage villain. And to my sur-
prise he even dressed to fit the role: black, well-pressed
pants, good shoes and a dark red satin shirt.

He combed his hair, pulled down his shirt, tightened his
belt and made his way lightly to the door.

Vania was of a more ordinary type: very tall, extremely
broad in the shoulders, a youngster who had become
emaciated and pale from prison life. He also was smoothly
shaven and dressed with some elegance.

I had scarcely time to fall asleep again not more than
ten minutes having elapsed when Pavel returned, un-
dressed quickly and lay down beside me.

BANDITS HAVE RIGHTS 113

" Well, how did it go? "
" All right."

" Why did they let you go so soon? I was questioned for
fourteen hours! "

" Yes, it surprised us. Apparently they're taking your
case seriously. But why question us? I refused to answer
questions. Let them tell what they know then I will
speak."

" And how was the examining officer? "

" He? well, he asked: ' Who are you? ' ' I am so and
so: Sokol and Sokoff and Smirnoff.' ' What have you to say
for yourself,' he says. ' Not a damn thing nothing.' Then
of course he says, ' Don't be a fool, tell what you know
about such and such a case.' ' Nothing, not a damn thing! '
He gets mad and says, ' I need to make an entry on the
record and I can't put down that kind of answer.' ' What
you have to do is no worry of mine. I also need a lot, but
I'm not asking you for it.' ' Formulate your answer so that
it can be entered into the record.' 'Well,' I said, ' you're
paid money for it, formulate it yourself.' "

" What did he say to that? "

" Nothing. He laughed, picked up the sheet of paper
and wrote: ' Refuses to testify,' and handed it to me to sign.
'You see/ says I, 'you've formulated it; if you'd done it
long ago, there'd been no need of talking.' I signed. ' Go
back to the cell,' he says. That's all. They seldom try to
frighten us; they know it won't go over."

" And whom do they try to frighten? "

" Those who've had no prison experience: workmen and
peasants are always treated that way. They also try it out
on intellectuals, if they see the man is scared and that he
can be impressed by shouting and swearing. Some are badly
beaten, too. But our kind will never let them get away with
this, we're ready to do some swearing ourselves and we
won't allow them to beat us up so they don't try. If the

n 4 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

person's scared, however, they certainly abuse him, espe-
cially if it's a woman. With some they can do whatever they
please at cross-examinations, however learned and edu-
cated they may be, but with us " he laughed " they
know we understand all their dirty tricks."

" In spite of all this I'm surely going to be shot," he
added dreamily, " and he will be shot too," nodding to-
wards Efimoff.

" What for? "

" We're being accused as bandits, that's why we were
transferred to the Shpalerka, to the GPU. At first we were
in the criminal prison. We robbed Cooperatives; broke
into the buildings and carried away goods. That's only
theft, punishable according to the Code by not more than
five years at a concentration camp, but they want us sent
to the ' left ' (to death) , and so they transferred us here
to be dealt with directly by the GPU, without trial: Article
59, Paragraph 3 and it's done banditry, armed robbery.
We're not bandits; we never went armed, it's not our
specialty. You know, everyone has his job. We worked in
stores. I have been working at this for a long time; I got
used to it and can't stop it. How many times I have wanted
to stop, but I can't! There's a gamble in it: a chance comes
along it's hard to pass it up, especially if one has had a
drink."

" Did they catch you at work? "

"No, they aren't bright enough. They were looking for
me for a long time and never would have caught me but
for my wife. They arrested her and tried to scare her, but
it didn't work. Our women aren't easily scared, you know.
Then they showed her pictures of different women and my
letters to them and said, ' Here you are suffering for him
and he's unfaithful to you.' This worked: from jealousy
she gave away my hideouts and our storage place. She was
released. How she cried later, but it was too late, nothing

BANDITS HAVE RIGHTS 115

could be done. Many were arrested, and finally I was taken.
If they don't shoot me, I will yet enjoy life. I'll escape, I
won't be a prisoner, no matter what the sentence may be
five or ten years in concentration camp,"

" But if they keep you in prison or send you to Solovki? "

" All the same I will escape. A man can't be kept in
prison if he's determined to get away. Perhaps if in a for-
tress or chained to a wall, but from an ordinary prison you
can always escape. If it's deportation, there's a way to do
it during transportation. From the concentration camp it
isn't difficult. We've had some experience/'

" Why don't you escape from here, once you are threat-
ened with execution? "

" It's difficult to do it from the Shpalerka, almost im-
possible, unless some opportunity turns up. From Kresti
it is possible. Varna led three condemned criminals out
of it. His specialty is locks, but he also understands plumb-
ing. Did you ever notice the grilled sewer pipes which
come out into the Neva? Well, such a pipe leads from
Kresti. A man can easily crawl through it and the sewage
floAV is small; one would not drown. It's only difficult to
reach it because it's necessary to open and close several
locks in order to destroy all traces. Vaiiia did everything
perfectly: he led them out and stayed behind. The locks
weren't broken the escape wasn't discovered for some
time; later, he himself escaped."

" It was a fine job," he added. " If my life is spared I'm
not going to stay and rot in prison."

Over and over again I repeated to myself, " If my life
is spared I'm not going to stay and rot in prison," and
so fell asleep.

CHAPTER XV
SECOND INQUISITION

I

T was my second day in prison my second cross-exami-
nation. I was called before the tea ration was given out
and had only time to eat an apple.

" How do you do? " the examining officer asked, scan-
ning me attentively to see if I showed signs of a sleepless
night.

" All right/'

" It isn't so good in your cell- You are in 22? "

" A cell like any other/'

" Well, did you do any thinking? Are you going to tell
the truth today? "

" Yesterday I told only the truth/'

He laughed. " What will it be today not the truth? "

Then he returned to the subject of the cell.

" I tried to chose a better cell for you, but we are so
crowded. I hope we will come to an understanding and
that I will not be forced to change the regime I have or-
dered for you. The third category is the mildest: exercise
in the yard, permission to receive food parcels from out-
side, a newspaper and books. The first two categories are
much stricter. Remember, however, that it depends en-
tirely on me; any minute you may be deprived of every-
thing and transferred to solitary confinement. Or rather,
this depends not on me but on your own behavior, your
sincerity. The more frank your testimony, the better will
be the conditions of your imprisonment/'

SECOND INQUISITION 117

He lighted an imported cigarette and passed the box to
me.

" Do you care for a smoke? "

" No, I just had one."

" I placed you in a common cell so that you can get
familiar with our regulations. This is possible only in a
common cell; it initiates you right away into the whole
organization. You acquaint yourself, so to say, at first hand
with our methods, and I believe . . . that you will become
more compliant. We have discarded mediaeval methods;
we don't hang up by the legs or cut off strips of skin from
the back, but we have other means, no less effective, and
we know how to force out the truth. Remember this now,
and you will hear in the cell that this is no mere threat."

He spoke slowly, looking me straight in the eye, empha-
sizing his words with evident pleasure and relish, watching
for their effect.

" Did you know Scherbakoff? He was a strong man, but
I broke him and forced him to confess."

With great difficulty I controlled myself before replying.

" I don't doubt for a minute that you use torture, and if
you believe that this assists in discovering the truth and
speeding up the investigation, and since Soviet laws permit
its use, I would suggest that you don't give up mediaeval
methods: a little fire is a wonderful measure. Try it! I am
not afraid of you. Even with that you can't get anything
out of me."

" Well, we will see about that later. Now let's get down
to business. Let's talk about your acquaintances. Did you
know V. K. Tolstoy, the wrecker, executed in connection
with the case of the ' 48 ' ? "

" Yes, I knew him. How could I not know him when he
was the director of the fishing industry in the north? " I
replied in frank astonishment. " We both worked in it for
more than twenty years."

n8 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

" And did you know him well? "

"Very well."

" How long did you know him? "

" From childhood."

His manner changed completely; he hurriedly picked up
a statement sheet and placed it in front of me.

" Write down your confession."

" What confession? "

" That you knew Tolstoy, that you were in friendly
relation with him from such and such a time. I see that we
will come to an understanding with you, your frankness
will be appreciated. Write."

He evidently was in a hurry, did not quite know what
he was saying, afraid that I might reverse my statements.

I took the sheet and wrote down what I had said.

" Excellent. Let's continue."

Then followed a barrage of questions about Tolstoy,
about Scherbakoff and other people that I had known. He
did not find me quite so tractable and we launched into a
battle of wits that kept up hour after hour. He questioned
me with insistence and in great detail, trying without suc-
cess to make me give dates.

" You'll not succeed in outwitting me," he snapped
sharply. " I advise you not to try. I am going home to din-
ner now and you will stay here till evening. This examina-
tion will continue not for a day or two, but tor months
and, if necessary, for years. Your strength is not equal to
mine. I will force you to tell us what we need."

After threatening me still further he handed me some
sheets of paper.

" You are going to state in writing your opinion regard-
ing the building of a utilization factory in Murmansk, its
equipment and work in the future. I'll soon be back; when
I return, your comments on these questions must be com-
pleted."

SECOND INQUISITION 119

He put on his overcoat and left. His assistant took his
place, and I busied myself with my writing. It was three
or four hours before he returned, already evening.

Although I had eaten almost nothing for three days, I
was still in good fighting form. He questioned me about
the buying of a ship from abroad, trying to make me say
that here was " wrecking," because the price had been ex-
orbitant and the ship itself had proved unsatisfactory. It
was most contusing and his questions far-fetched. We
talked and we argued, but I would not give the answers
he wanted.

He began on another tack.

" Well, and the wrecking in the filter factory? Didn't
you notice that? "

" No. I had nothing to do with its work, but as far as I
know, the factory functioned normally."

I certainly did not understand what he was driving at
until he finally exclaimed:

" Well, and do you also think that the floor at the fac-
tory was normally laid? Did nothing happen to it? Wasn't
it necessary to rebuild it in halt a year? "

At last he had disclosed his secret. The circumstances
were as follows: the floor in the cold room of the factory,
where the filter-press stood, was covered with " linolite "

a special composition material used in the U. S. S. R.
because they could get nothing better. One night, owing
to the negligence of the manager of the factory, a Com-
munist, the tank with cod liver oil was overfilled and many
gallons ran out onto the floor. The " linolite " warped and
had to be replaced. The new flooring had cost 20 roubles

the spilt oil more than one thousand.

I tried to explain to the examining officer what actually

happened.

" Well, and in this case, you maintain, there was no

' wrecking ' ? "

120 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

" On whose part? " I asked. " On the part of the man
who spilt the oil? "

" Certainly not. On the part of the engineer who inten-
tionally covered the floor with a material which deterio-
rates from oil? "

My patience was getting exhausted. " May I ask you,"
I said, " what I have got to do with all this? What connec-
tion have I with the vessel you questioned me about, or
with this floor, oil and factory? Is it because my laboratory
was located there? "

" I need your opinion about these facts and your will-
ingness to help us. And so you don't see any ' wrecking '
in it? "

" No. I don't."

" All right," he said. " And what is your attitude regard-
ing the subject of the fish supply in the Sea of Barents in
connection with the construction of trawlers as provided
for by the Five Year Plan? "

Now he had broached a subject with which I could have
a direct connection. The evening was already changing
into night, but I was still sitting in the same chair. I was
becoming unconscious of time; was it my second day in
prison or my tenth? In spite of the depressing weariness,
mental and physical, which was taking hold of me, I told
him that I thought the fresh fish supply should be minutely
and thoroughly investigated. I tried to make him see the
hazards of the fishing industry in Murmansk and the enor-
mous equipment that would be necessary to meet the pro-
posals of the Five Year Plan.

" And thus you confess that you doubted the practica-
bility of the Five Year Plan? " he said with a smile of smug
satisfaction.

What could one say? I believed, as did everybody, that
the plan was absurd, that it could not be fulfilled. For
exactly such statements no, for only a suspicion of hav-
ing such thoughts forty-eight men had been shot.

SECOND INQUISITION 121

" No/' I quickly replied, " I only point out the necessity
of investigating the fish supply of the Barents Sea. I fail
to understand why you think that such an investigation
would lead to a curtailment of the Plan and not to the
contrary? "

" Make a written statement of your conclusions regard-
ing this subject. I have to go now/' he said with importance.

He left me with his assistant and again I wrote.

When he reappeared, I had finished. He picked up the
sheets.

" Think over carefully everything we talked about to-
day. Tomorrow I'll send for you early in the morning. Go
back to your cell."

It was late at night. Everybody in the cell was asleep.
Sokol awoke and insistently advised me to eat something,
but I dropped on my straw mattress, asleep as soon as my
head touched the pillow.

CHAPTER XVI
DAILY LIFE IN PRISON

I

WAS not sent for the next morning, and day after day
passed without my being summoned to another cross-
examination. So it was that my acquaintance with prison
life really began on the third day of my imprisonment.
The first two had been passed in the examiner's office. I
knew only that in a cell meant for twenty-two prisoners
were herded one hundred and nine men, and this number
soon increased to one hundred and fourteen.

There was insufficient air; a dense cloud of tobacco
smoke hung over the room so that windows had to be kept
open, and a strong draft blew continually between the win-
dows and the grilled door which opened into the corridor.
Many suffered from colds, and quarrels about the opening
and closing of windows never ceased.

When people are compelled to live together for a long
time they usually irritate each other and hatred follows.
In common cells strangers were forced to live together for
months, sometimes even for years, in conditions so crowded
that for each person there was only about one-half square
meter of floor space. Only the high general level of culture
of the prisoners in our cell and the strict regulations devised
and enforced by them made life at all possible. They had
regulated everything: the order of getting up, washing,
using the toilet, walking in the cell, opening of windows,
cleaning of the cell, keeping of clothing, bedding and food,
order during dinner and tea and the use of newspapers
and books from the library.

DAILY LIFE IN PRISON 123

In command of the cell were a foreman and his assistant,
elected by the prisoners. These men maintained general
order and enforced the established rules; offenders were
punished by being detailed out of turn to clean the cell or
wash the floor. The foreman kept a list of prisoners and
had to know at all times the number of inmates present in
the cell, taken out to cross-examination, punitive cells,
hospital and so on. He chose men tor the various details:
kitchen work, cleaning potatoes, stuffing mattresses and
the carrying out of other prison chores. He was the inter-
mediary between the prisoners and the administration and
the arbitrator in disputes among the inmates. The fore-
man and his assistant were privileged to sleep on cots, sit
at the table, wash and use the toilet out of turn. Their
duties were varied and most unpleasant, their privileges
insignificant.

Seniority is of great importance; the novice gets the
worst place, he eats standing and is the last to wash. In
every cell one is supposed to begin one's " career " from
the bottom and, therefore, those who had already spent sev-
eral months in one cell, when transferred to another, have
to crawl for the night under the boarding and suffer the
disadvantages of a newcomer. The examining officers know
this rule and, when wishing to make conditions worse for
the prisoner, transfer him without any reason from one
cell to another. In our cell the question had been brought
up several times of changing this regulation so as to have
the length of the entire stay in prison and not that in the
given cell taken into account. Every time, however, the sug-
gestion was voted down because of the advantage such a
change would give to those transferred to other cells for
disorderly conduct and to the " spies " who are continually
being moved from one cell to another.

Two or three of these spies are always placed in each
common cell sometimes they are prisoners themselves.
They listen to conversations and pass them on to examin-

124 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

ing officers, but usually they do not stop there. Simulating
sympathy they strive to find out various details relative to
the case, family and personal circumstances and other use-
ful information; and they urge the inmates to " confess."
But a spy is very soon discovered and then he goes to an-
other cell where he finds himself again in the least privi-
leged position.

The day in the cell began at seven o'clock when the mo-
notonous command of the guards " Time to get up! Get
up! Get up! " resounded in the corridors. Before seven
o'clock, but not earlier than six, the twenty-two senior
prisoners were allowed to get up. Each had thus three
minutes for washing a great privilege. The remaining
ninety prisoners must wash during the one hour, from
seven to eight, before " tea time."

As soon as the order to get up was given, noise, talk,
coughing, loud yawns and the creaking of lifted boardings
filled the cell. Cigarette smoke rose from every side. The
air became thick with dust from the dirty straw mattresses
which were being folded. Long lines at once formed to the
toilet and lavatory.

After the mattresses and boarding had been taken out
and the cots folded up, preparations for " tea " were begun.
The foreman detailed four men for bread and two for hot
water. The bread, of poor quality similar to that found
everywhere in the U.S.S.R., was brought to the cell cut
into rations of four hundred grams each. Those who were
receiving food remittances from outside did not always eat
their ration; for the others it was insufficient, especially for
the workmen and peasants who were used to eating much
bread.

" Tea," or rather hot water, was brought in two large
copper kettles remnants of the luxury of Tsarist days.
Tea and sugar were not supplied to the prisoners, only to

DAILY LIFE IN PRISON 125

those who were ranked by the Bolsheviks as " political
prisoners," that is those who belonged to the Communist
Party and were detained for " deviations " and " leanings."

Everybody would then rush to the cupboard where, in
twenty-two slots, utensils for more than a hundred men
were stowed away. Each of us had a tin bowl, a mug and a
wooden spoon, but one was fortunate if at meal lime he
could find his own. Finally everybody would get settled at
the tables in strict order of seniority and from ten to twenty
would be left standing. Those who received food parcels
would drop into their mugs a small pinch of tea, a luxury
even outside the prison. " Tea " drinking lasted until nine.

Then came the call for general cleaning and the result-
ing confusion. Tables, benches, personal belongings, every-
thing would be moved to one side; and with them, all but
three men. The cleared side of the cell was cleaned by the
man appointed to this duty and his two assistants. The
floor was sprinkled with sawdust and swept, and twice a
week it was washed. When one side was done everything
would be moved over there and the other side cleaned.

The general cleaning lasted until eleven. During the
period from eleven to one the prisoners from the common
cells were led out into the yard for exercise scheduled to
last half an hour for each group. Subtracting the time spent
for roll-calls and passing through corridors it actually lasted
only fifteen or twenty minutes, and took place in the inner
yard surrounded on all four sides by the walls of the prison
building. On account of the overcrowded condition of the
prison the inmates of three common cells about three
hundred men were simultaneously led out together,
producing a great congestion in the limited space. But exer-
cise meant a great deal to us; even fifteen minutes in the
fresh air was refreshing after the terrible stuffiness of cells;
moreover, we were permitted to talk at this time with pris-
oners from other cells. Examining officers realized how

126 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

much prisoners valued even this short period and, there-
fore, as a means of coercion, exercised their power of per-
mitting and forbidding exercise.

About twelve o'clock newspapers and magazines were
brought to the common cells; those in solitary confinement
usually being deprived of them. One of the prison superin-
tendents acted as distributor of papers and he made a fair
profit on the job. Formerly newspapers could be bought
in any quantity, but now, with the acute paper shortage,
they were scarce even " outside " and for the prison the
number of copies was extremely limited. Speculation arose
among the prison guards who began buying up old, dis-
carded magazines and papers and reselling them to prison-
ers at the regular price. We bought these back numbers
because we were willing to read anything to make life less
monotonous, and we were badly in need of paper of any
kind. Newspapers were, of course, always a cause of great
excitement and were read through from top to bottom,
including all the advertisements.

About one o'clock preparations for dinner began. This
meal consisted of soup and cereal. There were two kinds
of soup: sauerkraut or barley with potatoes. It was sup-
posed to contain beef, but the meat itself never reached the
prisoners; it was thoroughly scraped from the bones and
used in preparing various delicacies for the GPU lunch-
room. (I know this because at one time I worked in the
prison kitchen.) Only the " political " prisoners received
a small piece of meat for dinner.

The second course was a cereal (kasha) : poorly shelled
barley (nicknamed " shrapnel ") , millet or sometimes
buckwheat. Both the soup and cereal were cooked by steam
in special boilers under high pressure, transforming the
former into a malodorous, muddy liquid and the latter into
a sticky substance void of all nutriment.

Dinner time for so large a number lasted for more than

DAILY LIFE IN PRISON 127

an hour, although ten minutes would have sufficed for each
man to consume his portion. Then the tahle boards were
again removed and those who had cots lay down, the rest
of us trying to find some more comfortable place on
benches near the wall where one could lean back. It was
the " dead hour " and we were not allowed to move about
or talk. This was no easy time two hours on a narrow
bench; many preferred to crawl under the cots and lie on
the floor. At about four o'clock the command came to
" get up " and the preparations lor the evening meal of
cereal and "tea" began.

So passed the whole day in petty bustle, endless moving
about and waiting in line. The quietest time was between
six and nine when it was possible to squeeze into a seat
at a table and read by the dim light of one of the two
25-watt lamps in the ceiling or else get into a corner for a
talk with someone.

This was also the hour fixed for lectures or discussions
to divert the thoughts from prison actualities. Among the
prisoners were many men of diverse specialties. I remem-
ber listening to lectures on "The Manufacture of Glass,"
" Iron," " Contemporary Views of the Structure of Mat-
ter," and many other topics. I was asked to speak on
geographical and biological subjects, and I tried to tell
in the most interesting manner about the different coun-
tries I had visited during my numerous expeditions, re-
calling incidents, types of people and anything that would
at least for a time cause prison life to be forgotten. Some-
times I succeeded. The whole cell, including the workmen,
peasants and criminals who could not understand many of
the other talks, listened attentively.

The common people were always friendly to me. I never
felt that animosity between the intellectual and the man
from the crowd which Dostoevski describes in his " Mem-
oirs from the House of the Dead " and which is also de-

J2 8 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

scribed by others who had formerly been in exile. I often
met with a thoughtfulness and kindness on their part
which touched me deeply.

During my first lecture, the subject of which was my ex-
pedition into Western Mongolia to the sources of the Ir-
tish, I noticed with surprise that the criminals listened to
me with excited attention. My young bandit friend, Vania
Efimoff, who was unable to say anything without swearing,
looked straight at my mouth, afraid to lose a word. Once
in a while he would let out a cry of enthusiasm which he
could not restrain.

" Ah, son of a bitch, how he speaks! You could not read
the like even in a book! "

This lecture of mine appealed to his adventurous heart
and he became touchingly devoted to me. He liked to sit
down on the floor near my bench, to put his head on my
knees and dream and plan that, in case we both were freed,
I would go on an expedition again and take him along.
Alas! He knew too well that these were only dreams.

One day, sitting near me thus, he told me the story of
his short life he was only eighteen years old. His father,
a peasant and a poor one, was left a widower with five chil-
dren, the oldest of whom, Vania, was then seven. Later,
the father took a second wife, a rich widow, but in doing so
deceived another woman about whom Vania knew. So
at the age of nine he left his father, whom he now despised,
and went away with his two brothers aged seven and five.
He left the girls with his father, but the boys he decided
to take care of by stealing in the market. Thus began his
thief's career prison colonies for young criminals, es-
capes, new imprisonments, gradual specialization in theft
and, finally, the accusation of banditry. None the less he
cherished a firm belief that there should be in man justice,
truth, principles and honesty which he demanded even in
prison life.

DAILY LIFE IN PRISON 129

For example: once it so happened that the task of wash-
ing the cell fell to a tradesman imprisoned with us. Wash-
ing the cell is dirty, disagreeable work; only the old and
the sick are freed from it. This tradesman made an arrange-
ment with a workman, imprisoned for stealing soup from a
cooperative store, who agreed to do his task for one rouble.
Efimoff found out about this agreement, and as soon as the
workman began washing the floor he dashed at him and in
a voice vibrating with rage declared that he would not let
him do it, that it was cowardice for prisoners to employ
each other. Seeing that the affair was going to end in a
fight Vania was strong and agile the workman backed
out and returned the rouble to its owner.

" If you have no money, ask for it and we will gladly
share, but do not sell yourself in prison," grumbled Vania.

Vania rendered me many a service, but one was espe-
cially touching. In one of her early packages to me my wife
sent a little tobacco in a pouch made from a piece of an
old silk dress of hers. I lost it one day when we were taking
our mattresses out of the cell. Vania noticed that I was
grieved and insisted on finding out what the matter was.
He crawled all over the cell, looked under every plank,
quarrelled with half of the people, but found the pouch
and brought it to me with a victorious and joyful air, as
if it were a happiness for him, too.

" I understand," he said, " it comes from home."

I carried this pouch with me through all my prison
life.

Undoubtedly Efimoff could have been developed into
a steady, strong man. But the Soviet system, which likes to
boast of its ability to reeducate people, preferred to " liqui-
date " him, in spite of his eighteen years.

One evening, as we all were going to sleep, Efimoff and
Pavel Sokol were called out " with their belongings." Near
the door of the cell stood several guards and the assistant

i 3 o I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

commissar of the prison. There could be no doubt exe-
cution.

Vania had hidden a knife which the criminals used for
shaving.

" Hey! Shall we? " he asked Pavel. " It's easier to die in
a fight."

" Leave it! " answered Pavel with artificial calmness.
" The devil take them! "

He spoke slowly and evenly, but the cigarette between
his lips, his last one, trembled and would not light. Pavel
walked out slowly, bent over, as if with great effort; Vania
with quick steps, his eyes shining. As he reached the door
he shouted loudly:

" Do not remember me unkindly, comrades! Good-bye! "

CHAPTER XVII
OLD MEN AND BOYS

I became acquainted with everyone in the cell,

knew all of them by sight, learned the names of many,
what they were accused of, how long they had been in
prison, what kind of " pressure " the examiners used, and
so on. I collected a lot of new information which I only
vaguely suspected when free. I also learned quite a few les-
sons: how the investigation is conducted, what methods
are used to obtain a confession. I saw the results of sub-
mitting to the will of the prosecutor and becoming a
" novelist," that is to say, writing fantastic confessions ac-
cording to directions given by the GPU.

To understand the life of those imprisoned in the
U.S.S.R. while their cases are under investigation it is
necessary to realize fully that the prison regime is intended,
first of all, to weaken the prisoner morally and physically
and break down his resistance, thus making easier the task
of obtaining from him " voluntary confessions " of crimes
he had never committed. The examining officer not only
determines the prisoner's regime allowing or forbidding
exercise, remittance of food parcels, visits with relatives,
reading of books but he also has the right to transfer the
prisoner to the dark cell or to punishment cells ordi-
nary, hot, cold, wet and so on.

The punitive cell in the prison of preliminary detention
in the U.S.S.R. has lost its initial function as a punishment
for breaking prison regulations and serves only as a means

132 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

of coercion during the conduct of the investigation. The
prison administration has no power over the prisoners and
only fulfills the orders of examining officers.

The purpose of solitary confinement is to force a man,
who is depressed by threats of violent death and torture, to
remain alone with his fears, without any possibility of dis-
traction or moral support and encouragement from others.
Those confined in solitary cells often lose their minds and
after six months of this regime the majority suffer from
hallucinations.

The " double cell " ( single cell into which two men are
placed) is perhaps the easiest form of imprisonment, but
in this case the welfare of the prisoner is entirely depend-
ent upon the companion assigned to him by the examining
officer. Sometimes his companion is a man violently insane
who attempts to do him harm and beats him, or else one
afflicted by melancholia, who is continually attempting to
commit suicide. In other instances he may be a criminal
who causes annoyance by his rough behavior and pro-
fanity or a man suffering from venereal disease, or even a
spy who in the cell keeps up a conversation bearing on the
subjects covered at cross-examinations and who persistently
advises compliance with the wishes of the examining officer
and the signing of the " confession."

The common cell depresses by its filth and vermin, but
more than anything else by its crowded condition which
forbids eating or sleeping in peace, and does not allow a
minute of real rest. The prison diet serves the same pur-
pose the weakening of the prisoners. Although sufficient
in quantity it is intentionally lacking in vitamins and con-
tains almost no fats hence scurvy and boils. Sufferers
from scurvy are more compliant, more amenable to the
"exhortations" of examining officers than healthy ones,
and can be made to sign anything.

The people in the cell knew that I had been arrested in

OLD MEN AND BOYS 133

connection with the case of the " 48 " and that I was threat-
ened with execution. I saw much sympathy from everyone.
They taught me how to behave, gave me all sorts of advice.
In prison nobody was afraid to talk of his " case," of the
questionings, tortures, falsification by the GPU of cross-
examination reports, forgery of signatures and the like
topics which outside the prison could only be discussed
with a most intimate friend, behind closed doors.

What was striking at first was the extreme pallor of the
prisoners, the result of a long sojourn in prison their
colorless faces, overgrown beards and hair, dusty and
shabby clothes. In the filth of the cell they could not look
otherwise. And yet, the majority in this cell were not only
intellectuals, but foremost specialists in their lines, men
with well-known names and reputations. For instance,
there were two professors of the Petrograd University, sev-
eral professors and instructors of technical and engineering
schools, many engineers in different lines, technicians,
railroad men, aviators, artillery officers, naval officers and,
finally, clergymen. We had representatives of most of the
largest factories, such as Putilov, Obouhov, Prohorov, and
also many men of purely scientific careers, who had spent
all their lives in laboratories, or in university chairs. Un-
fortunately I cannot speak of them here, for men of im-
portant individual ability cannot be described as a group.
To tell of their work and its significance for Russian sci-
ence and culture and to unfold the grippingly tragic
picture of the transfer of the Russian intelligentsia into
prison and penal servitude remains for another. Only he
who gains admission to the secret archives of the GPU will
some day reveal the unbelievable history of the destruction
of a whole generation of men of science.

" In no other place in the world is the work of scientists
valued so highly as in the U.S.S.R.; in no other place in

134 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

the world is the work of specialists the object of such care
as in the U.S.S.R." So speak the Soviet statesmen and the
Soviet press.

In order to appraise these words I would suggest that they
cast a glance into the prison kitchens in Moscow, Lenin-
grad, Kiev, Kharkov and other cities of the Union. There,
huddled together on narrow wooden benches, with thin,
sharpened-down dinner knives in hand sit professors and
other educated and cultured men. In front of them are
bags with dirty, rotten potatoes which in " capitalistic "
countries would not be used even to feed pigs; and here
these men sit diligently, seriously and clumsily peeling
such potatoes for the prison soup.

But many went willingly to such work, for owing to the
painful monotony of prison life and the enforced, endless
idleness even this work seemed a distraction and rest. Be-
sides, in the kitchen one sometimes succeeded in stealing
or begging an onion head. The need of raw food was so
great among us, suffering from scurvy as we were, that
every one of us would have gladly worked a whole day at
any kind of labor, if by so doing we could only obtain a bit
of onion. But the examining officers allowed this kind of
escape from the demoralizing prison boredom only when
they considered the case completed and had ceased to exert
pressure. Highly qualified engineers competed for the right
to do plumbing jobs, repair locks, electric lighting and tele-
phones. Learned professors claimed the jobs of polishing
floors and cleaning stairs. One clergyman, until his execu-
tion, was for a long time in charge of the boiler. Literally
hundreds of men of the highest education and with a
knowledge of foreign languages registered for work in the
library. But the GPU adhered firmly to the principle that
the prison regime exists first of all for the purpose of exert-
ing pressure on the prisoner and it was only the examining
officer who could grant these greatest of privileges. One of

OLD MEN AND BOYS 135

these was the right to work in the packing-box shop. This
shop was located in the yard out in the open, and work was
carried on there in every kind of weather. Clothes were
not supplied for this work, so that those who had no warm
coat or footwear were unable to work there in winter. All
this was not easy and the working day was twelve hours
long, but the " boxes " afforded a chance of remaining out
of doors and in addition this was the only work for which
money was paid. After having acquired some experience it
was possible to earn about one rouble a day. Of course, in
prison one could spend money only on newspapers, but
everyone was faced with deportation and forced labor and
many could not count on any help from " outside," so that
the prison rouble represented a real treasure.

The only ones who did not aspire to work were the old-
timers of the prison. There were only a few of these, but
one of them had been in prison already for over two years.
We could not discover exactly why they were being held
so long or of what they were accused. The case of one of
them apparently had been hopelessly complicated owing
to a mistake in a name. He had been sentenced to ten years
in concentration camp and then had been returned from
Popoff Island, the distributing point of the camp, but his
case was still dragging along. Others had either been for-
gotten or had ceased to interest the examining officers. Hav-
ing outlived all excitement and fear they had now become
apathetic and indifferent to everything except the trifles of
prison routine which for them had taken the place of real
life.

" You are too young, you still know nothing," an old
German liked to say. "Stay as long as I have and then you
will learn. Two years and a half! Is that the way to sweep
the floor! Here's how it should be done."

And he would pick up the broom and explain to the

136 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

novice the principles of sweeping the floor which he had
worked out for himself. Others would expound in a didac-
tic manner the rules for washing, exercise and meals. Keep-
ing strictly to the established prison routine these old-
timers nevertheless spent the day according to a special
system of their own. They got up before the official time
and, without hurrying, thoroughly washed themselves, un-
ceremoniously splashing the novices who slept on the floor.
Then they carefully folded up their bedding and cots,
timing this task so as to finish it exactly at the moment of
the general " getting up." And during the ensuing com-
motion and forming of lines they leisurely stood to one
side smoking rolled cigarettes in home-made holders.

Their attitude towards food was original. Provisions
which they received in remittances were divided into daily
rations and wrapped in a special way in paper or packed
in small bags. They would drop a small pinch of tea into
their mugs, then carefully cover them up with a piece of
paper cut out in advance and wait with a dignified air for
the tea to steep. They even ate the prison kasha seasoning
it with butter received in remittances. The prison soup
they improved by adding to it small pieces of bread or
salted cucumber one of the favorite remittance items.
They had their own favorite soups and kashas: some pre-
ferring barley cereal, others millet. There were no other
varieties. They had already been eating these for a year or
two, yet still continued to discuss their merits and draw-
backs.

All day long they played chess, checkers or dominoes,
giving themselves with such earnestness to their games that
they considered everything else a hindrance to what had
become their calling in life. With difficulty would they
tear themselves away from the game to eat or go out for
exercise and they were greatly annoyed when preparations
for the night halted their games.

OLD MEN AND BOYS 137

Their eccentric egoism, possible only under prison con-
ditions, expressed by a complete indifference to and dis-
regard of all the hardships experienced by other prisoners,
had reached such proportions that they would not even
stop their game of dominoes when men were being led out
of the cell to be shot. The harsh voice of the guard would
be heard from the other side of the bars: " Well, get going,
hurry up! " The victim would collect his things with
trembling hands and murmur his last " Good-bye, com-
rades," and still they would continue slapping down their
home-made dominoes.

Yet once these men had been human beings! Were
they by nature sullen and serious, thoughtful only
of themselves, or was it that the GPU had changed
a group of lively, energetic men into such miserable cari-
catures?

Many men over seventy years of age passed through the
large cell in which I was confined. One of them especially
attracted attention. He was extremely thin, delicately
built, with hands and feet so fragile that it was frightful
to look at them. He could not bend his knees and his legs,
encased in puttees, looked like those of some strange bird.
His head, completely bald and covered with yellowish skin,
was unsteady on a long, thin neck. He wore huge, dark-
rimmed spectacles that made his eyes enormous; his sharp
nose almost touched his chin across a toothless mouth. His
eyesight was poor and he was almost deaf. Eating was most
difficult for him; he would lose his spoon and then his
bread, while both lay right under his hand. He would
search for something in his bag, grumble that everything
was done wrong and then forget what he was looking for.
Sometimes he would fall asleep while sitting up; at other
times he would have fainting spells and we would ask for
the doctor, but by the time the doctor's assistant could ar-

I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

rive, usually in about two hours or more, he would sud-
denly sigh and come to life.

He had been accused of espionage, because his married
niece, who lived in Vladivostok, escaped abroad. He him-
self had not left Petersburg and had forgotten when he had
seen her last. I do not know his final destiny.

During our walks in the courtyard of the prison I
noticed another old man of striking appearance also not
less than seventy years old. He wore an amazing old black
coat patched with all sorts of materials, including red vel-
vet draperies. Accused of having been the leader in some
" espionage organization," he was later shot.

There were boys, too, in the cell, really mere children.
Two of them, a German and an Armenian, came from edu-
cated families. The German, pale, thin and awkward as
youths often are, a dreamer, wished to see the world about
which he had read in books or perhaps in Soviet periodicals
such as " The Pathfinder " or " World of Adventure." The
Armenian practical and gay, wanted to make his fortune
in the despised " capitalistic " world. Both chose the classic
way of escape, they were stowaways in the coal bunkers of
a foreign steamer. Discovered by the secret police, they
were arrested and sent to the headquarters of the GPU.
What they went through they never told. Now they were in
prison, while the GPU was compiling a " case " of espio-
nage against them. Very likely they would have to go to a
prison camp. According to the Soviet Criminal Code the
punishment for illegal crossing of the frontier is three
months' imprisonment. But these crimes are always taken
up by the GPU and not by the court, and the punishment
becomes five to ten years in prison camp. The GPU reasons
as follows: any attempt to leave the country must be es-
pionage, because if it succeeded the fugitive, even though
a child, would tell of what was going on in the U.S.S.R.

OLD MEN AND BOYS 139

and foreigners must not know. The reality of Soviet life
must not be published or advertised.

Three other boys in our cell were guilty of a domestic
crime. They were children of workmen, fifteen to sixteen
years old, pupils in a secondary school. Boys of that age are
always hungry, and in the U.S.S.R. they are obliged to be
satisfied with lean soup, potatoes and cereal in a very
restricted quantity. When returning from school one day
they passed a market in front of which a man offered quite
openly to sell them extra bread-cards at a very low price.
They yielded to the temptation, bought the cards and joy-
ously entered the cooperative store to buy the bread, de-
lighted at the thought that they would no longer have to
be satisfied with the stingy slices given them by their
mothers. No sooner had they made their purchases than
they were arrested by agents of the GPU.

" Eh, boys, wasn't the man who arrested you the same
one who sold you the cards? " jokingly asked one of our
cell-mates.

The boys were embarrassed and did not know what to
say.

" That's it, you should be careful from whom you buy,"
added one of the workmen in a fatherly tone.

These boys behaved very timidly while in the cell, as if
they felt embarrassed that they were placed together with
grown-ups, mostly educated, " important " people.

" If we were only set free," said one of the boys excitedly,
" we would immediately find him at the market, the one
who sold us those cards. It was his fault, and not ours
and we said so to the prosecutor."

" Of course, we would find him," added the other.

A few days later it was published in the newspapers that,
owing to the energy of the GPU, a large organization had
been disclosed which speculated in bread-cards.

" Well, boys, you are not the only ones caught," said a

i 4 o I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

workman trying to comfort them. He understood these
boys in torn pants, worn shoes and shabby coats. " You're
not the only fools. They must have arrested some forty
people and are boasting of it. Just the same, boys, don't
expect to go home. We will probably have to journey to-
gether at the expense of the State rather, at that of the
people/'

CHAPTER XVIII
PRIESTS, WORKMEN AND POETS

JL HE percentage of workmen held in the Shpalernaya
prison was negligible as the majority of them when ar-
rested passed through Kresti and suburban prisons. Even
in our prison, however, they were well represented as to
diversity.

Those workmen who were detained in connection with
the case of the " 48 " were of greatest interest to me. Em-
ployees and workmen of the U.S.S.R. had become accus-
tomed to vote with complete indifference for or against
anything as required: against "British lords" who
looked down on the workers' state " through their mono-
cles and lorgnettes," as one orator expressed it; against the
Pope of Rome, who had proclaimed some kind of incom-
prehensible " crusade "; against the execution of Sacco and
Vanzetti, in spite of the fact that in the U.S.S.R. scores and
perhaps hundreds were being done away with and nobody
seemed to be worrying about it. The same indifference was
displayed in voting for industrialization, collectivization,
" shock " work and many other programs. A certain hope-
less resistance was evidenced only when a subscription to a
new state bond issue had to be accepted a subscription
which called for no less than a whole month's pay 100
per cent participation and which reduced yearly earn-
ings by about 15 per cent. But, in spite of such a systematic
and lengthy training in directed voting, not all workmen
accepted calmly the suggestion of adopting the resolution

142 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

calling for the death of the forty-eight " wreckers " of the
workers' supply organization. As a result many found
themselves in the Shpalernaya prison. We had in our cell
three workmen belonging to this group. One of them, a
Communist and a Czech by nationality, was arrested for
saying at the meeting:

"If there existed such wreckers, and if they were carry-
ing on wrecking activities for five years, then the GPU
should be disciplined for tolerating such counter-revolu-
tion."

Well, he was himself " disciplined," with the prospect
of deportation to a concentration camp.

A peculiar case in the prison was that of a poet-prole-
tarian. He did not belong to the type of wily individuals
who called themselves proletarian poets, sang the praises
of industrialization, joined the Gepeists in their drinking
parties, courted the latters' ladies and in general, as it is
termed in the U.S.S.R., were " gaining 120 per cent favor-
able footing." He was a real factory workman, disinterest-
edly devoted to poetry which he considered a service to
truth.

He had written a poem about factory life. He had writ-
ten poetry before but because of his shyness had never
shown it to anyone. This poem, however, had seemed won-
derful to him and he took it to the factory committee in
order to have it published in the wall-newspaper. The
poem in which he told of the hardships of a workman's life,
the hunger in the family burdened by a large number of
small children, was returned to him with the notation that
he should be ashamed to approach the committee with
such a " counter " (counter-revolution) and that in gen-
eral his ideology was rotten and dangerous. The same night
a search was made in his room; the returned copy of the
poem, its first draft, two or three other poems and the poet
himself were all collected and taken to the GPU.

PRIESTS, WORKMEN AND POETS 143

At the cross-examination, crushed by the catastrophe
which had befallen him, he completely lost his head. With
great agitation and hoping that I might help him with
advice he related all the details to me:

" The examining officer said to me, ' You wrote this for
the purpose of anti-Soviet agitation! ' I explained to him
that there was no agitation in the poem, that I took it to
the factory committee and had shown it to nobody else.
That's true, I hadn't shown it to anybody," he confirmed,
looking honestly into my eyes. " The examining officer lis-
tened to me, then took a sheet of paper, asked my name
and the other usual information and wrote out a statement
as if I was testifying that I had composed this poem with
the purpose of agitation against the Soviet Government
and had transcribed it for distribution among the work-
men of the factory. He handed this statement to me and
ordered me to sign it. I started to tell him that what he
had written was not true, but he began shouting at me:
' You damned fool, where do you think you are? Do you
dare to argue here? Do you think we have time to be
bothered by you? ' And he went on swearing even more
wildly. ' Write,' he said, ' you son of a bitch, once I order
you to! ' "

" Well? " I queried, as he stopped and became gloomily
silent.

" Well, I signed."

" But why did you do it? "

" He had ordered me. What else was I to do? "

" If he had ordered you to sign a statement that you had
killed your own father, would you have done it? " I asked.

"No I don't know, perhaps I wouldn't have signed
it," he said aghast, " but now, what shall I do? "

He seemed in complete despair, perhaps realizing only
now the irreparable consequences of his act and not hav-
ing the fortitude to resign himself to the inevitable.

144 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

" I didn't say it," he continued, " he wrote it all himself.
I thought that if I refused to sign he would again say that
I was against the Soviet Government* I signed, and now I
see that I have destroyed myself. Some advise me to write
a denial, that perhaps then they will destroy the first report.
The examiner himself knows it is false. Why should he
want to destroy me? I'm not a class enemy I'm a work-

man/'

It was evident that after the signing of such a statement
he was lost. The examining officer had drawn from him
everything he needed and he did not send for him again.
There was nothing for the workman-poet to do but wait
for his sentence.

Proletarian origin helped people out only incases which
involved real, and at that, criminal offenses. We had such
a workman in our cell. He had stolen sixteen pieces of
soap from a cooperative store a simple case but the
GPU had insisted that the theft, so committed, revealed
a definite intent to harm the workmen's supply system.
His psychology was completely Soviet but he was neverthe-
less accused of " wrecking." The laborers in the cell
despised him and called him " Soap." The professional
thieves teased him, saying that he was degrading their
trade. But at length the GPU declined to prosecute and
he was told that his case would be referred to the People's
Court, where he would be tried as an ordinary thief.

" Hurrah for the Soviet Government!" he shouted, on
his return to the cell. " Everything is arranged. ' Taking
into account the proletarian origin, sincere repentance and
low self-consciousness the sentence is to be considered con-
ditional/ " he declaimed. " To our workmen's Soviet Gov-
ernment hurrah! Go to Solovki without me! Good-
bye! "

There were in the U.S.S.R. periods of special persecu-
tion of former functionaries, officers, intelligentsia, peasants

PRIESTS, WORKMEN AND POETS 145

and specialists of productive enterprises. These persecu-
tions increased, diminished and again grew in intensity
according to the various turns of the political wheel, reach-
ing their climax after the promulgation of the Five Year
Plan. The persecution of the clergy, however, which began
during the first days of the Soviet attainment of power,
never ceased. It continued in spite of the widely-heralded
assertions of complete religious freedom which the Soviet
Union tried to prove by exhibiting to " illustrious for-
eigners " like Bernard Shaw some church that had not
yet been destroyed. The citizens of the U.S.S.R. knew very
well that clergymen were continually being arrested and
that it was difficult to find a priest to read the burial serv-
ice over the faithful. During my stay in the Shpalernaya
prison there were always in each cell from ten to fifteen
persons held in connection with cases involving questions
of religion. And there were some of them in isolation
cells, so that their total number must have been about 10
per cent of all the prison inmates. They were formally
indicted under Article 58 (Pars. 10 and 1 1) as being guilty
of counter-revolutionary agitation and participation in
counter-revolutionary organizations the penalty for
which was from three years in concentration camps to
capital punishment with confiscation of all property.

I have already told about the GPU methods of building
up accusations and staging trials. The fabrication of reli-
gious " cases " was no exception to the general rule. The
same wholesale arrests of people who did not even know
one another; the same pressure to force them to give false
evidence, to sign false depositions, or sometimes only to
word their statements in such a manner that the church,
for instance, would be called an "organization " without
stating, of course, what kind of an organization; the same
fantastically concocted accusations of agitation and plot-
ting against the Soviet Power. These were easier for the
GPU to build up than any other kind, because a sentence

146 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

taken at random from any sermon, after misrepresentation
by the examining officer, could be construed as counter-
revolutionary propaganda. A few simple and devout old
men and women, not appreciating the insidiousness of the
questions put to them by the examining officers could,
while answering quite honestly and sincerely, give mate-
rial for further indictments. There was such an instance
in our cell, a man whose two sons fifteen and sixteen years
old were in the same prison, while his wife was detained
in the women's section. Their only crime was that they
were church-goers, but their position was hopeless because
the boys, at the instigation of the examining officer, had
signed a statement that they belonged to an " organiza-
tion." This officer had told them that the church is a group
or, in other words, an organization of the faithful and
that any member of the church belongs to it. The boys
testified that their father and mother belonged to the
same organization, and the examining officer construed
this statement as counter-revolutionary. Such testimony
was more than sufficient to condemn them all to concen-
tration camps, since in the U.S.S.R. any non-government
" organization " is considered counter-revolutionary.

The same methods were used to build up the case of the
Cronstadt church, whose clergy, churcli warden and many
parishioners were arrested.

Besides these special cases, the Soviet authorities take
advantage of every possibility to molest the clergy, and in
nearly every " campaign " they were among the accused.
In 1930, for instance, there was a shortage of small change
and the government declared a campaign against " specu-
lation in silver." Raids were organized and anyone found
with more than 3 roubles in silver was punished. Those
who had 20 or 30 roubles' worth of silver in their possession
were shot or deported to prison camps. No law had been
previously passed forbidding the hoarding of silver; in

PRIESTS, WORKMEN AND POETS 147

fact, only a short time before, there had been a govern-
ment campaign to encourage savings arid the State Bank
had issued special small savings banks for change. Now
the possession of such a savings hank was considered a
crime. This campaign against hoarding silver was very use-
ful in " liquidating " the clergy. This is how it was done:

Immediately after a church service, prelerably on a
holiday, a searching party of the GPU would appear and,
of course, find the change that the parishioners had put on
the plate for the use of the church. The priest, the deacon
and the church-warden would be arrested and accused of
" speculating in silver." The " proofs " being at hand, the
case would be settled without delay, the priest in many
cases being sentenced to the highest degree of punishment
shooting, the others deported. During this period the
list of p jests accused in this way of " speculation in silver "
was published in the newspapers with the intention of
raising popular feeling against them, because, since small
change was required of them for all payments to the gov-
ernment (such as street car and train fares, telephone calls
and the like) the population was really suffering from the
shortage of silver. One of the priests who was detained in
the same cell with me (where newspapers were allowed)
read his own name in one of these lists, followed by the
notation that the sentence had been carried out. Shortly
after, he was taken directly from our cell and shot.

Those who were arrested in the religious trials dis-
played characteristic fortitude. Most of them accepted their
arrest as a trial sent by God and as persecution for faith
and truth and did not try to resist the examining officer.
In some individuals this attitude stood out with special
clarity and, of course, did not lend to any lightening of
their sentence. On the contrary, the examiner never lost
an opportunity to take advantage of it.

Such prisoners did not try to conceal their faith and

148 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

religion. Every evening they would gather in the corner
of the cell farthest from the guards and sing prayers
quietly, almost in a whisper. The general noise in the
cell would cover their voices and they could not be heard
by the guard in the corridor.

Most of the accused in the religious cases in our cell
belonged to the New Church, but there were also some
representatives of the Old Church. One of the most re-
markable men in this latter group was the priest, Father V.
A cultured and educated man, he bore himself with such
dignity and kindness that even the most worldly-minded
people in the cell abstained from mockery and stupid
jokes in his presence. He never spoke of his " case," but
we knew from others that during his cross-examination he
had been very brave and dignified. We knew also that he
was in great danger.

One evening in December 1930 at eleven o'clock he
was called out of the cell "with his belongings/' This
usually means execution. Father V. remained as cool and
collected as ever, but he paled a little and his eyes gleamed.
Quietly, trying not to wake his neighbors, he gathered his
belongings, made the sign of the cross, saluted silently
those who had awakened and left the cell. We felt sure
that he had been shot, but later learned that he had been
placed in solitary confinement. What his ultimate fate was
I do not know.

CHAPTER XIX
GEPEISTS, SPIES AND FOREIGNERS

G,

TU officials and Red Army men of pure " Red " stock
could also be found among the prisoners. They were usu-
ally accused of discrediting the Soviet Power while under
the influence of liquor. It was a transient element which
gained release with comparative ease, since examining offi-
cers were not interested in building up cases against them.
New men, however, were continually replacing those dis-
charged.

Getting drunk in some public place or restaurant fre-
quented by foreigners and Gepeists, 1 they would start boast-
ing of their positions, thereby attracting attention, and
the GPU did not care to have Soviet information carried
away to foreign countries.

It also often happened that such men would lose com-
promising or secret documents. We had in our cell a man
held in connection with such a case. He was a " political
director," one of those who are attached to army units
and whose functions are to " educate " the army and, inci-
dentally, watch over the reliability and loyalty of mem-
bers of his unit. He was a daring fellow and apparently
a confirmed drunkard. In a state of drunken oblivion
he had lost his brief-case containing secret documents.
He could not remember why he had carried these with
him to the party he was attending. He had gone some-
where with somebody in an automobile, had drunk some

i Gepeist = Gay-Pay-ist and means an employee of the GPU. TRANS-
LATOR.

i 5 o I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

more and had gone somewhere else but he absolutely
could not remember where and with whom, and he had
come to his senses only when he had been put in prison
and, at that, not immediately. He knew enough not to
attempt any explanations and thereby give into the hands
oi the examining officer additional material. But he hoped
that the latter would understand his plight and discharge
the case.

44 As il they, themselves, didn't drink/' he consoled him-
self.

There were spies, too, in our cell, whose duty it was to
watch the prisoners and encourage them to make incrimi-
nating admissions. One respectable old man pretended to
be a 4i literary worker/' During the early days of my im-
prisonment he began to question me.

" My case is simple/ 1 I replied. " They want to make me
the 49th/'

" Yes, so I heard. And don't you think/' he began softly,
" that it might be wise to admit yourself guilty of some
insignificant misdemeanors or mistakes in order to gain
their confidence and indulgence? "

" No/' I answered. " I have committed no crime and I
respect the investigating authorities too much to delude
them by false confessions As for you, I don't advise you
to recommend that we lie to examining officers/'

He went away with an offended air and left me in peace.
I watched him, however, and soon convinced myself that
he was starting similar conversations with every new spe-
cialist brought to our cell.

One morning Engineer V. was thrust into our midst,
apparently very tired, with nerves on edge. He had been
arrested at the factory, had been cross-examined all night
at the Gorokhovaya and did not know what had happened
to his family. General cleaning was under way in the cell
and everybody was crowding into one corner. The old

GEPEISTS, SPIES AND FOREIGNERS 151

man came up to him. I approached them from behind,
but my assistance was not needed.

" Don't you feel guilty of anything, even if it is some
very small thing? " I heard the old man ask. " I know from
experience that a frank confession helps greatly."

" All night long the examining oflicer urged me to do
that very thing," calmly replied the engineer. " I'm tired
of such kind advice. Leave me alone."

The U.S.S.R. is the socialistic fatherland for the toil-
ers of the world. This can be dearly seen by studying the
men held in prisons and concentration camps of the Soviet
Union; one can find there representatives ol workers of
probably every nationality. And these are true toilers, since
the bourgeoisie visiting the U.S.S.R. know what measures
to take for personal safety and do not tarry long. The honor
and pomp with which important members ol the foreign
bourgeoisie and aristocracy are treated in the U.S.S.R. were
reported by the Soviet press when describing the visits of
Bernard Shaw, Lady Astor, Amanullah Khan and others.
But the poor who are attracted by the rumor that there is
no "crisis " in the U.S.S.R. and who go there to work re-
ceive no official reception and often pay dearly for their
credulity.

Among those whom I encountered in prison were a
Japanese, an Austrian, several Mongols and C/echs, many
Finns, Estonians, Letts, Poles, Germans, Chinese and many
gypsies.

The majority of foreigners in the prison were Commu-
nists or people of extreme radical ideas, who, believing in
the achievements of the proletarian revolution, came to
the U.S.S.R. to seek protection against what seemed to
them oppression at home and who dreamed of realizing
their democratic ideals.

Among these foreigners was a member of the Estonian

i 5 2 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

parliament, a Communist. I do not remember his name,
but I can yet see his broad figure, fair hair and short-sighted
eyes behind thick spectacles. He had been imprisoned al-
ready for more than a year and, evidently because of his
prominent past, fulfilled the duties of corridor cleaner. I
had no chance of talking to him but the other cleaners told
that he had fled from Estonia fearing repressions for his
communistic ideas and had landed straight in the Shpaler-
naya prison. The curious part of the story was that before
his escape from Estonia he had legally come to the U.S.S.R.
as a member of a delegation of foreign Communists and
had visited this very prison in the capacity of an honorary
and distinguished guest. He was now able to see for himself
how much prison reality differed from what he had been
shown.

Later in my imprisonment I had pointed out to me a
Czech, a member of the Central Committee of the Czech
Communist Party. He had been called to Moscow on busi-
ness connected with the III Internationale but, instead of
being sent back home, had been arrested and finally de-
ported to the Solovetski concentration camp.

Another interesting case was that of the former Secretary
of Agriculture of the independent Mongolian republic, a
real Mongol. He was a cultured man, a graduate of the
Moscow r Agricultural Academy. He, too, was made to come
to Moscow under some pretext and was then sentenced to
ten years of forced labor. I could never understand how it
was possible for the Soviet Government to deport him, a
secretary of an independent state but it was a fact.

Perhaps one of the most pathetic foreigners in our cell
was a workman, an Austrian citizen by the name of Stern
whom I met the first night after my arrest. As I have al-
ready said, I was assigned a place on the floor between two
cots next to the toilet. One of these cots was occupied by a

GEPEISTS, SPIES AND FOREIGNERS 153

sleeping man, pale, drawn and frightfully dirty. He had
on a dark woollen sweater worn next to the skin and al-
most completely rotted there was no sign of underwear.
Bed bugs in scores crawled over his grey army blanket and
over his face and hands. One leg, in dirty worn out trousers
and a filthy rotten sock, was sticking out from under the
blanket. And such a strong smell emanated from him that
I thought he might be dead. I abruptly shifted my posi-
tion; he moved, turned towards me, opened his eyes and
gave me a blank and lifeless stare. I spoke to him arid asked
him how long he had been here.

" Three years soon. Three years this cell," he replied
in broken Russian with a distinct German accent.

I began talking to him in German. He showed some
evidence of life and told me his story, simple for Soviet
reality, but one that workmen abroad might find it hard
to believe.

In 1925 three Austrians, one of them a Jew by the name
of Stern, signed a three years' contract for work as special-
ists in processing leather in a Leningrad factory. By 1928
living conditions in the U.S.S.R. had changed for the worse
and they decided not to renew the contrac t but to return
home. All were then imprisoned at the Shpalcrka and in-
formed that they would be released only if they signed a
new contract. They would not yield, but the Austrian con-
sul, learning of their plight, intervened though only in
behalf of two. Stern the third was left to his own de-
vices. He was forgotten.

I gave him a spare suit of underwear and his eyes lit up
with pleasure.

" Thanks, thanks! I'll wash now. I didn't want to while
I had no underclothes. I'm eaten up by lice."

" Lice? " I asked.

" Yes, lice. When one has no underclothes one is de-

154 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

voured by them. Others get clothes, remittances I have
no one, nothing."

In his excitement he was talking loudly and our neigh-
bors protested.

" This is outrageous," they said. " They won't let us
sleep at night. Isn't there enough time to gossip during the
day? "

Then came the dry authoritative voice of the foreman:
" Stop whispering! "

Later I came to know him better. He was disliked in the
cell because he refused to wasli and was a burden to all his
neighbors. Moreover for days at a time he would not speak
a single word. Nobody else in the cell knew who he was
or why he was there. Some believed him a madman, others
a spy. It was not hard to take him for a madman. All day
long he would walk in the cell, stop, look fixedly at the
toes of his shoes and then resume his walk. Sometimes he
would sit down on a bench, stare at one point and sud-
denly burst into laughter. Then, becoming embarrassed,
he would try to control himself, hiding his lace in his
hands, but to no avail, and he would continue to laugh
quietly for a long time. At other times he would burst into
tears.

One day two months after my arrest he was called to the
corridor bars and told to be ready the next morning with
his things -w- he was being sent abroad. His eyes glistened
and signs of color appeared in his cheeks. He talked,
walked briskly about the cell and looked for something
to do.

In the morning he came up to me, wished me luck and
release release before anything else. He asked for my
address in order that he could return the underwear I had
given him.

" No, my friend," I replied. " I've only the prison ad-

GEPEISTS, SPIES AND FOREIGNERS 155

dress and there's no need to send anything hack. If we ever
meet again, we'll have a glass of beer together/'

At that he left.

Writing now I remember him as a friend. It he ever sees
these words and writes to me I shall be very glad. He knows
what it means to start life anew alter one has been through
a living death.

CHAPTER XX
A BULLET IN THE HEAD

E

OR a whole week I had not been taken to another ex-
amination. This did not surprise me because in the cell I
had very soon found out the habits of examining officers.
The Golden Rule for a Soviet prisoner is this: Do not trust
the examining officer. He always lies. If he says: " I will
send for you tomorrow/' it means that he will let you
alone; if he threatens: " I will forbid remittances," it means
he has not even thought of doing it. However, knowing all
this, it is still hard not to believe him sometimes.

At last the guard called out my name.

The examining officer, Barishnikoff, was sitting at his
desk looking very morose.

" Sit down. How are you? "

" All right/'

" I haven't sent for you for a long time; I'm very busy.
Did you make any acquaintances in the cell? "

" Yes/'

" Did you find anyone you knew there? "

" No/'

" With whom have you made friends? "

"With the bandits. Nice fellows Sokol and the oth-
ers. Do you know them? "

" With whom else?"

" With nobody else/'

" It's time to stop dodging and answer properly/'

A BULLET IN THE HEAD 157

I shrugged my shoulders.

" Your crimes are known to us. Drop your independent
manner. You are a wrecker! Yes, you're a criminal and I
speak to you as a criminal."

" I am not convicted, I am under investigation."

" No, you are a criminal. It's not a court trial here. Your
dodging and cunning will only lead you to a bullet. I'm
tired of bothering with you. Are you ready to immediately
write out the confession? No? We will talk to you in an-
other way. Well? I am waiting for your confession."

" Of what? "

" Of wrecking. You are a wrecker. You were in con-
tact with the international bourgeoisie and the wreckers
of the Soviet Government and you received money from
abroad for your base activity."

I laughed.

" You laugh? Wait a while and you will see nothing
funny."

"I can't help laughing in spite of the tragedy of my
position. We are mature men and I have to listen to your
accusations which can only be termed ridiculous. You
know perfectly well that what you are saying is not true.
You have searched my apartments in Murmansk and Len-
ingrad; you have been censoring all my correspondence,
have had every man I met under observation, have watched
my income and expenditures; you know, as well as I do,
that I haven't received money, nor even a single letter from
abroad since the Revolution."

" You refuse to confess? "

" I have told you and I repeat again, I have never been
a wrecker; I have never been in contact with any inter-
national bourgeoisie; I have never received money illegally
from anyone."

He struck the desk with his fist and cried: " You lie! "

I kept silent.

158 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

" Well?"

" I have no intention of carrying on a conversation in
this tone. As long as you behave this way I am not going to
answer you."

" You refuse to confess? We will enter this into the rec-
ord."

" I refuse to answer to rudeness and shouting. You may
enter that into the record."

" Intellectual's whim," he grumbled and changed his
tone. " I can't waste so much time on you," he continued,
getting out a sheet of paper for the record. " I will write
down in brief your confession and you may go back to the
cell. We will continue tomorrow."

This comedy was beginning to make me angry. I kept
silent in order not to say something rude. It was not to my
advantage to have him lose patience and so I held myself
in hand.

" Well? " he said. " I am ready to write."

" I told you already that I have nothing to confess to."

" Why then do you make me write your confession? "

" I don't make you do anything. Write whatever you
please, if you need it. I will sign no ' confessions.' "

" And tomorrow you will not sign? "

" Certainly not."

" And the day after tomorrow? " he continued threaten-
ingly.

I shrugged my shoulders.

" And you will never sign? " he snarled in a menacing
whisper, piercing me through with his eyes.

*' I will never sign it, I have told you that already."

" Then a bullet in your head! Do you understand? A
bullet! A bullet in the back of your head, into the back of
your head a bullet! " He was almost shouting.

" Go ahead and shoot," I replied calmly. " I have noth-
ing more to say."

A BULLET IN THE HEAD 159

" We will send you ' to the left,' we will liquidate you.
Do you understand? We will write you off."

I kept silent and he continued, showing the richness of
a special GPU vocabulary in its figures ot speech describ-
ing the death penalty: " the highest degree," " to be shot,"
" to be sent to the moon," "to be written off the books,"
" to be sent out without a transfer," " a friendly slap," " to
the wall," " to the left," " to spend seven kopeks," and so
on. Evidently in this he considered himself an expert. He
rehearsed these phrases, combining them in various ways.
All this lasted for a long time, perhaps an hour. He was
beginning to repeat himseli; I was teeling terribly bored.
Finally he stopped and said with special significance: " You
are wasting time in vain. You will confess. I have broken
down better men than you! "

" I think it is not I who am wasting time, but youl "
I exclaimed in complete anguish. " I have told you
that I never ' wrecked.' I have nothing more to add. If
you find it necessary, shoot me; what's the use of all this
delay? "

" Not so fast. We are in no hurry," continued the exam-
ining officer, subduing his voice. " Nobody can overhear
us and there are no witnesses to our conversation. Admit
orally that you are a wrecker and I will promise to have
your life spared. Later you can repudiate your statement
and there is no need of entering it into the record. I only
want to see your sincerity, to see that you have surren-
dered. That will suffice me."

I kept silent and looked at him in astonishment. What
was this new move?

"I'll tell you frankly," continued Barishnikoff, "we,
the examining officers, are also often forced to lie, we also
say things which cannot be entered into the record and to
which we would never sign our names."

" Everything I say," I replied, " I am ready to enter into

160 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

the record and subscribe to. I am not going to lie to you
either orally or in writing."

" Well, we are going to see about that later," and again
he changed to an offensive. " You have stated in writing
that you were a friend of both Tolstoy and Scherbakoff.
Didn't you have a quarrel just before their arrest?"

" No."

" They had, therefore, no reason for denouncing you? "

" None."

" Well then, be it known to you that I have here," he
tapped his brief-case, " confessions, written in their own
handwriting, destroying you. All your wrecking activity
has been disclosed by them and they have stated precisely
when, from whom and how much money you have re-
ceived. Two witnesses testify that you are a wrecker, and
these witnesses are your friends. This testimony is quite
sufficient for us to have you shot. I give you a way out
confess frankly and wholeheartedly and you will save your
life. If you confess you get ten years in concentration
camp; if not you go ' to the left.' I am waiting."

" All this is not true," I said with difficulty, keeping my-
self under control and choosing my words carefully.

" What isn't true? "

" I don't believe that Tolstoy and Scherbakoff testified
that I am a wrecker," I answered.

" Let me ask you," he began with ironical politeness,
" what grounds you have for not believing it? "

" Only those which I have already mentioned: we were
friends; I know these men as having been absolutely hon-
est and will never believe that they could falsely denounce
me. Moreover, you have yourself warned me," I added
with a laugh, " that you don't always tell the truth."

I saw that he was hesitating whether to display indigna-
tion or turn my words into a joke.

A BULLET IN THE HEAD 161

" Nevertheless, their depositions are right here," he
laughed cruelly and again tapped his brief-case. " Do you
want me to show them to you? "

" Don't take the trouble, I still won't believe it."

" You don't believe in documents? " he exclaimed with
simulated indignation, and ended much more sincerely:
" Your faith is of no interest to us. The ' Council ' will be-
lieve and we shall shoot you."

" Well, go ahead and shoot, the sooner the better."

" Don't be in such a hurry. First you are going to write
for us what we need. Your confession now can still save
you, but later no. You might write, beg, implore, but
we will still shoot you. We won't tolerate enemies who
resist us."

Again the same thing, I thought, " we will shoot," " we
will shoot," but, when the point is reached they linger
" We are in no hurry." How could one find out what they
really intended to do with me? I shall not let them beat me,
they will have to bind me first.

As if in reply to my thoughts he continued: " I see that
I am really wasting too much time on you. I am busy. I
have to leave now and you shall wait for me, do you under-
stand? You shall wait right here, standing in the corridor.
I will return when I see fit; maybe in this way you will
become more compliant. You shall return to the cell when
you have written out your confession and a detailed state-
ment not only of your own crime but also of the wrecking
activities of Tolstoy and Scherbakoff which are well known
to you."

Saying this he donned his overcoat and cap. Then he
opened the door of his office.

" Please."

I went out.

" Stand here, so. Near the wall, but don't lean against it.

162 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

Did you take sugar in your pockets? No. It's a pity, it would
have come in handy now. Stand and think. I am busy. I
will come back, but I warn you that I will not waste any
more time on you."

As he left, a guard made his appearance and began pac-
ing up and down the corridor.

So, I was given the " standing test."

In our cell were several men who had been subjected
to it. One, Engraver P., over fifty years of age and heavily
built, had stood for six and a half days. He was not given
food or drink and was not allowed to sleep; he was taken
to the toilet only once a day. But he did not " confess."
After this ordeal he could not walk back to the cell and the
guard had to drag him up the stairs. His whole body was
swollen, especially his legs; he stayed in the hospital for a
month and could hardly walk at all thereafter.

Another, Artisan B., about thirty-five years old, who had
one leg amputated above the knee and replaced by an
artificial one, had stood for four days and had not " con-
fessed."

Engineer T., sixty years old, had stood for four and a
half days and had finally signed the " confession."

" Well, it's interesting to test oneself," I thought as I
stood there in the corridor.

In about two hours Barishnikoff returned and entered
his office without saying a word, but casting an enquiring
glance at me as he passed. I put on an expression of com-
plete indifference and pretended not to see him.

In about ten minutes he came out and stopped in front
of me.

" Have you done any thinking? "

" I have nothing to think about."

" Are you going to confess? "

" I have nothing to confess. I have told you that I have
committed no crime."

A BULLET IN THE HEAD 163

" Does that mean we should release you? "

" Yes."

" We should shoot you! Do you understand? A bullet in
your head; remember that: a bullet in your head" and
then after a minute of silence, " Go! "

I went along the corridor, the guard behind me.

CHAPTER XXI
NEVER TRUST THE EXAMINER "

I

RETURNED to the cell in a depressed frame of mind. In
the presence of the examining officer I had felt more anger
than fear; now, left to myself, I lost my assurance.

There was no doubt that I would be killed as all my
friends had been. My wife and son would be deported.
This had happened to the families of the " 48." I would
have to await in silence the day when I should be called
out " with things," led along corridors down into the cellar
where my hands would be tied, a bag thrown over my head
and one of these scoundrels would send a bullet through
the back of my head.

Well, this would not happen! I would not surrender
and die like a calf in a slaughter-house. I thought it all
over and decided that at my next cross-examination I
would kill the examining officer. The necessary weapons
could be obtained from some of my crafty cell-mates: a
table knife which they had sharpened for shaving, a file
which could well serve as a dagger, or a small steel bar. I
decided upon this bar. It could easily be concealed in the
sleeve and was heavy enough to fracture the skull with one
blow. But I must hit with accuracy; I must not miss. Of
course, Barishnikoff carried a revolver with him but he
was careless, especially towards the end of a cross-examina-
tion. When he took his overcoat and cap from the rack his
back was towards me. This would be the moment for strik-
ing. He would fall to the floor, I would grab his revolver,

"NEVER TRUST THE EXAMINER" 165

rush out into the lunch -room and, if favored by luck, kill
two or three other examining officers.

I would be killed myself during the fight, but the pic-
ture appealed to me. At least my family would learn how
I had perished a more glorious death than execution.

I lived with this idea for several days and it was not
until I had talked with one of my neighbors that I realized
I had not sufficiently absorbed the Golden Rule of the
Soviet prisoner never to trust the examining officer. This
cell-mate was an engineer of renown, accused ol espionage,
wrecking and assisting intervention. He had been impris-
oned for about six months and had been cross-examined
fifteen times. But with his experience he looked at my
case from an optimistic point of view.

" You're getting along excellently," he exclaimed when
I told him about my situation. " There is nothing to be
gloomy about! I'm sure that the examining officer has ab-
solutely no material against you. That he scares you with
execution indicates that this is his only trump card. The
' standing test ' has also evidently proved a failure. As for
the punitive cell and the ' conveyor,' such tortures are only
for those who are frightened and wavering. He might trans-
fer you to a solitary cell but he probably knows it wouldn't
work in your case. And you've been here long enough to
know how to get along if he forbids exercise and food re-
mittances. It's an excellent sign that he has resorted to the
verb ' to shoot.' If he really had any incriminating mate-
rial from your two friends, he would have dealt with you
differently, keeping this as his final trump card instead
of threatening you with execution. There may even be a
chance that you'll be released. Certainly this happens in
extremely rare cases, but it does happen.

" Remember Engineer D. from cell No. 20? He was
threatened for two months with execution and was thor-
oughly exhausted. The last time he was sent for, the exam-

166 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

ining officer, a burly ruffian, literally picked him up by the
collar of his coat and put him on a chair. ' Stand,' he
shouted, ' you son of a bitch, I will kill you! Confess! We
will shoot you anyway! ' D. remained standing on the chair
for two hours, and the next day was called out ' with
things.' Later he sent us a conventional sign he had
been set free.

" You'll see that the examining officer will change his
manner towards you, but don't yield. Stay calm and don't
let him get the better of you. For some reason or other
they need your authentic ' confession '; that's your trump
card."

After this conversation I made up my mind to hold my-
self in hand. There was always time to kill the examining
officer, I thought. Day after day went by and I was not
called out for further questioning.

Meanwhile another confirmation of how impossible it
was to believe the examining officer was afforded me by
the case of the young man who had been put in the van
with me when I was being taken to prison. After the first
cross-examinations he had been extremely depressed and
discouraged. He was accused of espionage, an accusation
with no foundation, but none the less the examining officer
threatened him with Solovki. Although he belonged to
the nobility and had been an officer in the army during the
War, his ideas were very radical and apparently he sin-
cerely sympathized with the Bolsheviks.

A few days later he came out for exercise with a cheerful
face the examining officer had told him that he was con-
vinced of his innocence, had offered apologies for his ar-
rest, permitted him to buy anything he wanted in the GPU
lunch-room, had allowed him to write his wife to let her
know that he would soon be set free and asking her, there-
fore, not to send him any more food parcels.

Then, as a surprise, the examining officer invited the

" NEVER TRUST THE EXAMINER " 167

wife to come and visit her husband, and during the inter-
view had ordered tea and cakes, remarking jestingly that
he was sorry he could not provide champagne to celebrate
the happy occasion. They had been allowed to talk for two
hours and, although the examining officer had been pres-
ent all the time, he had behaved like a kind friend. The
wife had asked him to let her husband go home then, but
the examining officer had laughingly replied: " Not so
soon, wait until Thursday" promising to have all the
necessary papers ready by that day.

There were five days left five more terrible days in
prison. But he was completely transformed like a new
man. Yes, the GPU was a wonderful organization; the way
they understood men was surprising! I had on the tip of my
tongue the words: " Don't trust the examining officer! "
but I did not want to destroy his cheerful disposition.

Came Thursday. He was so excited that he sat all day
" with things " awaiting the call to freedom. He was not
called out until evening. At eight o'clock the " cuckoo "
made her appearance in our corridor. He was called out
and given a sentence of five years in a concentration camp.
The next day he was deported: he was not allowed to take
leave of his wife, received nothing from home for the jour-
ney and left the prison completely crushed by the sentence.

" So you see," said my adviser, the engineer, " better let
them threaten you with execution than offer good things
from the lunch-room. But what a scoundrel! The sentence
had been passed two weeks before, and the examining offi-
cer, knowing this to be the case, had arranged all this as
a joke."

" But why? What was the sense of it? " I questioned.

" Sense? Pleasure, my dear friend! They are sadists! He
sent for the wife, arranged the interview for them and de-
lighted in visualizing how carefully she would be prepar-
ing for his home-coming and how he, in the cell, would be

168 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

counting the hours and minutes. And then the blow!
Deportation! And she would learn that he had been sent
to the concentration camp without proper food and cloth-
ing."

" Just like them," said another well-known expert and
prison old-timer who had joined in our conversation.
" And do you know the way in which a commutation of
the death sentence is made known to the prisoner? The
examining officer sends for him and then pays no attention
to the prisoner when he is brought in. Then he searches
among his papers and picks up the sentence, looks at the
prisoner for a long time and finally gets up and begins
to read loudly and slowly: ' Excerpt from the minutes of
the meeting of the GPU council. The case of so-and-so
accused by so-and-so was heard and the sentence passed.
. . . ' Then comes a long pause. You can imagine the effect
it has! Then still louder, emphasizing every syllable he ut-
ters the words: ' TO BE SHOT.' Deathly silence follows
and he gloats over the effect produced; then a few minutes
later he adds: ' but the Soviet Government is lenient even
to such criminals and the sentence of execution has been
commuted to confiscation of all property and ten years in
a concentration camp. Go! '

" The examining officers, at least many of them, revel in
such scenes. Others don't bother with such details and have
the sentences read by the ' cuckoo ' in a solitary cell or even
in the corridor. The examiners get great pleasure out of
bullying a man as much as they can. I can just imagine how
they act during executions! "

" You see," concluded my first companion, " how can
one believe them? The examining officer lies to get you
confused, lies for pleasure, having unlimited power over
the prisoner, and lies aimlessly from habit. Our only de-
fense and weapon is, as I have said before: don't trust the
examining officer."

CHAPTER XXII
TAIROFF ALLEY

T

-L t

HE GPU has many methods of trying to wring confes-
sions from its innocent victims. Most of them are threat-
ened with execution, and a great number are kept in
isolation cells and deprived of outside communication,
exercise and books for well over a year. In many cases
even their relatives are arrested, thrown into prison and
sometimes sent to forced labor.

Of the people whom I met, V. was subjected to one of
the most cruel kinds of treatment. Kept for eight months
in an isolation cell without exercise or food parcels, he
suffered from a severe attack of scurvy. He had been a
healthy and strong man of middle age, but one by one he
lost his eight front teeth and those remaining became so
loose that he could eat bread only after soaking it in water.
Moreover, he had been subjected to one of the most hu-
miliating and disgusting measures the transfer to Cell
No. 16.

Cell No. 16 was known among the prisoners as " Tairoff
Alley," the name of the favorite haunt in Petersburg of the
city rogues, prostitutes and thieves. Built to contain but
ten or twelve men, it actually held forty or fifty and
these, thieves, robbers and vagrants of the lowest type.
Borrowed from other detention institutions, they made up
a cell which was characterized by its loose discipline; fights
and wild rioting never ceased and the air was filled with

170 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

blasphemy. These prisoners amused themselves by gam-
bling for money, clothes, food and tobacco. Even gold fill-
ings from teeth were lost in this way and pulled out on the
spot in the most brutal manner.

Counter-revolutionaries, or " Kaers " as they were called,
who refused to confess were put in this cell and left to the
mercy of the regular inmates. Such " Kaers " were immedi-
ately robbed of all their possessions and, if they offered
resistance, cruelly beaten. To transfer a prisoner to Cell
No. 16 meant that he would be deprived of everything
that is most valuable in prison life: clothes, food parcels,
pillow, blanket and tobacco pouch.

It was rare for anyone transferred to this cell to remain
unharmed. When V. was sent to it he found there one in-
tellectual who in a few days had been completely beaten
down morally and physically. All his clothes had been
gambled away by the criminals and he was left only par-
tially covered by a filthy rag. But the calm and venerable
appearance of V. was so imposing that it impressed even
the ruffians. His cleverness and tact did the rest. As soon as
he was led into the cell he voluntarily handed over to the
foreman everything he had with him in prison except his
clothes, and declared at once that he would turn over his
food parcels for general distribution. The foreman of the
cell, with his usual authority, took him under his own pro-
tection and ordered that he should not be harmed. Imagine
the surprise of the examining officer when the next day he
discovered that V. had not been mistreated in any way.
And although he tried to instigate violence by summoning
the foreman to tell him that V. had complained of being
robbed, the foreman quickly saw through the trick and on
his return to the cell told V. about it.

This incident only strengthened the good-will of the
criminals toward V. Flouting the prison rules they would
see that V. got out into the yard for exercise, guarding him

TAIROFF ALLEY 171

closely as they went and pretending that they were drag-
ging him out by force. A curious picture he presented, this
dignified gentleman with a magnificent gray beard and
spectacles, walking in the yard surrounded by a crowd of
bedraggled thieves, three of whom were entirely naked. It
was not long before the examining officer, seeing that he
had not succeeded in subduing V., transferred him back to
a general cell.

A different type of pressure was exerted upon a man by
the name of B. arrested in connection with the " Academic
Case." J For a year he was kept in isolation without exer-
cise, food parcels or reading matter. Finally he was given
an ultimatum to sign the " confession " or be shot within
three days. He did not sign. In the evening he was called out
with his " things " and transferred to the death cell where
for two days he could listen, day and night, to the groans
and screams of those being dragged to execution. At last he
was taken under heavy guard into the cellar where, ac-
cording to rumor, the executions took place. Every mo-
ment he expected to be shot in the back, but no from
there he was led up a dark flight of stairs and ushered into
a brightly lit room where two examining officers were
seated. Then he lost consciousness and could not be ques-
tioned.

After this harrowing experience he was transferred to a
double cell and given a madman for a companion. This
man would throw himself on B. and beat and choke him.
Scratched and bruised, and with torn clothing, he was
again brought before the examining officer in whose office
he found his wife who had also been summoned for ques-
tioning. Then, seeing the strong impression this meeting
produced upon both of them, the examiner addressed him-
self to B. with pathetic words:

i See Appendix, page 359.

172 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

" Pity your wife! Save yourself! Sign the confession! I
offer it to you for the last time, otherwise you will be shot."

B. again had the courage to refuse to give false testimony
and was sent to the concentration camp. Had he submitted
to the advice of the examining officer, undoubtedly he
would have been shot.

The " wet cell " was another means of coercion. Here the
floor was flooded with water and the only furniture was a
very narrow plank on which one could sit but not lie down.
There were no sanitary conveniences and the prisoners
were not allowed to leave the cell for any reason. Their
feet had to remain in the filthy, putrid water filled with
ordure; this developed ulcers. I knew of one prisoner who
after six days in this " wet cell " finally signed a false con-
fession. But he left behind him another prisoner who had
been there for over thirty days and still refused to sign a
false statement.

These cases are but an insignificant part of what I saw
and heard of the methods of the GPU, just a few examples
showing the conditions under which the Russian intel-
lectuals suffered imprisonment.

Instead of subjecting me to any of the above violent
methods, the examining officer got into the habit of send-
ing for me once every week or ten days and keeping me in
his office for four or five hours. Each time he would urge
me to confess or would threaten me with death, but with
decreasing insistence. He would often ask my opinion on
some " technical detail," as he called it, for instance, the
practicability of manufacturing " fish flour " from fish
waste. He would lazily look over a newspaper, while I
talked, intentionally complicating my narrative with mi-
nute details which I felt sure he did not understand. Now

TAIROFF ALLEY 173

and then his eyes would close, but if I stopped talking, he
was wide awake.

" Well, go on! "

Watching him carefully I gradually began to change the
subject describing some unusual characteristics of the
various kinds of fishes in the Barents Sea. The effect was
extraordinary.

" A perch at a depth of 300 meters! That's wonderful!
What kind of perch is it? "

I would explain to him that it is a deep-water fish, of a
fiery red color, with enormous black eyes and sharp spikes
and that it is viviparous that made a great impression
on him and the subject of the cross-examination shifted to
the question of viviparous fish!

He listened with apparent interest to stories about sea-
wolves, and toothed whales that swallowed seals, and killer-
whales that chase a Greenland whale onto a shallow bank
to devour it. Such conversations convinced me that Barish-
nikoff was a typical Soviet state functionary, unquestion-
ably lazy, who went to the Shpalerka for the same reason
that all Communists go to their offices; in order that the
number of hours they " worked " might be registered.

I decided to take the offensive. Choosing an opportune
moment during our conversation on a subject entirely for-
eign to the cross-examination, I addressed him unexpect-
edly in a calm and casual manner:

" May I ask you a frank question? "

He nodded.

" Why are you keeping me here? You know very well
that I am not a wrecker, that I have committed no crime.
I have the impression that you want at any cost to establish
a crime where you know well there is none."

At first he appeared taken aback and then began claim-
ing that the GPU never arrests and imprisons anyone with-

174 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

out cause; if I had been arrested, there must be a reason
for it.

I shrugged my shoulders. The old story was beginning
all over again. He resumed his aggressive tone and con-
tinued:

" What do you think, that we decided to expose an ' or-
ganization ' in your Trust and that I simply picked from the
list of employees those names which seemed best to fit into
the picture? That I came across your name a nobleman
and a scientist found it to be well fitted and so got hold
of you? "

" Yes, I believe that's the way it was done," I replied,
trying to speak calmly and without irritation.

" No, it was not done that way. We have strong evidence
against you. You are a wrecker. At Murmansk, during the
general meeting at the time of the execution of the ' 48,'
the question was raised as to why you hadn't been arrested.
This shows that your wrecking activity was no secret to the
workmen."

I smiled and thought to myself: " What strong evi-
dence! "

He noticed my smile and hesitated, knowing as well as I
how general meetings were conducted.

" Possibly you engaged in wrecking activity not out of
desire of personal gain, but entirely out of class hatred.
I'm becoming convinced that this was the case. To some
extent this lightens the gravity of your position," he said
trying to gain a new foothold.

" Class hatred? Where did you get this from? "

" I sincerely advise you to confess," he repeated, finding
no suitable reply. " It will save you. Then, when submit-
ting your case to the council, I will ask for leniency in the
verdict."

" Confess what? You know yourself that I've done noth-
ing criminal. Here you have been questioning me for the

TAIROFF ALLEY 175

last two months tell me of what my ' wrecking activity '
consisted? "

" You knew of the ' wrecking activity ' of Tolstoy and
Scherbakoff."

"No."

" But you know they have been shot at wreckers. Work-
ing with them you could not have failed to know of their
' wrecking/ "

" I knew their work. I know that all the success of the
trawling business is due to the knowledge and energy of
Scherbakoff."

" Don't forget that wreckers are cunning," interrupted
the examining officer. " Keeping up the outward appear-
ance of excellent work, they know how to ruin it from the
inside. Confess that you knew of the ' wrecking activity '
of Tolstoy and Scherbakoff and I will accuse you only of
failing to report. This would come under another Article
and would get you the minimum punishment. This is the
most 1 can do for you."

From then on my " case " was narrowed down to a per-
sistent attempt to obtain confirmation of the wrecking
activities of those executed in the autumn of 1930. At first
it was not quite clear to me. Evidently they had been mur-
dered not only without being convicted of a definite crime,
but also without the observance of those minimum re-
quirements needed by the GPU to " prove " their " guilt."
I found out later that this was so. It was not until the win-
ter of 1930-1931 that the GPU actually attempted to col-
lect "proofs" against the "48" who had already been
executed.

A few days later the examining officer informed me of
the official accusation against me. He was evidently afraid
to continue our previous conversation, fearing that it
might lead to a final loss of his prestige. I was being ac-
cused according to Article 58, Paragraph 7 of eco-

176 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

nomic counter-revolution, that is " wrecking." The punish-
ment for this crime is from three years of forced labor to
the death penalty with confiscation of property.

The examining officer wrote out the accusation act in my
presence on a special form. Its formulation was poorly
made and, to me, incomprehensible. It was one long sen-
tence containing numerous incidental propositions oddly
separated by commas. Its meaning was approximately as
follows: I was accused of engaging in wrecking activity
from 1925 to the day of my arrest and, concretely, my
wrecking consisted of " promoting the rise of prices of
materials and production equipment."

" Sign to the effect that the accusation has been read to
you," said the examining officer.

" But I don't even understand the accusation," I ob-
jected. " How was it possible for me to promote the raising
of prices of materials and production equipment? "

" Whether you understand it or not isn't important.
Simply sign that you have read the accusation. I don't ask
that you agree with it," he grumbled. And I signed.

After that I was not called out for questioning for a
whole month and was even allowed to work in the prison
library, delivering books to the cells. Life became easier.
I had seven companions working there with me and, best
of all, I was allowed to read in its spacious room. I still
lived in the same cell, but I left early in the morning and
returned to it only just before roll-call at night.

It was a mystery to me why my case had dragged on for
so long. I was not called out for cross-examination any
more. Maybe my " case " was completed and I would soon
receive my verdict from the " cuckoo." Perhaps I would
even be released.

Meanwhile I had become an " old-timer " with the cell
privileges that accompany this status, and I knew the mi-

TAIROFF ALLEY 177

nutest details of prison regulations. I had gathered to-
gether a prisoner's kit of forbidden, but extremely useful,
articles: a needle which was a gift from a fellow-prisoner
who had been deported; a piece of string which I picked up
in the prison yard and which served to hold up my trousers;
two large nails which I flattened into a knife and a chisel;
a pipe which I made from specially processed bread and a
game of chess of the same material. I became used to long
hair and learned the trick of shaving with a piece of tin or
broken glass.

The acute nervous tension and excitement of the first
clays of imprisonment subsided. Routine, weariness and op-
pressive sadness took their place. The third month passed,
the fourth began, but no change came. It was as if time had
stopped on one dreadful day.

CHAPTER XXIII
" NOVELISTS "

B

BEFORE my imprisonment I had been certain that the
alleged " voluntary confessions " of scientists and special-
ists were faked and the records falsified. I could understand
that there might be people of weak will-power who under
torture or the threat of death would write any kind of con-
fession; but that men of strong character and unquestion-
able honesty, like the " 48," could do such a thing seemed
incredible to me. I was, therefore, surprised to learn how
many prisoners do write false confessions and denuncia-
tions. There is no doubt that the GPU does not stop at
falsification of signatures, or the addition of words which
completely change the meaning of a statement, or even the
drawing up of entirely false records of investigations, but,
hard as it is to admit, there are also people who write
shameful calumny against themselves. Only those who
have been in the clutches of the GPU can understand how,
under the pressure of examining officers, repulsive " con-
fessions " of participation in counter-revolution, espionage
and " wrecking " are written, which condemn not only
their authors but many other innocent people as well.

Such " confessions," however, are of such usual occur-
rence that there exists a special term for them in the prison
slang. They are called " novels " and those who write them
" novelists." As a matter of fact this forms the basis for
dividing all prisoners into two categories: those " confess-

"NOVELISTS" 179

ing " and those " refusing to confess." I belonged to the
latter group and deeply sympathized with my comrades,
but the psychology of those who did " confess " was of vital
interest to all of us. Finding out what were the forces
which compelled them to capitulate to the examining of-
ficer, to accept the guilt of a base crime, to become betray-
ers of their relatives, friends and fellow-workers, meant
delving into the very depths of prison misery. We, the
" unyielding," had one consolation left our honor; they,
on the other hand, had lost even that.

After a closer study of these individuals I came to the
conclusion that they had become " novelists " from various
motives, but the thing which struck me most was the fact
that there were some who " confessed " consciously for
practical purposes. These were men of mature age, the
majority of whom had formerly held positions of social and
official importance. This group consisted almost entirely
of engineers, well-known specialists and some professors
and scientists. Many were men of wide practical experience,
strong character and high ethical standards. Before the
Revolution many of them had been men of irreproachable
integrity, and now they openly told of giving false testi-
mony and denouncing their friends and associates, arguing
that to have done otherwise would have been impossible
and unwise. Some of them even looked down upon the
" unyielding " and brazenly urged them also to " confess."
But there were others who talked about it with repulsion
and horror, endeavoring by means of words to alleviate
their consciences.

At the Shpalerka, as an example to those refusing to
" confess," a special cell, No. 23, had been set aside. It was
occupied by nine important engineers who had "con-
fessed." There were ten cots in the cell; in the middle
stood a big table over which hung a bright lamp with a
shade and each prisoner had a stool. They were taken

i8o I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

separately to the bathhouse and given better food. We saw
their cell when passing along the corridor and met these
engineers at exercise in the yard.

I recall one of these men with whom I argued the subject
of "confessions," but to no avail.

" No, my friend," he continued, " we have become ac-
customed to make deals with our conscience, we have be-
come hardened to the fact that without lying one can't
live through a single day in Sovietland, and we have long
ago lost all our principles. Why then now, when the threat
of an infamous death hangs over us and our families are
threatened with poverty, hunger and even deportation,
should we not do everything possible to alleviate our fate?
The GPU demands that we confess to wrecking and espio-
nage all right, we are wreckers and spies. They demand
denunciation of our friends all right, we'll denounce
them. If I don't, somebody else will. We cooperated with
the Soviet Government when it required that we formulate
and approve absurd plans which ruined the industry and
impoverished the people, and now again we cooperate
with it when our ' confessions ' of wrecking are needed to
cover the shame of its failures. In both cases we are risking
our lives for the sole purpose of putting off the inevitable
and of saving, for a time at least, the lives of our relatives
and ourselves."

" No," I argued, " you are wrong. I have always fought
my utmost against plans I knew to be unfulfillable. Here
in prison, having lost everything, I am still able to say that
I did no harm by my work, even that perhaps in peace time
I would not have worked with so much zeal nor served my
country more diligently. No, I shall never denounce myself
or anybody else."

" But what will you gain by your stubbornness? You will
get into open conflict with the examining officer and his
report to the Council will be unfavorable to you. The GPU

"NOVELISTS" 181

Council will also be ' sore ' at you because the GPU must
necessarily disclose plots in order to justify its enormous
appropriations and expanded staffs and that means you
can't expect mercy from them. I am not forgetting, either,
that the Soviet Government needs our ' confessions '
with which to explain why our country is suffering poverty
and famine instead of the promised well-being and pros-
perity. With matters as they are, you'll get the heaviest
punishment and probably be shot. They don't need your
' confession ' in order to convict you. Don't forget that there
is no trial, you will not see the council, the examining of-
ficer can forge your signature or even force others to give
incriminating evidence against you."

" Let him do what he likes! I will not assist him in this
dirty work."

" This may be very honorable, but in our times par-
don me it's ridiculous! Our times are times of realistic
politics and not of knighthood or quixotism."

" And are you sure that your confession will save you? "
I asked. " Remember the case of the ' 48 '; they ' confessed '
and the next day the GPU announced the executions. You
see, the GPU has its own peculiar kind of logic."

" Even so we do gain by confessing. First of all, our
relatives are not imprisoned as a means of forcing us to
be more compliant. Then, we ourselves avoid torture and
other means of coercion. The prison regime is made lighter
for us and therefore we have more chance of leaving the
prison without entirely ruining our health."

One of the younger men in prison, a radical who openly
sympathized with the Bolsheviks, broke in on the conversa-
tion. He, too, was being accused of " wrecking."

" But it's terrible to realize what harm you cause by
your false confessions. Put yourself in the position of the
examining officer to whom you've confessed and the GPU
Council that reads your * novels.' You're forcing them to

182 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

believe in wrecking which does not exist, to search for it
and ultimately destroy us who are indispensable to the
country."

" Oh no! They're not as naive as all that. My examining
officer knows very well that I've never wrecked and that in
general we never had any wrecking activity at our factory.
It's all their own invention anyway. How much my examin-
ing officer believes in wrecking activities can be seen from
the following incident. He forced me to sign a deposition
that I had engaged in wrecking and that I received money
for it from abroad. Then he said, ' Write how much.' How
much? The devil only knew! All the money I saw was what
I was given by the factory. I thought for a long time and
figured out how much might be required to bribe an engi-
neer of my position who received, as I did, one thousand
roubles a month. Finally I wrote down that I had received
during the five years 200,000 roubles. ' What are you writ-
ing? ' he cried. ' What do you mean by 200,000? What idiot
would give you that? Cross out one zero, make it 20,000.
No, even that's too much! You'll have to write the whole
statement over. Say that you received 10,000 roubles.' ' But
* I replied, ' that makes only 2,000 a year. And what
person would believe that I had taken this risk for only
2,ooo roubles? Why, by consultations or prospecting work
I could have earned more than that at any moment, but I
didn't take advantage of this opportunity for fear of being
accused of grabbing too much work for myself.' ' Don't
argue, write down 10,000 roubles.' What could I do? I
wrote it down. And you insist that I should have risked
getting a bullet in my head to avoid tempting this scoun-
drel to believe in the existence of wrecking activity! "

The subject of " confessions " was discussed a great deal
in prison because it represented both the basic point in
all our " cases " and the " work " of our examining officers.

"NOVELISTS" 183

It was very hard to control one's indignation against those
who were " novelists " from principle. As for those who
had surrendered to the examining officers because of direct
torture or even the fear of it, they presented an extremely
pathetic picture: men of weak will and confused old men
complete moral wrecks.

In the winter of 1930 an old man, Professor Z., was trans-
ferred to a common cell after half a year of solitary confine-
ment. I saw him when he was taken out into the yard for
exercise for the first time. He was completely broken, his
back was bent and he moved about with the greatest diffi-
culty. There had been rumors that he had denounced a
large number of people, and the minute he entered the
yard prisoners rushed to him from all sides.

" I'm sorry, friends, sorry! " he was saying in a trembling
voice. " Yes, I have denounced you. Yes you, too. And
you. . . . And him. I couldn't hold out. They forced me
to do it. I'm old I couldn't hold out. I also have been de-
nounced. Do you know Professor N.? It was he who de-
nounced me. They arranged a meeting and he shamelessly
denounced me to my face. What could I do? "

" Professor," said one of them with indignation, " you
didn't know me at all, you had no connection with my
work, you scarcely knew me; why did you bring false accu-
sation against me? "

" And what have you written about me? " interrupted
another excitedly.

" I don't remember, friend. I forget. . . ."

" Old ass! " said somebody. " He already has one foot in
the grave, and in order to get a sentence of ten years in
concentration camp, which he will never outlive, he not
only sells his good name, but ruins everyone whose name
he remembers. What a despicable coward! "

Meanwhile the old man was telling of some of the testi-
mony he had given against them. It was a painful scene.

184 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

Here was a formerly respected professor ending his long
life in infamy.

Many of the " novelists " made attempts to conceal their
" confessions," but it was almost impossible. The examin-
ing officer does not make a secret of such " confessions,"
but uses them as a means to coerce others. So many people
are involved in each " case " that the news spreads rapidly
and widely, is long remembered and follows the " con-
fessors " even into exile. The attitude of the other prison-
ers toward these men is not one of outward hostility but
rather of distrust. It is at the hands of the examining of-
ficers that they get the worst treatment. Having squeezed
from the " novelists " all the testimony they need, these
GPU officials invariably drastically change their attitude
toward them and begin to ill-treat them. More than once
I have heard examining officers shouting: " Intellectual
scum! Just scare them a little and they crawl on their bel-
lies denouncing everyone! "

After the " confession " had been made and the useful-
ness of the " novelist " exhausted, he lost most of his privi-
leges and advantages. We were, there in the prison, pri-
marily interested to learn if " novel writing " really
brought a lighter sentence, as promised by the examining
officer and as often believed " outside." In our time prison
practice did not confirm this. I know of cases where those
who had " confessed " were shot, while those whom they
had falsely denounced and who had remained firm
were sent to concentration camps.

Reviewing the GPU " cases " which I encountered in
prison, I came to the conclusion that " confessing " gave
the prisoners no advantage either during the investigation
or later and that their subsequent loss of self-respect must,
in the majority of cases, have caused great mental torture.
I feel very sure that there were only a few who " confessed "
for pure gain. It is only the man himself who, knowing the

"NOVELISTS" 185

horrors which the examining officer devised for him, can
judge his own case. How can one accuse Professor T. of
weakness, when he surrendered only after being shown,
through the porthole of the hot cell, his wife and daughter
gasping for breath, lying on the floor and striving to get
air by pressing their mouths against the crack under the
iron door? What one of us could be sure of having the
strength of A- B. Ezerski, executed in connection with
the case of the " 48," who was carried out on a stretcher
after two cross-examinations lasting 100 hours each still
refusing to sign the lie which they tried to make him en-
dorse?

CHAPTER XXIV
THE SPREAD OF DISEASE

I

N January, 1931, a noticeable activity pervaded the
administration of the Shpalernaya prison as if an inspec-
tion was imminent. Cells were being emptied; prisoners in
batches of 20 or 30 men at a time from the whole corridor
were being called out "with things" and were evidently
being transferred to other prisons. Common cells became
less crowded: only Go or 70 men were left in our cell. Cell
No. 19 was completely emptied and transformed into a
" distributing cell "; all the newly arrested were placed in
it and, before being transferred to common cells, were
taken to the bathhouse. Prisoners who did not get remit-
tances from home were given prison underwear. The dis-
gusting mattresses stuffed with straw dust were replaced by
others filled with fresh straw. All this excited the prisoners
and rumors spread that a delegation of foreigners was going
to visit our prison. This surmise changed into assurance
when a painter, also one of the prisoners, made his appear-
ance and filled all the cracks in the walls with plaster, im-
muring thousands of bed bugs. On January 24th, when
everything seemed to have been completed, the prison
was inspected by the representative of the GPU, Medved
" himself," with a whole retinue of attendants. In spite of
our isolation, rumors spread very quickly in prison and
the same day everybody knew that Medved had been dis-
satisfied, had found the cells too crowded, the place not

THE SPREAD OF DISEASE 187

ready for demonstration and had ordered that the prison
be immediately tomorrow " cleaned out," that is,
that we be transferred to another prison. Alarm was gen-
eral. However bad it was at the Shpalerka no one wished
to be transferred to another prison where conditions might
be still worse.

No one believed that all these improvements could mean
a change in the prison regime in general. We had already
experienced something of this kind, but to a lesser degree,
in November 1930, when the prison was threatened with
an epidemic of typhus. In our crowded condition, infested
by lice, a single case of typhus would have necessarily de-
veloped into an epidemic which could have easily spread
to the city. Then, for the first time, we were given a chance
to wash ourselves properly in the bathhouse. Usually we
were allowed only 15 minutes for washing in the bathhouse,
less the time spent to reach it and to undress; a group of
20-35 prisoners were crowded in a room meant for 20.
No hot water was available; soap was not supplied. Only
the most aggressive minority succeeded in washing them-
selves after a fashion, but even they did not get rid of lice.
One of the causes for the spread of these vermin was the
" disinfecting " process, which meant that all the under-
wear and clothing of those washing in the bathhouse was
stuffed into two enormous bags which were then slightly
heated by steam. Ten minutes later the bags were brought
back and their contents emptied onto the dirty floor of
the dressing room. Perhaps part of the clothing nearer to
the sides of the bag got warm, but in the middle every-
thing remained cold and the disturbed lice ran actively
over all the clothes.

We did not doubt that the lice regime was one of the
means of coercion for we were well acquainted with the fa-
vorite threats of examining officers: " I'll rot you in the
lice cell! " " After a year of feeding lice you'll confessl "

i88 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

A man who is dirty and infested with lice loses his self-
respect and offers less resistance to the threats of the exam-
ining officer.

The only real way of fighting lice in prison was to hunt
for them, and every day we engaged in this occupation
while the light was sufficient near the windows. Moscow
residents, who came to us from the Butyrki prison told us
that the prisoners there had established a daily " hour of
fighting lice." But there were always people who had be-
come indifferent to everything and who could not be forced
to give time regularly to this task.

In November, with only the very slightest help from the
prison administration, we succeeded in overcoming the
lice, but as soon as the threat of the typhus epidemic lifted,
we were again returned to the old regime.

Besides lice, the GPU had another ally which was still
more effective scurvy. The special prison diet, the for-
bidding of fruit and vegetables in prison remittances and
the lack of fresh air, led to almost general sickness. Com-
paratively young men lost their teeth and nearly everybody
suffered from bleeding gums or sore joints, especially in
the legs. It is a known fact that the typical symptoms of
scurvy are lack of energy, apathy, depression. This was
widely made use of by examining officers and in January,
having temporarily destroyed bed bugs and lice, they con-
tinued to permit scurvy, furunculosis, anaemia and tuber-
culosis to flourish.

I have not mentioned the wide spread of nervous and
mental diseases. After half a year of solitary confinement
almost everyone begins to suffer from hallucinations; many
lose their minds completely and become violently insane.

Cases of sudden insanity often occur at the moment when
the prisoner after a long spell of solitary confinement is
placed in a common cell and is unable to withstand the
shock of transition to the crowd and noise. At night we

THE SPREAD OF DISEASE 189

would often hear heartrending screams. The whole prison
would become silent and listen in suspense trying to make
out whether someone was being tortured, dragged to exe-
cution or had become insane. Some of the prisoners could
not bear it and would call the warden on duty. If he hap-
pened to be a good man, he would honestly reassure them.

"But no, this is not in the examining officer's office.
Don't you hear, the screams come from upstairs. It's
just somebody gone crazy. He'll soon be taken away."

This was the life at " Shpalerka," and nevertheless we
dreaded the prospect of a change to another prison.

CHAPTER XXV
WE MOVE TO " KRESTI "

o

N the morning of January 25, 1931, we learned that
five hundred men were to be transferred to the " Kresti "
prison. General commotion followed. Many, especially
old-timers, were very distressed tor with the transfer they
would lose all their privileges. We were all grieved at the
thought of losing our small but valued possessions such as
needles, pieces of string and home-made knives, which
would most certainly be taken from us in the search which
always accompanies such a transfer.

The disturbance and confusion created by the adminis-
tration's demand of immediate execution of orders were
exceedingly depressing. For hours we were kept standing
in the cell awaiting the humiliating procedure of being
searched; for hours we were checked, our names entered
into lists, counted and recounted; for hours we were kept
waiting for the " black crow " which, filled to the utmost,
transported us in groups to the other side of the Neva to
Kresti. Those who were awaiting transportation and had
already been searched, counted and registered were
guarded not by the prison guard, whose number had
proved insufficient, but by ordinary soldiers of the GPU.
They looked at us with curiosity and entered cautiously
into conversation.

" What are you imprisoned for, Comrade? "

" Who knows, I don't know myself," was the usual reply.

WE MOVE TO " KRESTI " 191

" That's it, all are like that. Why do they keep people
like you in prison? Thieves are free to infest the streets,
but good people are kept in prisons."

" Not so loud," another soldier warned him, "don't you
see the spy? " and he nodded towards the approaching
prison warden.

At last came my turn. We were pushed into a closed
wagon, packed so tightly that the last ones had to be pressed
in with the closing door. We were rushed away, the em-
bankment of the Neva whisked by the little window; then
came a sharp turn and we entered the prison yard.

Before the Revolution the cells of Kresti had been
equipped for one inmate: a folding cot, a table, a chair,
a cupboard for food utensils and clothes, a washstand and
a toilet in the form of a wooden box with a cover and a
pail inside. After the Revolution all this equipment had
been broken and destroyed. In place of the cot were rough
boards on low trestles, in place of the toilet a dented, un-
believably dirty, rusty pail with no cover whatever. This
pail could be carried out for emptying only twice a day;
one can imagine the stench that permeated the cell. More-
over, in accordance with the Soviet principle of crowding
people together, at least five men were placed in each cell
two of them could sleep on the rough boards and the
others on the floor. Six men were placed in many of the
cells and in some even ten. With only five prisoners in our
cell there was not room to walk around, and the only exer-
cise we had was when we were led out for our one minute
washing in the lavatory at the end of the corridor and
during the fifteen minutes' exercise in the prison yard.

Besides all these hardships, we were confronted with
intense cold and terrible dampness. Water literally ran
down the walls in spite of our continually wiping them,
the floors were wet all the time and the window panes
covered with a thick coating of frost.

1 92 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

My cell-mates turned out to be new ones to me and pre-
sented a rather varied assortment. The senior by position
and respect was a Professor E. whom I had known previ-
ously from his scientific works. He had been in prison for
two years and was accused of counter-revolution. For the
last three months he had not been taken to cross-examina-
tions and he was expecting to receive his verdict at any
time. Then there was an artillery officer of the old army
who had been in prison for a long time. The Tartar who
was with us had been arrested recently; formerly the head
janitor of a big apartment house, he was being held in con-
nection with the case of the Moslem priest Bigeeff, who
had escaped abroad. Many Tartars had been arrested in
connection with this case. The other member of our group
was an old jeweler, an employee of the state jewelry store.
He had been in prison four months and was the only one
of us who did not know of what he was being accused; up
to that time he had not yet been taken to a single cross-
examination.

In spite of the diversity of our professions we all very
quickly became friends, a matter of great importance be-
cause our quarters here were perhaps more crowded than
at the Shpalerka. We began by strictly regulating our day.

In the morning before " tea " we had gymnastics under
my direction. And before exercise time in the yard Profes-
sor E. and I gave something like popular lectures. After
dinner everyone kept quiet, busying himself with his own
affairs. Professor E. usually formulated chess problems or
made some small article for our comfort a shade for the
lamp, a cover for the toilet pail or small shelves. Tools and
materials lost during the transfer were again being picked
up and utilized with an ingenuity of which only a prisoner
is capable. For a long time I occupied myself with model-
ling chessmen, pipes and cigarette holders out of bread
which was previously subjected to a special treatment. All

WE MOVE TO "KRESTI" 193

this was, of course, done in secret because the tools pieces
of tin, glass, wire and the like and the materials which
we used, except for the bread, were being obtained in vio-
lation of prison regulations. Usually we picked up all our
treasures in the yard during exercise or when we were be-
ing led to the bathhouse. I have to admit that prison bore-
dom made us so proficient in this respect that once I even
succeeded in stealing from the yard a whole log of wood
which became for us a source of endless handicrafts.

In the evening we told each other stories, mostly personal
experiences, so that we would not discuss " cases " or dwell
on prison actualities.

In spite of our miserable existence, the extremely
crowded conditions, putrid air, darkness and dampness,
I felt that I was resting and that my nerves were becoming
calmed. The organization and the friendly atmosphere in
our cell had a restful influence after the chaos and noise of
the common cell at Shpalerka. The examining officer
seemed to have forgotten me completely. Somehow I could
not bring myself to believe that I might suddenly be taken
to execution or be deported. And what if they released me?
What if I were to return home and see my family again?
Would I work again under the constant threat of new
imprisonment? Work, and take the place of my executed
comrades? Never! In the " freedom " of my native land
there was no place for me.

CHAPTER XXVI
THIS IS NO TRIAL

T

HE first night we kept awake for a long time. The
light was out, but our Tartar continued to tell his stories
in a low voice and we were following with interest his
narrative of how people used to live. Suddenly we heard
footsteps, then the clinking of keys. The light was turned
on and a voice called out:

" Name? " the guard pointed his finger at each of us
in turn. He came to me and I replied. " Initials? " " V. V.,"
I said.

" Initials in full! " he growled threateningly.

" What do you mean, first name and father's name? "

" Of course! " he snapped. I told him.

" Get going, quickly! "

I began to dress. My cell-mates were looking at me with
compassion and concern.

" Shall I put on my overcoat? " I asked. " Nothing has
been said about it," he answered, " it means without over-
coat."

I went out and followed him; we descended steep iron
stairs to a lower corridor where he stopped me and left me
shivering in the gloomy silence of the prison night. When
I had become thoroughly chilled he returned and growled,
" Get going! "

I entered an office. Facing me was a new examining of-
ficer, his face cold and repulsive. He was a young man of
slight build and dark complexion, with a narrow forehead

" THIS IS NO TRIAL " 195

and small cruel eyes. There was a general's insignia on the
coat of his military uniform. My former examining officer
had been a colonel. Evidently this one was the chief.

" Sit down," he said glumly. " What were you questioned
about at your last cross-examination? "

" About the possibility of utilizing the fish waste from the
Murman Coast." It was the first thing that came to my
mind.

" Tell about it," he said in an ominous voice.

I began speaking slowly in order to collect my thoughts.
It was very cold in the office; the examining officer had on
a heavy top coat. I could not help shivering and this dis-
tracted my thoughts. It was stupid of me this scoundrel
might think I was shaking with fright. He gazed at me
piercingly annoyingly but did not say a word.

Suddenly he interrupted me sharply: " Enough! Stop
stuffing our heads with your stupid technicalities. Remem-
ber, this is no trial. The Comrade who conducted your case
came to the conclusion that you ought to be shot. I agree
with him. You ought to be shot! " He was not speaking but
shouting angrily and wildly.

" Well, what's the matter shoot! " I replied, control-
ling my anger with difficulty.

" M. and T. visited you at your home! " he said, naming
two women of my acquaintance. " Yes," I replied.

" They are prostitutes! " he shouted at the top of his
voice.

" No, one is the wife of a professor and the other of an
engineer. You know it."

He jumped from his chair and began pacing up and
down the room, and for some reason of his own he con-
tinued shouting loudly. "The cross-examination is go-
ing forward in enormous strides! "

I burst out laughing. As I was trembling all over with
anger the laugh came out loud and insolent.

ig6 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

" What are you laughing at? " he cut in.

" It's funny and that's why I'm laughing," I replied pro-
vokingly.

It would be hard to reproduce the content of the subse-
quent cross-examination. He shouted at me and I at him.
The door of the office would not stay shut and every other
minute he would run to it and slam it closed, but it would
open again and our voices resounded throughout the entire
prison building. Doubtless the whole prison was listening
to us with apprehension. He threatened me with execution,
shouted fantastic abominations about my life and repeat-
edly accused me of having received money from abroad.
I was so overcome with anger that I scarcely knew what I
answered. His insolent manner, his face and his voice, all
were driving me wild. " I must not hit him," was the only
thought that remained clear in my mind. We stood facing
each other our fists clenched.

" Who is the examining officer, I or you? " he shrieked.

" You are! Do you think I would engage in such work? "
I shouted in reply.

" We'll shoot you! And there won't be any less fish in
the sea for it," he yelled. " We've shot Tolstoy, we've shot
Scherbakoff and there's no less fish in the sea. And we'll
shoot you too! "

" Good! Shoot everybody, there'll be more fish in the sea
when there's no one left to catch it."

"Wrecker! Tolstoy testified that you were a wrecker."

" Lies! "

" You say the GPU lies? " he shouted threateningly.

" Lies! Lies! " I screamed, completely losing control of
myself.

" Get out of here! Go to hell! "

I rushed out of the office and bumped into the guard,
who because of the shouting had stationed himself at the
door ready to spring to the assistance of his chief.

"THIS IS NO TRIAL" 197

The examining officer rushed out after me. " Where
are you going? " he shouted.

" To helll " I shrieked.

" Only death will correct you! " he snarled angrily, and
addressing the terrified guard, " Take him to his cell."

I ran up to the fourth floor several steps at a time, stamp-
ing on the iron stairs, paying no attention to the guard
who could barely keep up with me. He made no attempt
to stop me, and in my excitement I ran up the wrong
stairs and could not find my cell. This cooled me off; I
controlled myself and let the guard find it for me.

Nobody was asleep in our cell, arid as soon as the warden
had locked me in everybody began questioning me anx-
iously as to what all the shouting had been about.

My anger had subsided. I saw all the absurdity of the
scene and hilariously began to describe it.

" Does it pay to behave like that? " asked Professor E.
" One should control himself. You shouldn't act that
way with them. You'll only make a worse enemy out of
him."

" But, my friend, what can I do if I have such a stupid
temper? God be praised that I didn't hit him in the face.
At any rate, he didn't succeed in frightening me."

E. was much concerned about me. He, himself, was an
admirable example of self-control and his attitude towards
the guards and prison administration most exceptional.
His large, heavy figure, his serious yet kindly face, his self-
confidence and long-standing habit of authority all these
presented such a complete picture of dignity that even the
jailers felt uncomfortable in his presence. I greatly envied
him that self-control and dignified bearing, but for me it
was unattainable.

Then he related in his interesting manner the story of
his first cross-examination at the Shpalerka. The examin-
ing officer had asked him how old he was. He had replied

1 9 8 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

with perfect politeness and immediately added: " and how
old are you? "

The examining officer became confused. " And what
has that to do with the case? " he asked.

" Nothing, of course. I just asked out of curiosity. If
you find my question out of place, please don't answer/'

"Well, twenty-five/' modestly replied the officer.

" Twenty-five," the professor sighed with sympathy.
" How young you are! You weren't even born when I was
imprisoned in this very prison for opposing the Tzarist
regime. You see how times change! "

" Education? " drily interrupted the examining officer.
The other replied and immediately asked: "And what is
your education? "

" I studied in the Pedagogical Institute, but I didn't
graduate.'*

" You see," mused E., " I gave a course there. If you had
only stayed longer you would have listened to my lectures;
you would have become a teacher. It's good, useful work.
You didn't graduate and now you are working here. A
pity! What a pity! "

CHAPTER XXVII
TORTURE IN THE LICE CELL

J.HE night following my rowdy encounter with the
examining officer the old jeweler was summoned to his
first cross-examination. He was gone for four days. After
having sat in prison for four months he was so upset at
being called out that he left behind his set of false teeth.
He was unrecognizable when he returned on the night of
the fourth day. As soon as he entered the cell he began to
talk excitedly. He ravenously attacked the food we had
saved for him, choked over the soup and bread, shook with
laughter, stumbled over words, but still kept on trying to
eat and talk at the same time.

" What fun, what fun! I'll tell you all about it, but you
won't believe it. You will never believe what I've been
through. Fun. How smart they are they certainly
know how to do it. They took me to the Gorokhovaya and
put me in the ' lice ' cell. Yes, the ' lice ' cell. You know,
you've heard of it the ' lice ' cell. What fun! "

Then he choked over his soup and bread and began
coughing violently. We admonished him to calm himself
and rest, but he hadn't eaten for four days. He continued
eating and chattering at the same time.

" There are between two and three hundred people in
the ' lice ' cell, men, women and some children all thrown
in together. How hot it is! And how crowded, without
room to sit or lie down. They shoved me in and there was

200 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

only standing room. The crowd sways back and forth in-
cessantly red faces and bulging eyes. It's fearful! But I
found a friend in there who urged me to squeeze forward
towards the grill. May God reward him my friend for
telling me this, for showing me what to do; otherwise I
would not be living now. Towards the end of the first night
I lost consciousness. What happened and how I don't
know. When I came to I was lying down. I had been hauled
out into the corrfdor. If I hadn't been near the grill I would
certainly have died. My head was resting on a woman a
fat woman with large breasts who was also unconscious,
and beyond her there was another woman. What fun! Oh,
what fun! "

He rocked with hysterical laughter, choking and cough-
ing. We passed him his teeth so that he could eat more
easily.

" Thank you, thank you! " he sputtered. " I'd quite for-
gotten about my teeth, and I was wondering why I couldn't
eat. That's fine. Thank you! "

Although he was still trembling and laughing, his story
soon became more comprehensible, and for the first time
we were hearing directly from the lips of a witness a de-
scription of perhaps the most vile method of torture used
by the GPU the "lice," "crowded" or "foreign cur-
rency " cell. Gradually out of his incoherent words and
answers to our questions we were able to get quite a com-
plete picture of the unbelievable way in which the GPU
finances much of its work.

According to him the " lice " cell at the Gorokhovaya is
only about half the size of those crowded common cells
of the Shpalernaya, but two to three hundred persons are
jammed into it. There the people must stand pressed
closely together. To add to the torture a high temperature
is maintained in the cell. Everybody is covered with lice
and fighting them is quite impossible. There is no toilet

TORTURE IN THE LICE CELL 201

in the cell. The prisoners are taken out, three at a time,
heavily guarded; men and women are taken together to
the same toilet. This goes on continuously throughout
the day and night. And every time even one person
squeezes his way to the grill a general motion is started,
resulting in a continuous swaying or rocking throughout
the entire cell.

No one may sit or lie down. From time to time a GPU
official enters the cell and stands up on a stool in the middle
of this exhausted mass of people. If he finds that any one
of the prisoners is sitting he makes the entire cell do a
squatting exercise lowering themselves slowly with
bended knees and then slowly raising themselves up again
time after time. This is such torture when everybody's legs
are swollen from long standing that the prisoners them-
selves watch over each other so that no one may slide down
to the floor.

The underwear of those who have been in the cell for
several days becomes completely rotten and worn out and
their entire bodies covered with lice bites and often a rash
from nervous eczema.

" Do they have anything to eat there? " we asked, horri-
fied at this picture of torture.

" Yes, yes! Each person gets 200 grams of bread and a
mug of water a day. All drink water, but no one eats the
bread it would stick in one's throat. What a farcel The
whole cell can be seen from the corridor. People are taken
to see it before examinations and later, on the threat of
being thrown in there, give up all their money, jewels
anything to save themselves from it. They are cunning, very
cunning, those devils of the GPU."

" But you, Ivan Ivanovitch, why didn't you immediately
say that you'd give up everything? "

" They didn't ask me to. That's just it they didn't ask
for anything. They kept me here four months without say-

202 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

ing a single word to me, you know that. For almost four
days they kept me in the ' lice ' cell and I couldn't even
speak to them about it. That's just one of their ways of
terrifying people. Some are put in the cell and others are
shown it from the corridor. The GPU knows how to
frighten people, they're cunning!

" It was not until the fourth day," he continued, " that
forty of us were picked out and taken to another cell where
we waited for one hour and then another. At last a young
fellow came in; he was young and alert and explained
everything so clearly that we understood what it was all
about.

" ' You are parasites,' he said, ' and enemies of the Soviet
Government. You all ought to be executed without mercy,
but the Soviet Government will be lenient towards you for
a time. It will let you cut your own roots. The Government
needs money for the Piatiletka, real money! Foreign cur-
rency and gold coins will do, and those who haven't any
can give gold articles and precious stones. The richer the
Government is, the sooner will it be able to fulfill the
Piatiletka and establish a classless society where there will
be no room for parasites like you. In a word, you must give
voluntarily to the Piatiletka that amount which will be
assigned to each one of you. And those who refuse will be
returned to the " lice " cell or sent to the " conveyor." And
don't forget about the concentration camps.' Then after
considerable swearing at us he sent us one by one to the
examining officer.

" This officer was, I'll have to admit, a clever guy very
clever, and an expert in precious stones. When he told me
that my contribution must be made with a certain value in
precious stones, I agreed to it all. It meant I must give away
all the jewels that I had collected in my fifty-five years of
work. My only worry was that these might not be enough
to cover the amount required from me. He told me to sign
the agreement and I did. ' I will send you today to your

TORTURE IN THE LICE CELL 203

apartment and you, yourself, can show us where these pre-
cious stones are hidden. If there aren't enough to meet the
amount you must contribute, we shall put you back into
the " lice " cell.'

" And everything happened as he had said. A man was
appointed to go with me and we went in a street-car
straight to my home."

" You rode in a street-car and you've been home? " we
asked in amazement.

" Yes, we simply took a street-car and how strange it
felt. I couldn't believe it was true, that I actually was out-
side, riding on a car, that the people all around me were
free. And I myself seemed free, but I knew that actually
I was a prisoner. Oh Lord! Oh Lord! When my old woman
answered the door-bell she almost fainted. But she imme-
diately understood that something was wrong because I
was with a stranger; she didn't know what to do. But my
companion took me straight to the place where the stones
were hidden. I took them out, counted them and entered
them all on a slip of paper. Then he ordered me to get
going back to the prison. But my old woman begged that
she be allowed to give me some tea. And he was a good
fellow and gave his consent. Well, you know, at home there
is nothing to eat, but I had a glass of tea and changed to
clean underwear. I cheered up the old woman as best I
could, saying that everything was all right and I would
soon be back home. She was crying. We are both old. And
he, the Gepeist, was hurying me, saying, ' Let's go, old
man, stop moping! '

" When we got back to the Gorokhovaya the same ex-
amining officer looked over my stones and made an expert
valuation. ' Good/ he said, ' everything is all right. This
will be enough from you for now, old man. The day after
tomorrow you will be free, and for some time we'll let
you alone.' And here I am."

" But Ivan Ivanovitch, how did it happen that they let

204 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

you go so soon? " we asked. " We've always heard that peo-
ple were kept in the ' lice * cell for weeks."

" Many of them are/* he replied. " There was a jeweler
friend of mine who'd been in there for thirty days, and
twice he'd been taken to the ' conveyor.' You see, some
people would rather lose their lives than give up their
money. Either they won't give it up or they try to bargain
about the amount. And there are still others who are asked
to give up something they've never even had. That's what's
really so horrible, for they're tortured, really tortured,
until they wish they were dead; then they're deported to
the concentration camp for insubordination.

" And there are all kinds of people there: merchants,
dentists, doctors, engineers all sorts. Anyone who might
have some money is being taken. No matter how carefully
money or gold is concealed, the GPU scents it and demands
that it be turned over to them."

Ivan Ivanovitch finished his story and we went to sleep,
and the next morning he woke up the same as he had al-
ways been silent and reticent. We tried to find out more
but he would not talk. Evidently the memory of his talka-
tiveness of the night before, occurring because of nervous
strain for perhaps the first time in his naturally quiet life,
was very unpleasant to him. He told us nothing more.

The following day he was sent home " with things." Ivan
Ivanovitch had bought himself out of prison.

CHAPTER XXVIII
THE "CONVEYOR"

A HERE were many men whom I came across later who
had not only undergone the tortures of the " lice " cell but
also those of the " conveyor." x One of these was a former
bank employee, a Jew, about forty-five years old, but in
appearance much older. His hair was quite gray, he was
bent and walked with difficulty.

" I had no gray hair when I was arrested," he said. " Half
a year at the Shpalernaya and thirty days at the Gorokho-
vaya and look at me now; I'm an old man gray hair, sore
legs "

" From the ' lice ' cell? " I interrupted.

" The ' lice ' cell is comparatively nothing," he con-
tinued. " It's fearful, it's terrible, but it's not the ' con-
veyor.' "

" Just what is the ' conveyor '? " I asked.

" The ' conveyor? ' Well imagine if you can a torture so
terrible that if they ask you to cut off your arm you cut it
off. That's what the ' conveyor ' is like.

" Picture for yourself a group of about forty prisoners,
men and women, all worn out, hungry, eaten by lice, suf-
fering with swollen legs from long standing people who
have not slept for many nights. Single file we were led into

i The word " conveyor " is a literal translation from the Russian. It is
a term used to denote that sort of endless belt which is used in factories for
the transference of goods from one department to another, a contrivance
familiar to anyone who has visited a canning factory. TRANSLATOR.

2t>6 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

a big room with three or four desks, and at each desk was
an examining officer. Then comes another room and more
examining officers, a corridor, stairs and more rooms with
examining officers. At the command ' at a run ' we had to
run from one desk to another. And as we approached each
desk the examining officer would start shouting at us in
the vilest language imaginable. They used their foulest
swearing on us Jews. They would hurl their most obscene
oaths at us and shriek, ' Kike, scum Give up your
money! I'll run you to death! Give it up! You won't?
Get along, you son of a bitch. Do you want to feel my
stick? ' And he would swing his stick across the table.

" In front of me ran a woman, a dentist, a most respect-
able person. She was not so young, about forty, heavy and
in ill health. She gasped for breath and could hardly keep
on running. They snouted at her in the foulest language,
ennumerating every sexual perversion imaginable. The
poor woman kept on running, would fall down, be picked
up and roughly pushed from one desk to another. She was
screaming: ' I swear that I have no gold, I swear! I would
gladly have given it all to you, but I haven't got it. What
can I do if I haven't got it? ' And still they shouted their
oaths at her. Some examining officers shout so strenuously
that they finally lose their voices and can only shake their
fists and threaten with their sticks and revolvers."

" Well, and then? "

" Then, they keep on running. Running round and
round again.

" But there must be an end to it? "

" The end? The end is when the person falls down and
can't get up any more. He is shaken, lifted up by the shoul-
ders, beaten on the legs with a stick, and if he can he runs
again, if not he is taken back to the ' lice ' cell and the
next day it's the ' conveyor ' again for him.

" This sort of torture lasts for from ten to twelve hours.

THE "CONVEYOR" 207

Examining officers go away to rest; they get tired sitting
and shouting obscenities and so are relieved by others, but
the prisoners have to keep on running. And yet there are
some people who won't give up their money at once. They
know all about the ' conveyor ' but still won't give it up.
It is not until they have run for several days, have lost con-
sciousness, have come to and been forced to run some more
that they surrender. At first I was angry to think that it was
because of such stubborn people that the use of the ' con-
veyor ' continued, but I soon learned that they were the
clever ones, at least very often."

" But I don't understand," said one of us.

" You don't understand," he smiled sadly. " Well, at
first I didn't. You see, one has to know how to give up
money to the GPU so as not to suffer more. Let's assume
that they are demanding 10,000 roubles of you and that
you have exactly this sum. What should you do? If you
agree to give up this 10,000, then the examining officer
thinks that you probably have more maybe 15,000 or
20,000. So he takes your 10,000, puts you in the ' lice ' cell,
then sends you to the ' conveyor ' and demands 5,000 rou-
bles more. And how can you convince him that you haven't
got it? You might die on the ' conveyor/ but you can't give
away what you haven't got. And so, in order to convince the
examining officer that you are depriving yourself of your
all, of something which is as vital as life itself, you must
endure torture, risk your health and perhaps finally win
freedom. You have to understand the psychology of the
examining officer.

" But we who have nothing," he continued, " what can
we do? I swear to you now, as I did to the examining officer,
that I had and have no money. Before the Revolution I
worked in a banking firm and therefore they thought that
I must have some foreign currency. They wanted 5,000
roubles and I didn't have it. I had to bear the worst of

2 o8 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

treatment, have lost ten years of life and was sentenced to
five years in concentration camp one year for every thou-
sand roubles that I didn't have.

" But hasn't some accusation been brought against you? "
I asked.

" Accusation? What accusation? Just give up the money!
If you do you'll be free, if not it's concentration camp.
They can always find some suitable article in the Code.
If I had never speculated or possessed foreign currency, I
would be accused just the same according to Article 59,
Paragraph 12 of speculation in foreign currency. If I
had actually speculated and had the money, I would pay
up and go home. This is proletarian justice! "

" And how do they pick out the people to be arrested? "

" It's all very simple. They arrest anyone who before the
Revolution or at the time of the NEP was in business, since
there is a possibility that such a man may still have some
money. Jewelers are arrested for the precious stones and
metals which they might have, dentists for the gold which
they must use in their work and doctors and engineers
because they formerly earned high salaries. If such people
spend much money, they are accused of misappropriating
funds or receiving money for ' wrecking '; if they spend
little they are suspected of having money invested in for-
eign currency and this currency is demanded of them.

" I will only add that between 80% and 90% of the peo-
ple arrested in connection with such cases are Jews. Who
were the jewelers, watchmakers and dentists? Jews. In the
common cells 10-20% of the prisoners are Jews, at the
Gorokhovaya 80-90%. Yet people say that the Bolsheviks
are Jews, that the Jews stimulated the Revolution! Soon
we will all be in concentration camp together. Even those
who give up their money don't remain free. Many of them
are arrested again for the second, third and fourth time.
As long as they can pay they will be arrested, and when

THE "CONVEYOR" 209

they can pay no more they will be sent to the concentration
camp. The GPU is destroying the Jews, but they are doing
it without noise and in their own fashion."

My companion was right, for it was true that Judeopho-
bia had reached enormous proportions in the GPU.
Jewish prisoners were commonly addressed by the examin-
ing officers as " mangy Kikes/' At Kresti one of the officers
even made the Jews shout, " I am a mangy Kike," as they
ran along the corridors back to their cells after cross-exam-
ination.

" They collect plenty of money this way," he went on.
" It's now one of the chief ways in which the government
gets hold of foreign currency. The Piatiletka has failed
there is no merchandise or goods, they must have foreign
currency to pay for machinery purchased from abroad even
though this equipment is no longer of use to them. So they
are collecting it. Other countries don't care how the Bol-
sheviks procure their money. Money doesn't smell! They
may not want to accept our goods because they are pro-
duced by forced labor or because they don't need them,
but they are ever ready to trade with the Bolsheviks and
they take willingly that money which is extorted from the
Russian people by torture/'

CHAPTER XXIX
DYNAMITE AND IMAGINATION

JAYS went by at Kresti much as they had at the Shpaler-
naya, the only difference being that here the cases of most
of the prisoners were nearing completion and, therefore,
many were being deported. Our Professor received a sen-
tence of ten years in concentration camp and his place was
taken by a young army aviator. Ivan Ivanovitch was re-
placed by an employee of the Academy of Science. Life
took on a routine aspect and human tragedies were now
affecting us less, perhaps, than during the first period of
our imprisonment, when one night a new inmate was
pushed into our cell.

He was quite young, his clothes were torn, his hands
trembled and his eyes wandered aimlessly. He was in such
a state of agitation that he did not seem to see us or to
notice his surroundings. He dropped his things helplessly
on the floor and tried to walk back and forth in the cell.
But there was no room and he stopped in the corner near
the door grasping his head with his hands and muttering
incoherent words.

" Forty-eight hours in forty-eight hours execution.
The end. There is no way out. What can I do? "

He turned and twisted as if in the agony of death. We
suggested that he sit down on one of the cots, offered to
arrange his things for him and get him a drink of water
but he did not hear or notice us, seeing before him only
his own impending fate. At last in answer to a question

DYNAMITE AND IMAGINATION 211

from one of us as to who he was and whence he came, he
turned to us and started to talk irrepressibly, telling his
story and trying to make us understand the unbelievable
and absurd course of events which had brought him to
this pass.

" You understand," he cried, " I suffer from hysteria.
I have a sick imagination and am obsessed by a mania to
invent extraordinary stories. But how can I explain that
to the examining officers? How can I make them believe
that it is all nonsense, that I made it all up? It's impossible.
I'm going to be shot in forty-eight hours. And there is no
way out."

" But what have you invented? " we asked.

"Dynamite that I kept dynamite. I never had any
dynamite, but I told the girl I lived with while I was a
student in Petersburg that I did. I don't know why I told
her that. Probably to be interesting. She was frightened
and made me swear that I would return the dynamite to
the people who had given it to me for safekeeping, and I
promised." He shrugged his shoulders, "There wasn't
any dynamite, but I couldn't explain this to her it would
have sounded absurd. But I soon forgot about telling her
this. We separated. I finished the Institute, married an-
other girl and went to the South. Life there was boring to
my wife. I had to give myself entirely to my work but was
earning little. She wanted to live in Moscow, to dress up
and go to parties. We often quarreled about little things
like a new hat or painted lips. One day she declared she
was going away and would not return. She went out, but
came back again and started caressing me and asking my
forgiveness. Usually she was sulky after quarrels. I began
to think that she really understood that she had been at
fault, I believed that our life would start anew. In the mid-
dle of the night I woke up, my wife was sitting on my bed
looking at me strangely. I was frightened.

212 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

" ' Where/ she said, ' did you hide the dynamite? '

" ' Dynamite? What is this nonsense? I don't know any-
thing about any dynamite. Go to sleep/

" That was all. I couldn't remember when I had told
her this nonsense about the dynamite. It must have been
that the girl I had lived with in Petersburg had told her
they knew each other. But I paid no more attention to this
conversation of ours. A few days later came the search and
arrest. My wife was arrested, too. We were taken to Lenin-
grad, separately of course, and I did not see her and under-
stood nothing. I was worried about her because I thought
she had been arrested on my account. During the question-
ings I thought at first that it was all a misunderstanding, a
mistake. I was told names of people I had never known,
questioned about places I had never been to. And finally
the examining officer declared that my persistence would
be of no avail as they knew that I had kept dynamite. I
denied this and also that I had told anyone that I was
keeping it/'

" But why did you do that? " asked one of us excitedly,
realizing that here he had lost his only chance of explain-
ing the whole story.

" I don't know myself why I did it. I was upset. I saw all
the horror of my position. My wife it was undoubtedly
she who had denounced me, after the quarrel. I don't know
why I said ' no.' Afterwards I was afraid to contradict my-
self, to tangle up the testimony. I was questioned many
times and at great length by different examining officers.
I firmly maintained that I had never kept dynamite. I said
that I had told nobody that I kept it this was a lie. And
it finished me I will be killed in forty-eight hours. Killed
because of a foolish stroke of imagination, because of a
desire to make myself interesting to a woman/'

Again he became restless, but there was no room to move
around; he could only stand in the corner and literally
strike his head against the wall.

DYNAMITE AND IMAGINATION 213

" Why will you be killed? Why in forty-eight hours? "
we asked. It was painful to watch his insane despair.

" Everything came to an end today. There is no more
hope. It's the end. Today they took me to the Gorokho-
vaya. I was kept waiting in a large room beautifully fur-
nished, not at all like a prison. My examining officer ran in
several times, asked me something, fussed around. I was
excited and completely worn out. Then he ran in again
and said, ' Come quickly! ' I was taken into a large office
with upholstered furniture, rugs, curtains. At the farther
end stood an enormous desk, and at the desk sat a man
clean shaven, pale, with a twitching face. Several Gepeists
stood respectfully at his side, among them my examining
officer. I felt very uncomfortable I was so dirty and
poorly dressed. All eyes were on me; I began taking off
my overcoat. ' This is no check-room/ shouted the man
at the table. ' Come here! ' "

" That was Medved, the GPU representative in Lenin-
grad," interrupted the aviator. " I know him. "

" Perhaps," continued our young friend, reliving the
horror of the whole scene. "I went up to the desk. He
was staring at me cruelly, his face twitching. There was
complete silence. It was hard to bear. At last he spoke: ' Re-
member, the time for joking has passed. Have you been
keeping dynamite or not? '

" ' No,' I said.

" He struck the desk with his fist: ' Are you going to lie
to me, you wretch. Answer did you tell anyone that you
were keeping dynamite? '

" ' No/

" ' Ah, so! Well, you'll get what you deserve, you scoun-
drel! ' And throwing a paper across the table to me he said,
' Read! '

" I took the paper and began reading, the letters danced
in front of my eyes ' Decision of the GPU Council. Ex-
amined Case No. of the accused according to Article 58,

214 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

Paragraphs 8 and 6. Verdict: TO BE SHOT. ' You under-
stand shot! I couldn't see or understand anything
more.

" He told me to sign that the verdict had been read to
me, but my hand trembled so that I couldn't write.

" ' You tremble, wretch. You're not afraid of lying, but
you're scared to die. Write, I tell youl ' With difficulty
I signed.

" ' Now listen,' he said. ' Your death sentence has been
signed, and I can kill you whenever I please. But I can
also pardon you. Tell the truth and I shall pardon you.'
He looked straight into my eyes: ' Tell me, did you tell
anyone that you were keeping dynamite? '

" I answered, ' Yes I did.' You understand, I an-
swered: ' Yes, I did.'

" Then he turned to the Gepeists. ' Well? Do you see
now how a cross-examination should be conducted? ' Then
to me, ' What did you do with the dynamite? '

" ' I never had any dynamite,' I answered.

" ' Again lies! ' He struck the desk so hard with his fist
that everything on it shook. ' I'll kill you right now, you
scoundrel. Tell the truth, what did you do with the dyna-
mite? '

" ' I never had any dynamite! '

" ' Well, I shall force you to talk! Bring in the witness/

" The door opened, my old girl-friend in Petersburg was
led in. I recognized her at once although she had changed
greatly. She sat down on a chair, but did not look at me.

" ' Do you know her,' he asked me.

" Yes, I know her.'

" Then he turned to her. ' Did he tell you that he was
keeping dynamite? '

" ' Yes,' she replied.

" ' Where did you keep the dynamite? ' he shouted at
me.

DYNAMITE AND IMAGINATION 215

" ' I had no dynamite, I lied to her.'

" ' You are lying now, scoundrel! ' he screamed, and then
he turned and asked her whether she thought that I might
have been lying about it, whether for no reason at all I
would invent such a story.

" ' Yes/ she replied in a low voice, ' I believe it is possi-
ble. He's a sick, hysterical man. I think I'm sure that he
was lying to me then, that he invented the story about the
dynamite.' Here for the first time she looked squarely at
me with clear, open eyes.

" ' Yes, I lied to her/ I cried out chokingly. ' I just
wanted to boast. I lied I don't know myself why I did it/

" She was then led out of the room, and he turned to me
again. ' Don't try staging any scenes, you wretch, this isn't
a theatre. I'll make you sing a different tune when we bind
your hands and stick this toy to the back of your head/ He
grabbed his revolver. His face twitched terribly and he
shouted, ' Bring in the next witness! '

" My wife was led in. She looked at me with hate in her
eyes. I stared at her: she had on a new coat and a new hat.
Where did they come from? She was arrested at the same
time I was, and we had no money. She couldn't buy such
a coat.

" ' Did your husband tell you that he had kept dyna-
mite? ' he asked her.

" ' Yes/ she replied loudly.

" ' Do you believe he might have lied to you? Think
carefully before you answer. His life or death depends upon
it. If you say that you are sure that he had kept dynamite,
we will shoot him/

" ' I am sure that he was telling me the truth/ she said,
and jumped up from the chair. ' He was always telling me
that he hated the Soviet Government, that he yearned for
the coming of the White Army, that it was only because
of the Soviet Government that he was forced to live in such

2i6 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

a dull hole, that otherwise he would have lived in Peters-
burg or Moscow, could have dressed well and dined in res-
taurants.'

" It was unbearable. ' What are you lying for? ' I
shrieked. ' What have I done to you? You were the one
who yearned for life in Moscow, for dresses not I. When
did I speak to you about the Whites? You know well enough
that when I told you of my intention of entering the
" party " you argued against it. It's you who spent all our
money, you who insisted that I give up my work in the
provinces and move to Moscow.'

" And all the time the examining officer was watching us
with unconcealed contempt. ' Here's what I'm going to do,'
he said. ' I give you ten minutes to come to an understand-
ing.' Then he addressed my wife. ' After these ten minutes
are up you will give me your final answer, whether you
consider him to be an enemy of the Soviet Government
capable of terrorist acts or whether you think he simply
invented the story about the dynamite for the purpose of
boasting.'

"For those ten minutes my wife kept on screaming
that I should confess to having had dynamite. She invented
absurd conversations that had never taken place to the
effect that I had criticized the Soviet Government and that
she had tried to change my opinions. I tried to stop her, I
saw that I was losing my last foothold. At times I ceased
hearing what she was saying, became unconscious of where
I was and what I was saying myself. At last the officer in-
terrupted us:

" ' Enough, I have heard enough. You've talked fifteen
minutes instead of ten. Give your final answer: was he an
enemy of the Soviet Government and are you sure that he
was telling the truth when he told you that he had kept
dynamite? '

" Again she jumped up from her chair, and screamed:

DYNAMITE AND IMAGINATION 217

' Shoot him he kept dynamite! He is an enemy of the
Soviet Government! ' She tore open her coat. ' Look, I am
pregnant, pregnant from him, he is the father of my child,
and I swear that he kept dynamite, that he is an enemy of
the Soviet Government, that he yearned for the coming
of the Whites! '

" Her hysterical screams drove me completely mad. I
reached across the desk, grabbed the officer's revolver, stuck
it to my forehead and pulled the trigger but it did not
go off. I found myself on the floor, one Gepeist holding
me down with his knee on my chest, another wrenching
the revolver out of my hand. I remembered nothing; I
could hear only her terrible voice and laughter: ' Don't
believe him, he is a liar, a coward shoot him! '

" When I was picked up from the floor, she had already
left the room.

" ' Confess now that you did keep dynamite,' the officer
said.

" ' But I didn't keep dynamite,' I cried in despair, ' I
never had any.'

" ' Silence. I give you exactly forty-eight hours, no more
no less. In that time you must tell me from whom you
received the dynamite and to whom you gave it. If you
don't, you will be taken from the cell and shot! '

" I didn't know what to answer. He did not believe me
when I told the truth. I began pacing up and down the
office.

" ' Stand still, you wretch, this is no parade ground! ' he
roared as he banged on his desk. I rushed over to him and
shrieked something to the effect that if I wanted to walk
I would. Then I was seized and led out.

" In the automobile, when I was being brought back
here, one of the examining officers asked me why I had
lied. He told me that it was clear to him that my wife's
testimony had been false, he urged me to tell the complete

218 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

truth that way I might be pardoned. But I know it
would be useless. There's no way out for me do you un-
derstand none! "

He stopped talking. In the darkness of the night some of
us dozed off, but all night long his desperate moans con-
tinued. In less than forty-eight hours he was taken away
" with things/'

CHAPTER XXX
THE DEATH CELL

HE examining officer sent for me again exactly one
week after our first stormy encounter. He sat at his desk
looking sullen and grim.

" Sit down. Well, are we going to shout at each other
again today? "

I shrugged my shoulders. " I don't know what method
of questioning you are going to use today. It doesn't de-
pend on me."

" Then let's talk peaceably," he said.

The talk soon narrowed to one subject " confession "
of my own " wrecking" or of knowledge of the wrecking
activities of Tolstoy and Scherbakoff. There was no shout-
ing or swearing, but it was clear to me that he would not
hesitate to use any of the " means of coercion," although
as yet he had not decided which ones to apply. It was not
long before I heard what I was expecting.

" If you persist, I'll be compelled to use special meas-
ures your wife will be arrested and kept in prison until
you sign a frank confession."

I remained silent. It was a cruel blow and not what I
had been expecting.

" Well? Does this leave you indifferent? " He spoke
slowly, clearly, watching me closely.

" I have told you that I have nothing to confess and I will
not lie. I respect the investigating authorities of the GPU

220 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

too much to make false statements just because of your
threats," I replied with a precision that equalled his. I
knew that this answer would make him furious. There was
nothing he could say to it and it was my only revenge.

He sent me back to the cell. I was in despair. For once
I believed the examining officer. He undoubtedly under-
stood that I could not be broken down by threats of exe-
cution or by punitive cells; he had now struck at a new,
more sensitive point my family. Long ago I had resigned
myself to the idea of my own destruction, but I had con-
soled myself in the belief that my wife and little son would
be spared. Now everything was going to pieces.

Would he carry out his threat? I would find this out only
in a week when I received my remittance from home. The
list of its contents was always written in my wife's hand-
writing; if the writing was not hers, it would mean . . .

But I did not have to wait a week; three days later the
examining officer sent for me. " Yesterday I arrested your
wife. She is now in the Shpalernaya prison."

I was silent, thinking only of how to hide my emotion.
He must not notice what an impression his words had made
on me. Only by feigning indifference could I now help
her.

" What else could I do? " he continued, watching me
closely. " All other means have been exhausted. We must
force you to confess. For the present your son is still at
home. But if you persist in refusing to sign your confession,
your wife will be deported to Solovki."

He paused and gave me an inquiring glance: " You, of
course, understand what fate awaits a woman at Solovki? "

Another pause.

" You know they're not very considerate of women out
there," he went on.

" Well, what can I do about it? " I replied, holding my-
self in hand as best I could.

THE DEATH CELL 221

" Confess. Confess and your wife will be released imme-
diately."

" I have nothing to confess."

" You won't surrender? We can't be bothered with ob-
stinate enemies. You'll be shot; and your wife will go to
Solovki. And just think what will become of your son."

" The Soviet Government will take care of him," I re-
plied harshly.

" Remember, I'm talking to you for the last time. Don't
give me your answer now; I see you are too excited."

I shrugged my shoulders and looked at him wrathfully.

" Go back to your cell and think the situation over care-
fully," he said as he picked up a sheet of paper and a pen-
cil. " I'll wait three days three full days for your writ-
ten confession. Write it briefly: ' I admit myself guilty of
wrecking ' or ' I knew of the wrecking activities of Tolstoy
and Scherbakoff.' That'll be enough. Then hand the state-
ment to the warden on duty. I will get it immediately and
at once give the order to set your wife free. Her release
depends only on you. Remember this! If you don't send
me your confession, I'm telling you for the last time, your
next summons from the cell will be a call to execution. We
don't joke with wreckers. You'll be shot! Don't forget the
fate of Tolstoy. Your wife will go to Solovki, and your son
to the house for waifs. All this depends only on you."

He handed me the paper and pencil.

" I will not take your paper," I cried, " what is this fool-
ish comedy? Shoot me now, do you understand, I'm tired
of all this, do you understand, shoot! You have your revol-
ver and I have nothing to confess."

" So you suggest that I take the law into my own hands,"
he replied sarcastically. " We're in no hurry. Everything
will be done in due time, when all the formalities are com-
plied with. I've not asked you to answer me now. You re-
fuse to take the paper all right. You have only to call

222 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

the warden on duty and at any moment during the three
days you will be given paper and pencil. I give you three
full days to think it over, but after that don't expect
any mercy for yourself or for your wife. Go back to your
cell."

Had he lied or told the truth? Could this really be the
end? Was it true that my wife was in prison?

I waited anxiously for the remittance from home, and
when it arrived I snatched the note it was written in my
boy's handwriting and signed " Son A. Tchernavin." What
a signature he had invented "Son!" Poor little lad!
At the age of twelve, instead of playing and going to school
you have to be weighed down with remittances and wait
around prisons. Where are you getting the money? Are you
selling things in the market place? And afterwards how
are you going to live? You don't even know what is in stoie
for you in three days?

As the third day was drawing to a close, I called for the
warden on duty and asked for paper and pencil. On one
half of the sheet I wrote to the examining officer, on the
other I made a copy of my statement for the prosecutor:
"I am accused of wrecking. I never engaged in wrecking.
I know nothing of the wrecking activities of others; I have
received no money illegally from anybody." This I signed
and gave to the warden.

Night came. The command to go to bed was sounded.
We put out the light and lay down, but no one slept. If
the examining officer had not lied, I would soon be called
to execution. About one hour passed. We were talking
quietly, our ears on the alert for any sound. At last we
heard footsteps in the corridor and the clang of keys. Some-
body stopped at our door. The light went on and the lock
turned.

" Name? " said the guard pointing his finger at one of
my companions.

THE DEATH CELL 223

I loudly called out my name as I knew they had come
for me.

The guard immediately turned to me. " First name, fa-
ther's name? "

I answered.

" Get going, ' with things! ' " he said. The examining
officer had not lied.

I collected my belongings with indifference. What did it
matter what I took with me. I had not far to go. My com-
panions helped me with special care as though trying to
show that they did not believe I was being taken to execu-
tion. Their faces were pale and serious; they were trying
to hearten me, but avoided looking me in the eyes. The
guard was hurrying me. How familiar it all was! How many
times I had witnessed such scenes of people being led away
to execution.

I said good-bye to my companions and went out into the
corridor. The door was slammed after me.

" Get going! "

" Where to? " I asked loudly.

" Be quiet, and follow me," said one of the guards. The
other marched behind. They proceeded carefully, stepping
on the rope matting which covered the floor of the corri-
dor, taking care not to make any noise. We descended to
the floor below and into another corridor. There one of the
guards spoke in a low voice to the warden, but I could not
hear what was said. We moved on and finally stopped at
the door of a cell.

" The death cell," I thought. " This means I won't be
shot at once."

The lock slid back, the door opened and I went in. It
was an ordinary cell, exactly like the one I had just left.
It had contained five men, but there were only four left
the fifth having just been taken away " with things."

The following morning the examining officer sent for

224 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

me. He had evidently tried to play a trick on me and
wanted to see what effect it had had. But I had slept soundly
all night in my new cell and was well able to give my face
an expression of indifference and boredom. He questioned
me in the usual manner as though he had forgotten the
threat that I was to be shot. But at the end of the interview
just before letting me go he asked a most unusual question.

" Well, tell me, what was there in your latest work that
could be singled out as useful to the fishing industry?
Which of your scientific works have been applied success-
fully? "

I named several experiments of my laboratory which had
received wide practical application. He made some notes
and sent me back to the cell.

It was not until a month later, on April loth, that he sent
for me again and informed me that the investigation of
my case had been closed. " You will now go and work for
nothing in your same Murmansk; " then he checked him-
self and added: " that is, of course, unless the Council de-
cides to have you shot."

It was the first time since I had been arrested half a year
before that I had heard that I might not be shot. I went
back to my cell and awaited the verdict with complete in-
difference what did it matter? My only worry was about
my wife. Would she be released? I anxiously awaited the
remittances from home, but every time the list was in my
son's handwriting. Two weeks passed two remittances
and there was still no news from her.

For six months I had been living in prison, continually
battling with the examining officer. It had been a time of
extreme strain. Now came the reaction. Sitting idly and
waiting for a senseless verdict I was seized by an anger so
fierce that it was choking me I could neither eat nor
sleep. After three days of this internal torture I finally

THE DEATH CELL 225

forced myself to eat, but I did it with the greatest difficulty
and was rapidly losing weight. I was oppressed by the real-
ization of my complete helplessness and hopelessness. I felt
like an animal in a cage, an animal which had come to un-
derstand that it was useless to gnaw the iron bars of his cage,
that he could not break them down and would never again
be free. I must escape but first it would be necessary
to learn where I was to be sent and what was to be done
with my wife and son. Then I could work out my plans.
The thought of escape became an obsession, I stopped no-
ticing the prison, the people around me I was now wait-
ing only for my sentence.

The 25th of April, in the middle of the day, the warden
entered the cell, called out my name, and read: "Excerpt
from the minutes of the meeting of the OGPU Council
April 13, 1931. Case No. 2634 of Tchernavin, V. V., accused,
according to Article 58, Paragraph 7. Sentence: Deporta-
tion to a concentration camp for a term of 5 years. The
case to be filed."

" Sign that the verdict has been read to you," he added.

I signed.

" May I send a telegram? " I asked.

" You may, if you have the money."

I wrote a telegram addressing it to my son: " Received
sentence. Apply for visit," and gave it to the warden.

The same day I was taken to a medical examination and
while the doctor was entering his report I succeeded in
reading from the form on which he was writing: " Destina-
tion: Solovetzki camp at Kem. Regime: Ordinary."

Strange as it may sound, the news that I was being de-
ported to the Solovetzki camp, famed for its unusual cru-
elty towards prisoners, pleased me greatly. It was in a coun-
try familiar to me from my numerous expeditions: the deep
fiords of the White Sea, the archipelagoes, the endless laby-
rinth of bays and straits, cliffs, granite rocks piled up in dis-

226 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

order, the nearly impassable forests and swamps. If I could
only get to the sea there I would be a match for the
guards. " How far is it from the frontier? " I speculated,
trying to visualize the map. " About 200-300 kilometers of
completely uninhabited forest and swamp. Perfect. Just
what I need/' And at that very moment I made up my mind
that I would escape to Finland.

I was a convict now no longer a citizen. From the be-
ginning of the Soviet regime I had carried on my work as
usual, striving to be of both scientific and practical assist-
ance to the industry for which I worked, and living only
on what I earned for these services yet here I was, kept
in prison for six months and cross-examined no less than
seventeen times. They had given me but two alternatives:
ten years at forced labor if I " confessed/' or execution if
I did not. I had not confessed, because I was not guilty; in
all their records there was not a hint of any crime commit-
ted by me. And yet they convicted me. Five years in con-
centration camp!

My comrades were congratulating me.

" Only five years! And no confiscation of your property!
Surely they'll release your wife now? "

But would they?

CHAPTER XXXI
MY SON TAKES A MESSAGE

E were to be deported the following day. Early in the
morning prisoners began to be called out to meet their
relatives. There was great excitement among us, each one
wondering whether he would be given a last chance of see-
ing those he loved. During the period of investigation
scarcely any one was allowed to see members ol his family,
but before deportation permits for visits were granted
quite freely. The only question was whether the relatives
would get the news in time to go through the detailed and
complicated formalities of procuring permits for such vis-
its. The day was advancing, but still many of us had not
been called out. We had lost everything would we also
be denied the right of seeing for the last time those who
were dear to us?

Preparations for our departure were going on hurriedly:
prison equipment such as mugs and bowls were taken away
from us; a party was being made ready for the bathhouse.
I tried not to think of the visit; the thought that I might
be sent away without once more seeing my son was unbear-
able. At least one hundred of us were lined up and counted
before being led out to bathe ourselves. And just as we
were about to start, a warden arrived with a list of names.
He called out twenty, mine among them. One minute later
and we would have gone to the bathhouse and I would
have missed my boy's visit.

228 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

Trembling with emotion we were led into a large room
a grilled partition in front of us. About a meter beyond
was another grill behind which stood our visitors. There
was a terrible crush a hundred prisoners on our side and
more than a hundred visitors on the other all desperately
trying to find their loved ones. People were jammed closely
together, some holding fast to the bars and pressing their
entire bodies against the grill, their faces distorted by emo-
tion; others hopelessly trying to find an opening in the hu-
man mass through which they might squeeze. All knew
that they were seeing their relatives for the last time, that
in ten minutes they would be separated perhaps forever.
The excitement and noise made conversations almost im-
possible the strained and breaking voices of women,
the ringing shouts of children it was like one terrifying
scream of torture and farewell.

In the midst of this chaos I saw my son. He was standing
close to the grill, holding on to it with all his might, wav-
ing to me and shouting with his brave, little voice. I rushed
towards him but could not reach the grill. " Let me pass!
Let me pass, for God's sake! " I cried, but no one heard
me. Each one had before him only that face which was
dear to him and heeded only their words. Frantically I
tried to push one prisoner aside and for a second he turned
to me, his face wet with tears, his hands clutching the grill
convulsively. With one great effort I shouldered my way
forward and grasped the fence with one hand. There was
a sharp cracking and the grill started to fall. Guards rushed
out to support it and while they were propping it up I suc-
ceeded in getting up close to it that I might hear the words
that my son was shouting.

" Mother is in prison," he yelled through the din and
meanings of other human cries. " I take remittances to her.
They won't let me see her. She once sent me a letter."

" And how is N.? " I shouted.

ANDREY

THE AUTHOR'S SON

My boy) for whom

there had been tragedy
enough already 33

MY SON TAKES A MESSAGE 229

" She is in prison."

"And N. N.?"

" She is also in prison. Misha is left alone, too. He takes
remittances to her."

" And N. N. N.? "

" She died."

I was afraid of questioning him further. There was no
one left on whose help I could count. Through the crowd
I could vaguely distinguish a woman totally unknown to
me who stood behind my boy. Evidently she had brought
him to the visit.

" If Mother is deported, try to go with her," I shouted.

" All right," he replied, and his childish mouth twitched
and large tears dropped fast from his eyes and ran down
his cheeks. But he was not noticing them and was not wip-
ing them off.

" Have you got any money? What are you living on? " I
asked.

" I've sold your camera."

" Good, sell whatever you can. Take remittances to
Mother. Send nothing to me. Now listen carefully: I am
going to Kem. Kem, do you understand? For five years.
And remember this: I have not written any confessions.
I am being deported innocent. Remember well: I have not
surrendered."

I was shouting loudly and to my surprise felt that my
voice was breaking, that tears were running down my face.

The visit was ended. We were being driven out of the
room.

" Good-bye, dear, good-bye! " I called out in haste amidst
the terrible moaning and screaming that filled the room.

" Remember Mother! Take care of her! Good-bye."

PART THREE
ARE CONVICTS OF SOLOVKI

CHAPTER XXXII
THE CONVICT TRAIN

T

JLH

.HE turmoil of departure began early next morning.
We were led downstairs and lined up in military forma-
tion. The prison administration was delivering us to the
guard which would accompany us to the concentration
camp. They called us out, one at a time, to a desk, asked
us our names, the Article under which we had been con-
victed, and the term of our sentence, and then handed us
over " in person," together with an envelope containing
our " case," to the convoy guard.

There were many misunderstandings the GPU lists
were full of errors. Names and sentences were incorrectly
entered; we knew already that a similarity in name had
often sent the wrong man to Solovki.

Those who had been checked off were taken into an-
other corridor where they were searched again and this
time all tobacco taken from them precluding any pos-
sibility of the prisoner throwing it in the eyes of the guard
and thus attempting escape. Criminals often tried to effect
such escapes and they were therefore forced to undergo a
particularly thorough search, during which they were com-
pletely undressed and fingers shoved into their mouths.

At last, several hours later, we were all again assembled,
counted once more, lined up in pairs and led to the exit,
where each of us was given one kilo of bread and two her-
rings provisions for the journey of eight hundred kilo-
meters to Kem. We were all carrying our things in our

234 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

hands, and since we were not allowed to halt in order to
pack away the food issued to us, many were not able to take
these rations. Little did we dream that we should be six
days on the road!

The commander of the guard addressed us:

" You are to march in military formation! Obey all
commands! One step out of line to the right or left will be
looked upon as an attempt to escape! The guards will fire
without warning! "

Then to the guards:

" Load rifles! "

Bolts clicked.

" Watch closely! Fire without warning! "

The gates were thrown open and we were led out onto
the embankment of the Neva. It was a warm spring day.
The Neva rolled wide and peaceful. Many of us were see-
ing it for the last time. On the sidewalk near the prison
gates and opposite them stood small groups of people
huddled together, mostly women and children, relatives
who had come to get one final glimpse of their kin. Pale,
emaciated, poorly clad, they differed but little from us,
the prisoners. Soldiers of our guard were swearing at them,
chasing them away and threatening to throw them all into
prison. But the women outwitted them, running ahead
and returning along the other side of the street in order
to exchange just once more a scarcely perceptible smile,
nod or glance. There was no one to see me oif : my wife was
still in prison.

" Get along! Don't lag behind! " we heard continuously.
Walking, in an overcoat and carrying one's belongings,
was extremely hard after half a year of imprisonment. I
felt dizzy, my face burned, my heart beat violently. The
old men suffered most; they gasped for air and stumbled;
the guards swore at them and forced them on. Passers-by
looked at us with lazy indifference.

THE CONVICT TRAIN 235

We were herded along small side streets towards the
yards of the Finland Railway, although the Kem-Mur-
mansk trains left from the former Nikolaevski Station. In
other days, prisoners were taken by way of the Liteini and
Nevski Avenues, but during the mass deportations of 1930
this was considered to be too conspicuous a route they
might be seen by foreigners.

We were packed into so-called " stolipin " carriages
third-class passenger cars with bars in the middle and
barred windows and doors sixty men to a car intended
for twenty-eight. Only those who had upper berths or bag-
gage racks were able to lie down; the rest sat up for the
whole journey, in great discomfort; walking in the car was
forbidden. Sentries were stationed outside and inside the
doors. Eight cars were loaded in this fashion, one of which
was reserved for the women. Criminals and political pris-
oners (counter-revolutionists by Article 58) travelled to-
gether and lacking the discipline which we had succeeded
in maintaining in the cell, these criminals were hard neigh-
bors.

Until darkness we were kept on sidings, during the night
we were transferred to the Murmansk railroad and only
in the morning were we started on our way. We did not
stop at stations, but were held up for long periods at sema-
phores and on sidings. Evidently even here there was the
risk that some foreign observer might see us. As a result
of this we could not get water and suffered intensely from
thirst. The small tank of water in the car was drained the
very first day. As the ration given us consisted of black
bread and herring, the thirst caused by such food was un-
bearable. Moreover, the windows were double and closed,
the weather was warm and it was unspeakably hot and
stuffy in the car. We begged for only one thing water.
We were told that hot water was allowed once a day and
then only if the train stopped at stations where it was avail-

236 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

able. Only once during the whole journey the first day

were two pails of hot water brought for all sixty of us.
For the remainder of the trip we were without water.

We concentrated all our efforts on opening the win-
dows which were screwed down tightly. One of the crimi-
nals had a knife but it broke. I worked for half a day thin-
ning a copper coin while the criminals scoffed at my labor

an " intellectual " trying to be a burglar but when
my screw driver actually opened the window they decided
to make friends and to show me their skill. " Longy," a
strong fellow about twenty years old, placed his finger
across a big lump of hard sugar and with one blow of his
fist smashed it to bits his finger, to be sure, started bleed-
ing. " Lively," a youthful thief, extracted from my pocket
my purse containing three roubles (with which I was en-
tering my life of forced labor) and with equal artistry re-
stored it again. " Sashka-the-Jew," apparently not more
than fifteen, sang all his repertory of waif's songs for me
inimitably, with feeling and musical sense. These people
were all past redemption, but their endurance was amaz-
ing; they were able to sleep, almost naked, in any position
without suffering, and could endure hunger equally well.
From the very first moment of deportation they watched
diligently for any chance to escape.

On the fourth day of our journey, as I remember, in the
car next to ours, criminals had managed to saw out an
opening in the floor through which a man could crawl: it
was discovered only when everything was ready for an es-
cape. Their plans showed forethought: Petrozavodsk was
behind us and our train was passing Vigozer and Segozer,
approaching the White Sea. Around us a forest of ever-
greens. The days were warm, but the swamps still frozen.
The snow had melted almost everywhere and it would be
easy to find last year's moorberries and bilberries.

The criminals in our car were greatly excited by the
news of the unsuccessful attempt.

THE CONVICT TRAIN 237

" Where did they want to escape to? " I asked them.

" To Leningrad, certainly. There is no other place. One
would have to walk through the woods to Petrozavodsk as
Ear from the railroads as possible and from there one could
even take a train if one had the money."

" Why would they have to walk as far as Petrozavodsk? "

" One can't board a train here; special men of the camp
guards search the trains and examine all papers. From Pet-
rozavodsk back to Leningrad there is no control."

" But in Leningrad they would be caught again."

" Let them catch us! Such is our fate. We'll escape again.
And it's not so easy to find us in a city/*

" It's hard in the woods just now," I went on, trying to
learn all I could about escaping. " There's nothing to eat.
Nights are cold."

" And at the camps it's going to be warm and there will
be plenty to eat! " they rejoined sarcastically. " We're hard-
ened to cold and hunger."

" Why don't you escape abroad? "

" They've plenty of their own riff-raff there; we're im-
mediately caught and sent back. ' Politicals ' should escape
abroad. They can't conceal themselves here. But if they're
caught in the act of escaping, it's the end for them. They're
killed. If we're caught escaping we only get an extension
of our term for one or two years, that's all."

I shall never forget one monk who was with us, con-
demned to 10 years at hard labor. He was still young, but
frightfully thin and pale, with sunken eyes and a racking
cough evidently in the last stages of tuberculosis. While
the criminals argued and quarreled, jested roughly and
fought, he sat unmoved, looking out of the window upon
the Karelian woods and swamps from which it was clear
he would never return. Did he really see the cold, dismal
landscape with its gnarled sickly birches and windblown
firs, or did it glide by unnoticed before his eyes? During

2 3 8 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

the whole journey he did not once lie down nor would
he eat or sleep. Through all this tormenting time he sat
huddled on a narrow bench beside the grated window.

Of quite a different type was another monk, likewise on
his way to serve a 10 year term at Solovki, a sturdy old man
about sixty with coarse features, bald head and a shaggy
gray beard. His voice was loud, confident and even gay, his
laughter infectious. Evidently prison life had not broken
his healthy and carefree nature. His various friends had
outfitted him for the journey with warm clothes, boots and
provisions. Probably they would not forget him in prison;
someone had helped him to procure a good place in the
car.

" Don't be downhearted, brothers," he encouraged us
loudly and cheerily. " People live in Solovki, and we shall
be able to. The will of God is in everything. Fate willed
that we suffer for our Lord and we will bear it. I shall ac-
cept it with joy."

He was going to Solovki as if on a pilgrimage it was
his duty to go.

A year elapsed before I met him again in the Solovetzki
concentration camp. It was winter. He was painfully plod-
ding along, with the aid of a stick, in a group of watchmen
all old men like himself, all hunchbacked and covered
with ragged remainders of their old clothes and a few con-
vict jackets. Some had coiled pieces of rope around their
shivering bodies for warmth. Their hair and beards,
matted and tangled, were blowing in the wind; their faces
were weather-beaten and red from the cold. Every night
they were on duty at the supply stores.

The once cheerful old monk was the tallest among them
but nothing was left of his health and strength. His eyes
were dim, his face lined with deep furrows. I saluted him
but he answered indifferently without looking up. He also
had been broken by Solovki.

THE CONVICT TRAIN 239

We discovered among us a criminal who had escaped
from Solovki but had been captured and was now return-
ing there with an extended sentence. Although only about
thirty-five, he looked like an old man. He made faces and
acted like a clown.

" Hey, you! " a workman addressed him, " what will life
be like in Solovki? "

" You'll see for yourself; it's fun there! " replied the
other, laughing and showing his pale, toothless gums. " See
what beautiful teeth I have? I got them from eating kasha
at Solovki, working in lumber camps and sitting in * isola-
tion ' cells."

" Is it scurvy? " asked the workman, looking at him
with horror.

" That's it. What was left in my mouth by the ' stick '
came out from scurvy."

After this conversation we felt still more depressed.

By the fifth day no one had any food left. All were hun-
gry and suffering from thirst. Only sixty kilometers to Kem,
but the train was standing at sidings more often than it
was in motion.

Toward the end of the sixth day of our journey on
May first, the holiday of toilers all over the world we
reached Kem and our train was switched to a siding. Each
of us received a mug of hot water, but no food. That night
and the whole of the next day we remained on the siding
without food or water. I doubt if cattle could have survived
under such conditions but we lived on.

On the evening of May 2nd we were transferred by a
railway branch to Popoff Island, the Central Distributing
Point of the Solovetzki prison camps.

CHAPTER XXXIII
WELCOME" TO SOLOVKI

R

OPOFF ISLAND is attached to the mainland by a low-
lying portion of land which is covered with water twice
a day, when the tide comes in. The rest of the time it re-
mains a swamp, passable only with great difficulty. Once
it had been thickly wooded, but now only a few crooked
trees remain; the polar birches spread along the ground
and moss bogs alternate with enormous granite rocks pol-
ished by ice floes.

The island has a harbor to which foreign ships come for
Soviet lumber, an enormous sawmill and, at a distance
of two or three kilometers from the harbor, two distribu-
tion points of the Solovetzki concentration camp
" Moreplav " and " Kop."

We detrained and marched to " Moreplav " along a
muddy road, across swamps and through melting snow.
We were even more unsteady on our feet than when we
left Kresti; we could not carry our things without drop-
ping them now and then, but the guards drove us onward.
For two kilometers we dragged ourselves along until we
caught sight of wooden watch-towers, sentinels, a barbed
wire fence and a high gate.

" Look up! " said my neighbor, pulling at my sleeve.

Over the gate I saw an arch decorated with branches of
fir trees and carrying two placards: " LONG LIVE MAY IST,

THE HOLIDAY OF THE WORKERS OF THE ENTIRE WORLDl " and

"WELCOME!"

"WELCOME" TO SOLOVKI 241

I could not help laughing; Soviet hypocrisy^ and conceit
cannot be excelled.

" What do you think," asked my neighbor, " is it a joke,
for foreigners or for a moving picture? "

We headed for a small side gate. Two guards on either
side would seize two of us by the arms, push us through
the narrow aperture and count loudly while a GPU agent
checked off the pairs in his notebook.

Again we were counted, our names checked and our
papers inspected. At last the formality of delivery was
finished the camp had taken us over. We stood in forma-
tion, waiting. The short night was drawing to a close; the
air was transparent and filled with the familiar smell of
sea and forest. My heart was stirred with emotion. I did
not care what was going on about me.

" Those who have served in the GPU or the Cheka come
forward! " came the command.

Several men stepped out from our ranks. They were led
aside. " Our future bosses," whispered my neighbor.

" Those who, when arrested, were serving in the Red
Army, come forward! " again came the command.

A few men obeyed. " The future military guard," ex-
plained my neighbor. " ' Forty-niners ' and ' thirty-fivers,'
forward! " These are the articles of the Criminal Code
covering theft, vagrancy and so on.

" Who will these be? " I asked my neighbor. We could
not then imagine that these criminals would become the
rank and file of our guards, supervisors, foremen and es-
pecially educators.

Now only peasants, intellectuals and workmen were left
they were the real prisoners and would have to work.

After this division into " classes," we were ordered to
give up all the money we had with us; it was exchanged
for special scrip of the GPU. If the authorities decided that
a prisoner had too much pocket money, it was all con-

242 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

fiscated and he received no scrip in exchange. Another
search followed. It was five o'clock in the morning before
we reached the special barracks of the $rd quarantine com-
pany, composed of recently arrived prisoners. It was a low
wooden building with small windows, nearly all broken
and stuffed with dirty rags. The prisoners' quarters were
divided into four sections, each about five meters by thirty
meters, the long sides fitted with two tiers of boarding and
a narrow passage down the middle. A small sheet-iron stove
served for heating. The floors were of thin planks which
bent under foot, with large cracks between them. Every-
thing was black with soot and dirt. I climbed on to the
upper boarding and lay down against the outer wall. No
bedding of any kind was provided; indeed it would have
been difficult to use, for each man had only space about fifty
centimeters wide. There were a thousand prisoners in the
building, two hundred and fifty in each of four platoons.
I stretched myself on the bare boards with real pleasure,
but almost immediately I was attacked from every side by
bed bugs and compelled to start a war against them. Hardly
two hours had passed when the command sounded:

" Get going to roll-call! Be quick! "

The former Gepeists and Red Army men who had been
deported with us were already dressed in some kind of
military uniforms, with the word " guard " on their caps,
and were armed with rifles. They were lining us up, order-
ing us about, swearing, as yet timidly, but trying to imitate
their superiors also criminals who were masters of pro-
fanity.

The company commander, a thin-faced professional
thief, wearing an elegant military overcoat, strode up and
down the line giving orders in a loud voice. After the com-
mand " Attention! " he began reading the order of the day
from camp headquarters.

"Order of May and, 1931, Moreplav, Solovetzki-Kem

11 WELCOME " TO SOLOVKI 243

Forced Labor Correction Camps of the OGPU." He made
a special emphasis on the letter " O."

" For illegal cohabitation on the territory of the camp,
prisoner of the 5th company, Ivanoff Vassili, alias Petroff
Ivan, and the prisoner Smirnoff Eudoxie are hereby sen-
tenced to solitary confinement for fifteen days, but will not
be relieved from work."

" Prisoners Koozmin, Stepanide and Platnikoff Irene for
careless cleaning of the building: to be subjected to seven
days' solitary confinement." And so on.

We listened with interest, wondering what crimes were
committed here and what punishments followed.

The reading finished, our commander addressed us. We
found out later that delivering speeches was his weakness,
that he took advantage of both morning and evening roll-
calls to gratify it, and that these speeches were called " cul-
tural-educational talks with the prisoners."

" Where are you? " he began. " In the forced labor cor-
rection camps of the OGPU. Understand? You were sent
here as a non-productive, parasite element for correction
and acquisition of working habits. Understand? I am your
chief and educator. This is not the year 1930 for you! Then
it was Camps of Special Designation of the OGPU; that
meant destruction of the prisoners, meant swearing and
beating. Now it is cultural and working education, lit-
eracy, political literacy and so forth. Understand? Instruc-
tion is compulsory according to camp regulations. We have
a semi-military organization. For instance the company
platoon. We have a citizen company commander and citi-
zen platoon commanders. We have cultural-educational
work and discipline. It's no brothel for you here. Break-
ing discipline means violating camp regulations. Punitive
cell. . . . Understand? "

This introduction dragged on for a long time, then came
the real speech.

244 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

" A fight occurred in the company under my command.
I see in this a violation of camp regulation and a class
struggle. (Pause) I have found after investigation that
prisoners Petroff and Belovzoroff have beaten up prisoner
Gartushvili. This must be looked upon as class enmity and
persecution of national minorities, which is class struggle.
Understand? And what is the punishment inflicted by the
Soviet Revolutionary Criminal Code for the organization
of class struggle? The highest measure of National defense!
(Pause)

" It follows that those guilty of violating camp regula-
tions will be subjected to ... I will put you in the puni-
tive cell, you sons of bitches! Understand? This is a work-
ing correction camp and not a saloon! I'll inject proletarian
psychology into you! "

It was a long time before he was done and let us go back
to the barracks, so weak that we were dizzy and so weary
that we felt ready to lie down and die. Was it possible that
we were not going to be fed? This was our only thought.

The company commander came in and dispatched two
prisoners for lunch and two others for hot water.

" Citizen commander, and what about food utensils?
We have nothing to eat from! " rose voices from every side.

" What do you want the food put into your mouths?
If you get hungry you'll find something to eat from," the
commander said and went out. Many prisoners ran to the
refuse pile and picked out discarded tins.

Two pails were brought in; one contained millet cereal,
kasha, thin and watery, the other " hot water " almost cold.
A man's ration was approximately 200 cubic centimeters
of each liquid (little more than half a cupful) and some
bread. Each prisoner was supposed to receive 400 grams
(14 ounces) of bread per day, but actually we were getting
much less.

" What is this? But it's death! Is it possible for a
man to live on this? " exclamations rose from all sides.

" WELCOME " TO SOLOVKI 245

A few minutes later the company commander re-
appeared.

" Stand upl Attention! Who complained about the food?
Come forward! " he shouted loudly. " No discontented?
Take care, I will tolerate no mass action! I will immedi-
ately refer those guilty of it to the Investigation Depart-
ment of the camp. Talk is short there isolation or death.
Understand? What discontent can there be? Kasha too
thin? In the first place it's not kasha, its porridge, and por-
ridge can't be different. Do you understand? " He glow-
ered at us, then sharply turned around and went out.

All those who still had some money began to search for
food. We were not allowed to go to the GPU store, but
with the help of the guards could buy some spoiled food-
stuffs mildewed herring and fermented preserves. Out-
side the prison camp such goods could not be legally sold,
but here they brought full price from starving prisoners.
Through the guards and through criminals, who shared
with them in the transaction, we could buy black bread at
five roubles the kilo (about two pounds) its official
price was nine kopeks and also water at fifty kopeks a
mug. Suffering as we all were from thirst, even the most
destitute of us spent his last kopek for water.

Tobacco could be got for three roubles fifty kopeks the
gram and vodka at what price I cannot even imagine.

After the depressing experience of this " lunch *' we were
taken in groups of thirty to the bathhouse built, of course,
by the hands of prisoners on the very shore of the gulf. Each
man took all his things: overcoat, cap, blanket and pillow;
these together with everything we wore had to be turned
in for disinfection. Stark naked, we were lined up before
an enclosure in which four barbers, also prisoners-crimi-
nals, plied their trade with furious speed; two operated on
the head while the others shaved the body. Coming out
from behind the partition we were a pitiful sight. Tufts of
hair were sticking out; blood ran down our bodies from

246 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

razor cuts. Trembling with cold we entered the bath-
house, receiving two tin tags which were to be exchanged
for water and a tiny piece of soft soap. Inside the bath-
house there was no running water; each prisoner was given
two small basins of warmish water which cooled imme-
diately. After bathing as best we could, we filed into the
dressing room to wait, naked and disfigured, for our dis-
infected things to be restored to us. They were hardly
recognizable: crushed and smelling vilely, fur coats and
caps were completely ruined. We returned a sad proces-
sion to the barracks. The weather had changed, a sharp
north wind was blowing and large flakes ot snow were fall-
ing. In the barracks it was terribly cold. I climbed up to
my place. The open cracks were letting in the snow and I
had to stuff them up with my underwear. In vain we
begged our company commander to give us wood for the
stove; he refused.

We were very hungry. Dinner was brought in: soup of
sour cabbage, smelling horribly, and for a second course the
same kind of '* porridge " as before. Something had to be
done. My neighbor and I together bought one kilogram of
mildewed smoked herring. After this purchase I had two
roubles left and my neighbor, formerly a well-to-do Peters-
burg engineer, three roubles and a halt under favorable
conditions this money might suffice for two more meals.
Starvation lay ahead of us. On the trip from Kem I had de-
veloped symptoms of scurvy, bleeding gums and stiff joints.
We only hoped that we might soon be sent to work; it was
rumored that at work the food was better. While we were
sadly discussing the future a commotion arose in the bar-
racks and exclamations of astonishment were heard.

A woman had entered our quarters! She was young,
about twenty years old, clad in a prison coat and a very
short skirt. Her hair was arranged attractively and her en-
tire appearance and manners left no doubt as to her pro-

"WELCOME" TO SOLOVKI 247

fession. With her was a young man also in prison dress.
Reaching the middle of the barracks and drawing the crowd
around her she addressed us as follows:

" Comrades! Subscribe to the loan for the Piatiletka in
four years! Every prisoner must share in the upbuilding of
Socialism. Let each one subscribe as much as he can. I ac-
cept subscriptions in installments to be paid within six
months."

We listened to her in open-mouthed astonishment. Here
we were, convicts, hungry, reduced to the last stages of
poverty and they were demanding from us " voluntary "
subscriptions to the loan! Timid voices, not so much in
protest as in bewilderment, were raised from various sides.

" But where shall we get it from? Everything has been
taken from us. ... We can subscribe, but how are we
going to pay? ..."

" Comrades," she replied in a coyly offended voice, " this
is a very strange attitude on the part of your company. One
should be conscious. Where to find money? Perhaps some
of you will get it from home."

" They have nothing to eat at home," someone shouted
behind her. " Their last kopeck has been taken away for
loans."

" Then you will be sent to work," the girl continued,
unruffled. " You'll be getting premium money." (Premium
money is paid to prisoners who work; for an ordinary
workman it never exceeds three roubles a month.)

" What does this mean? " the girl continued in a sulky
voice. " What a quantity of men, and no one wants to sub-
scribe! Here I am also a prisoner, I have nothing, but 7 have
subscribed."

"According to what article are you sentenced, citizen?"
came a sarcastic question.

" Article 35. 1 I am an element close to the masses."

1 Theft and prostitution.

248 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

" You'll not perish here, girl, you'll make money/' mur-
mured somebody in the crowd. " She'll always have enough
for bonds and face powder," added another.

" Men, you should not insult me; you should be con-
scious/' she replied, evidently not offended.

" Comrades," broke in the young man with a voice of
authority, '* everyone here has to prove his loyalty. Those
who don't want to subscribe to the loan, and especially
those who agitate against the loan, as is being done here,
are inveterate enemies of the Soviet Government who don't
desire to undergo correction. Against such enemies special
measures are taken here. I recommend subscribing to the
loan."

To our great astonishment one of the prisoners who had
arrived with us made his way to the girl, took from her
hands the lined sheet of paper, and entered his name for
fifty roubles an enormous sum for a prisoner.

" You see/' she exclaimed triumphantly, " how conscious
this comrade is."

The first one was followed by a second, third, and fourth.
Then the beggars fell into line; they hesitated, sighed and
finally wrote, some ten roubles, others fifteen roubles. The
young man and the girl were working busily.

" Where do you get so much money? " I asked the first
subscriber.

" Well, I have donated the exact amount which they
took away from me. Let them use it for the loan. Anyhow
the money is lost."

" It does not seem to be turning out so well," my neigh-
bor said quietly. " Look, they are all subscribing; we may
be the only ones to be ranked as enemies of the Soviet
Government."

" Oh, let them go to the devil," I growled, " they will
not extend our term because we don't subscribe. What a
touching picture this is prisoners, convicts, incorrigible

" WELCOME " TO SOLOVKI 249

counter-revolutionists, hungry, bedraggled and degraded,
but burning with enthusiasm for the building up of their
Socialistic fatherland. Let's try to find out what N. does
over there; he hasn't a kopek but he has put his name down
for twenty-five roubles."

I quietly spoke to N. " Are you expecting an inheritance,
that you squander twenty-five roubles? "

" What can I do, if everybody else is subscribing? Let the
devil take them, let them see my consciousness and refor-
mation! "

"But how are you going to pay? "

" I have no idea! I haven't a kopek and no one to send
me any and therefore I can subscribe with a light heart.
What can be taken from me, my pants? "

More than half the prisoners subscribed. Only the peas-
ants and a small group of intellectuals obstinately held out.

" It makes no difference, comrades, you're going to sub-
scribe! " the young man concluded sarcastically. " As soon
as you are taken to work you will give away the first pre-
mium money you get."

" All right, let them first give and then take it away. In
the meantime we have nothing."

After they had departed, the barber appeared, donned
a filthy smock and laid out his tools on the dirty window
sill.

" Whoever wants a trim or shave for pay, at a reduced
rate, get going, form a line! "

Everybody had been so disfigured that many responded.
Undoubtedly this barber would split his fees with those
who had maltreated us in the bathhouse all camp bar-
bers were criminals and strongly organized. He began his
job, working quickly and unceremoniously; his charge
varied with the individual for some, one rouble, for
others, fifty kopeks. In the midst of his work, when he had
just finished shaving one side of a prisoner's face, the pla-

250 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

toon commander entered and called out: " Get going to
the company commander! He wants to be shaved." The
barber collected his tools and disappeared.

So ended our first day at Solovki. I remembered the
placard over the gates:

" WELCOME "

CHAPTER XXXIV
THE LUMBER CAMPS

remained in the quarantine company for two weeks,
with little to do and suffering badly from cold and hun-
ger. Sometimes we were driven out to load logs on small
hand cars; other men moved them down to the wharf and
stowed the lumber aboard foreign ships. This procedure
had been in effect since the beginning of the campaign
abroad against the use of convict labor in the lumber busi-
ness. The prisoners were kept out of sight of foreigners
and so, although lumber was cut and prepared by convicts,
all the work on the wharves and ships was done by free
hired labor. There was a shortage of " free labor " at that
time and, therefore, delays in loading were common.

When the quarantine term was ended we were trans-
ferred to another barracks which looked better from the
outside, but inside differed little from the first one the
same filth, cold, crowding and bed bugs. The only differ-
ence was an enormous placard stretched across the entire
barracks, bearing the words: " Work without beauty and
art is barbarism." This placard was the result of the activity
of the " Cultural-Educational " Department. The peasants
in bewilderment tried to decipher this strange motto by
syllables. " Barbarism? What is it, comrade? Perhaps you
know? " they asked.

Now we were allowed to walk within the camp yard and
meet the prisoners from other companies, both novices like

252 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

ourselves and veterans who had been in the camp for sev-
eral years. The latter were mostly peasants who had been
working in lumber camps until hurriedly withdrawn be-
cause of the anticipated arrival of an American Commis-
sion which was going to investigate whether forced labor
lumber camps actually existed.

In preparation for this visit all lumber camps were liq-
uidated in a few days, the prisoners' barracks leveled to
the ground and the prisoners themselves herded back to
the distribution points. These peasants described vividly
to us the panic and hurry involved in this liquidation. A
special messenger on horseback came riding swiftly to
distant camps in the midst of the wild forest, delivered his
message to the chief and galloped away to the next camp.
Orders followed to stop work, to pull down the barracks,
to tear down everything which could be destroyed. Special
attention was given to the wrecking of punitive cells, guard
towers and barbed wire fences. In barracks built of logs,
which were hard to destroy at short notice, all inscriptions
made by prisoners, all notices, orders and placards were
scraped off or removed. Everything that could be burned
was set on fire. A special agent of the GPU made a tour of
inspection to ascertain that no sign was left which might
indicate that prisoners, and not free lumbermen, had been
at work there. Then, whether day or night, prisoners were
driven out of the woods to the railroad. The rush and panic
was such that many believed war had been declared and
that all were being removed further from the border.

If a train appeared in the distance while the large crowds
of prisoners were being driven along the railroad tracks,
they were made to lie down in the swamp, in the snow,
and remain hidden until the train had passed; the GPU
was afraid that somebody might see them from the car
windows.

After this retreat the prisoners were dispersed among

THE LUMBER CAMPS 253

the various distributing points, where they languished on
meager rations. " We felt better at work in the woods," they
told us. " We were given one kilo of bread there here
only three hundred grams. Kasha was also thicker. Here
the only thing left is to die of starvation."

" But what we miss especially is the premium tobacco
we were getting," added another, " not much, but still four
packages of fifty grams each a month. It's perhaps easier to
go without bread than without a smoke."

" Tobacco is expensive here," said another, " three rou-
bles for one eighth of a pound, and three roubles is a
month's premium pay. And we don't even get that here."

We, the novices, asked a question: " Isn't it true that in
lumber camps ' work assignments ' are allotted which no
one can accomplish, and that this means death? "

" No, dear man, there's no danger of it now. Beating is
not allowed any more they stopped it a year ago. Did
you hear about Kourilko? When he was operating here on
Popoff Island what a number of people he crippled and
killed! It will soon be a year since he was shot. It's your
luck that you got here after he had gone, after 1930."

" But what was going on here before? "

" What was going on? Well, I'll tell you, but let's move
farther away."

We found a place in the sunshine sheltered from the
wind. Peasants were straightforward people; one could talk
to them without fear.

" We came here to Popoff Island in 1929, during the
time of Kourilko. We were brought in railway cars. We
all stood waiting, holding our little boxes or bags, some
with packs on their backs. We heard the command: ' Get
out of the car one by one! ' The first one came out. The
step is high from the ground you know yourself. Two
guards were stationed below. Just as he was ready to jump,
they shouted: ' Stop! Do you wear a cross? ' He was afraid

254 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

to tell them that he did. ' No, I have no cross,' he said.
' Well, jump! ' He jumped and they began to beat him on
the head with their fists from both sides. He just dropped.
' That's what you get for not wearing a cross! Next! ' The
next one came up, he had heard what had happened and
was badly frightened. ' Do you wear a cross? ' ' Yes,' he
said. ' Jump! ' And they beat him also, saying: ' That's
what you get for wearing a cross! ' The third one did not
answer at all and he was beaten for keeping silent. The
whole convoy got the same treatment. Then we were led
behind the barbed wire and what didn't they do to us
there! "

An older peasant interrupted. " I will tell you how we
were driven into the woods to work. It was winter. We were
on foot. We had to carry our own things and pull sleighs
with provisions and with the things of the guard. It is hard
to walk through soft, deep snow. All of us were starving;
our strength was failing us. We were dropping our belong-
ings; many were discarding even their clothes. The guards
were picking up these things, putting them on the sleighs
and dividing them amongst themselves. When we reached
our destination in the woods, we were ordered to trample
down the snow. We were formed into lines and ordered to
stamp down roads leading to the camp and a place for the
barracks to be erected. The snow you know how it is
here comes up to the waist and in places up to the chest.
For the night the guards had a tent and we lay down
just as we were, right under the trees. We cut wood for
them and prepared their dinner. Then we built barracks
for them but we slept on the snow under the branches.
Next we built the punitive cell where we would be locked
up to die; then a storehouse. When all these were com-
pleted we were allowed to erect barracks for ourselves out
of thin trees. It had no floor. How many of us froze or died
felling trees and building the camp cannot even be esti-
mated."

THE LUMBER CAMPS 255

" And how is work in the woods? " we asked with appre-
hension.

" Work in the woods is given out by assignment to two
men working together. The whole assignment is called 100
per cent. A specialist determines what per cent each tree
represents. Where the trees are thick, fewer trees make up
an assignment, where they are thin more trees. Well, in
a word, the assignments were such that two experienced
lumbermen could scarcely accomplish them in fourteen or
sixteen hours of hard work."

" And those who could not accomplish them? "

" They were not fed or permitted to return to the bar-
racks. Also they were beaten."

" Well, and what happened to them? "

" A man, hungry and cold, can he work? If he couldn't
keep up with the work, the only thing left for him was to
die. In any case he would be beaten or in winter put out
naked on a tree stump in the bitter cold; in summer left
outside, undressed, tied to a tree, with his hands bound,
at the mercy of mosquitoes. A deer can't endure the mos-
quitoes and runs away to the seashore where there is wind
how could a man? "

" They died? "

" Of course they died. Many also died in the ' scream-
cells' our name for punitive cells. They would call and
scream in agony for some time, before death, thinking that
someone might take pity on them, then they would quiet
down and die from cold. And what did the guards care?
4 Let them die, the good-for-nothings,' they would say. It
is true, only the strongest survived. If a guard came to dis-
like anyone he was a doomed man. They had their own
way of doing it; they would order the man to go out into
the woods to bring in a log, perhaps not more than a hun-
dred feet away. Failure to carry out the order meant death.
If he went the guard would let him get fifty feet away, then
take aim and the job would be done. A report would be

256 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

prepared that the prisoner had been shot attempting to
escape."

The company broke up. I stayed behind to listen to a
peasant from the Ukraine.

" I will tell you of how my comrade died. Two years
have passed, but when I think of it tears come in spite of
all that I have seen here. He was a young fellow and be-
longed to the sect of ' Sabbath.' They believe it is a great
sin to do any kind of work on the Sabbath Saturday. No
one in all the camp was his equal in work; he was tremen-
dously strong and a steady worker, very quiet and com-
pliant. He never spoke an obscene or even a rude word.
He did everything he was ordered to, except that he defi-
nitely refused to work on Saturday. He worked out his Sat-
urday's assignment on the other days of the week in addi-
tion to his daily quota. The supervising authorities tried
in vain to break him; he was beaten over and over again,
until finally they left him alone. And so it went on for some
time. Then a new chief came to our camp. He noticed that
on Saturday this fellow would stand idle. ' Why don't you
work? ' ' I can't, such is my faith. I will work out my assign-
ment but not on Saturday.' 'Ah, you can't! I'll show you
your faith! ' and he struck him hard. 'Will you work?'
' I can't,' he replied. Again the chief struck him. Blood was
running down his face, but the beating went on. ' Will you
work now? ' ' I can't work today.' ' You can't? ' He called
the guard and exchanged some words with him. The guard
shouldered his rifle, aiming at my comrade. ' Will you
work? ' ' I can't; if I have to die for my faith, kill me! * The
chief said something to the guard. The guard fired. My
comrade moaned and fell. He was still alive, his chest shot
through. The chief approached him. ' Will you work? ' and
kicked him in the face with his boot. I ran up to my com-
rade and begged him to comply, to take a saw in his hands,
if only for appearance. ' For God's sake do it,' I entreated,

THE LUMBER CAMPS 257

' otherwise you will be killed/ But what question could
there be of work when the man was dying? He raised him-
self up, looked at me and fell face downward in the snow.
They kicked him, over and over again, and left him alone.
After work we were allowed to bury him/'

My companion had been speaking slowly, sadly, without
indignation or resentment, as they all did. How many
stories of this kind I have heard, especially from peasants
and from fishermen with whom I had to live and work,
and they were always told not alone as narratives of indi-
vidual human lives but as revelations of an implacable fate
that was wiping out mankind.

*

CHAPTER XXXV
THE SIGN OF THE ELEPHANT

O

UR company commander in his speech of " Welcome "
had dwelt upon the change of policy in the GPU camps,
since the spring of 1 930. It was true that a special commis-
sion, sent from Moscow to the Solovetzki camp had de-
clared that the destruction of prisoners, systematically car-
ried on for many years, and now, it was implied, for the
first time discovered by the GPU, was due to irresponsible
actions of the camp officers, recruited from the ranks of
prisoners.

Fifty supervisors, guards and other camp officials, includ-
ing Kourilko of Popoff Island, famous for his cruelty, were
summarily shot. Several salaried Gepeists were transferred
to other camps, but many executioners still succeeded in
retaining their posts. In this case, as always, the GPU had
not paid with their own heads.

There was a change, however. The former " Camps of
Special Designation " were now to be called " Solovetzki
and Kem Working Corrective Camps." The abbreviated
form of this new name, " SIKTL," being unpronounceable,
the old abbreviated name " OOSLON " continued in cur-
rent use, and the emblem and trademark of the camps
an elephant was left unchanged. (" Slon " means ele-
phant in Russian.) This trademark can be found on many
goods in the U.S.S.R.

Punishments, whether reduction of rations or solitary

THE SIGN OF THE ELEPHANT 259

confinement and death, were now to be imposed only ac-
cording to the decision of higher authorities who had no
direct contact with prisoners. Their judgments were to be
announced in the order of the day. In this way the life of
the prisoner became a little less terrible.

Evidently the underlying reason for this abrupt change
in policy was the tremendous influx of prisoners in 1930
which came as a result of the failure, then already quite
apparent, of the Piatiletka in industry as well as in agricul-
ture. No longer tens of thousands but hundreds of thou-
sands of " wreckers," " kulaks " and " sub-kulaks," found
themselves in convict camps.

It was utterly impossible, even under the Soviet regime,
to keep such hordes of prisoners concealed on isolated is-
lands of the White Sea and in the wilds of Karelia, treat-
ing them in whatever way one pleased, without the news
of it leaking out and spreading. " Undersirable " publicity,
in 1929 and 1930, found its way abroad. Especially unfor-
tunate for the GPU had been the testimony given under
oath by the medical student Malisheff who had escaped
from the Solovetzki camp. The foreign campaign against
forced labor in lumber camps was injuring the camp's
basic activity which brought in the foreign currency so in-
dispensible to the GPU in its work abroad.

Soviet counter-agitation, such as the badly staged film,
" Solovki" and a few articles in Soviet journals, where
Solovki was represented as a resort offering a pleasant rest
to prisoners, had no success whatever. To continue the
destruction of prisoners behind such a thin screen had
become impossible.

Finally, the destruction of prisoners was recognized as
commercially unprofitable. Why destroy a working force,
often highly qualified, when it can be made to produce a
profit? Therefore, from 1930 onwards the concentration
camps were transformed into a tremendous system of slave-

260 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

driving enterprises of the GPU. At the present time, the
GPU no longer tries to conceal the existence of forced
labor; it has taken the offensive: having given to its camps
an appearance of corrective institutions for dangerous crim-
inals, it widely advertises these institutions, its educational
work there and the results of the working activity of its
pupils. Soviet writers, such as Gorki and Alexis Tolstoy,
are now by order of the GPU writing novels and comedies
in which they sing the praises of forced labor. Meanwhile,
under cover of all this noise the GPU carries on its work
on the quiet and collects enormous profits from its slave
trade.

This new system, the economic features of which I shall
describe more fully later, brought a decided change in the
preliminary treatment of prisoners as we had already
found out. It had been decreed that lice should be abol-
ished; that explained the hair-cutting and shaving and the
disinfecting of our things. No longer would there be
the " lice regime" and " lice cells," either in prisons or in
the camps, which had been such powerful weapons, in the
hands of both examining officers and camp authorities, for
the liquidation of prisoners. Epidemics of eruptive typhus
caused by lice had never ceased; victims died by thou-
sands. Now, after treatment at one of the " distributing
points," if a single one of these vermin was found on a pris-
oner when he came up later for medical examination, the
physician at the " point " got thirty days in a punitive cell.
There were to be no more epidemics the maximum work
must be obtained from prisoners.

A personnel bureau, also composed of prisoners, took
care of the registration of newly arrived prisoners at the
distributing point. Individual cards were filled out for each
prisoner, showing his special qualifications and the work
to which he might be assigned; these cards were then sent
to the office of the central administration of the camps

THE SIGN OF THE ELEPHANT 261

which also received all requisitions for labor from the
various camp sections.

Next came a medical examination of the prisoners to
determine their physical capacity for work. In 1931-32 all
were divided into three groups; the first group, those fit
for any manual labor; the second, those fit for lighter work;
and the third, those unfit for any kind of hard labor. This
classification was changed from time to time; once there
was another group of those who could not walk unaided.
Prisoners in the first group were used in lumber camps,
road construction, land reclamation, loading and unload-
ing operations, in the fishery section, and so on. Those in
the second group were assigned to the same classes of work
but on lighter jobs, while the third group was put to work
as watchmen, cleaners, office clerks, etc.

Some prisoners arrived in such condition that they could
not even sit up for example, Professor Farmanoff, who
before his arrest in 1930 was giving a course in Ichthyology
at the Petrovski Agricultural Institute. He was seventy
years old and paralyzed in both legs; he had been carried
on a stretcher from the prison to the train and thence to
the camp hospital where he still remained, unable to sit
up on his cot, through the years 1931-32. He was still there
when I escaped. It is horrible to think of his dark and hope-
less fate. 1

As a general rule all prisoners in the first group are sent
to manual labor: exceptions are made only for those special-
ists whose services are needed by the GPU; they remain,
however, under the constant danger of being sent back
to " regular work " in case their special knowledge is no
longer needed or there is shortage of labor, or as punish-
ment for disobedience or some error. Educated persons of
the second and especially the third group are usually sent
to the numerous administrative offices of the camp as clerks,

i See page 73.

262 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

bookkeepers, statisticians etc. Priests, however, form a spe-
cial class: according to special instructions from the GPU
they are sent only to hard manual labor or, in cases of com-
plete disability, are appointed night watchmen. Those
whose specialties are of no practical value to the GPU, such
as historians, archaeologists and literary men, have the hard-
est time of all in finding suitable assignments.

Doctors, who are also prisoners under the strict super-
vision of GPU officials, are told in advance what percentage
of recruits they are allowed to find unfit for work. They
dare not disobey. Considering the condition in which men
reach the camps after prison life and the journey, no
normal medical commission would have been able to find
a single healthy man really fit for heavy manual labor.
But the plight of doctors and prisoners is aggravated when
there is a shortage of labor in the GPU, such as occurred
in the summer and autumn of 1931, when the construction
of the White Sea-Baltic Canal began. Conditions were
frightful; the prisoners worked in swamps, in forests, with-
out living quarters, in miserable clothes. The casualties
were unbelievable. To provide replacements a reexamina-
tion of the second and third groups was ordered and all
those below the age of fifty, if only they had arms and legs,
were transferred to the first group and sent to dig the canal.
The first group is never reexamined; a man stays in it
until he drops.

After this preliminary classification, prisoners were dis-
tributed among the various sections of the camp as called
for by requisitions. Most of them departed for work with
the vague hope that life would be a little easier; only the
detachments taken to the Solovetzki Islands left with ap-
prehension. These ill-fated men knew that they were
branded as especially dangerous prisoners and, therefore,
had little chance of " amnesty " or any reduction in their
term. Fearful also is the extreme isolation of the Solovet-

THE SIGN OF THE ELEPHANT 263

zki Islands, especially in winter when for seven months
contact with the mainland is maintained only by occasional
trips of GPU aeroplanes.

Doctors and actors were always the first to be " distrib-
uted " individually, often on the day of their arrival,
with entire disregard of quarantine requirements, for the
reason that they were at the disposal, first of all, of the hired,
free officials of the GPU. The wives and mistresses of these
Gepeists continuously demand medical attention for them-
selves and their children from the ablest physicians whose
" arrival " is always known in advance. Actors and actresses
are awaited with no less impatience; a theatre, with small
opera, musical comedy and dramatic casts, is attached to
the camp headquarters and follows these headquarters
when they are transferred from one place to another. The
actor Ksendzovski, former director of the " Musical
Comedy " in Petersburg, was at one time the leading man
in this theatre. Unfortunately I never had a chance to
visit this peculiar slave theatre, but I sometimes heard sad
news about its life and from day to day I watched the de-
cline of a young and pretty actress who, under the condi-
tions of camp life, had very soon lost her voice, left the
theatre for a clerical position, and was compelled to spend
the whole long day, until eleven at night, in the heavy
smoke-laden atmosphere of the administration offices.

Next, after the doctors and actors, the engineers and
technical men were singled out agronomists, lumber
specialists, bookkeepers. The rest of us were eager to hear
about all the camp activities in the hope that, somewhere
among them, we might find work in our chosen field.

Talking with old-timers returned from lumber camps, I
learned that a whole fishing industry section was included
in the camp organization and that the fisheries were located
in sparsely inhabited places along the western shore of the
White Sea.

264 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

I knew that region and it seemed to me that, if I could
only get to work as a specialist there, I should have taken
the first, perhaps scarcely perceptible, step towards my goal
escape. All that I could do now was to give on my regis-
tration card such information about myself as might in-
fluence the management of the fishery section to believe
that my work would be of real value to them. To that ex-
tent I succeeded. Only a month had passed before I was
told, in confidence, by the employees of the registration
department, also prisoners, that the Administration of the
fisheries in Kem had requisitioned me as a scientific spe-
cialist.

CHAPTER XXXVI
VEGUERASHKA

s,

SPECIALIST I might be, but as a convict I had to report to
my new chiefs. In prison clothes cheap cotton shirt,
pants and cap, a well-worn army coat and old shoes I
marched through the mud, an armed guard beside me, to
the railway station of Popoff Island. I scarcely noticed the
drenching rain. Convict though I was, Fortune had begun
to smile on me.

The guard sat down beside me in the car, keeping his
rifle between his knees. There were many passengers: work-
men from the saw mill, peasants, women and children, free
people who were carrying on the casual conversations of
ordinary life. I had not seen children for a long, long
time. I wanted very much to talk to a small, light-haired
boy who sat opposite me and who was slyly looking me
over, but I could not " illegal intercourse with free peo-
ple " would have brought me to a punitive cell.

Through the open window I could see swamps and thin
forests, but not a single human being a dreary and dis-
mal landscape. I turned over in my mind the chances of
escaping from the train . . . perhaps one could jump off
while it was moving . . . probably the guard would not
follow ... he would shoot, but the motion of the train
would spoil his aim . . . the forest nearby was thin but
still it afforded sufficient cover. ... At that moment I
noticed a road alongside the track and a man on horseback,

266 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

with a rifle, following our train. When we came to a stop
he would overtake us and slowly move ahead; when we
passed him he would change to a gallop, be left behind and
then catch up with us at the next stop. Undoubtedly he was
doing this for some reason: he could easily detect a fugitive
and capture or shoot him. No, one must be more cautious,
I thought, they are not so careless.

At the last stop before reaching Kem my guard gloomily
commanded: " Well, get going, get outl " We were bound
for Veguerashka.

Two kilometers to the west, on the shore of the gulf lay
the low, gray little town of Kem; to the east was a section
of the Solovetzki camp Veguerashka, built in 1930. After
the transfer of the camp administration from the Solovetzki
Islands to Kem, Veguerashka was under the eyes of the
higher command and prisoners here were said to live under
better conditions than elsewhere.

Veguerashka stretches along the left bank of the river
Kem and is encircled on the land side by a high barbed
wire fence, equipped with watch towers for guards. Inside
the barbed wire are two-story log barracks for the prison-
ers, built with a certain pretence to style. The window
frames are very large, but set at wide intervals and covered
by close lattice work. (In 1930 it had been impossible to
obtain panes of glass of any considerable size.) The roads
leading to the barracks are muddy and the buildings stand
on swampy ground. Narrow wooden boardwalks are laid
alongside the barracks. Nearer the river bank many other
buildings had been erected without any system whatever
the kitchen, bathhouse, two stores, the printing house,
bakery, electric power station and hospital.

A few prisoners in gray garb were visible on the board-
walk near the buildings, wandering about aimlessly and
slowly; they were the sick, who had been relieved from
work, and a few men just arrived from other camps and not

VEGUERASHKA 267

yet appointed to any work. The building nearest the en-
trance was the women's barracks; political prisoners and
criminals were quartered in it together elderly women
of refinement, mostly wives of professors, young girls,
students, nuns, peasants, gypsy women who had not yet
lost their proud, free bearing even in prison and, most
conspicuous of all, the representatives of the Leningrad
underworld.

I was assigned to the barracks of the third company, con-
sidered to be the best and the cleanest; it contained edu-
cated men exclusively: doctors, engineers, agronomists,
technicians, bookkeepers and so on, all holding responsible
positions in the various departments of the camp adminis-
tration. But the barracks differed but little from those on
Popoff Island; the same dirt and crowding a thousand
men, five hundred on each floor, in double bunks.

Each prisoner had the same fifty centimeters' width of
bare boards on which to sleep, eat and spend all his free
time during the long years of his absence. The lighting
was poor small, unshaded electric lamps fixed on the
ceiling, shining all night long into the eyes of those on the
upper tier of bunks, while those below were almost in
darkness.

I had become hardened to everything, I thought, after
ten months of imprisonment, but here the overwhelming
stench was unbearable. The toilets for a thousand men
were inside the building and had no running water. Every
night they were bailed out and we would literally gasp for
air. Sleeping men would moan and toss about; I had acute
attacks of sickness and in search of a little fresh air would
cautiously step past the dozing guards to the stairway, try-
ing to remain there the whole night, pressing close against
the wall to escape detection.

The day's routine began at seven. A thousand men in
one washroom without soap or towels, for half an hour,

268 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

and then out into the yard where the line formed for ra-
tions in the rain or snow. Kasha from boiled millet or
barley, and bread the basic ration were issued accord-
ing to the " groups " to which a prisoner belonged. First
group, 800 grams; second group including specialists in
production 500 grams; all others, 400 grams. The first
group manual laborers were given a few drops of
vegetable oil in their kasha. Those who had tea-kettles
could get a little hot water. Everybody hurried because of
the long procedure which followed before one could leave
for work outside the camp. First a " work book " had to be
obtained from the company commander in the barracks,
then this book had to be presented at camp headquarters,
where a permit was issued to leave the camp. Those who
had received their books and permits were lined up on
the boardwalk and led to the gates, where the sentinel
counted the prisoners and checked the permits. Outside
the fence the prisoners were again lined up into formation
and then led away under guard to their places of work.
Eight o'clock was the hour of departure and by nine o'clock
all prisoners had to be at their posts in the many camp
institutions distributed over the whole town of Kem.

Some of the guards were exacting service men and re-
quired us to keep a military formation, but we were miser-
ably shod and many of us ploughed through the sticky mud
nearly at the end of our endurance.

" Don't break the lines! " the commander of the guard
squad would shout, halting us and lining us up. " I'll keep
you standing here till eveningl "

" What do we care! " would be heard from the lines.
" The term still goes on! " Then the guard would rush to
find the offenders, collect five or six documents and note
down the names that meant five to ten days in punitive
cells for the offenders.

There were other formalities upon arrival at the place

VEGUERASHKA 269

of work and then it was work the whole day through. At
five came a recess, the formation in the street, the assem-
bling of the various detachments, and the march of two kilo-
meters back to Veguerashka, another roll-call and the sur-
render of documents before the hungry workers dragged
themselves to the kitchen windows for a dinner at six
soup with a few leaves of rotten cabbage and a small piece
of salted horse or camel's meat and a spoonful of the morn-
ing's boiled millet. At seven it was time to " take out the
documents " once more and march off to night work which
began at eight and ended at eleven. It was midnight before
we returned to the barracks, received another spoonful of
kasha and some hot water, and lay down upon the bare
boards, tortured by bed bugs and the prevailing stench.

There was scarcely time to fall asleep when the night
inspection began; and although we were not forced to get
up for a roll-call, there were always errors in the lists and
all would be awakened.

There was no heat in the barracks unless the prisoners
collected rubbish to burn; wood was not supplied and
yet this was winter in the Far North.

So would life go on and still goes on for thousands of
Russians for the five or ten long years of prison terms,
hopeless, monotonous days and restless, troubled nights.

CHAPTER XXXVII
ASSIGNED TO DUTY

M

. Y first day I started off to work alone. Before my per-
mit was issued, the group to which I belonged had already
been led away to Kem. I cannot describe how strange it
seemed, after months of imprisonment, to be walking alone
along a street without a guard at my heels. I had about two
kilometers to go a half hour's walk. In order to realize
my new " freedom " to the full I would walk now faster,
now slower and then stop; I could do this of my own free
will with no one to shout threateningly at me from behind.
I had difficulty in checking a continuous desire to look
back in order to assure myself that no guard was following
me. I kept to the middle of the street, for I knew that any
camp officer or guard who met me walking on the sidewalk
in Kem could send me to a punitive cell, but I walked
slowly and crossed over from one side of the street to the
other several times, taking my time.

The GPU risked nothing in letting me out without a
guard; I was dressed in prisoner's clothes, I had neither
provisions nor money. Not only the town itself but all the
roads about it swarmed with guards. Furthermore, my wife
was a prisoner in their hands at the Shpalernaya and my
son also was in Leningrad; if I escaped they would be held
as hostages.

J was no stranger in Kem for I had been there in other
days, doing experimental work in the White Sea. It is a
fishing village rather than a town, spread out along the

ASSIGNED TO DUTY 271

river bank, with one paved street (built by prisoners in
1928) and small, gray wooden houses. In the upper section
of the town, on a mound, stands the beautiful old Cathe-
dral built in the lyth century, now in a sad state; from
one dome the cross has fallen while from the central dome
a radio antenna projects. It is permitted to hold services
there once a year but the townspeople are too poor to
keep the Cathedral in repair.

Here, in Kem, was the stone building occupied by the
Solovetzki Camp Administration, built in the time of the
NEP and designed for other purposes. The ground floor,
with enormous plate glass windows, had been occupied by
a luxurious department store for GPU officials, an elabo-
rate barber shop and a photographer's studio. But the chief
pride of the GPU had been a large restaurant on the second
floor, with a balcony for the public and a platform for the
orchestra. Here the Gepeists revelled day and night
there were also private rooms at their disposal. The GPU
used to boast that nowhere else in the U.S.S.R. could better
food and service be obtained. There was a reason; here
worked the best cooks and confectioners taken from all
parts of Russia. Former owners of famous restaurants
served as waiters; the slightest error or a word of dissatis-
faction from a " customer " meant, for the employee-slaves,
a term of solitary confinement or transfer to the lumber
camps. The orchestra, too, was first-rate; it was composed
entirely of real musicians.

Times changed, the store was abolished and the main-
tenance of a luxurious restaurant for public revels was in-
consistent with the new general policy of the party. Both
restaurant hall and stores were cut up into a number of
small cages where, packed in like herrings in a barrel, spe-
cialist-prisoners created Five-Year GPU production plans
and added up the profits of forced labor. But one building
could not house the enormous administrative body of the

272 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

GPU. All the best private houses were confiscated and la-
belled with GPU signs, intelligible only to the initiated.

My destination was the Section of Fisheries, the so-called
" Ribprom" with its headquarters in one of these houses,
where, in days gone by a rich peasant must have lived. I
entered it. The small low room was filled with desks of
various sizes and shapes so close to each other that one
could scarcely pass between them. At these desks, seated
on stools (chairs were considered too great a luxury for
prisoners) , were " specialists " at work writing, reading and
calculating. Over some of the desks hung signs: " Office
Manager," " Bookkeeper," " Production Manager," and
so on. At a small table sat a young girl, in prison dress, be-
fore a typewriter. The room was noisy, and the air filled
with tobacco smoke.

I was greeted with cordiality by the specialist-prisoners,
my colleagues in the new work, all university men con-
victed as counter-revolutionists, and all dressed as poorly
as I was, in a combination of civilian clothes and prison
raiment. Their thin, drawn faces and especially their gray
complexions were eloquent of their hardships. They seated
me at a table, brought me a mug of hot water, a bit of black
bread, a few small salted herrings and several pieces of
sugar.

" Please eat, don't be shy. The herring is of our own
catch, from the fisheries; we got it through ' pull.' The
chiefs have not come in yet: only our own people are here;
don't be afraid, there are no spies."

I refused the sugar because I knew it was a great delicacy.

" Do eat it! N. got it in his packages from home we're
allowed to receive them here; that is what keeps us alive.
They reach us safely of course they're censored, but
everything is untouched because in the package depart-
ment here only political prisoners are at work honest
people."

ASSIGNED TO DUTY 273

" I have nobody to send me packages," I replied, still
declining to accept the sugar. " My wife is in prison, my
son is at home alone and has to take remittances to his
mother."

I learned from my new colleagues that I had been as-
signed as an " ichthyologist," and from the " regulations,"
which they showed me, I saw that my duties were to in-
clude research on fish biology and fish breeding. Fate was
certainly favoring me.

It was about ten o'clock when the assistant to the Chief
of the Section came in to his " office " in a corner of the
same room. He called for me two hours later. I spent the
intervening time thinking over what I would say to him
and decided that I would ask for research work because it
would demand travel at sea and along the shore, affording
me a certain freedom of action which ought to facilitate
my escape. But I must invent some objective for my re-
search which would be of practical interest to them; I
could do only that after I was familiar with their activities.
Soviet experience had taught me this.

I was called in to see the chief, V. A. Kolossoff. Let me
interrupt my story to tell what I heard, as time went on,
about him. By training he was a lawyer and after the Revo-
lution had held the post of prosecutor somewhere in Tur-
kestan, in Tashkent, I think. A non-party specialist could
hold such a position only if his actions had clearly demon-
strated his loyalty to the Bolsheviks. In 1928, however, he
had made some kind of slip, got involved in a criminal case
and had been sentenced by a court, not by the GPU, to
three years in the Solovetzki concentration camp and to a
further three years of exile in a distant province. He
reached the camp during its most terrible period, but he
managed to survive and to prosper through his attachment
to one man.

Those were the days when the notorious Frenkel was

274 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

flourishing, then a political prisoner, now a Gepeist. Fren-
kel, understanding very well that it was impossible to sur-
vive under prevailing conditions, presented to the Chief
of the camps a project which should transform this losing
enterprise into a gold mine for the GPU namely the
maximum use of forced labor in lumber production and
road construction. The project was approved and Frenkel
became the head of all production activity. It was his or-
ganization of the lumber export trade that furnished the
GPU with foreign currency needed for its work abroad.
One cannot even estimate how many thousands of prison-
ers were sacrificed to make his career. Among his latest
inventions are the White Sea-Baltic Canal and the Moscow-
Volga Canal. Chekists came and went in the camp, but
Frenkel outlived them all; he is still firmly established in
power.

Kolossoff became private secretary to this powerful Fren-
kel and was immune. He enjoyed telling how once, while
still a prisoner, he had drunk himself into complete obliv-
ion, had attacked a sentinel of the guard, had disarmed
him and then climbed up, rifle in hand, to the watch tower
where he had peacefully gone to sleep. Brought up before
the commandant, he proudly boasted: " I am the secretary
of the chief camp Jew." That was enough. The drunken
Kolossoff was carefully transported to his " free " apartment
in Kem. This incident had for him no unpleasant conse-
quences whatever. Next morning when he reported to his
chief, Frenkel asked him laughingly: "Is it true that in
the commandant's office last night you called me the ' chief
camp Jew? "' "I really remember nothing of what hap-
pened yesterday," he replied.

At the end of his term, rather than going into exile he
had preferred to remain at the camp, as a free hired em-
ployee of the GPU. He brought his wife to an apartment
in Kem and lived quite comfortably, enjoying all the priv-

ASSIGNED TO DUTY 275

ileges of his position the right to receive a variety of
provisions, the use of a horse, and so on.

In the section of fisheries this clever and cunning man
was in charge of all the production, planning and commer-
cial work, although he knew nothing about the fishing busi-
ness. That, however, is not unusual in the U.S.S.R. where,
as a rule, the chief sits in his office, signs his name, and
takes part in meetings and conferences armed with plans
and figures prepared for him in each specific case by the
specialists. In fairness to Kolossoff it must be admitted that
he used these materials quite well and therefore enjoyed,
among the GPU chiefs, the reputation of an efficient and
experienced executive.

This was the man now sitting opposite me, sprawled in
an armchair and contentedly stroking his well-groomed
graying mustache. He was looking at my wretched prison-
er's clothing, which hung on me like a bag, and at my head
with its tufts of hair. From his self-satisfied expression I
judged that the superiority of his position gave him real
pleasure. I found out later, however, that he was not un-
kind and that his attitude towards specialist-prisoners was
quite decent.

" Well, how are we going to use you? " he began. " I
know you are a learned professor, but ours is a production
enterprise and I think we will attach you to production
work."

" Unfortunately I have never worked directly on pro-
duction," I began boldly, " and I doubt if my work in that
field could be useful to you. My specialty is research. Judge
for yourself," and I enumerated the most important re-
search works I had done, carefully avoiding any mention
of my work in production. " I believe that good research
work would be of greater use to the enterprise than poor
production work. Furthermore I would never dare take
up work I know nothing about."

276 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

" Nonsense," he interrupted. " You know I am a lawyer
by training and was once a prosecuting attorney, yet here I
am in charge of all the production. We are not going to
press you. Look around, rest, acquaint yourself with our
enterprise and we will talk it over later. Determine for
yourself what kind of work you can do here. You are ap-
pointed as an ichthyologist; that's a very indefinite position.
We'll be able to use you on any kind of work." And the
interview had come to an end.

That very day, sitting on a stool at one corner of a
wooden table made from a drafting board, I began the
study of the Section of Fisheries as an enterprise. Perspec-
tives were opening up before me: I had already determined
to concentrate all my efforts to obtain an assignment to
research work in the North with one underlying purpose
escape.

CHAPTER XXXVIII

SLAVE LABOR AND BIG BUSINESS A STATE

WITHIN A STATE

E

ROM my own investigations of the Fisheries Section and,
as time went on, from conversations with prisoners in other
sections and in the central administration of the camp, its
complicated structure and its operations as a productive
commercial enterprise were becoming clear to me. Let me
describe them.

In 1931 the Solovetzki camp reached the height of its
development. It contained fourteen sections. The river
Swir and Lake Ladoga formed its southern boundary; its
northern limit was the Arctic Ocean. The enterprises of
this so-called camp extended approximately 1500 kilo-
meters along the Murmansk railroad, taking in also the
whole of Karelia. It was still growing and tending to ex-
pand beyond these limits. To the east this was checked by
another enormous enterprise owned by the GPU the
Northern Camps of Special Designation and to the west
by the closeness of the Finnish frontier. Therefore the camp
was reaching out to the islands of the Arctic Ocean, Kol-
goueff and Vaigash, and to the southern shore of the Kola
Peninsula (Kandalaksha and Terek shores of the White
Sea) . The number of prisoners was increasing daily. Enor-
mous projects were being carried out and plans for even
wider activities were under way.

Operating independently on the territory of the so-called

278 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

autonomous Republic of Karelia the Solovetzki camp estab-
lished there, on a large scale, its own commercial enter-
prises, duplicating all the enterprises of that state. The
camp had its own fisheries and lumber camps, its own
brick-yards, road construction, agricultural and cattle
farms all of which were completely stifling Karelian
industry. Besides these activities of a permanent nature the
camp also undertook work of temporary character on a
still larger scale. Some of this work had a definitely strategic
purpose; for example, the construction of the White Sea-
Baltic Canal (actually the joining of the Onega Bay of the
White Sea with Lake Onega) , the building of highways
to the Finnish frontier, the reclaiming and levelling of
large expanses of swamps and woods for military airports,
the erection in the most important strategic points (Kem,
Kandalaksha, Loukhi and others) of whole towns for quar-
tering troops, with barracks to accommodate thousands of
men, hospitals, warehouses, bathhouses, bakeries and so
on. Besides this, in 1930-31 the camp also engaged in ac-
tivities of an economic nature: the clearing of marsh land
to be used for camp farms, preliminary work for the con-
struction of a Soroka-Kotlas railroad which was to join
the Siberian trunk line with the Murmansk railroad (this
work was abandoned in 1931) , the preparation of firewood
for Moscow and Leningrad, and other activities.

In 1932 the GPU evidently decided that the Solovetzki
camp had grown too big and it was, therefore, reorganized.
After many changes, two new independent camps the
White Sea-Baltic camp (for the construction of the canal)
and the Swir camp (for preparation of firewood for Mos-
cow and Leningrad) were finally formed and were no
longer a part of Solovetzki.

Each camp had many sections. Every section was a com-
plete commercial entity, similar to those which in the
U.S.S.R. are called "trusts," designed to make profits by

SLAVE LABOR AND BIG BUSINESS 279

productive commercial operations. Each section had its
own budget, its invested and working capitals. The admin-
istration of the section, as in all Soviet " trusts," included
the following departments: planning, production, tech-
nical, commercial, bookkeeping and executive. The higher
officers were usually three in number: the section chief and
his two assistants. The section was composed of production
and commercial units the nature of which depended on the
section's activity: factories, trades, agricultural farms, lum-
ber camps and so on. Each section worked in a definite
production field and had its own distinct territory. The
marketing of its product was effected either independently
in the Soviet market or through intermediaries. Goods
produced by sections using forced labor and sold in the
home market were often stamped with their trademark.
As I have said, the trademark of the Solovetzki camp was
an elephant. Dealings with foreign markets were, of course,
handled through the Gostorg (State Trade Commissariat)
and sometimes even through a second intermediary, in
order better to conceal the origin of the goods. The Sec-
tion of Fisheries, the Ribprom, in which I worked, had a
canning factory, a fish-smoking factory, a shop for construc-
tion and repair of ships, a net factory and over twenty
fisheries scattered along the shores of Onega and Kanda-
laksha bays of the White Sea, on the Solovetzki Islands and
on the Murman coast of the Arctic Ocean.

The sections were unified by and subordinated to the
administration of the camp which regulated, combined
and controlled their activity. The result was a very un-
wieldy and complicated bureaucratic body entirely un-
necessary from the point of view of production efficiency.
Furthermore, in Moscow there was a central organization
independent of the camp administrations, for the combin-
ing, regulating and controlling of the activities of camp
sections, composed of specialists in various fields of indus-

2 8o I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

try. Each specialist was in charge of one branch of indus-
trial activity in all the camps. Thus, for instance, a certain
Bikson was managing the fishing industry at the Moscow
GPU. He was a former fish merchant, had been deported
to the Solovetzki camp and finally had entered the service
of the GPU.

In this way the section had two masters: the administra-
tion of the camp and the council of specialists in Moscow.
Both took every opportunity to meddle in the economic
life of the section, although all the responsibility for the
work remained with the section itself. Such a system of
dual subordination is characteristic of all Soviet enterprises
and those of the GPU were no exception.

Like all other Soviet enterprises the camp sections for-
mulated yearly and five-year plans, which were combined,
along one line, into the general plan of the particular camp,
and along another line, into the general plan for the given
branch of industry by the GPU. There is no doubt that
these plans were finally included in the Piatiletka. The
industrial enterprises of the GPU, based on slave labor of
prisoners, are growing from year to year and becoming a
factor of decisive importance in the general economic ac-
tivity of the U.S.S.R.

The concentration camps, therefore, are actually enor-
mous enterprises operating in the same field with similar
" free " Soviet State institutions. The management of the
former is concentrated in the GPU, of the latter, in various
commissariats. In many cases the scale of the work carried
on by the GPU is larger than that of the corresponding
Soviet institutions; it is quite probable, for instance, that
the GPU lumber operations exceed those of free lumber
" trusts." Communication construction has almost entirely
passed into the hands of the GPU, and entire camps with
hundreds of thousands of slaves are engaged in these works
the White Sea-Baltic Canal, the Moscow- Volga Rivers

SLAVE LABOR AND BIG BUSINESS 281

Canal, the Sizran and Koungour railroads and the gigantic
Bamlag, Baikal-Amour railroad development. It would
seem that the planned economy, proclaimed by the Soviets,
would have precluded the existence on such a grand scale,
of an industrial organization paralleling the state indus-
try, but the point is that the GPU in the U.S.S.R. is not
simply a state institution, it is actually a state within a state.
The GPU has its own troops, its own navy, millions of
its own subjects (the prisoners in camps) , its own territory
where Soviet authority and laws do not function. The GPU
issues its own currency, forbids its subjects to use So-
viet currency and does not accept it in its stores. The
GPU proclaims its own laws for its subjects, has its own
jurisdiction and prisons. It is not surprising, therefore,
that it maintains its own industry, parallel to Soviet in-
dustry.

There can be no exact comparison between GPU and
State enterprises because the former have peculiar features
differentiating them from all other business ventures,
whether Soviet or not. They deserve the attention of
economists.

As I continued my studies of the Fisheries Section I was
struck by several of these unique features which it revealed.
The invested capital was negligible, the cost of production
unusually low, and the profits enormous. With a catch of
700 tons, and the purchase of a similar quantity from fisher-
men, a total of 1400 tons the Ribprom had earned
in 1930 a net profit of one million roubles. Compare this
with the record of the North State Fishing Trust which in
1928, with a catch of 48,000 tons, earned a profit of less
than one million roubles.

All the production buildings of this enterprise con-
sidered as part of the invested capital were nothing but
barracks of a temporary type. The largest establishments
the canning, fish-smoking and net factories were

I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

housed in large barns on the verge of collapse. The equip-
ment was primitive; at the canning factory, for instance,
there was neither running water nor fresh water; sea water
was used. At most of the fisheries the salting was carried
on in the open as no buildings were available. There was
no refrigeration of any kind not even ice-cellars. Mech-
anization of work was entirely absent everything was
done by hand.

In consequence, depreciation of invested capital plays
almost no part in the computation of costs. In this respect
all enterprises of camps, even those engaged in such com-
plicated works as the construction of the White Sea-Baltic
Canal, present an extraordinary similarity. All work is
carried on by hand, not a single building of real capital
type is erected, all service buildings are constructed as
cheaply as possible. This is a feature unknown in Soviet
enterprises, where enormous sums are being spent for
capital construction and mechanization, often without any
rhyme or reason except that of " overtaking and outstrip-
ping."

Why this difference? First, the camp enterprises are not
intended for " show," and second this is the chief reason
the camps have slave labor. This personnel is actually
the invested capital of the GPU enterprises; it takes the
place of expensive equipment and machinery. Machines re-
quire buildings, care, and fuel of a certain quality and in
fixed quantity. Not so with these prisoner-slaves. They
need no care, they can exist in unheated barracks which
they build themselves. Their fuel ration food can be
regulated according to circumstances: one kilogram of
bread can be reduced to 400 grams, sugar can be omitted
entirely; they work equally well on rotten salted horse or
camel meat. Finally, the slave is a universal machine; today
he digs a canal, tomorrow he fells trees, and the next day
he catches fish. The only requisite is an efficient organiza-

SLAVE LABOR AND BIG BUSINESS 283

tion for compelling him to work that is the " specialty "
of the GPU.

But that is not all. This invested capital costs nothing
to obtain as slaves did in capitalistic countries when slavery
existed; the supply is limitless and there is neither interest
to pay on funded debts nor any depreciation reserve to be
set up when the balance sheet is made out.

And then there is the matter of wages, salaries, social
insurance, union dues, and so on, all of which may be
grouped as " labor costs," of vital importance to Soviet
business. The GPU does not have to worry about these.
Among the thousands of workmen in a camp section not
more than a few free hired employees get salaries; the
remainder work without pay. It is true that the GPU pays
out premiums to those prisoners who work irreproachably,
but this represents not more than 3 or 4 per cent of what
the GPU would have to pay a free worker. And even this
miserly pay is not in Soviet money, but in GPU scrip. The
prisoner can buy for it (only in GPU stores) an insignif-
icant quantity of food which is the waste that otherwise
could not be sold. Here again the GPU makes money.

Thus, labor costs cannot be said to influence seriously
the cost of production in the GPU. The absence of these
two items of expense depreciation and wages gives
the GPU a saving of not less than 35 per cent in such a
venture as the fisheries, and a considerably greater saving
in works like the construction of the White Sea Canal.

Moreover, the GPU trademark guarantees an assured
home market for its goods a Soviet purchaser never
refuses goods offered him by this " firm," which are sold
in open violation of trade regulations of the Soviet Gov-
ernment. A mark-up of 100 to 150 per cent over cost is
the usual GPU figure according to its own " plans," and
this mark-up is practically synonymous with "profit"
whereas the Soviet State enterprises are not allowed a profit

284 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

of more than 8 per cent. Actually the GPU is not content
with the limit approved in their plans and often sells its
goods with a mark-up of 200-300 per cent and sometimes
even more.

Here is an example. The Section of Fisheries dealt in
fish which it caught or bought from free fishermen, who
sold their catch both to the GPU and to other State enter-
prises (Corporations and Trusts) at fixed prices estab-
lished by the local executive committee. 1 The Section of
Fisheries bought frozen herring from the fishermen at the
fixed price of 10 kopeks the kilogram, delivered to the ware-
house of the Section, where it would be resold, on the spot,
to another GPU organization called " Dynamo" for
i rouble (100 kopeks) the kilogram. The new purchaser
would cart it to the State Kem Inn, two blocks away, and
sell it there for 3 roubles (300 kopeks) the kilogram. That
ended the transaction for the GPU. I might add that the
State innkeeper, who had nothing to fear from the author-
ities, would salt it slightly and retail it in his restaurant at
one rouble a fish. The White Sea herring is small there
are fifty to sixty in a kilogram so that the consumer was
buying them at the rate of fifty to sixty roubles the kilo-
gram, which was 500 to 600 times the fixed price of 10
kopeks established by Soviet authorities.

I have already pointed out that the GPU was getting rid
of its defective merchandise with the greatest ease. Such
merchandise is the bane of all Soviet enterprises. Worthless
raw materials, inexperienced labor, complicated machinery
which nobody can properly handle, extreme haste, unedu-
cated Communist-managers at the head of enterprises, all
these factors bring the amount of defective goods to a
colossal percentage which wrecks all plans and estimates.

i The sale of fish to private individuals, or at a price higher than the
one established, is strictly prohibited and is done only secretly and in very
small quantities.

SLAVE LABOR AND BIG BUSINESS 285

In this respect the GPU " businesses " are in a favored
position compared with their Soviet competitors. Rarely
would a purchaser dare to claim that the GPU had sent
him defective goods; he would simply pass them on to the
indulgent Soviet consumer. And if the goods are so defec-
tive that even the GPU cannot dispose of them in the open
market, they are sold, in GPU stores, to prisoners at prices
often higher than those of regular GPU goods in the open
market. They are also handed out as a premium for
" shock " work. The hungry prisoner is happy to get even
this.

Widely developed graft is another distinctive feature of
all GPU enterprises, when compared to regular Soviet
enterprises. Bribes are taken on every occasion and without
any reason by everybody from the highest Moscow GPU
officials down to the last hired man of the guard. Graft in
the inner life of the GPU and their camps has grown such
deep roots that it has come to be regarded as a natural con-
dition and the free hired GPU officials openly give and
accept bribes unashamed. Money in the U.S.S.R. has little,
or rather only a conventional value. Monetary bribes, as
such, figure only in fantastic GPU " cases " in which for-
eign capitalists are supposedly buying Soviet specialists
with " Soviet currency." Actually it is doubtful if anyone
in the U.S.S.R. could be tempted by Soviet money. Be that
as it may, the GPU accepts bribes only in kind, the quality
and quantity depending upon the particular case and the
rank and position of the person receiving the bribe.

The Section of Fisheries used its own products fish
as bribes. The Moscow GPU Comrade Boki (member of
the OGPU council, in charge of camps) and his equals
were given salmon designated for export to England, and
a special kind of Solovetzki herring marked by four zeros.
In fact, " four zeros " herring was never placed on the mar-
ket but was reserved for bribes. The export salmon and

286 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

the " four zeros " herring were also given to the chief of
the camp and to the chiefs of the investigation department.
Officials of lesser importance received salmon of inferior
quality, a box or two of ordinary smoked White Sea her-
ring; the lower officials a few cans of preserved fish. In
some cases these bribes were masked by the sending of a
bill for a ridiculously small amount.

Whenever a " plan " or a report was to be submitted to
the camp administration or to Moscow, the necessary prep-
arations proceeded along two contrasting lines: in the of-
fices, the prisoner-specialists worked day and night com-
piling memoranda; in the storeroom, other prisoners
packed fish in barrels, boxes and baskets this was the
more important work. The Chief of Section, Simankoff,
often with both of his assistants, personally supervised the
packing, inspected the " presents " which were being sent
to those " higher up," and themselves carefully marked the
destination of each package. God forbid that an assistant
should get a larger " present " than a chief. And the prac-
tice was the same when higher authorities came on an
official visit. The main concern was to arrange a good re-
ception and to prepare a pleasing package as a gift. The
Section of Fisheries was no exception in this respect. All
sections sent " presents " to the chiefs. The Agricultural
Section sent hams, butter, and the best vegetables; to local
authorities it sent cream and to the ladies, flowers. The
shoe and clothing factories, among whose prisoner-work-
men were the best tailors and cobblers of Leningrad and
Moscow, dressed and shod their chiefs and their families,
while the Handicraft Section made elaborately carved
boxes for their superiors.

Such a system of universal graft no doubt adds color to
the life of GPU officials.

CHAPTER XXXIX
SENTRIES SPIES EDUCATORS

c

k-/LAVE labor in its enterprises forces the GPU to main-
tain in its camps three special organizations unknown in
regular Soviet concerns: the Military Guard VOHR;
the Information-Investigation Department ISO; and
the Cultural-Educational Department KVO.

VOHR

The military guard is designed to prevent escapes and
to pursue fugitives. Organized like an army with headquar-
ters at the Camp Administration, its troops are attached
to every section of the camp and detachments are stationed
at every point, in every sub-camp and district where pris-
oners may be found.

The members of the guard wear army uniforms; the
officers have revolvers, the enlisted men rifles. There are
no free enlisted men; without exception all are prisoners
criminal convicts, recruited for the most part from Red
Army men serving sentences. And but a very few officers
are free men. Thus it appears that prisoners are guarding
themselves and the cost of maintenance is very low.

Their duties and responsibilities are numerous: policing
the camp, escorting prisoners inside and outside its limits;
operating the punitive cells at all the points of the camp;
watching the routes along which fugitives might pass, in-
cluding sentry duty at all railway stations from Petroza-
vodsk to Murmansk; inspection of all trains along this

288 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

section of the railroad in order to detect fugitives; the
training of German shepherd dogs to follow the scent,
leap at a fugitive, throw him to the ground and seize him
by the back of his collar. We could watch this training of
the dogs as we marched past the kennels near the Veguer-
ashka camp. There was also rifle practice and hand grenade
instruction for the guards, both of which we could see.

The VOHR is quartered in special barracks, 100 men
to a building in which ten times that number of prisoners
would have been packed. They have cots with sheets and
blankets, and get better food: one kilo of bread per day,
sugar, butter and other luxuries. During pursuits of fugi-
tives they are given special rations: canned beef, butter,
sugar, biscuits and macaroni; and they receive a premium
of 10 roubles a head (in GPU scrip) for the recapture of an
escaped prisoner.

The VOHR eats well, drinks well and does not lack
women, especially in the big camps where there are always
enough women prisoners, thieves and prostitutes from the
city underworld and many peasant women who are scared
into cohabitation. (In 1931 at Veguerashka a medical ex-
amination disclosed the fact that 90% of the guard suffered
from venereal diseases in an acute form and 10% in a
chronic form.) At distant points, where there are no
women, the guard detachment sends for a cook, a washer-
woman or a charwoman a prisoner who is forced to
serve them in all respects.

ISO

The Information-Investigation Department with its
branches in every major camp and section plays the same-
role inside the camp that the GPU does " outside," but
perhaps still more mercilessly. The functions of this " GPU
within the GPU " are the same: undercover spying on the
prisoners as well as on the free hired Gepeists; secret obser-

SENTRIES SPIES EDUCATORS 289

vation of all institutions and enterprises of the camp; in-
stigated "cases" of "espionage," "wrecking," "counter-
revolution"; the handling of all cases of " escapes." The
ISO maintains camp prisons known as " isolators " where
" confessions " are forced: detention in them is terrible.

Like the GPU, the ISO has a staff of examining officers
who also fabricate "cases" against prisoners a careless
word or the slightest, even involuntary, negligence are
considered heinous crimes. Sometimes even these pretexts
are unnecessary, for the ISO can convict a man of " incor-
rigibility " when the camp authorities decide to get rid of
an undesirable prisoner.

Secret lists are kept of all prisoners and none of them
may be appointed to any work, or transferred to a new
assignment, without the approval of the ISO which need
not give its reasons for disapproval. In addition, it conducts
all searches, censors prisoner correspondence, issues per-
mits for visitors, and so on.

The staff of the ISO is not large and, except for the high-
est offices, is recruited from Gepeists sent to the camp for
criminal offences. Its secret agents, however, called " SEE-
SOT " are legion; they permeate all camp activities. It
strives, by every possible device, to enlist political prison-
ers for this contingent because they have better education
and are not so readily suspected of being spies; the number
of educated men who yield to this temptation is probably
too small to suit the ISO, but they can be found in every
camp.

The quarters of the ISO are isolated from all other camp
activities and its staff employees enjoy all possible comfort
including a " free apartment," choice rations, and the
services of young educated women from among the politi-
cal prisoners. In general, the position of young women in
the camp is pitiable. Resistance to attentions from a free
hired Gepeist or an employee of the ISO leads to a transfer

ago I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

to "general " work in the company of thieves and prosti-
tutes, where " attentions " may take a still more disgusting
form; it may also lead to the institution of a " case/' an
accusation of counter-revolution or " incorrigibility "
and execution.

KVO

The third organization the Cultural-Educational De-
partment (KVO) closely corresponds to the ISO and has
its own corps of agents, officially called " camp correspond-
ents " (LAGCOR) but regarded by the prisoners as also
spies.

KVO's activity is two-fold: detection and publicity. The
first, and most important, involves active assistance to the
ISO in the organization of detection; the majority of KVO
employees are at the same time secret agents of the ISO,
and both departments often interchange their members.
An " educator " who had distinguished himself by a de-
nunciation is promoted to examining officer while an in-
competent examining officer, or one who had become a
drink addict, is demoted to " educator."

The second field of activity is known as "reeducation "
or " reforging." Under this mask the GPU camouflages its
commercial enterprises, representing them as institutions
designed to reeducate inveterate criminals and reforge
them into " enthusiasts of Soviet construction/' The
method is rather primitive. Men unfit for any other kind
of work are enlisted as " educators/* The chiefs of the KVO
and of its branches are mostly Chekists who had become
inveterate drunkards and for whom a position had to be
found. The prisoners working in the KVO are persons
quite unfit for any production enterprises; with the excep-
tion of lecturers, of whom I shall speak later, they are crim-
inals, former contributors to Soviet newspapers or em-
ployees of professional unions who had been deported
for systematic embezzlement or fraud.

SENTRIES SPIES EDUCATORS 291

The appropriation for " cultural-educational " work is
small and most of it is allotted to the publication of the
camp newspaper; since the work in the printing room is
done by the prisoners and since they are compelled to buy
it when they receive any premiums in GPU scrip its pub-
lication cannot be a heavy financial burden on the GPU.

This newspaper is a strange thing. An edition appears
every three days in every camp. The pioneer in the field
was the " Perekovka " (Reforgery) first published in the
Solovetzki camp and later transferred to the White Sea-
Baltic camp; to take its place " Trudovoi Trul" in no way
different from the "Perekovka'/ was published in the Solo-
vet/ki camp in the autumn of 1931.

In the heading " Perekovka," the letter " K " was repre-
sented as a hammer striking the letter " O," from which
small fragments and sparks flew in all directions. At the
top of the sheet were two inscriptions: " Not for circulation
outside the camp " and " Work in the U.S.S.R. is honor,
glory, valor and heroism! "

In outward appearance it looks just like any other pro-
vincial Soviet paper: the same mottoes, slogans of the day
and screaming titles. In the text, the same talk about pha-
lanxes, shock workers, storm columns, enthusiasts, van-
guard of storm positions, socialistic achievements, fronts
of proletarian victories, and so on all this enhanced by
an immoderate use of exclamation marks and titles in the
imperative, such as: " Stop! " " Accomplish! " " Liq-
uidate! " " Develop! " " Break! " " Strike! "

The paper is devoted to camp life; news from the
U.S.S.R. or the rest of the world is given a very small space
on the last page, such as the 100-200-300 per cent overful-
fillment of Soviet plans, or the strikes, famines and crises
in the outer world. Articles, written by prisoners of the
editorial staff, sing praises of the authorities or demand
the disclosure and punishment of those guilty of various

2 9 2 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

" breaches in the front." The guilty men are always pris-
oners. Anonymous denunciations sent from places of work
appear in a special column headed " Camp correspondents
write "; this correspondence serves as basis for the framing
of " cases " against prisoners by the ISO.

Penniless though we were, and confined behind barbed
wire, even here we were not free from lies, denunciation
and the constant threat of some new fantastic and senseless
accusation. And all of us who were receiving premium com-
pensation were compelled to subscribe to this paper, al-
though we had no protection whatsoever from its dirty
slander.

Besides this printed paper, which is edited at the camp
center, each " point " has its " wall newspaper," with
hand-written articles composed under the auspices of the
KVO and appearing five or six times a year in major camps
and once or twice a year in smaller camps. Not only the
prisoners, but even the hired Gepeists regard these papers
with disgust and loathing.

KVO also manages the mass meetings for prisoners, as
ordered by headquarters from time to time especially
on the occasion of a new State bond issue, or the organiza-
tion of " shock activity " for a new drive against bed bugs.
Such meetings are held in the workshops after the day's
work is done. The more formal " general " meetings take
place outdoors in a space enclosed by a wire fence, within
which the prisoners, accompanied by guards, are lined up
in military formation around a platform to await, in freez-
ing weather, the arrival of the authorities. Then one of
the chief " educators " delivers his address; in my time
(1931-32) the favorite subjects were the "intrigues of
French imperialism," " Communist progress in the Ger-
man elections," the "victorious march of Communistic
revolution in China," and " the success of the Piatiletka."
No doubt other subjects are being used now.

Speeches about the reeducation of prisoners were less

SENTRIES SPIES EDUCATORS 293

frequent and were delivered by radio so as to reach a wider
public than the convicts who were experiencing the bene-
fits of this " reforging." An amusing incident occurred once
at Solovetzki in 1931 in connection with such a speech.
The senior " educator " was drunk but this fact had been
discovered too late, and he could not be stopped. The poor
devil, in his enthusiasm, went beyond all limits of discre-
tion; but it was the only speech to which the prisoners
listened with interest and attention. Incidentally, he stated
that the " camp correspondence " movement (which means
anonymous denunciation) was growing enormously, that
already five million " camp correspondents " had been en-
rolled from among the prisoners . . . here he stopped
abruptly for no apparent reason and then shouted into the
microphone his brilliant concluding phrase: " Lenin him-
self was an honorary camp correspondent."

Thus it can be seen that prisoners in concentration camps
not only form the labor force and organize production and
trade, but also guard against their own escape and pursue
themselves as fugitives, organize a system for spying on
themselves, imprison themselves in " isolators," and either
sentence themselves to execution or " reeducate " and " re-
forge " themselves.

At first glance, this would seem incredible. But, if it is
borne in mind that this system had developed from " camps
of special designation," whose main purpose extermina-
tion was being accomplished by the prisoners them-
selves, the contemporary situation in camps of the new type
will not seem so extraordinary. It must be remembered that
the contingent of prisoners is not homogeneous, that by
cleverly breaking it up into such groups as former Chekists,
criminals and politicals, by placing these groups under dif-
ferent conditions of life and work and then inciting them
against each other, the GPU is able to accomplish anything
it may desire.

CHAPTER XL
THREE PILLARS OF SOLOVKI

.HERE is a saying at Solovki that the camp rests upon
three pillars: foul language, protection and denunciation.
In this camp, I think, profanity in which I include every
form of vile speech has reached its highest development.
It is universally employed, by officials as evidence of
their power over prisoners, and by prisoners as an ex-
pression of their contempt for a life of slavery, for all their
surroundings, and for themselves.

The subordinate officials, together with the guard and
the criminal element, delight in using the word " intel-
lectual " combined with the foulest language imaginable.
This practice is undoubtedly the result of "cultural-edu-
cational " work which aims to incite the criminals against
the politicals and especially against the " intelligentsia ";
it is a repercussion of the same campaign against the in-
tellectual class which the Soviet Government has carried
on for the last fifteen years.

This attitude is well illustrated by the Solovetzki version
of "Little Red Riding Hood/' here known as " Shourka
Tcheruonchik" the very name revealing her status as
a lady of easy virtue. Wearing a red Komsomol handker-
chief around her head, she sets out for a party meeting of
shock workers, but, once outside the confines of the camp,
she meets a big, gray wolf who, baring his great teeth, asks
her fiercely: " Where are you going, Red Riding Hood? "

THREE PILLARS OF SOLOVKI 295

" Get away from me you intellectual," she replies

with such a volley of unprintable words that the poor wolf
runs away in terror.

Much more important than profanity, however, are the
other two pillars of Solovki.

" Protection," meaning, in camp vernacular, the enjoy-
ment of illegal privileges or preferred treatment, has actu-
ally been developed into a peculiar system which origi-
nated in the GPU, whose employees, the Gepeists
enjoy in full measure the protection of the Soviet Govern-
ment. A card bearing those three magic letters opens the
door wide to opportunities for obtaining everything of
which the millions of working people are deprived. The
Gepeist may have his " living space " (apartment and wood
for fuel) , his provisions and clothing, a theatre seat or a
reservation in a train, all because of this protection and
according to his relative position and his connections. And
that is not all. He is not subject to the law of the land; he
is above it. If he commits a serious crime, such as murder
or rape, he is not held for trial by an ordinary court, but
is dealt with in a " home " fashion. If he happens to have
good connections within the GPU he is likely to get off
quite free, if not his punishment is reduced to a mini-
mum, perhaps a transfer to another place of xvork within
the same GPU.

In the camps, Gepeists thrive on protection in perhaps
still greater measure. Their main support is Moscow and
those who have connections in the Central Administration
of Camps are fortunate indeed, yet even they need also " in-
side " camp protection for they are never satisfied with
their legitimate and generous rations and remittances.
Since many commissariat positions are held by prisoners,
these in their turn gain protection with the authorities,
obtaining from them various privileges, such as the right
to live in " free" apartments, to be detailed outside the

2 g6 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

boundaries of the camp, or to receive permits for long
visits from relatives. The life of such favored prisoners dif-
fers sharply from the existence of regular prisoners peas-
ants, workmen and specialists.

Among the regular prisoners, nevertheless, the same
system is also widely used, but with much less success. The
Gepeist through protection gets a nice apartment, furni-
ture, export salmon, fresh caviar, pork, cream, imported
clothes and perfumes: the regular prisoner can only hope
to secure a few more centimeters of sleeping space, a chance
to buy an extra 200 grams of black bread or a package of
tobacco; and if he gets two or three pieces of sugar, or per-
mission to take a walk through Kem unaccompanied by a
guard, he boasts of having great protection.

Insignificant though they are, these material benefits are
highly valued and their psychological effect, due solely to
protection, is significant. The prisoner has a chance to raise
himself above the gray subordinated mass, to gain at least
a slight superiority over his fellows. This flatters him and
introduces a kind of consolation into his cheerless life. For
that reason he makes no attempt to conceal the fact, as
would seem natural among comrades, but on the contrary
in the majority of cases he boasts about it. His reputation
for having " protection " makes life easier and further
favors follow.

Striving to receive and enjoy this " protection," every
prisoner is equally ready to bestow it. This is perhaps even
more pleasing to his pride and is often also the result of a
sincere desire to help others. A chance acquaintance in the
camp, or work in the same group, or previous confinement
in the same prison, bind one according to camp traditions
to extend " protection " at all subsequent meetings. The
cook will pour a few drops of mineral oil into your kasha,
the acquaintance in the store will deem it his duty to hand
you an extra box of matches, and the friend at the ware-
house will pick out for you a pair of better boots.

THREE PILLARS OF SOLOVKI 297

Officially, to be sure, this system of protection is forbid-
den. All GPU stores of the Solovetzki camp in 1932 dis-
played two placards: " Nothing is given out through pro-
tection," and "Protection is buried" to which the
prisoners invariably added, " but its work lives on," para-
phrasing the famous broadside: " Lenin is dead but his
work lives on."

The most extraordinary case of " protection " I ever
knew was that of the prisoner Lublinski (not his real
name) whom I met at the Section of Fisheries. So charac-
teristic is it of the relationship between the camp Gepeists
and the proteges that I cannot refrain from describing it.

It was about eleven o'clock in the morning at the offices
of the Ribprom. A gentleman came in, wearing a light
black overcoat and carrying a cane. The overcoat was un-
buttoned and one could see that under it he had on a well-
pressed suit, a starched collar and a tie; around his neck a
silk scarf, and across his waistcoat a watch chain. He had
enormous horn-rimmed spectacles such as Communists
who have been abroad affect. His face was ugly: a large
wide nose, sensual open mouth and protruding ears. He
took off his gray felt hat and wiped his bald head with a
clean handkerchief of fine texture. He was about forty
years old. In my inexperience, I decided that he must be
some species of Gepeist or official of the Executive Com-
mittee. But he shook hands with all the prisoners, came
up to me and introduced himself as " Edward Alexandro-
vitch Lublinski," and then sitting down on a stool with his
back to the desk addressed the office manager in a languid
voice: " Is Vsevolod Arkadievitch (the chief's assistant)
here? No? Too bad! I have hurried to no purpose; I did
not even stop to drink my coffee."

Then stretching himself and yawning, he drawled: I
would like now to have a cup of hot chocolate with
whipped cream and a biscuit. Well, there's nothing to be

298 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

done about it, not everything is possible; one has to suffer.
I will take a walk. I'll go up to the lunchroom and have a
cup of coffee. Does anyone want anything from the lunch-
room for free employees? They have excellent little apple
pies there for 25 kopeks each."

After collecting money from several men he strode off
swinging his cane.

" Who is he? " I asked one of the prisoners, when he
had gone.

" A prisoner, just like you and me. Does it astonish you?
He is a ' protege,' and a swindler. Be careful with him.
Don't trust any money to him, not a kopek, he'll swindle
you out of it as easy as anything. He has been caught many
a time, but always gets out of it. Anyone else would long
ago have been rotting in the ' isolator ' but this one, you
see for yourself what a dandy he looks. He is close to the
authorities; they call him the vilest names to his face but
he is received in their homes, plays cards with them, gam-
bles and when necessary loses money to them. He does
their shopping, goes to the station to meet Gepeists and
their wives, stands in line for train tickets, runs errands
for the whole camp administration. It's said that he's an
expert in arranging for all kinds of perversions to which
Gepeists are greatly addicted. He lives well, too, better
than when he was free, has a room in an apartment, takes
his meals at the lunchroom for free salaried employees and
gets more premium money than any other prisoner. Offi-
cially he is assigned to the Section of Fisheries but he does
no real work. An extraordinary clever rogue but not
an ' informer.' But remember don't trust him with any
money."

" But who is he, what was he sent here for? "

" That's hard to say: everything he tells about himself
is a lie. He says that he has lived abroad, graduated from
Oxford, was director of some big company in America. He

THREE PILLARS OF SOLOVKI 299

can't even do the work of a bookkeeper here but he cer-
tainly has other talents. One day we were sitting here, seven
of us, hungry and very much depressed. We had tried to
get a quart of milk from the Agricultural Section, but the
chief refused a permit. Then Lublinski came in and mod-
estly offered his services; he was just a novice then so we
explained all about the need of a permit. He insisted, how-
ever, and went off with a kettle that would hold four quarts
and he didn't ask for permission to leave the building.
How we smiled! But very soon he came back and without
a word put the tea kettle on the table. ' Well, were you
turned back? You didn't have to wait in line? ' we taunted
him, but when we picked up the tea kettle it was full of
milk. Four quarts! ' How did you get it? Who gave it to
you? ' He only shrugged his shoulders. After that he would
bring us milk every day. Once one of us followed him to see
how he did it. Very simple. At the milk department there
would be a long line of guards, wives and servants, hired
employees, nurses from the hospital. He would pass his
tea kettle over the rail out of turn and in a calm voice
would say: ' Milk, four quarts, for Lublinski.' The man
serving milk would take the kettle from his hands respect-
fully and fill it to the brim. Nobody in the line said a word.
Evidently it never occurred to anyone that this mysterious
Lublinski was not some important visiting Gepeist."

As my comrade finished speaking Lublinski himself re-
appeared on the street walking by the side of the assistant
chief of the Fisheries Section and nonchalantly swinging
his cane. The guards saluted and Lublinski answered with
a slight nod of his head.

Once inside the office he addressed the chief with inim-
itable insolence. *' With your permission I have bought
pies for my comrades in the lunchroom for the hired em-
ployees."

" How much does he charge you for the pies? " the chief

300 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

asked us. " 25 kopeks? This scoundrel is profiteering again.
They cost only 20 kopeks."

Lublinski's only duty at the Fisheries Section was to ob-
tain telephone connections with the Section's points located
outside of Kem; this was no easy task for the service was
poor, but he accomplished it admirably in this manner:
4i Operator! Hello! Do you hear who is talking? Do you
know my voice? Yes, yes, it's Edward Alexandrovitch of
the OGPU. I need to get Soroka immediately. The line
is busy? Disconnect the party. You have no right to do it?
You are going to be responsible for the delay, I have an
urgent message from the OGPU. Disconnect immediately.
Thanks. Hello? Soroka? Give me the Fisheries Section.
It's Lublinski of the OGPU who is talking " and so on.

He tried this method once too often. The line was busy
but he proudly broke in: " You should recognize my voice
yourself." Unfortunately for Lublinski, the Chief of the
Camp Administration was calling and for this insolence
Edward Alexandrovitch was ordered to " general duty " at
a lumber camp, which for the ordinary mortal meant
death. Not so for him. He contrived, through protection,
to travel without a guard, in all his finery, including gloves
and spectacles, and a pile of suitcases. Arriving at the sta-
tion he demanded horse transportation for himself and
his luggage, and so, in state, appeared before the Chief of
the lumber camp, who, assuming him to be a secret in-
spector, did not dare send him to work, but lodged and
fed him well. Eventually, someone intervened and he was
returned to Kem!

Lublinski is not an exception in the camp there are
many like him. When Soviet writers picture touching
scenes of meetings with prisoners in concentration camps
their eloquent pens are influenced by encounters with
various Lublinskis, some smaller and some greater, but
always of the same type.

THREE PILLARS OF SOLOVKI 301

The third pillar of Solovki denunciation is based
upon three independent systems of spying which cover all
the institutions of the camp, first the secret agents of
the ISO; second the camp correspondents of the KVO;
and third, j the " volunteers." According to prisoners
with whom I talked and who had been in the camp many
years, the ISO drafts its secret agents precisely as the GPU
does " outside," selecting a victim suitable as a spy, usually
a respectable political prisoner with a " bourgeois " past.
He is promised a reduction of term, and if he refuses, is
threatened with the initiation of a new case against him
or the arrest of his relatives. His function is to " inform "
about questions of general importance: the frame of mind
of prisoners, the work of camp's institutions, the instances
of " wrecking," and so on. He must inform not only against
prisoners but also against free salaried Gepeists. By pure
chance, the report of one such agent, included in some busi-
ness correspondence, fell into my hands. I warned those
of my comrades who might have been in danger, but did
not speak about it to the " agent " himself. It was better not
to expose him for he was less of a menace now that we
knew him.

Besides these regular agents, there are alwavs prisoners
who are ready, if opportunity offers, to inform against other
prisoners in the hope of bettering their own lot. Some of
them are afraid of being accused of " failing to inform."
Denunciations regarding preparations for escape are espe-
cially frequent and dangerous.

In the autumn of 1931 such a false denunciation nearly
caused the death of an innocent man. The Section of Fish-
eries was sending small motor boats from the White Sea
to Murmansk to catch herring; crews and captains were
prisoners. When one of the boats entered a harbor to take
on fresh water, the crew fell upon their captain, bound
him and, summoning the GPU coast guard boat from Mur-

302 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

mansk by telephone, gave him up, testifying that he had
urged them to take advantage of the sea voyage to escape.
The captain's situation was hopeless although the absurdity
of the accusation was apparent. The captain had already
been in camp eight years, had been out to sea many times,
and had only a few days left to serve before the end of his
term. Nevertheless he was kept in the " isolator " under
the most trying conditions and his execution was delayed
only because individual members of the crew had con-
tradicted each other. For half a year he defended himself
with exceptional courage and coolness, until finally he
was set free an event which was regarded as a miracle.
But it was typical of the GPU that his accusers were not
punished, in spite of the falseness of their denunciation.

The second spy system is operated by the KVO, the
educational department, through its so-called " camp cor-
respondents," already referred to, who, writing anony-
mously, supply information against prisoners. This is
considered as " social work " and for this activity they are
enlisted in the ranks of shock workers and receive various
privileges. Their identity is quickly discovered in small
camps, however, and then their position is not enviable;
the prisoners, as well as the camp authorities, do every-
thing in their power to have the correspondent removed
to some other point and then warn his co-workers of his
pleasing occupation.

The third category of informers is the most numerous
and annoying, although possibly least dangerous. They are
the so-called " volunteers," who try to gain protection trom
the authorities by informing about minor violations of
camp regulations. Everything is reported: who spoke dis-
respectfully of the authorities, who is not sufficiently dili-
gent in his work, who procured vodka, who had a conver-
sation with a " free " person and so on.

THREE PILLARS OF SOLOVKI 303

Foul language, protection and denunciation are organ-
ically connected with the GPU system and reflect its
moral level: they are the inner pillars of the GPU camp,
the basis of that " industrious education " and " reforging "
whose praises are being sung today by Soviet writers.

CHAPTER XLI
THE TERM GOES ON

T

JL F

HE attitude of prisoners towards forced labor is ade-
quately expressed by one of their favorite maxims: "the
term goes on." Whether one works diligently or loafs,
whether the task is well or poorly done, time takes its
course and the term of sentence comes to an end. This
attitude is no secret to the GPU which has developed its
own " methods of compulsion/'

Until 1930, in "camps of special designation" these
measures were very simple: prisoners were given assign-
ments and those who did not fulfill them were starved,
beaten, tortured, killed. Now in the " industrious correc-
tion " camps these methods are of a more varied nature,
but the use of physical force still persists. For example,
wherever the nature of the work permits, daily assignments
are still given out and the penalty for non-fulfillment is
a reduction of food rations. The basic food is black bread;
at heavy physical jobs the prisoner gets 800 grams per day.
If he does not accomplish his assignment, his bread ration
is reduced to 500 grams or even 300 grams, depending upon
the percentage of the unaccomplished work. A daily ration
of 300 grams of bread, in work of this sort, when the rest
of the food has no nourishment, approaches starvation,
and so the first means of compulsion remains as before
hunger. If this does not succeed, the prisoner is kept all
night long in a punitive cell under frightful conditions; in
the daytime he is led out to work. The next step is transfer

" THE TERM GOES ON " 305

to the " isolator " as an " incorrigible." I never was in the
isolator myself, but I have observed prisoners being led
from these isolators under heavy guard; mere shadows they
seemed no longer men.

For specialists and office workers, the first method of
compulsion is " general work " hard labor; the next
measure is an accusation of wrecking and confinement in
the isolator where the offender stays, usually, until he is
shot.

Other means of compulsion are more subtle. Prisoners
who accomplish their assignment are given " premium
compensation" in special GPU scrip manual laborers
3 to 4 roubles a month, specialists of exceptional qualifica-
tion up to 25 and even 35 roubles. With this money they
can buy " premium products," in the GPU stores only,
from a list which changes every month. The quality of the
products is getting worse every year. In 1 93 1 one could buy,
during a month, about 200 grams of sugar, 100 grams of
biscuits, 2 to 3 packages of low grade tobacco, 2 to 3 boxes
of matches, and sometimes 200 grams of melted lard; in
1932 sugar, biscuits and lard were omitted from the list.
Furthermore, the prisoner could purchase on his premium
card 200 extra grams of bread per day, but even this extra
ration highly valued by the prisoners could not be
relied upon since the stores were very often short of bread.
However small this premium compensation might be, it
was a powerful incentive to hungry prisoners.

There were far stronger inducements, however, which
cost the GPU nothing. First of all the visit. If for half a
year the prisoner had irreproachably accomplished his
work, he might obtain permission for his closest relative
to see him at the camp. Visits are of two kinds: " on gen-
eral grounds " and " personal." If " on general grounds "
they take place at the camp commandant's building, in
the presence of the officer on duty, and last not longer than

3 o6 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

two hours a day for one to three or four days. They differ
but little from those in prison: in a narrow dirty corridor
full of officials, the prisoner sits down on a bench beside
his wife or mother. With the constant barking of the super-
visors " Talk louder! Don't whisper! No remittances! "
such interviews are not cheerful. It is for this that the
prisoner has worked to the point of exhaustion for six long
months.

The " personal " visit is the dream of every prisoner.
Then he is allowed to live in a " free " apartment, that is,
in a room or corner of a room which the relative who came
to see him has to find and rent. If the prisoner is in a camp
within whose limits there are no villages or free inhabitants
a corner of the barracks is reserved; at Solovki there is a
special room so set apart. The prisoner is not exempt from
work, so that he can see his relatives only during the dinner
recess and at night. In spite of these limitations a " per-
sonal " visit is regarded as a great privilege; to gain it a
man will go to the limit of his endurance, although such
a visit lasts but three or four days and is granted only to
those who have strong " protection " in the administration
of camps.

But the lure of " visits " was not sufficient, because there
are so many prisoners whose relatives are penniless, im-
prisoned or in exile. The inventive genius of the Chekists
devised another method, a new ''privilege" which the
GPU announced with pomp and ceremony in the summer
of 1931. Prisoners must be made to realize that this was no
mere routine order but a real event, an unprecedented
instance of special clemency as explained by a high
official who addressed them at a meeting. Prisoners who
had an unblemished record for behavior and accomplish-
ment of assignments would be granted a reduction in the
term of their sentence, as follows: every three working days
could be counted as four days of the sentence. Those who

" THE TERM GOES ON " 307

would enlist in " shock brigades," i.e., exceed their quotas
and also demonstrate their political reliability by active
participation in the social work, could have two working
days counted as three. Thus a prisoner who had irreproach-
ably accomplished his daily assignments during three years
was considered as having served four years of his sentence;
if, in addition to this, he had been a " shock worker," his
two years of work counted as three years of his sentence.
These reductions of sentences were to be computed three
times a year and the order itself would take effect on
August first, 1931.

The " educators " responded on behalf of the multitudes
of silent prisoners, voicing their gratitude to the benevolent
GPU and promising in return that they would give all
their efforts to the "reforging " of themselves and to striv-
ing for the " overfulfillment of plans " and so on. Mean-
while, we stood in line and listened, some believing, others
doubting, but all wondering what real purpose was con-
cealed behind the words of this new order.

It was very soon followed by " technical interpretations."
Persons who had been deprived of their rights before the
arrest, former merchants, the clergy and other " non-pro-
ductive elements" could have four working days counted
as five, but could not join the " shock brigades." Further-
more this reduction of the term was not to be automatic
and equal for everybody, but would be granted only by
special commissions which could deny it even to the most
conscientious workers if they were found deficient in
" social activity " or " proletarian psychology."

Such interpretations somewhat weakened the appeal of
the order to the prisoners but in general it had the desired
effect because freedom is the goal of every captive. " When
is the day? " is the first question asked in camp. Every hard
monotonous day has its significance; it brings nearer the
hour of liberation " the term goes on." And so the pris-

3 o8 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

oner, however skeptical he may be, is ready to believe any
rumor if only it gives him a hope of earlier freedom. Life
in camp would be impossible without hope.

The new order strengthened that hope. A man whose
term was five years, and who had already served two, would
do everything in his power to be admitted to " shock brig-
ades " and so reduce the remaining three years to two. A
whole year saved! Freedom suddenly seemed so real and
close at hand. It was as if he had grown a year younger.
He did not stop to reason that in those " shock brigades "
he might be digging his own grave, not paving the road
to freedom. Hardly anyone could resist the temptation of
the dream.

I was one of the few pessimists, perhaps chiefly because
I did not wish even to think that I might stay in camp until
the end of my term. The pessimists insisted that the GPU
could never be trusted to keep its promises, at any rate to
political prisoners, and that the terms of our sentences
were so long that the GPU would change its policies more
than once. But even if the decree remained in force (hav-
ing proved its effectiveness as a means of compulsion) ,
why think about it at all when everyone well knew how
the GPU had treated those whose terms had come to an
end? If their sentences had been imposed by a court
not by the GPU they were freed on time, as in the case
of criminals (such as murderers, swindlers, professional
thieves) . These made up no more than 10% of the prisoner
personnel. The great mass of convicts the remaining
90% had dreamed their dreams of liberation on "the
day," and then what happened?

Let me describe such a " release "; I had watched it more
than once. The prisoner's term had reached its end. His
comrades gathered around him, chaffing him in a friendly
way about his impatience and his timid plans for a free
life. Trying to conceal his emotion he would go to the

THE TERM GOES ON " 309

Registration Department and, with sinking heart, approach
the window marked " Discharges," there to stand until the
tired prisoner-clerk found his papers in the files. " The
reply about your case has not yet been received; come again
in a month." A second month would pass, and then a third
sometimes a year. And still he remained a convict,
driven to work, threatened with the punitive cell and
isolator. At last his " papers " would arrive and, very often,
with them a new sentence. There were but three alterna-
tives for political prisoners who had finished serving their
terms: (i) a new term in the concentration camp; (2)
exile to a far-distant village in the extreme North; (3)
in very rare cases, " minus 6 " or " minus 12," which meant
that the prisoner could himself choose the place of his exile
in the U.S.S.R. with the exclusion of six or twelve larger
cities and towns and their adjacent districts. All the border
regions were likewise excluded such as the whole of
Karelia, Murman, the Caucasus, the Crimea and so forth,
so that in the vast expanse of the Union not many places
were left to choose, particularly for a man trained in some
definite and narrow specialty.

I remember well the tragedy of Gamid, the messenger in
the Fisheries Section, who had come from Trans-Caucasia
and spoke Russian badly. He was exceptionally honest and
diligent in his work, bearing his imprisonment with a truly
Eastern fatalism and an exceptional gentleness. Everybody
at the Ribprom loved him and joked about his queer Rus-
sian and his unsuccessful efforts to improve it. As the ex-
piration of his term approached he was in a fever of excite-
ment. On the great day, he took from the little box he had
brought from home a clean silk shirt, a Caucasian belt and
well-shined high boots; during all the years of his imprison-
ment he had never shown them to anybody. Early in the
morning he reported to the Registration Department. He
returned in tears. His " release " proved to be only another

3 io I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

sentence three years of exile in the Archangel District,
which to poor Gamid, a southerner whose health had al-
ready been affected by the north, might prove a greater
tragedy than his first deportation to the concentration
camp. He took leave of us as if departing for his grave.

With such incidents in mind why should we work to win
a reduction of term as promised by the new order of 1931?

This attitude the GPU understood and therefore, be-
ginning with the summer of 1931, prisoners began to get
releases after but short delays of a few days or at most a few
weeks. And they were " complete " discharges instead of
additional terms of exile. The prisoner was given his docu-
ments and could choose without restrictions the place of
his future residence. And this was not all: the camp paid
his railroad fare from the camp to the town he had chosen.

The first releases of this kind produced a great impres-
sion. The most inveterate pessimists were ready to believe
that the GPU was actually changing its policy, while the
prisoners themselves were overwhelmed. Some even felt
embarrassed when they returned from the Registration De-
partment with a complete release: how could they tell their
comrades, for a release had heretofore been given only as a
reward for denunciations. Soon, however, such discharges
became the normal thing and political prisoners began to
leave even for Leningrad and Moscow. Our spirits rose:
the hope of freedom was being realized and for its sake men
were ready to work until they dropped.

Not a month had passed, however, before ugly rumors
began to spread about the camp: that released prisoners
had hardly reached their homes before they had been ar-
rested again without accusation and had been deported to
some other concentration camp or exiled to northern
provinces. Confirmation of these rumors followed soon.
About two months after the release of B., my neighbor of
the barracks in Veguerashka, the wife of one of the prison-

"THE TERM GOES ON" 311

ers came for a visit to Kem. She knew B. in Leningrad very
well and told of his fate. He had safely returned to his wife
and son in Leningrad, where he obtained work and was
happy. After a few weeks, a soldier came one day to his
apartment and presented a summons to the police station.
B. had gone there without taking anything with him, con-
fident that he had been sent for just to straighten out some
formalities regarding his papers. But he did not return
from the police station and his wife had found him a few
days later in the Nijegorodskaya Street prison, a transient
prison of the GPU. A week later he had been deported
directly from there to the northern part of the Archangel
district and no accusation had been formulated against
him.

Still more convincing was the somewhat later case of
one of our co-workers in the Ribprom who, as a reward
for exemplary work and behavior, had been discharged
under the provisions of the new " order " before the ex-
piration of his term. A month after his " complete " release
we received a note from him: "I am in Veguerashka in a
barracks with criminals; I am going to be sent to 'general
work '; help me to get back to the Fisheries Section"
Through the Registration Department we learned that he
had been given a new three years' term in a concentration
camp. No new accusation had been made against him but
a slip of paper had been added to his papers in the files as
follows: " Excerpt from the minutes of the meeting of the
OGPU council. Case of N. who had completed his three
years' sentence in the concentration camp. Decision: ex-
tend his term for ? more years."

And so the prisoners in the camp were convinced, as
these cases multiplied from day to day, that the " complete
release " was but another GPU trick. Depression followed
this conviction, more intense, I believe, than their former
rejoicing, and they returned to that old attitude " the

3 i2 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

term goes on " under which they might at least preserve
the last remnants of their strength.

But the GPU did not stop there. Knowing the weakness
of prisoners for any kind of rumors of amnesty, it began
again to let them spread.

It must be remembered that every political prisoner has,
at the bottom of his heart, the faint hope that politics will
take a new course, that the senseless accusation against him
will be rescinded and that he will return to normal work.
This hope has some justification; individual prisoners were
sometimes freed for no apparent reason. In my time several
prominent engineers who had been deported in 1931 to
the Solovetzki camp with long sentences were suddenly
freed. In the autumn of 1931, during one of the disputes
with Japan, no less than twenty officers who had formerly
served in the Red Navy were released. All such cases were
heatedly discussed by prisoners and accepted as indications
that their turn might also come. The Gepeists periodically
spread rumors of amnesty in connection with some big
undertaking. 1 In the Fisheries Section, for instance, rumors

i I ought to mention here the famous case of " amnesty " granted upon
the completion of the White Sea-Baltic Canal (begun in December, 1931)

a case loudly proclaimed throughout the world by the GPU and the
Soviet Government. At the beginning of this gigantic operation there
were rumors of an amnesty for the two hundred thousand to three hun-
dred thousand prisoners assembled at a special camp foi that undertaking.
In the autumn of 1932 the Soviet newspapers announced that the work
was not yet done. On January i, 1933 the order granting a reduction of
term for blameless work (to which I have already referred) was repealed

the prisoners who had created this miracle of engineering with their
own bare hands were cheated because the repeal was retroactive. Then
came, in the summer of 1933, the transfer of 85,000 of them, a majority,
to a new camp for the construction of the Moscow-Volga Canal. Some new
stimulus was needed to arouse enthusiasm for work among those that re-
mained to finish the White Sea Canal. At that moment, August i, 1933, the
GPU proclaimed its " amnesty "; some of the workers were freed, the others
actually had their terms reduced a total of about 70,000 in these two
classes. Obviously there was no real amnesty; it was only as if the repealed
decree had been restored. In effect, therefore, only one-fourth of the total
number of prisoners originally working at the White Sea-Baltic Sea camp
were benefited by this amnesty.

"THE TERM GOES ON" 313

always circulated that in case of a good catch and the ful-
fillment of the Plan those who had worked " hardest "
would be freed. More than once I observed how the au-
thorities stimulated such rumors, for example, when fish-
ermen were sent to catch the herring that appeared unex-
pectedly on the barren Murman Coast. There, beyond the
Arctic Circle, they lived and labored, without sparing them-
selves, through the autumn and winter of 1931-32. Badly
clothed and poorly shod, with rotting tents for shelter,
mildewed bread arid herring for food, they brought in a
thousand tons of fish but not a man was freed.

All these things which I learned about the system of the
camp and the treatment of prisoners by the GPU served
but to strengthen my determination to escape. So obsessed
was I with this idea that when the " International " was
sung, I could hear only one line of it, and repeat every word
of that line with keenest pleasure and without risk:

" We will gain freedom by our own hand."

CHAPTER XLII
WHAT PRICE FUGITIVES?

T

J.O

.o pave the way for my escape I determined to find sub-
jects for experimental work that would justify the Rib-
prom administrators in sending me out on an extended
mission into the wildest parts of the northern region of
the camps, where many small stations of the Fisheries
Section were scattered and where supervision could not
be rigid.

The only man who travelled around, visiting these sta-
tions was the Chief of the Ribprom, S. T. Simankoff, a
cunning fisherman turned Communist who, though not an
" old Chekist," had assured himself a Soviet bureaucratic
career in the wild province of Karelia. When the GPU
was organizing the Fisheries Section in Kem, not a single
Gepeist could be found who knew anything about the fish-
ing business. Simankoff, then president of the regional
executive committee, representing the local authorities,
was enlisted in the GPU. Clothed in a long Gepeists' top-
coat, patent leather high boots with spurs, a red star on his
cap and the insignia of a general on his coat lapel, the new
chief was complete. The title of Chief of Camp Section
gave him a multitude of material advantages.

To him I suggested that I be sent, before winter set in,
to inspect and report upon all the fishing grounds and the
Ribprom stations or points, working out at the same time
the possible organization of new kinds of fishing activities

WHAT PRICE FUGITIVES? 315

such as, for instance, the utilization of fish waste as well
as of unmarketable fish. A new expansion of the business
ought to tempt them, I thought. I planned to make the
survey by using a small row-boat which would make it
possible for me to go ashore at any desired spot.

In the " plan for my work in 1931 " I intentionally did
not indicate the exact region of research work, although
it was obvious that a survey of all the stations of the Rib-
prom in one summer was 'impossible it would have
meant a journey of more than a thousand kilometers
along the coast line. The points of the Ribprom are located
in two basic regions: in the north the Kandalaksha Bay.
in the south the coast of the Onega Bay of the White Sea.
The latter is 250300 kilometers from the Finnish border,
while the northern sections of the Kandalaksha Bay were
only 100 kilometers from Finland. The extreme northern
section near the village Kandalaksha was mountainous, had
no roads, and was almost uninhabited from the sea-shore to
the frontier. On the other hand, the region between the
Onega Bay and the Finnish border presented a fiat, swampy
stretch of land with numerous lakes and considerable rivers
which might have presented obstacles for travel. I was not
afraid of mountains the range which stretched along the
Kandalaksha was not over a thousand meters above sea
level, and I could easily find a way over it.

But the more firmly I made up my mind to choose the
northern region the more carefully I must conceal my in-
terest in it. My program was discussed and condescendingly
approved, but neither the region nor the day of departure
had been fixed.

I was in no hurry myself. In all my enterprise one vital
question remained indefinite. I had to know the fate of
my wife. So far as I knew she had no " case " of her own,
but was still in prison. I was inclined to believe that the
examining officer was endeavoring to invent a "case"

316 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

against her. I was getting most alarming news from newly
deported prisoners arriving from Leningrad: many spe-
cialists from the Hermitage, Russian Museum, Ethnograph-
ical Museum and others had been deported. My wife had
worked at the Hermitage and she could well be " added "
to those deported.

The cold, rainy June passed, then the clear and warm
July and August had begun. Not more than a month
was left suitable for work in those northern regions where
the snow usually comes early in September and stays
on the mountains until the next summer. My colleagues
at the Ribprom were not encouraging. " You won't go any-
where," insisted some of them. " The authorities always
have wild ideas! Besides, such a trip depends largely upon
the ISO. If the ISO considers you a ' special ' prisoner or
suspects that you intend to escape you won't be allowed
to leave Kem no matter what your chief does."

" No," said others, " that isn't it. The ISO may have noth-
ing against you, but there hasn't been time enough to
test you you've just come. In this camp attempts to
escape are generally made during the first year and at the
earliest opportunity. The first assignment is usually given
to some place nearby where supervision is good. If the
prisoner's behavior is satisfactory then he may be sent to a
more distant point."

I decided to try for such an assignment to a station
20 kilometers from Kem where salmon was treated, in the
village of Podujemie and reached by the Kem-Ukhtin high-
way leading to the Finnish frontier. Several villages are
located along this highway with a regular line of communi-
cation maintained between them by trucks. The highway
was patrolled by camp Gepeists and frontier guards. The
distance to the Finnish border was 250 kilometers.

The authorities risked nothing by letting me go in this
direction. To assure the ISO that I had no thought of es-

WHAT PRICE FUGITIVES? 317

caping I was telling everybody that my wife was in prison
and that I had left behind in Leningrad a twelve year old
son, whose letters to me the only ones I received
passed through the hands of the ISO. If I escaped alone,
my dear ones would be left to their mercy.

Salmon was brought daily from Podujemie by truck to
Kem for sorting and packing in salt or ice destined for
" presents " or for export to England through the Gastorg.
The experts who treated it complained that the percentage
of defective fish from Podujemie was very high. I inspected
the loads for several days, determined that this high per-
centage was due to incorrect and careless killing and han-
dling of the fish, and prepared a report suggesting a new
method of killing the salmon.

Simankoff as a former fisherman became interested.

" Send me to Podujemie," I offered. " I will demonstrate
the new method to the fishermen and will teach them how
it should be done. Your salters can then give their opinion
about fish killed in this way and I guarantee that none will
be defective."

He approved my proposal and two days later my mission
was officially arranged for. The ISO let me go. Another tiny
step forward towards my goal.

On a beautiful summer evening August loth I sat
beside the chauffeur of a Ford truck going from Kem to
the west. At our right was the railroad line cutting off
the coast zone a magic barrier which held me in cap-
tivity. I would have to cross it some day. To the east of it
towns, villages, barbed wire entanglements and guards;
to the west a wild forest, swamps, lakes, with few settle-
ments and scattered lumber camps.

The Kem-Ukhtin highway is built through the forest
above the left bank of the river Kem, one of the most tragic
enterprises ever undertaken and carried out by the GPU.
The natives said that the whole 300 kilometers were paved

3 i8 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

with human bones. Like everything in Sovietland not meant
for display, it was in bad condition; the car swayed and
rocked, the bridges were already unsafe. The chauffeur had
a watch (a thing forbidden to ordinary prisoners because
it might serve as a compass) and by the sign posts we esti-
mated our speed at 30 kilometers an hour. " Ten hours to
reach the frontier! "flashed through my mind. But I learned
from the chauffeur that fuel was issued under rigid control,
and not more than enough to reach the destination.

The sun was low and gilded the trunks of trees and the
open spaces of the coast. I thought of my wife in a solitary
cell at the Shpalernaya with its foul air and prison stench.
I felt ashamed of breathing the fresh forest air, of looking
at the beautiful woodlands.

At Podujemie we found one GPU guard and one pris-
oner, who received the salmon from local fishermen and
sent it to Kem. The prisoner's room, hired by the GPU, in
a peasant house, served also as an office where fishermen
were paid. Before his arrest the prisoner had worked for
the GPU as an informer, but for talking too much had
been deported for ten years. Nevertheless, to the GPU he
was one of " themselves " and so I found myself in the
hands of two trustworthy guards. I had to spend the long
summer evening with them and gather information, very
cautiously, about escapes, while pretending to be interested
in something else.

Escapes of criminals no longer interested me as they had
when I was in prison. The criminal risks little, a beating
at the time of capture, a month in the isolator or an in-
crease in term of sentence. The political prisoner, however,
risks everything. Capture means first a terrible beating,
then the isolator, tortures to force a confession of accom-
plices who never existed and then a bullet in the back
of the head.

The political prisoner, therefore, made his attempt only

WHAT PRICE FUGITIVES? 319

after preparing for it in every possible way, while the crim-
inal escaped at the first convenient opportunity. The
guards did not take the escape of criminals very seriously
and did not exert much effort in pursuing them: they
would be caught when they came out to the railroad or
reached a town. But for the pursuit of political prisoners
posses would be organized at once: sometimes all neighbor-
ing villages would be mobilized and the frontier guard
called to assist. The political prisoner always tried to es-
cape abroad in his fatherland he had no refuge.

This is what I learned from my guards; it was not en-
couraging. Attempts to escape were frequent here but sel-
dom successful. The fugitives were always tempted to
follow the highway, but this was fatal. It was guarded and
all settlements along it were connected by telephone and
telegraph with Kem. If the fugitive kept to the forest
parallel to the highway the guard could easily get ahead of
him and bar the way in places well known to them where
swamps, lakes and rivers were impassable. Besides, through
the woods, the 300 kilometers to the frontier would be
increased to 450 and would take more than two weeks; ob-
taining and carrying a sufficient quantity of food for such
a long time was impossible. Hunger would force the fugi-
tive to come out to a village where he would meet the
Karelian peasants.

These peasants were the chief danger to be encountered.
To them the hunting of fugitives was a sport with a
bounty of one bag of flour for every capture. It was ru-
mored that every peasant in Podujemie and the other vil-
lages along the highway had received this bounty at least
once and some had been rewarded several times.

The escape discovered, all the neighboring country was
notified and everyone came out for the hunt. The pursuers
were well fed, well shod, armed and familiar with the
countryside; the fugitive was hungry, weakened by life

320 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

in prison and in camp, poorly shod and wandering in a
strange forest. Nevertheless it was difficult to find him
there, but after a while, at the end of his strength, he
would come out in search of something to eat.

" Here live human beings," he would think, " is it
possible that they would give me away to torture and
death? "

He would be greeted with friendliness and pity, seated
at the table, fed; provisions would be prepared for him,
he would be urged to stay longer and rest, and while the
housewife would be regaling him her little boy would run
out to fetch the guard.

Only the other day, my guards told me, the townspeople
had caught a young peasant who had escaped from the
Solovetzki camp. He had entered one of the houses on the
outskirts of the village and had asked for bread. It was
given to him and he had returned to the forest, only to
fall into a trap. He began running but was struck down
by two bullets, brought to the village and locked up in
a barn. But he was a man of tremendous strength and dur-
ing the night, in spite of his wounds, he broke down the
door and made his way out. The escape was soon discovered,
dogs were set on his trail, he was overtaken, badly beaten,
bound and again brought back to the village. It was de-
cided to lock him up in a bathhouse, but as soon as his
hands were unbound he attacked his torturers, badly in-
juring two of them. In the meantime the GPU guard had
arrived. The fugitive was overpowered and hung up to the
ceiling by his legs. Blood was running from his mouth, he
could hardly breathe and begged to be taken down. It was
done only after he had lost consciousness fugitives were
supposed to be brought back to camp alive. As soon as he
regained consciousness, he jumped to his feet, picked up
a stone from the stove and hurled it with such force at the
guard that it fractured his chest bone. Again he was beaten,

WHAT PRICE FUGITIVES? 321

bound, and tied behind a cart which at once started for
Kem. When he fell the horse would drag him along the
road and the guards would kick him. They dragged him
for three or four kilometers then stopped. The fugitive
was dead.

This fearful story, like others similar to it, was narrated
calmly by my companions to whom the technical details
of the case were absorbing how the fugitive was caught,
how he was beaten, but it never seemed to occur to them
that he was a human being. He was only the object of the
hunt, who gave them a chance to win a bag of flour and who
made an impression on them by his obstinate unwilling-
ness to die.

Next day I carried out my experiments successfully. The
fishermen seemed to be interested, but after talking with
them and seeing them work, I became convinced that they
would not use my method. The reason for this lay in the
fact that defective salmon was not officially " bought " from
them and was left for their own use, while all good fish had
to be turned in to the Ribprom at a fixed price. For the
best quality salmon they were paid from 70 kopeks to i
rouble the kilo, whereas for the defective fish, sold secretly,
they could get from 10 to 15 roubles the kilo.

I was brought back to Kem by the same truck late in the
evening and immediately went to sleep in my bunk. In a
few minutes I was awakened. In the passage stood the as-
sistant foreman with some kind of book in his hands.

What did it mean? Was I being sent away somewhere?
To the punitive cell? All prisoners have such thoughts
when unexpectedly called out.

" Sign for a telegram."

Hardly controlling my excitement I wrote down my
name and took the telegram. What could have happened?

" Returned safely home" signed by my wife.

There was still happiness in the U.S.S.R.

322 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

The first minute I felt only joy and tremendous relief.
She has come out of the prison the dream of every pris-
oner she has seen our son. The boy is no longer alone.

The telegram had been sent August loth, the day I had
for the first time left the camp it was a good omen.

All my plans of escape now changed and became more
simple. My wife and son were free. It was imperative to
see them, but according to camp regulations visits are not
allowed, under the most favorable circumstances, sooner
than six months after the prisoner's arrival at the camp.
I could not hope to see my family before November snd
and then it would be winter. This meant that the escape
had to be put off until 1932, but then we could escape to-
gether.

I did not sleep all night. Thoughts about the escape
filled my brain. The terrible crowding, the stench, dirt and
stuffiness, even the bed bugs, I did not notice. From that
moment I lived intensively with only this one thought
escape. The convict's life went on like a dream. What dif-
ference did it make how this accursed time dragged on.
There was so much I had to do! Above all, I must regain
my strength and train myself in walking and rowing. I
must also complete my prospective trip to the north before
November and return to Kem for the interview with my
wife. Then we could talk over the escape.

The next day I wrote a report. The Rihprom salters
approved the salmon I had prepared. From the authorities
I got neither commendation nor reproof. According to my
colleagues, this was a good sign.

Two days later the Assistant Chief, Kolossoff, sent for me.

" How are preparations for your expedition proceed-
ing? " he asked, pronouncing the word " expedition " with
a sarcastic inflection.

" I have prepared everything I could. I can start at any
time/'

WHAT PRICE FUGITIVES? 323

" From what point do you intend to begin your survey? "

I had a strong desire to say " from the north/' but I
shrugged my shoulders and said in an indifferent voice:
" It makes no difference; I can begin either from the south
or the north."

" The south region is of more interest to us. Begin from
there. Make a detailed report to the Chief of the Section;
he is going to send for you. Be ready to leave/*

This was bad for me. How could I get around them?
The Chief and his assistants were always in disagreement
could I not make use of this?

When Simankoff summoned me, I ended my report
with the following words:

" Your assistant gave me the order to begin the survey
from the southern region/ 7

" Nonsense, you will go to the north. You are to start
tomorrow for Kandalaksha."

Luck was smiling on me.

CHAPTER XLIII
I GO EXPLORING

.DEFORE starting I had to spend two days collecting docu-
ments and certificates as follows: (i) a military railroad
ticket given me by order of the GPU; (2) a certificate
authorizing me to wear civilian clothes (which would
otherwise be a crime) ; (3) a certificate written rather
curtly: " The ichthyologist, prisoner Tchernavin, is des-
patched to the Northern Section for survey work for 10
days; " (4) detailed instructions written by me on Ribprom
paper and signed by Simankoff, providing for a two
months' trip by row-boat. The contradiction in these last
two documents was obvious. Camp rules prohibited the
issuing of such a certificate for more than ten days, after
which, if necessary it might be extended on the spot, after
telegraphic communication with Kem. In any locality the
chief of the guard could detain and return me under guard,
if I was under suspicion or made an unfavorable impres-
sion. Finally the chief of the Northern Region in Kan-
dalaksha had the power to prevent me from going any
farther, so I carried with me from Simankoff a paper in
which the latter evidently explained in his own way why I
should be allowed to proceed on my travels.

My equipment for work was not very complete: a small
drawing compass of Soviet make and of such poor quality
it was impossible to measure anything with it, two iron
boxes for the collection of fish and a kilo of formalin. Be-

I GO EXPLORING 325

sides these I had obtained, through " protection," a ruler
with a scale and a couple of test tubes to convince the
guards that my work was both serious and scientific. As
a means of catching fish for specimens and food I was given
a small draw-net.

I boarded the train for Kandalaksha at the very last mo-
ment. The car was overcrowded. Most of the passengers
were peasants, largely from the Ukraine and Northern Cau-
casus, with their wives and children and carrying their
nondescript household goods in bags and small home-made
trunks. They were dressed in worn-out homespun clothes,
patched and torn. On their feet they wore bast shoes
(lapti) . The local fishermen looked at such footwear with
curiosity; they had only seen it worn by prisoners. The
children of the travellers were dirty, thin, pale and practi-
cally naked. This peasant crowd that filled the trains came
from the North Caucasus and the Ukraine and, after being
held up for days at dirty stations, were on their way to
Karelia in search of bread. The proximity of abundant Fin-
land and the difficulty of guarding this extensive frontier
forced the Soviet authorities to give a larger bread ration
in Karelia in order to prevent a mass escape of Karelians
into Finland. The confiscation of the kulak's property was
also carried on here with greater caution. Rumors about
these regions of " plentiful " bread spread speedily over
the U.S.S.R. and the peasants who had lost their all, where
formerly there had been abundance, dragged themselves
to this region of stones and swamps and withered trees,
hoping to be fed by the rations given out by the State.

Many of them were contract laborers. There is so great
a shortage of labor for the great " constructions," such as
the chemical works of Kandalaksha, the electric power
plant at Kniaje Bay and others, that these enterprises had
to send out labor recruiting agents who were promising a
kilo of bread a day and high boots. The hungry barefoot

326 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

peasants agreed to go anywhere for these things, but once
in the north, suffering from the cold and finding themselves
in freezing, lice-infected barracks, they would begin to
creep homeward. They had received, in general, not even
the much-desired boots, while all their papers had been
taken from them by the recruiting agents. Having no
money to pay for their return fare they became tramps,
often barefooted and in rags, walking from station to sta-
tion in search of food. In the official Soviet language this
was called "the fluidity of labor." One should witness the
depth of misery of this " labor " in order to understand the
reason for its " fluidity."

The crowding, the filth, the crying of hungry children in
the car was trying even to me a convict. I went out on
the platform and spoke to a thin peasant dressed in rags.
He coughed continuously, his face was green and his eyes
were sunken. Unquestionably he was in the last stages of
tuberculosis. He had spent three months at his former job,
but had been cheated at the pay-off and so had started off
to find another. His wife had died and he was dragging with
him five children, all hungry, dirty and sick.

*' I worked for the GPU. I built a house for them at the
frontier and there I was cheated out of my pay," he began.

" Where did you build that house? " I asked.

" Oh, about fifty miles straight west from station X."

" Was it a large house? "

" For about fifteen guards."

" Were you pretty well fed? "

" Well, they eat well themselves, but they fed us worse
than their dogs."

" Do they keep many dogs there? "

" Three dogs. Believe me, my dear man, those guards
have everything. They make kasha every day and eat it
with butter. Their cabbage soup is made with meat, and
there's so much bread they can't eat it up. And what easy

I GO EXPLORING 327

work they have! A beat of 15 kilometers and they patrol
it in pairs. When two return two others start out. Mostly
they lie around listening to the radio. And then," he
added, laughing sardonically, " they don't like to go in the
woods. They're afraid."

" Afraid of what? "

" Just imagine, there are two of them, each with a rifle
and still they are afraid. It is said that there are escaped
convicts there who will lie in wait for them and kill them."

" Do they take the dogs with them? "

" No, I never saw them taking dogs. Perhaps the dogs
are not trained."

And so I accidentally learned the location of a new
frontier post in a region important to me.

I had travelled often on the Murmansk railway and both
scenery and stations were familiar to me, but now I looked
at everything with new eyes. Some day I would plod along
with a stick and a bundle: a beggar, a runaway convict, but
free and no longer a slave of the GPU.

About 15 kilometers before reaching Kandalaksha the
lay of the land was of particular interest to me. Here the
railway goes around the northwesterly corner of Kandalak-
sha Bay, cutting off a deep fiord of this bay which extends
westerly for about 20 kilometers. If I could begin the es-
cape by boat up this fiord not only would I save 20 kilo-
meters of walking, but pursuit would be made more diffi-
cult since the dogs would have no scent to follow.

Engrossed in these thoughts I did not notice that we had
arrived in Kandalaksha. On the platform I met the search-
ing gaze of guards, both in uniform and plain clothes, on
duty in the station. I found myself in a place well known
to me because of former expeditions to the White Sea.
Below me, along the bay on both shores of the turbulent
river Niva was spread the old fishing village. The sea was
calling me, but I had to go up a hill about a kilometer

328 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

to the north where one could see barbed wire, watch
towers and barracks. At the gate I was stopped by a sentry
who verified my papers and examined all my belongings,
even searching my pockets. In the commandant's office
my documents were again scrutinized and my bags searched.

Until the spring of 1931 Kandalaksha had been the cen-
ter of the northerly section of the lumber business of the
Solovetzki camp around which a number of stations were
grouped. Now the barracks were practically empty. I had
to await further formalities, with nothing else to do but
spend the whole day wandering about the enclosure and
looking at the mountains and the bay spread below me.
Far beyond Kanda Bay, which I had tentatively selected
as the starting point for my escape, rose the naked summit
of Gremiakha with the purple silhouettes of other moun-
tains fading into the west. How far away were they? Per-
haps 50 or 60 kilometers and still the frontier was
beyond them. Selecting one of the highest peaks I deter-
mined, with rhe help of a clock hanging in the command-
ant's office, the direction of the line joining Gremiakha and
that distant peak. This might be useful to me if I should
have to escape without watch and compass. Gremiakha
once reached, I would scale its peak and choose another
peak on the horizon to the west as the next point to aim for.

On the third day I received permission to go to the vil-
lage for an inspection of the pier and the transshipping
facilities for fish products. I was searched both when I went
out and when I returned to the camp. On my pass the time
of my departure and return were noted. I was allowed
three hours, no more; if I overstayed this time any guard
could arrest me. What strange conditions for research work,
when the GPU loves to boast that specialist-prisoners are
always employed along professional linesl

A week passed before the chief of the Northern Region
decided to sign my permit for inspection of the Ribprom

I GO EXPLORING 329

establishments. Again I was searched, put into a skiff of the
GPU and taken across the bay to the nearest Ribprom
station known as " Palkin Bay," on a wooded promontory
on the Karelian or westerly side of Kandalaksha Bay, not
far from Palkin Bay which runs inland a considerable dis-
tance. Here fifty prisoners live in one log barracks. Barbed
wire and watch towers were lacking and there were only
two guards to check up on the prisoners morning and eve-
ning and to organize pursuit in case of an escape.

The chief means of preventing escape at such camps was
a detective system among the prisoners themselves by which
the necessary preparations were discovered; the prisoner
usually gave himself away by saving provisions or by an un-
guarded word. Moreover a system of mutual responsibility
had been introduced recently; if, on a fishing ground, one
prisoner escaped, the others were considered as accomplices.

To me these conditions were novel and strange to be
surrounded, not by barbed wire, but by the forest and the
sea. Boats lay on the shore. Had it not been for my wife and
son I might have yielded to temptation and escaped on the
first day of my arrival.

Next morning I decided to test the force and weight of
my documents and my degree of freedom. I went to the
guard highest in rank, showed him my instructions, on
which were several seals, and told him that according to
my orders I would begin my investigations on the follow-
ing morning at seven and would not return until eight or
nine in the evening. I talked to him for an hour about the
usefulness of science and the enormous practical signifi-
cance of my investigations. He asked several questions
which showed that he was properly impressed by my learn-
ing, among them why a blackberry ripened before a bil-
berry, although they grew next each other.

"What do you think?" I answered quite seriously.
" Comrade Lenin at ten years old was clever enough to

330 ^ I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

govern a country, while some other chap even at fifteen
doesn't know how to care for a pig. It's the same with ber-
ries. They don't come alike." And I suggested that he try
brewing a " tea " by cooking the berries together and add-
ing sugar. This pleased him immensely; he would try it the
next morning and I could go into the woods for the
whole day.

I took a basket with me on the following morning, carry-
ing my test tubes for the benefit of the guards so that they
might know my intentions were serious and scientific. En-
tering the forest I followed a path along the shore, wonder-
ing whether I was being followed. In a thicket I circled and
came back upon my trail to inspect the footprints, but
found only my own. I went on in peace, enjoying the quiet
of the forest. Soon my basket became filled with the caps of
edible mushrooms. Several times I startled woodcocks,
black-cocks and partridges feeding on berries. I was so
overwhelmed with this freedom, the joy of being alone, that
time, fatigue and hunger passed unnoticed, though my
strength had been severely undermined by prison and camp
regime.

The sun was in the southwest when I came to rest be-
side a noisy brook and decided to eat some berries. The
forest was extremely beautiful; through the trees shone
the waters of the bay and I could hear the roar of the surf.
I could have gone on through the woods to the purple
mountains in the west, but like an obedient slave I " had"
to return.

I went back in a roundabout way in order to study the
country. I scaled a mountainside and climbed its highest
tree. The bay of Kandalaksha lay before me like a map.
In the west rose my guidepost, Gremiakha.

For five days I lived at Palkin Bay, taking walks every
day. I often met local peasants going out to the fishing
grounds, waiting for the run of herring. At every oppor-

I GO EXPLORING 331

tunity I approached them and made inquiries. Near Prolif,
where the railway passed, I found an old man.

" Tell me, grandfather," I asked, " I suppose before the
railway was built the salmon used to run up Kanda Bay? "

" Why shouldn't it have run up there? " he replied. " At
the very head of the bay the river Kanda flows in. See," and
he pointed to Gremiakha, " on one side of it flows a river
called Kanda and on the other a brook called Gremiakha,
too. There are also other brooks coming down and the
salmon went there for fresh water lots of salmon until
the causeway was built. Now it cannot get through. They
left an opening under the bridge, but at low tide you can't
get through even in a rowboat. The salmon tries, however,
but few succeed."

" Where does it spawn? "

" In the Kanda. It goes up the turbulent water into the
rapids."

" Is it far to the lake? "

" Well, about forty versts T from the head of the bay,
keeping to the northwest of Gremiakha. From there to the
Finnish frontier it is about fifty versts."

" It must be hard to go through the forest carrying pro-
visions," I remarked.

" We're used to it. There is a path there. We start at
daybreak, rest and eat at noon, and before the sun reaches
the north we are there. Sometimes we carry more than
forty pounds on our backs."

" It must be hard walking. Aren't there marshes?" I in-
quired cautiously.

" You've spoken truly, there are soft places, very soft to
step on."

" Tell me, grandfather, is it by that path that they carted
guns from Finland during the war? " I asked, remembering
an old story.

i A Russian measure of length equal to about two-thirds of a mile.

332 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

" Oh! you're all mixed up. It wasn't by this path, but by
a winter lumbering trail on our side of the frontier about
forty versts along that lumber trail only Finns live there.
Also there's a frontier outpost."

" And what are they watching for, grandfather? " I
smiled.

" How do we know? I suppose they try to catch smugglers
and runaway convicts. There are about fifteen men there."

" Is it possible that convicts wander there? "

" We don't know, maybe they do. How could we know?
Since lumbering stopped, there are few convicts here-
abouts."

My inquiry proceeded slowly, but the information col-
lected was reliable and most valuable to me. I had learned
from him the location of a second frontier guard post and
now knew I had to beware of a path which was short and
clear, but dangerous.

Since the idea of starting my escape by boat had got firm
hold of me, I decided to investigate the passage under the
railroad bridge. I took a boat from the fishing point, pre-
tending to make soundings, spent a whole day on the water,
and arrived at the conclusion that for an escape it would
be necessary to have a boat on the inner side of the bridge.

I could not get permission to continue my expedition
alone and had to stay on at Palkin Bay until a suitable com-
panion was found for me. Thus I was able to make a de-
tailed study of its surroundings. I could now find my way
to any place within a radius of 1 5 kilometers either by day or
by night. About more distant places I gleaned everything
known to the local peasants. In order to systematize all this
information I drew maps, which I memorized and then
destroyed. I came to the definite conclusion that this region
would be favorable for escape. But how to get my wife and
son across the border was a hard problem.

The thought came to me that it might be possible to

I GO EXPLORING 333

organize a joint escape. The more I thought of it the more
it appealed to me. My plan would not have to be changed;
it would only be necessary to arrange the time and place of
meeting. Success would be more likely if I could escape di-
rectly from this region and therefore I must invent some-
thing to interest the Ribprom so that it would send me
where I desired. I must find pretext for such an assignment
during my present investigations. Time was flying; it was
the end of August; frosts would begin in September.

At length my companion arrived a young university
graduate who had been sentenced for three years. His term
was nearly up. At home he had a wife and two small chil-
dren. He brought with him a pile of documents and also an
extension of my permit. On the following day we were
given an old rowboat with four oars and a small primitive
sail.

It is impossible here to describe this unique voyage of
exploration; two convicts in an open boat, dressed in primi-
tive clothing, without compass or any other instruments,
travelling in the autumn on the White Sea, north of the
Arctic Circle, without a tent or even a piece of canvas for
protection against the rain. When we arrived at some camp
point all depended upon the temper of the guard. At times
we would find ourselves in strict solitary confinement. At
other times, when overtaken by storms, we would spend
several nights in the woods like the freest tramps in the
world. We suffered often from hunger, we were always
soaking wet and many a time, after a night in the forest, our
clothes would be coated with ice. There were good days,
too, when we caught fish in abundance and feasted before
the fire, devouring fat autumn herring and rosy-meated
trout. Mushrooms and berries also provided some sus-
tenance.

Our boat leaked, and twice we were caught by a fresh
off-shore wind and only succeeded in reaching the shore

334 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

after a terrific struggle. Nevertheless, we travelled five hun-
dred kilometers, sounded the fishing grounds off shore and
made a description of fourteen Ribprom points. We also
discovered several new species of fish not yet reported from
the White Sea and, what was of far greater importance to
me, made observations on the basis of which I would be
able to suggest to the Ribprom the advisability of a new
enterprise here, which would give me the chance of carry-
ing out my plan of escape.

The second of November I returned to Kem. There I
found a letter from my wife she had decided to come
north and attempt to see me. I knew this would be diffi-
cult, but my trip had made a good impression, not so much
on account of my official observations as because of the five
hundred kilometers in a row-boat. My weather-beaten face,
overgrown with a wild beard, my clothes and shoes in a
state of complete disintegration, produced an effect upon
the chief of the Ribprom. He was impressed also by my
notebook with its daily entries of our activities, plans show-
ing the location of all fishing grounds and Ribprom points
with sketches of buildings and structures. It was a real
guidebook to the region. He could not hide his pleasure,
and I decided to take advantage of it by presenting to him a
previously written request for a " personal visit " from my
wife and son. I was not mistaken, my chiefs were pleased
and they granted my request for a visit of five days.

My wife came with our son. I shall not describe our meet-
ing since my wife has done that in her book. 2 We deter-
mined to escape together and tentatively made our plan
for the end of the following summer. We also decided upon
both the location from which we had to start and the exact
meeting-place. My wife and son were to reach it on a day

2 " Escape from the Soviets " by Tatiana Tchcrnavin; New York, E. P.
Dutton & Co., 1934.

I GO EXPLORING 335

to be agreed upon; I should then escape, meet them there
and lead them to the frontier. We arranged a code for our
letters, all of which were read by the censor of the GPU.

The five days passed and they departed. I was still a pris-
oner, but with one solemn purpose during the seven months
to come: to live, in order that we might be free or, if
necessary, die together.

CHAPTER XLIV
SOLD: ONE CONVICT

E

ORTUNE was still smiling on me in the concentration
camp. Not only had I been allowed to work at my specialty,
but I had made a long trip away from barbed wire, and had
seen my wife and boy after only six months of service as a
convict. Now came another stroke of luck; I was " sold "
(to use a word commonly accepted by the prisoners as de-
scriptive of this practice of the GPU) for three months.

The sale of specialists, widely practiced in concentration
camps during the period 1928-1930, was discontinued in
1931, apparently because of an order from the " Centre/'
due to a campaign abroad against forced labor in the
ILS.S.R. During my stay at the concentration camp in 1 93 1
and 1932 the sales of specialists were very rare; I heard of
only three: the first, a lawyer sold as legal adviser to one of
the state institutions in Petrozavodsk; the second, K., an-
other specialist in fish culture; the third myself.

I had just finished working up the materials collected on
my trip and writing a report of my survey, when the head
of the Ribprom sent for me. He explained that the Section
of Public Education of the Kem Executive Committee was
organizing a three months' course for responsible adminis-
trators of fishermen's collective fisheries. Everything was
ready, the money appropriated and suitable premises pro-
vided (it was found out later that they consisted of only
one unheated room) ; even such a complicated problem as

SOLD: ONE CONVICT 337

the feeding of the students had been successfully solved.
There were thirty-five students, all professional fishermen,
sent from all over Karelia by their local Soviets. A lecturer
on political subjects was available, but there was one seri-
ous flaw there were no lecturers on the main subject of
the course fishing. Simankoff had a prospectus announc-
ing the following special courses: (i) The elements of
hydrology in the Barents and White Seas; (2) The ichthyo-
fauna of these basins; (3) The hunting of sea-animals; (4)
New technique of fishing, unknown to local fishermen;
(5) The elementary preparation of fish products and the
organization of fishery enterprises.

All attempts of the Executive Committee to find a lec-
turer on these special subjects had been unsuccessful. In a
week's time the students were to arrive and there was no
one to teach them. Consequently the Executive Committee
had come to an agreement with the administration of the
camp to supply some imprisoned specialists. Simankoff was
asked to select them; he chose a learned specialist, K., serv-
ing a sentence of ten years as a " wrecker," and me. K. is
well known in Russia as an excellent lecturer and the au-
thor of a book on fish products which had gone through
several editions and had been re-edited by the State
Publishing Bureau while the author was in prison camp.
I was to give the first three of the courses and K. the last
two.

The agreement of " sale " was carefully scrutinized both
by the representative of the Executive Committee and by
the legal adviser of the Ribprom, Zelemanoff, formerly as-
sistant prosecuting attorney of the Leningrad district. It
was drafted with all the customary refinements of legal
phraseology and naturally it was of great interest to me
when I discussed its details with Zelemanoff. Some of the
salient points were as follows:

338 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

" Kem December 1931"

"The Administration of the Solovetzki-Kem Correc-
tional Labor Camps, which hereinafter will be designated
as USLAG, on the one hand, and the Section of Public
Education of the Central Executive Committee of the
Town of Kem, hereinafter referred to as ONO, have agreed
as follows: " So began this remarkable document, and then
for two pages followed its various sections:

". . . USLAG places at the disposal of ONO two pro-
fessors, the prisoners K., and Tchernavin, who have had
considerable pedagogic experience, for the purpose of de-
livering a series of courses (list follows} ."

". , . USLAG reserves the right to recall either of the
above-mentioned prisoners at any moment and without
any warning, but is bound to replace them by other pris-
oners of similar qualifications."

". . . ONO agrees to pay USLAG five roubles for every
lecture hour "... here followed the enumeration of the
number of hours, dates of payment and so on.

It will appear strange, no doubt, that K. and I were de-
lighted with the deal and that all the prisoners, including
those specialists who worked in the administration of the
camp and had good " protection," looked upon us with
envy. We had been sold to a good master. What could
be better for a prisoner, how could he dream of a better
fate?

We moved from a dirty, cold barracks to a hotel in the
town of Kem. A room was given to us two, alone. Each had
a bed. There were two real chairs instead of stools or
benches and books. In addition we had a small table and
even a mirror hung on the wall. To cap the climax, we were
given a key so that we ourselves might lock our room
we who were accustomed to being locked in by others.
Moreover, the Executive Committee bound itself to feed

SOLD: ONE CONVICT 339

us and we were given a dinner in the students' lunchroom,
where, though the food was bad, we sat at a table and ate
from plates.

To me the sale was of great importance; for three months
I would live under more or less decent conditions and be
able to rest and gather strength. Ahead of me was the or-
ganization of flight and the escape itself, in which the pos-
session of physical strength, with steadiness of nerves, was
a deciding factor.

Certainly there was plenty of work here. To lecture on
such diversified and special subjects to such a group of
students was no easy task in itself. Furthermore, while my
pupils had little education and some could barely read or
write, all had had excellent practical training, knew their
sea, their fish and their fishing as only human beings can
who have spent their whole life at this work. A slight er-
ror by the lecturer would be noticed immediately by such
listeners and would never be forgiven. Besides, half of my
students were Communists, endowed with a great amount
of self-conceit, who had gathered bits of information and
many slogans, the meaning of which they did not under-
stand. I had come across such students in my work; they
had done experimental work in my laboratory, refusing to
study but criticizing my methods of teaching in subjects of
which they had not even the vaguest notion. In my former
position I could cope with them, but now, being a prisoner,
a branded "counter-revolutionist," a "wrecker," how
could I handle them?

These thoughts were most disturbing as I went in for my
opening lecture. After the first hour, however, I found my
fears unfounded. My students were peasant-fishermen, to-
tally different from the workmen I had known in Mur-
mansk who had only drifted into the fisheries, and from the
Communist students, who had become ichthyologists be-
cause they had been designated to that branch by the Com-

340 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

munist committee of the university. The men whom I was
now teaching had grown up to be fishermen like their
fathers and grandfathers before them, loved the work, and
were interested in everything that concerned it. Immedi-
ately I found that we spoke a common language and that
the oldest and most illiterate as well as the boisterous
young ones, spoiled by Communist propaganda, listened
to me attentively, trying not to lose a single word. At first
I avoided certain topics of hydrology which I thought
would be tiresome and incomprehensible to them. Soon I
found that these questions interested them. In explaining
to them the properties of both salt and fresh water I
pointed out that their freezing points were different. To
my great surprise the whole class was extremely impressed
by this fact.

" Now we understand why the water from the melted
snow freezes while we are making holes in the salt water
ice," some commented.

My remarks, full of technicalities, about currents, the
rise and fall of the tide and the history of the White Sea,
were listened to with the greatest interest. My course on
ichthyology, however, interested them most of all. They
asked pointed questions concerning their personal observa-
tions on the lives and characteristics of fishes and asked
for help on certain complicated biological problems which
they could not solve themselves. Thev were much pleased
when I used the blackboard. I drew from memory a map
of the White and Barents Seas and each of them tried to
find on it the islands and bays where he had fished. They
were particularly impressed with my drawings of fish.

" Look at that! The cod is just as though it were alive."

" Look at this salmon! You see its shape has changed;
it has swallowed fresh water."

After class they plied me with questions they were too
timid to ask during the lecture and some of them wrote

SOLD: ONE CONVICT 341

me extensive notes upon the subjects which interested
them. ^

The work with these fishermen was a real pleasure.
Their attitude was particularly attentive and courteous.
To them I was a convict and a counter-revolutionist, but
I never heard a single reference to my status; on the
contrary they always emphasized their goodwill towards
me.

I was convinced that such contact with fishermen who
later would become managers of State fisheries was the
best kind of influence against the Soviet persecution of
specialists and intelligentsia and also against the system
of the GPU with its so-called justice. I believe that the
majority of my students now know of my escape and are
in sympathy with me.

At the end of the course an examination was held in the
presence of the members of the Executive Committee. The
examination was a triumph for us. The only member of
the examining committee who could appreciate the an-
swers and judge how much had been learned was a woman
who headed the section of public education and had spent
two years in a university. The others could understand
nothing, but were greatly impressed by the fishermen's
answers.

The students and the representatives of the Executive
Committee thanked us and shook hands. All that was lack-
ing was a Soviet journalist to describe the touching scene
of the reformation and reeducation of two counter-revolu-
tionists (K. and myself) accomplished by the GPU.

Once again we had to reenter the barbed wire enclosure.
April was already at hand. The Ribprom had been reor-
ganized and transferred from Kern to the village of Soroka,
about sixty kilometers to the south. The day following the
examination we were sent there.

The Executive Committee paid the Ribprom the full

342 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

contract price on time. According to the camp regulations
the GPU had to pay ten per cent of the money earned to
the prisoners and we should each have received fifty kopeks
for every hour of lecturing.
We never received a kopek.

CHAPTER XLV
I PREPARE FOR ESCAPE

B

1 EFORE me now lay the task of concentrating upon some
one of several projects for new enterprises in the Ribprom
which would assure me of work in the north at a propitious
time and thus give me an opportunity to escape by the
route I had chosen.

I did not bother much about the technical side of these
projects, but concerned myself with the impression they
might make on the GPU the quintessence of Bolshe-
vism. In order to be successful all my projects had to be
framed with a view to the peculiar psychology of those who
were to examine them and the technical side was of minor
importance.

I was convinced that the GPU would search for some
hidden purpose on my part the desire to escape. I
wanted to be sent north, to a sparsely inhabited region
relatively near the frontier. This would naturally arouse
suspicion; therefore I worked out schemes for the whole
year, providing work in the north, the south and also in
the open sea. I counted upon the GPU failing to notice
that among these I had included one which would allow
me to be at the place I had chosen for escape and at the
proper time. This ruse succeeded to perfection.

I had already developed six new projects, as follows:
(i) Mussels; (2) Lamprey fishing, not yet developed in
the White Sea; (3) Salmon fishing in the open sea; (4)

344 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

Deep sea fishing at great depths; (5) Shark fisheries and
(6) The catching of stickleback for the production of fish-
meal and fat.

These I described in the most approved Soviet manner.
For instance I chose as the heading for Number (i) : " Em-
ployment of mussels as an essential food diet." This would
sound familiar and satisfactory to the bureaucratic ear of
the GPU. I began my exposition from the historical stand-
point: Mussels had been brought alive to the court of
Catherine II and had, with difficulty, been transported in
carts all the way from Murmansk to Petersburg. Then I
stated their albumen and fat content and caloric value.
The Bolsheviks like to use words they don't understand
no project can succeed without such words.

The next step was to make an " orientative estimate of
the raw product " also a requisite of every project. In
capitalistic countries fisheries are organized without first
calculating how many fish there are in the ocean, not
so in the U.S.S.R. where there is " planned economy," and
where they are afraid of catching less than might be caught.
Such a " non-appreciation of opportunities " would be
very dangerous. The investigator in the U.S.S.R. finds no
difficulty in estimating natural wealth on land, on sea or
under the earth. He takes a square meter in a given area
where the plant or animal in question is found, counts
the number of these plants or animals in that square meter
and then multiplies it by the total number of square meters
in the whole area. The resulting figure is usually very im-
pressive in its magnitude!

After such a " scientific " determination of natural
wealth one can proceed with the planning of any kind of
production; he can calculate the cost of a product, the bene-
fits that will accrue to the citizens of the U.S.S.R., making
them happier and more prosperous.

To project Number (6) the manufacture of fish-meal

I PREPARE FOR ESCAPE 345

from sticklebacks, I gave particular attention because I
planned to use it as the springboard for my escape. As a
matter of fact this project had a real foundation and might
have been successfully carried out to yield a profit.

The stickleback is a small fish not more than 9 centi-
meters long, with sharp spikes on its fins. It is widely dis-
tributed and lives in both fresh and salt water. In the
White Sea it appears in large quantities, but is considered
harmful because when caught in nets it prevents the catch-
ing of other fish. My idea was to use it for making fish-meal,
as fodder for cattle. An experiment which I had carried
out gave 3% of oil and a very satisfactory quality of meal.
I wrote a prospectus based on this information, entitled:
" The solution of the feed problem in Karelia."

I submitted my projects to Simankoff. He looked at the
voluminous material and threw it into a drawer. It was
necessary to exert some pressure on him to force him to
put my project on the road to realization. I decided to
resort to the " public opinion" of the camp. Public opin-
ion in the U.S.S.R. is represented by appointed officials
of the state; the press is nothing more than the mouth-piece
of these officials. Moreover all public organizations are
closely allied with the GPU. In camp, public life was rep-
resented by KVO, the Cultural and Educational Depart-
ment; in its hands was the mouth-piece of public opinion,
a little newspaper called the " Work Path." I decided to
use this to make the newspaper and public organizations
of the camp assist me in my escape.

While I was under " lease" in Kern I had often met a
certain comrade Gruzd, the editor of the " Work Path."
He was also a prisoner, still quite young; a Communist in
the past and a newspaper man, he had been sent to the
camp for swindling. Here he was in a privileged position,
dressed well, lived outside the camp, drank heavily and
consorted with prostitutes among the prisoners. I offered

346 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

him a series of short articles on the natural wealth of the
White Sea. The first one I called " Mussels," which Gruzd
printed under the more picturesque title " Delicacies of
Catherine II at the service of the Proletariat."

Other articles on lamprey, shark and stickleback ap-
peared and had great success. The chief of the camp him-
self gave favorable attention to the writings of the reformed
counter-revolutionist. It appeared that he was very fond
of fried lamprey which he was unable to find in Kern.
The article on stickleback was favorably commented on
by the agricultural section, which proposed that the Rib-
prom finance this enterprise.

Among the prisoners themselves some were critical and
said knowingly: " We know what Tchernavin wants by his
inventions a reduction in his term." In order to make
my chiefs believe that this was true, I presented my proj-
ects, through the office of the Ribprom, to the " Commit-
tee on Inventions," a stillborn institution which exists
everywhere in Soviet Russia.

By these means I succeeded in my desire; Simankoff was
obliged to start my projects moving. He sent for me and
told me to make the necessary preparations for the produc-
tion of stickleback meal and the fishing for lamprey. I
proposed to carry out the catching of stickleback in the
summer; the fishing for lamprey I put off till autumn,-
so I centered all my attention on the former and made
only slight preparation for the latter. I was certain that
September would find me either in Finland or dead.

The stickleback gave me much trouble in the organiza-
tion of its transformation into meal. I was well acquainted
with the process but I had worked previously on a large
scale with the help of complicated technical equipment,
while now I had practically no equipment four old cast-
iron vats without covers, three kilograms of nails and one
hundred old bags to be used for filters. The question of

I PREPARE FOR ESCAPE 347

living quarters for fishermen was not even raised as in
camp life this was always the last consideration. We had to
gather all the material on the spot. The lumber had to be
picked up on the beach and the brick and iron collected
from abandoned buildings. In other words, we were to
steal everything we could not otherwise obtain; this is one
of the firmly established methods of the GPU in building
and construction work.

I was given ten fishermen for this work, and two special-
ists, all prisoners. Under my direction, they were to build
the necessary equipment, catch the fish and prepare the
fish-meal, and I was to be responsible for the success ot the
work. I was granted permission to organize for production
in two places; in one I intended to produce fish-meal and
therefore it must be near a fishing ground where I was sure
to find enough stickleback; the other was chosen solely
because it was near the point from which I intended to
start my escape. This place was near Kandalaksha and is
known as the " Narrows." Unfortunately, as far as I could
learn, there were iew stickleback near the Narrows, but I
succeeded in locating plenty of them about 100 kilometers
to the south oi that point.

The preliminary work was greatly handicapped by the
total lack of all necessary materials and also by the severity
of the prison regime in Soroka. I expected every day to
receive the order to start for the place of my work. At last
the chief of the Ribprom called me and explained rather
ambiguously that, because of the lack of success in the her-
ring fishing along Onega Bay, the Ribprom had decided
to fit out a ship to search for herring in the sea and that I
was to command the expedition.

" But how about the stickleback? Is that all off? " I asked.

" Oh, that will get along without you, your assistant will

manage."

In vain I tried to prove to him that the idea was mine,

348 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

that I should carry it out and be responsible for the results.
I tried also to prove that I would be of no help in rinding
herring in Onega Bay since that region was entirely un-
known to me. He insisted, saying that I would be gone for
only a month and could then resume my work.

A month! I would miss the first run of stickleback on
which I particularly counted. They would never prepare
any meal without me; the Ribprom would be disappointed
and would close up the whole business; I would never get
to the north and would not be able to make my escape.

It was necessary to obey. Let them begin the work with-
out me perhaps the run of stickleback would be later
than usual. Besides, I knew those Ribprom boats; it would
be almost a miracle if one of them could stand the sea for a
whole month. When I saw how our motor boat was
equipped I was sure that something would happen to it.
It had to tow eight large fishing dories and, with its 25-
horsepower engine, would never be able to buck the first
fresh sea some dories would be lost, some sunk and we
would have to return. This comforted me.

I will not describe our travels about Onega Bay. Twenty-
five fishermen were housed with me in the cold, damp
hold, which also contained the nets. Our food was dry
bread; there were no facilities for cooking.

We found no herring. On the tenth day the wind rose
and toward night blew up a storm. The motor began skip-
ping and the boat made no headway against the wind.
Finally the motor stopped. The dories battered against the
boat, some capsized and sank. All night long we tossed
about the bay. Towards morning we came into the lee of
an island and found that the boat was so damaged it could
not go on under its own power. I took a dinghy and rowed
to the mainland 20 kilometers away where I telephoned
from the nearest village to Soroka and asked for a tug.

I PREPARE FOR ESCAPE 349

So ended the herring expedition. Luckily enough several
other ships had been damaged during that storm, so my
Chief took the loss of some of the dories rather calmly.
Simankoff, strangely enough, was in fine spirits.

" I'll have to send you to your stickleback," he said and
ordered the office manager to prepare my travel orders to
the north. " Tomorrow you must leave and now you may
go to pack."

Everyone was so accustomed by now to my travels that
it usually took but a few hours to prepare my papers. This
time, however, it was different. A day passed and I was not
called to the office, so I went there myself.

While I had been away on my trip, all the prisoners
working in the Ribprom office had been changed. A crim-
inal, a former Chekist was now office manager. When I
asked for my papers he laughed ironically and said:

" They are not ready. Why are you so interested in your
papers that you have come without being called? "

I answered that I was not interested in the papers, but
in the work, and walked out. In the corridor I met Siman-
koff, who demanded: "Why haven't you left for your
work? "

" The papers are not ready," I replied.

" Why not ready? Send me the office manager."

The new manager, coming back from the chief's office
gave me a wicked look. Soon he was followed by the chief
himself, who passed by my desk, pretending not to see me.
Something had gone wrong.

That evening, in the barracks, a prisoner whom I hardly
knew came up to me and said in a whisper: " The ISO
doesn't want you to go. On your pass, which Simankoff
had already signed, Zaleskantz, the ISO chief, wrote ' I do
not endorse.' You are being watched. Do not go again to

the office."

Had I betrayed myself? I carefully reviewed my past

350 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

year in the camp and my every step in preparing escape.
I knew that I had not broken the first and fundamental
rule; I had confided in no one, either directly or indirectly.
I had received letters and packages from my wife regularly
and had written once a month to her and my son. They
had come to see me; the ISO could deduce from this that I
was attached to my family and would not try to run away.
Could our code have been discovered? No; it was so simple
and naive that it was entirely safe from detection, and be-
sides if it had been found out I should have been imme-
diately put into the " isolator."

I was no longer the timid prisoner of a year ago look-
ing in bewilderment and awe at the specialists who ran
the camp's affairs. By now I well understood the under-
currents of the camp life. In Kem I could have arranged
to stir up things against Zaleskantz through the " camp
publicity," but here in Soroka it was impossible. My only
hope was in Savitch, chief of the Administrative Depart-
ment of the Rib prom, an able Chekist who, for some dark
affair, had served his term at Solovki before rising to high
positions both in the ISO and the fisheries. When he came
to the quarters where specialists were working he always
spoke in a loud, patronizing 1 tone, telling remarkable
stories about himself.

" Could I set him against Zaleskantz? " I wondered.

That very evening he came to our quarters and after
talking to another man wandered over to me and said:

" How are your inventions? When do you leave? We are
waiting for meal, sharks and broiled lamprey. What do
you call those molluscs of yours? "

" Don't you know," I answered, " that Zaleskantz has
cancelled all my work? He wrote with his own hand, ' I do
not endorse ' on my pass."

I knew it was a dangerous thing to say, because I was
not supposed to know these details, but I took the chance
and made a direct hit. Savitch was aroused.

I PREPARE FOR ESCAPE 351

" That cannot be," he said reservedly, " the ISO does
not decide these questions, it only expresses its opinion.
The man who decides is the chief of the Ribprom." With
this he turned and left.

In less than an hour I was called to the office. The man-
ager handed me a paper and asked me frigidly to sign the
receipt; the paper was a permit allowing me to go to the
north for two weeks signed by Savitch. I was glad of this,
because when the time came for my escape not during
the next two weeks I \vantecl to have a permit signed by
Zaleskantz, whom I hated most of all.

CHAPTER XLVI
FREEDOM OR DEATH

I

T is hard to describe with what a feeling of relief I
boarded the train which took me north the following day.
Now I must show results, produce a large quantity of fish-
meal and assure the interest of the Ribprom in my enter-
prise. What would happen if the run of stickleback did
not come? There were still two months before I had
planned to escape.

I decided to go to the point near the Black River
where there were greater chances for a successful catch. I
did not want to be continuously under the eyes of the
guard at the " Narrows." On reaching the point I was
greeted with good news: the stickleback was already off-
shore. The day before I arrived a ton of them had been
caught. The vats were full and the drying oven working.

At three in the morning I left in a rowboat on a scouting
trip. The weather was calm and clear. The fish could be
easily observed through the transparent water. The stickle-
back was coming in from the sea in a ribbon-like stream
and was thick along the entire shore. We worked day and
night for there was continuous sunshine. Even with our
small nets we could catch a ton in twenty minutes and we
dried the boiled mass in the open air. I sent enthusiastic
reports to the Ribprom as well as samples of the oil and
meal.

For two weeks the work went on. The fish still hung

FREEDOM OR DEATH 353

around the shores of the mainland and the islands in a
solid mass. With factory facilities enough fish-meal could
be produced in two or three weeks to feed all the cattle in
Karelia for a whole winter.

On June i5th I returned to Soroka. My arrival was a
real triumph. The Agricultural Section had already sent in
excellent reports about the meal. I was told that the Rib-
prom would discuss the question of expanding the stickle-
back fisheries immediately and that there would soon be a
special conference at which I had to be present. Meanwhile
I had to stay in Soroka and wait.

I decided to waste no time in asking permission for my
wife and son to come and see me again. My request was
referred to Kem and the answer came back quickly. The
Chief of Camp granted permission for a visit to last ten
days and to take place where I worked. This was a boon I
had not even dared hope for. The organization of the
escape was tremendously simplified; the most difficult prob-
lem to meet at some predetermined place was thus
solved easily and simply. About forty days still remained
before the appointed day; I did not have to hurry and
waited patiently for my chiefs to call the conference.

It assembled on June 25th; everyone was present, Siman-
koff and his two assistants, and Zaleskantz of the ISO a
charming company. I made a brief report, trying chiefly to
impress them with " possibilities "; the figures aroused
their appetites. They all spoke, interrupting each other,
each presenting his own plan to enlarge the business and
produce a thousand tons of fish-meal without factory equip-
ment. Zaleskantz "outstripped" them, for he proposed
feeding stickleback to the prisoners as well as to cattle.

From this meeting no practical plan resulted, but I was
ordered to return to my enterprise and to find out the
best " ways and means " myself, according to existing "pos-
sibilities." Since Zaleskantz was present and took a lively

354 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

part in the discussion, I was convinced that the ISO would
not again block my departure.

In the morning came bad news; reports from both my
points that the run of fish had ceased. Instructions were
asked. Simankoff came in about noon, and growled: " Your
stickleback is a bluff."

My papers were not prepared and I did not dare inter-
view anyone that day. By evening the situation became still
worse a telegram arrived from the Murmansk depart-
ment of the Ribprom; herring had appeared and men were
needed.

Simankoff sent for me.

" You are appointed manager of the herring fishery in
Murmansk. Tomorrow you leave for Murmansk."

" I cannot take the management of this work," I said
firmly. I knew that, according to camp regulations, pris-
oners could not be appointed against their will to mana-
gerial positions. I knew also that, in the extremely rare
cases of refusal, even valuable specialists, regardless of their
health, had been sent immediately to " general work "
the heaviest kind of hard labor, felling trees, digging
ditches, or logging. I decided, however, to risk everything.

" You will go," repeated Simankoff.

" How about the stickleback meal? "

" That is nonsense. Have you seen the reports? There is
no more stickleback, and herring is now more important
to us."

" You have kept me here for two weeks in idleness," I
said in a rage. " There was enough fish to catch forty tons
a day. While you were thinking, we could easily have made
five hundred tons. Now the fish has gone. It is not tied up,
waiting to be caught. Today it is gone, but tomorrow it
may return. Yesterday you were ready to build stickleback
traps and today you hear of herring in Murmansk and you
want to drop everything and pursue herring. By the time I

FREEDOM OR DEATH 355

arrive in Murmansk the herring will have gone from there,
and the stickleback returned to my point, and so I will be
travelling back and forth. Do you want me to catch fish in
the train? What kind of fishermen are you? I will not go to
Murmansk. You may send me to general work or put me
in the punitive cell if you wish."

He was taken aback. The chiefs here were not used to
such expressions of opinion, but this man was a former
fisherman and I hoped my arguments might influence him.

" I will give you until tomorrow to think it over," he
replied. " You will go to Murmansk."

I went to my quarters and sadly brooded over the whole
situation. Only yesterday I had sent the last letter to my
wife before our proposed escape. Now there was no time
to let her know that everything had changed.

In the morning the Chief greeted me curtly: " Well,
have you decided to go? "

" I will not go to Murmansk," I answered firmly.

Without looking at me he sent a messenger to fetch the
office manager. I was convinced that he was going to give
orders for me to be sent to " general work." The manager
came in.

" Prepare a permit for Tchernavin to go north to work
on stickleback." Then, glancing at me: " We expect you
to produce 500 tons of stickleback. Remember that."

That evening I received my papers, signed by Zaleskantz,
as I had hoped. This time I was leaving Soroka forever.

Late one night I arrived at the " Narrows." The plant
had been established in the place I had selected, on the
very shore of the bay. The equipment consisted of a shed
with holes for windows; inside were kettles and home-made
presses and the apparatus for drying.

In the morning I investigated the neighboring waters
and convinced myself that the stickleback had gone from

356 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

the shore. Small schools of them, however, could be found
in many places. I talked it all over with the fishermen and
told them that unless we caught fish during the next few
days our point would be closed and we would be sent else-
where. We must, therefore, catch enough to fill the vats at
least once or twice a day.

" We'll do it," they assured me heartily.

As a matter of fact, after much searching and spending
the whole day passing seaweed and water through our nets
we had caught about half a ton of fish. The vats were filled
and the drying apparatus started. I immediately sent back
a report that the work had been resumed. I was confident
that under these conditions I could drag the work along for
the remaining twenty days before the arrival of my wife.

Now came my last preparations for escape. Most impor-
tant was a boat which I could use without interrupting the
daily fishing operations and which I could get under the
bridge to the westerly side of the bay. I chose a small dory
which had fallen into disrepair; I dragged it ashore and
spent my free time mending and caulking it, making oars
and piecing together small bits of canvas for a sail. I told
the fishermen I needed this dory on scouting trips in search
of fish.

Next I had to verify the information I had collected
about the paths leading from the westerly end of Kanda
Bay towards the frontier and the location of houses and
habitations thereabouts. This would require at least a full
twenty-four hours absence, managed in such a way that the
suspicions of the fishermen would not be aroused. I ex-
plained to them that in my opinion the stickleback had
passed under the bridge up into Kanda Bay and that I
ought to make careful survey of it. Early one morning I
went in my dory up into the bay for this pretended investi-
gation.

FREEDOM OR DEATH 357

It was evening before I reached the head of the bay and
explored the shore on both sides. At length I found several
paths following the left bank of Kanda. Which of them
was the main one? I had to find out. At about ten o'clock,
after concealing the boat in a dense growth, I started off
along a path leading west. This was a risky thing to do: any
accidental meeting might mean death. How could I explain
my presence on a path leading to Finland at night? I
walked briskly, trying to cover as much ground as possible.
The walking was difficult, the forest thick and wild.

On I went for more than an hour until assured that it
was the main path I was following the right one to the
west. I stopped to blaze a tree and then turned back, retrac-
ing my way to the dory to begin the long row against the
wind to my quarters which I reached early in the morning.

Now it was clear in my mind how I would begin the es-
cape: the first twenty kilometers could be made rapidly by
boat; before our escape had been discovered we should
reach the main path to the west and might continue along
it for another thirty kilometers during the first night at
a great saving of our strength because we would not be
forced to go through the unbroken forest.

I had rented, in a fisherman's house near the " Nar-
rows," a room for my wife and son to occupy when they
should arrive before many days. My preparations seemed
complete. The time for action was at hand. Together we
would achieve freedom or suffer death.

My wife has told the story of our escape how we
started in the leaky row-boat, patched by my own hands,
how, without compass or map, we walked over wild moun-
tains, through forests and across swamps, to Finland and

freedom.

However hard my own experiences may appear, they
were less severe than those of the majority of educated

358 I SPEAK FOR THE SILENT

people in the U.S.S.R. Many who suffered torture and exe-
cution were older than I was and of much more importance
to science. My sentence five years of forced labor was
far lighter than the usual punishment.

The faith of Russians in world justice may be childish,
but these prisoners and their families, and the widows and
fatherless children of executed " wreckers/' still think that
the world does not know what is happening to them. They
cannot believe that a Christian civilization will knowingly
permit such monstrous cruelties to continue.

APPENDIX
THE "ACADEMIC CASE

T

-Ln

,HE " Academic Case " (sometimes called the " Platonoff
Case " from the name of the academician S. F. Plato-
noff) was one of the " biggest cases " conducted by
the GPU, comparable to the " Mine Trial," the " case of
the 48," the trial of the " Industrial Party," and others.
In the life of the Russian intelligentsia it had a tar greater
importance than the " trial of the Mensheviki," which had
been conducted with such pomp in the Spring of 1931
and reported in detail in the Soviet and foreign press. The
circumstances of the " Academic Case " are little known,
because the GPU never brought it to a public trial, but
decided the fate of the most prominent scientists behind
prison walls. The meagre details which seeped out, through
persons directly connected with the " case " or their rela-
tives, were disclosed with so much caution and were so
disconnected that even the formal facts of the case for
example, the accusation itself remained to a great ex-
tent obscure and contradictory.

The substance of the " Academic Case " was this: a
group of persons composed of scientists-historians was sup-
posed to have formed a " monarchist " plot directed against
the Soviet Government. This group, it was alleged, not
expecting to be able to effect the overthrow of the govern-
ment by its own means, had secretly entered into an agree-
ment with the government of Germany whereby the latter

360 APPENDIX

promised the assistance of its military forces. According to
the GPU, the important positions in the future govern-
ment, as planned by the would-be plotters, were to be held
by academicians.

I can tell about this case only as I heard it from the lips
of persons who happened to be with me in prison cells and
in the Solovetzki camp. Furthermore I am hampered by
the fact that I can relate only such parts of their story as
will not lead the GPU to discover who my informers were.

The first peculiarity of the case is that it was a " failure "
for the GPU. The " Mine Trial " and the trials of the " In-
dustrial Party " and the " Mensheviki " had been carried
out by the GPU to the very end, through all the stages of
court procedure: the high-sounding announcements of the
" disclosure of the plot," the beginning of the investigation,
the opening of the court trial. It had been able to publish
the " accusation act " and to stage the comedy of a trial in
a most extravagant setting. In the presence of large crowds
of spectators the accused men had been brought out onto
the stage in the enormous hall of the former Building of
the Nobility. They had publicly admitted their guilt, re-
peating by heart the parts prepared for them by the exam-
ining officers of the GPU. Citizen-Comrade Krilenko, in
the lofty role of Prosecutor of the Republic had exercised
all his wit and eloquence, assailing the bourgeoisie of the
whole world which was plotting against the proletarian
state, and hurling his tirades of defiance at microphones
and foreign reporters. The spectators, the chorus in the
play tickets could be obtained only through local So-
viets, professional unions and party organizations had
clamorously demanded the " highest degree of social de-
fense " and had applauded the death sentence. Some of
the accused men, who had strictly complied with the wishes
of the GPU, had then been " pardoned " and the obedient
public had with equal zest applauded the " pardon." At

THE "ACADEMIC CASE" 361

the same time the GPU had dealt with the chief group of
persons arrested in connection with the case, whose num-
ber had remained unknown except to itself, and finished
with them in its routine way.

Even in the case of the " 48," there had been some sem-
blance of formality first an announcement of " the Plot,"
then published " confessions," and finally the sentence
with a complete list of executed men.

In the " Academic Case," however, the GPU had been
unable to carry out even this minimum of formality. Ar-
rests had begun before the announcement of the case and
had continued after it; the case dragged on for two years,
but, except for a few libelous newspaper articles, nothing
had been published regarding it, no incriminating mate-
rials, no " confessions " (although some of the accused
men were world-famous) , not even the sentence. The case
itself had been "liquidated": some of the accused had
been secretly killed, the majority deported to 10 years of
convict labor, a few lucky ones had been exiled to distant
provinces. Due to the fact that resolutions concerning the
men involved in the case were passed at different times,
absurd inconsistencies had arisen: the most important
" criminals," i.e. those who had been cast in the role of
" leaders," had received the lightest sentences while others,
admitted even by the GPU to be of secondary importance,
had been sent to their death or to convict labor for 10 years.

According to public knowledge, the case had developed
in the following way: In the autumn of 1929, after the
" weeding out " which had taken place at the Academy
of Science when about three-quarters of the working
staff had been dismissed and the papers had led the coarsest
attack against everything connected with the Academy
there began to be at first arrests of secondary persons who
had been in contact with S. F. Platonoff. A rumor was
spread that the text of the abdication of Nicholas II had

362 APPENDIX

been found in the manuscript department of the Academy
of Science. It is hard to imagine what practical meaning
this document could have had, but from it the GPU started
a " monarchist plot." Almost all the employees of the manu-
script department were arrested, its rooms sealed and the
GPU began a search. Evidently nothing especially incrim-
inating had been found there, but the blow fell upon Pla-
tonoff, as director of the library, and S. V. Rojdestvenski,
his assistant.

Simultaneously the press was attacking the academician,
S. F. Oldenburg, and the arrest of his secretary, B. N.
Mollas, indicated that he might well become the central
figure in the newly projected case. A. E. Fersman also of
the Academy was in a similarly dangerous position. Many
who were subsequently deported in connection with this
case had been accused chiefly of being acquainted with
A. E. Fersman or of coming in contact with him at meet-
ings. In spite of that fact, however, Oldenburg and Fers-
man, although they remained in disgrace for a long time,
were not arrested.

The " Academic Case " had been the achievement of the
Leningrad GPU and at first the arrests had occurred only
in Leningrad, chiefly in the library of the Academy of
Science, in the Poushkin Building where gradually all the
workers had been arrested, and in various " departments "
subordinated to the Academy, especially in the Yakut de-
partment where Vittenberg and most of its workers had
been imprisoned. The public regarded these arrests as a
final blow to the Academy of Science, as a decision of the
Stalin government to crush the last remaining independent
thought in this institution.

It had been expected that the " case " would be tried in
Leningrad in the Spring of 1930. But spring passed and
the " case " was postponed until fall. The number of men
arrested was continually increasing and other institutions

THE " ACADEMIC CASE " 363

not only of academic but of a general educational character
were being affected. Evidently the GPU had broader aims
and was directing the blow against the Leningrad intelli-
gentsia as a whole. The " Russian Technical Society," the
" Bureau of Regional Research," the " Society of Natural
Science Teachers," the " Religious-Philosophical Circle,"
separate workers of the Russian Museum, publishers, lit-
erary men, translators connected with the " World Litera-
ture," every person and organization which was carrying
on an educational work were being included in the
" grandiose counter-revolutionary organization," whose
" branches " were so varied that not only Platonoff, but
the Academy of Science itself, had been relegated to the
background.

In the beginning of August, 1930, everybody had been
literally aghast at a new wave of arrests this time in
Moscow. The Moscow GPU was " concocting the case "
of Moscow historians, arresting the academicians M. K.
Lubovski, D. N. Egoroff, the Professors U. V. Go tie, S. V.
Bakhroujhin and many others. As D. N. Egoroff had been
practically at the head of the former Roumiantzeff (now
Lenin) Public Library, many employees of this library as
well as a number of Egoroff's former students at the
Women's University had also been arrested. In the mean-
time in Leningrad the academician, E. V. Tarle, who en-
joyed great popularity and was looked upon as an authority
in governmental circles had also been arrested.

In this way the " case " had expanded beyond the limits
of Leningrad and rumors had spread that it would be trans-
ferred to Moscow. But the Moscow GPU was evidently at
that time too busy preparing other trials; it ceded the
" Moscow historians " to the Leningrad GPU and sent
them the prominent men. All the " small fry " were de-
ported wholesale.

The last large group of persons had been arrested in

364 APPENDIX

November, 1930, that is, more than a year after the begin-
ning of the case. The trial had been postponed to Decem-
ber or January, 1931, but actually it never took place.

The growth of the " Academic Case " had been, so to
speak, a " natural " growth, which could have gone on
indefinitely and could have also affected a number of
foreign citizens. Such a growth is the necessary result of
methods used by the GPU in conducting similar cases. In
outline the method is this: first of all, the GPU arrests from
ten to twenty persons who have something in common
for example, work in the same field or institution, member-
ship in the same scientific society, attendance at the same
church, patronage of the same tailor or barber or for that
matter, a simple acquaintance. Next, they are strictly iso-
lated from each other and all are accused of participating
in a counter-revolutionary organization whose aim they
are expected to reveal by confession. At cross-examination
they are put through the usual GPU routine of investiga-
tion threats of execution and promises of leniency in
case of confession of the crime. Probably two or three of
these twenty men will weaken and sign " frank confes-
sions," which under instructions from the examining officer
will incriminate two or three others. With respect to those
who persist in refusing to " confess," the GPU now arrests
some of their relatives in order to exert pressure and also
perhaps to obtain more incriminating information about
other people. In this way would be started the second,
larger circle of arrests which can be followed by any num-
ber of more and still larger circles, as there exists no real
case and therefore no limit which could stop its expansion.

In October, 1930, when I found myself in the Shpaler-
naya prison, men arrested in connection with the " Aca-
demic Case " were being held in all the common cells, and
in many double and solitary cells. According to our esti-
mate, which cannot be considered complete, their number

THE " ACADEMIC CASE " 365

amounted to 150 men. Besides these, many were in
" Kresti " and " Nijegorodskaya " prisons. The list of
names of these prisoners was quite impressive. Besides the
five academicians, S. F. Platonoff, M. K. Lubovski, N. P.
Likhatcheff, E. V. Tarle, D. N. Egoroff, many professors
were among the prisoners. Since I am not a historian, I
remember, incidentally, the names of only those men whom
I chanced to meet or heard spoken of. Thus I remember
Professor U. V. Gotie, S. V. Rojdestvenski, S. V. Bakhrou-
jhin, Zaozerski, V. A. Boutenko, Priselkoff, Borodin (his-
torian, professor of the Petersburg University) , A. G.
Woulfius, V. A. Baltz, the expert on the Far East, Meervart,
teachers G. A. Petri, N. P. Antiziferoff, many workers of
educational institutions of the Academy of Science, among
them the librarian Pilkin, secretary B. N. Mollas, the
curator of the Poushkin Building N. V. Izmailoff, Beliaeff,
N. A. Pipin, G. Stern, Khordikainen, publishers Wolfson,
Baranoff and so on. Explorers, numbering some thirty men,
who had been arrested in the beginning of January, 1931,
were also being accused in connection with the " Academic
Case." Many did not know, until the sentence had been
passed, what they were being accused of, and found out
only later from the number assigned to their " case " that
they also were a part of it.

No one could understand what was to be done with so
large a group of people belonging to such a large variety of
specialties and of such varied personal opinions. One could
only watch with anguish the constant additions to their
number.

Towards the end of 1930, when the Moscow GPU was
brilliantly staging the trial of the " Industrial Party," it
became clear to those of us familiar with the GPU methods
that the " Academic Case " had failed and that it would
not be brought to trial. In its public appearances, even the
GPU had to maintain a certain standard of consistency and

366 APPENDIX

the " Academic Case " fabricated by the Leningrad GPU
was not on a par with the " Industrial Party's Case " fabri-
cated by the Moscow GPU. One of the two cases could have
been staged, but not both. As I have already said, the sub-
stance of the " Academic Case " supposedly involved the
government of Germany. In the case of the " Industrial
Party " the GPU had fabricated a " democratic-republi-
can " plot connecting it with the French government. The
roles of some of the persons involved corresponded in the
two cases in spite of their dissimilarity.

In 1929 when the GPU first conceived the idea of the
" Academic Case," a challenge to Germany had been con-
sidered timely. In the autumn of 1930, however, friendly
conversations with Germany were going on and it had been
deemed more appropriate to turn the guns in the direction
of France. Moreover, rumors were being circulated that
energetic protests had been made by the German govern-
ment against any mention of German names in connection
with the " case " and Moscow had been obliged to fold up
its plans.

And thus it was that the " Academic Case," so widely
advertised at home and abroad, involving scientists with
names of world-wide fame, had to be liquidated without
noise secretly. To release them as innocent would have
brought undesirable publicity. It was, therefore, impera-
tive to maintain an appearance of their guilt. So in Febru-
ary, 1931, the less conspicuous "participants" were sen-
tenced to ten years in concentration camp, with confiscation
of property. Since these people, although of honest names,
were little known, and since the sentence had not been
made public, the moaning which arose among the Russian
intelligentsia had been heard by none. Engelhardt's wife,
the sister of the writer Garshin, had in despair committed
suicide by throwing herself down a stair well; the wife of
Professor Boutenko hanged herself. The wife of one of the

THE " ACADEMIC CASE " 367

sentenced men had been unexpectedly seized as she was
bringing her husband the last food parcel and had also
been deported. The two daughters of S. F. Platonoff had
been sentenced to ten years in a concentration camp and
only somebody's intercession had stopped their deporta-
tion.

It is hard to describe the impression all this produced.
It was known too well that no guilt whatever could be
attached to these people.

In May, 1931, the next group, arbitrarily chosen, had
received its sentence, which proved to be still more cruel;
five men were shot, the remaining deported to concentra-
tion camps.

Everyone was waiting in dread and apprehension for the
sentence of the " leaders." Would they really dare to shoot
these Academicians, who had given so much of their intelli-
gence and labor to the creation of Russian culture, many
of whom were over seventy years old?

Suddenly, in the summer of 1931, the direction of the
wind changed for a short period. The leaders of the GPU,
who had conducted the terror of the winter of 1930-1931,
had been somewhat demoted: Akouloff had replaced Ya-
goda; Stalin had pronounced some vague words to the
effect that not all specialists were enemies; some kind of
a commission had been formed with authority to revise
the cases that had been disposed of with too much haste
and too much cruelty. It was rumored that according to
recommendations of this commission somebody had been
granted a pardon and that some of the examining officers
who had overexerted themselves in the case of the " 48 "
had even been shot. This happy period was of short dura-
tion, but the " leaders " of the " Academic Case " had felt
its effects and had unexpectedly received " light " sentences
exile to distant cities, but not to concentration camps.
At the same time the sentence of convict labor for the

3 68 APPENDIX

daughters of S. F. Platonoff was commuted to exile and
they had been allowed as a special privilege to join their
father in exile.

So the case ended in August, 1931. The press had not
mentioned a word about the sentences. Both the govern-
ment of the U.S.S.R. and the GPU itself had evidently
considered this case so dark and shameful that they had
preferred to remain silent. Nevertheless all the victims re-
mained in camps and exile. Platonoff, Egoroff and Bou-
tenko have already died, having been broken by the hard-
ships of their experiences. How many have followed and
still will follow them, without a chance of freedom, without
a chance of dying at home, we shall never know.

When the time comes that it will be possible to present
the case basing it on documents and testimony of people
who were directly implicated, this case will take its place
as a true obituary of Russian, and especially historical,
science. It will be one of the most tragic pages in the story
of the destruction of the Russian intelligentsia.

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