viki were tolerant at first, and even financially aided its educational efforts. But gradually the help was withdrawn and obstacles began to be placed in the way of the League. The Communists frown upon the too nationalistic character of its work. The Yovkom, Jewish branch of the Party, is particularly antagonistic. The League's teachers and older pupils have been mobilized into State service, and the field of its efforts narrowed down. In the provinces most of its branches have been compelled to close entirely, but in Kiev the devotion and persistence of its leading spirits still enables the League to continue.
It is the sole oasis in the city of non-partisan intel- lectual and social life. Though now limited in its activities, it still enjoys great popularity among the Jewish youth. Its art classes, including drawing, paint- ing and sculpture, are eagerly visited, and the theatri- cal studio is developing young actors and actresses of much promise. The rehearsals I attended, especially that of "The World's End," the posthumous work of an unknown dramatist, were unique in artistic con- ception and powerful in expression.
The younger elements that frequent the Kulturliga dream of Zion, and look to the aid of England in securing to the Jewish nation its traditional home. They are out of touch with the Western world and recent events, but their reliance on the hopes raised by the Jewish Congress is unshaken. Somehow, some- time, probably even in the not distant future, is to through the * olitical changes, the Bolshe- 2 3 o THE BOLSHEVIK MYTH happen the great event and Jewry will be reestablished in Palestine. In that ardent faith they drag on their existence from day to day, intellectually vegetating, physically in misery. Their former sources of support are abolished, the government having supplied them with a bread-card of the fourth category. The latter is the Bolshevik label of the bourzhooi, the intelli- gentsia now being denounced as such, though in reality the rich middle class has sought safety at the outbreak of the Revolution. ' Hatred of the bourgeoisie has been transferred to the intellectuals, official agitation cultivating and intensifying this spirit. They are rep- resented as the enemies of the proletariat, traitors to the Revolution — at best speculators, if not active counter-revolutionists. There is no stemming the fear- ful tide sweeping against them. Nor is it the spon- taneous unfettering of popular sentiment. The flames are fanned by Moscow. Bolshevik agents from the center, sent as chiefs and "instructors," systematically rouse the basest instincts. Zinoviev himself severely upbraided the local Communists and his "brother proletarians" for leniency to the bourgeoisie. "They still walk your streets," he exclaimed at a public meet- ing "clad in the best finery, while you go about in rags. They live in the luxurious homes, while you grovel in cellars. You must not permit such things any longer."
Visits of Communist leaders are always followed by renewed "requisitions from the bourgeoisie." The method is simple. The house porter is instructed to compile a list of holders of cards of the fourth category. In most cases they are intellectual proletarians — teach- ers, writers, scientists. But the possession of the fourth category card is their doom: they are legitimate victims of requisition. Clothing, underwear, house- hold goods — everything is confiscated as alleged izlishki (superfluities).
IN VARIOUS WALKS 231 "The most tragic part of it," said C, the well- known Yiddish writer, "is that the izlishki rarely reach their proletarian destination. We all know that the really valuable things confiscated get no further than the Tcheka, while the old and almost useless rags are sent to the unions, for distribution among the workers. 1 ' "Often one does not even know who is 'requisition- ing,' " remarked a member of the League; "sometimes it is done by Tchekists on their own account."
"Is there no redress?" I asked; "does no one pro- test?"
C made a deprecating motion. "We have learned better," he replied, "from the fate of those who dared."
"You can't protest against Bolshevik 'revolutionary orders,' as they call it," said a young woman teacher. "I have tried it. It happened like this. One day, re- turning to my room, I found a stranger occupying it. On my demanding what he was doing there, he in- formed me that he had been assigned to it, showing me his document from the Housing Bureau. 'And what shall I do?' I asked. 'You can sleep on the floor,' he replied, stretching himself on my bed. I protested to the higher authorities, but they refused to consider the matter. 'The room is big enough for two,' they insisted, though that was not the case at all. 'But you put a strange man in my room,' I pleaded. 'You'll soon get acquainted,' they sneered, 'we make no distinction of sex.' I remained with some friends for a while, but they were so crowded I had to look for other quarters. For days I stood in line in the Housing Bureau, but it was impossible to get an order for a room. Meanwhile my chief threatened to report me for neglecting my work, because most of my time was spent in the Soviet offices. Finally I complained to the Rabkrin, which is supposed to pro- tect proletarian interests. Their agent invited me to 232 THE BOLSHEVIK MYTH share his room, and I slapped his face. He had me arrested, and I was kept in the Tcheka two months for 'sabotage.' " "It might have ended worse," some one commented. "When you were released," I pursued, interested She smiled sadly. "I learned a lot while sitting in the Tcheka," she said. "When I was liberated, I sought out a member of the Housing Bureau. Fortu- nately I had saved a pair of fine French shoes, and I presented them to him. 'A little gift for your wife,' I told him, not much caring which one would get it, for he is known to have several. Within twenty-four hours I received a splendid large room, furnished in true bourgeois style."
The sun has set, the streets are dark, the infrequent lights flicker dimly in the foggy air. Turning the corner of the Krestchatik, on my way to the Ispolkom, I find myself in the midst of an excited crowd, sur- rounded by soldiers and militia. It is an oblava look- ing for labor deserters. Men and women are detained within the military circle, to be taken to the station for examination. Only a Communist card secures imme- diate release. Arrest means detention for days, even weeks — and I have an urgent appointment at Com- munist headquarters. But in vain I explain to the militsioneri that tovarishtch Vetoshkin is expecting me. Even the name of the powerful head of the Executive Committee does not impress them. The Committee of Labor and Defense is now supreme; its orders are to detain everyone for investigation regarding his employproduce documents, but the soldiers remain stolid, com- manding everyone to line up. I demand to see the officer in charge, but the militsioner remains at my side, ment.
IN VARIOUS WALKS 233 ignoring my protests. Suddenly the crowd in front begins jostling and pushing: a fight has started on the corner. My guard rushes forward and, taking advan- tage of the situation, I cross the street and step into the Ispolkom building.
Vetoshkin's secretary meets me on the stairs. Ex- cusing my tardiness by the oblava incident, I suggest the desirability of better system and judgment in the organization of such matters. The Secretary expresses regret at the stupid and irresponsible manner of the raid, but "nitchevo ne podelayesh" (it can't be helped), he assures me with conviction.
The Communist banquet hall is flooded with light; the walls are decorated with red banners and inscrip- tions, and crimson bunting frames the large portraits of Lenin and Trotsky, with a small likeness of Lunat- charsky in a less conspicuous place. The long dining table is laden with a variety of fruit and wine, and a choice meal is served the guests invited to honor the French and Italian delegates visiting the city. An- gelica Balabanova is presiding; at her side are Vetosh- kin and other high Soviet officials of the city, with a large sprinkling of men in military uniform.
It is an official assembly of the Communist aris- tocracy, with Emma Goldman and myself as the only non-Bolsheviki present by special invitation of our mutual friend Angelica. Her motherly, simple per- sonality seems out of place in this gathering. There is deep sadness in her look, a suggestion of disapproval of all the finery and "style" put on for the occasion. Her attention is engaged by the local men at her side, who exert themselves to please the important personage "from the center." Others are entertaining the foreign delegates, the French-speaking tovarishtchi having been placed as their neighbors. The wine is good and unstinted, the food delicious. By degrees the atmos- 234 THE BOLSHEVIK MYTH phere loses its stiff formality, and a freer spirit de- scends upon the banquet table.
With coffee begin the speeches. The Russian pro- letariat, with the Communist Party as its advance guard, is extolled as the banner bearer of social revo- lution, and the firm conviction of the speedy breakdown of capitalism throughout the world is expressed. But for the cursed Allies starving the country and support- ing armed counter-revolution, Russia — it is claimed — would be a workers' paradise with full liberty and welfare for all. The Mensheviki and the Social Revo- lutionists, traitors to the Revolution, have been silenced within the country, but abroad these lackeys of capitalism, the Kautskys, Lafargues, et al., still continue their poisonous work, maligning the Com- munists and defaming the Revolution. It is, therefore, doubly to be welcomed that the foreign delegates have come to Russia to acquaint themselves with the real situation, and that they are visiting the Ukraina where they can with their own eyes witness the great work the Communists have accomplished.
I glance at the delegates. They sit unmoved during the long speeches in the strange language, but even Angelica's masterful rendering into French, enriched by her personality and impassioned oratory, does not seem to impress them. I detect disappointment in their faces. Perhaps they had hoped for a less official, more intimate discussion of the revolutionary problems. They have undoubtedly heard of the numerous peasant uprisings and the punitive expeditions, the frequent strikes, the Makhno movement, and the general oppo- sition to the Communists. But these matters have been carefully avoided by the speakers, who have sought to present a picture of a unified people cooperating in the "proletarian dictatorship" and enthusiastically sup- porting its "advance guard, the Communist Party."
Late at night, accompanying the foreign delegates IN VARIOUS WALKS 235 to the railroad station, I have opportunity to learn their sentiments. "The observations we have made while in Russia and the material we have collected," one of them remarks, "entirely disprove Bolshevik claims. We feel it our duty to tell the whole truth to our people at home."
Next morning in the passage, where provisions are purchased to fill out the scanty pyock, I meet little knots of people lamenting and crying. Nothing is i>eing sold: the little bakery and fruit stores were vis- ited by the authorities the previous evening and all their goods requisitioned. Deep gloom hangs over the traders and their customers. With a sense of out- rage they point to the large delicatessen stores on the Krestchatik which have not been molested. "They have protection," someone says indignantly.
"My God, my God!" a woman cries. "It's we poor people who gave that banquet to the delegates."
• • i * • ■ ■ She was introduced to me as Gallina — a young woman in peasant dress, but of graceful figure, and with thoughtful blue eyes. "Gallina?" I wondered. "Yes, Makhno's wife."
Surprise and fear for her safety struggled with my admiration of her courage. Her presence in Kiev, in the very lair of the Tcheka, means certain death were she to be recognized. Yet she has braved imminent peril and great difficulties in crossing the front. She has business in the city for the povstantsi, she said; she has also brought a message from Nestor: he is very anxious to have Emma Goldman and myself visit him. He is not far from the city, and arrangements could be made to enable us to see him.
Her manner was reserved, almost shy; but she was very positive in her views, and her expression clear and definite. She looked so frail and alone, I was overwhelmingly conscious of the great danger to which 236 THE BOLSHEVIK MYTH she was exposing herself. She gave me the feeling of a diminutive David rising up to smite Goliath.
"I'm not afraid," she said simply. "You know, I usually accompany Nestor, and he is always at the head She spoke with much warmth of Makhno's military ability, his great popularity among the peasantry, and the success of his campaigns against Denikin. But she s not uncritical, nor a blind hero-worshiper. On the contrary, she dwelt much more on the significance and purpose of the rebel peasant movement than on the role of its individual leaders. In the Makhnovstchina she sees the hope of Russia's liberation from the yoke of White generals, pomeshtchiki (landlords), and Bol- shevik commissarship. The one is as hateful to her as the other, both equally subversive of liberty and the Revolution.
"I regard the povstantsi movement," she said, "as the only true proletarian revolution. Bolshevism is the mastery of the Communist Party, falsely called the dictatorship of the proletariat. It is very far from our conception of revolution. It is the rulership of a caste, of the socialist intelligentsia which has imposed its theories upon the toilers. Their aim is State Com- munism, with the workers and farmers of the whole country serving as employees of the one powerful government master. Its result is the most abject slavery, suppression, and revolt, as we see on every hand. But the people themselves — the proletarians of city and country — have an entirely different ideal, even though to a great extent only instinctive. They ignore all parties and are antagonistic to the political intel- lectuals; they distrust the non-working, privileged elements. Our aim is the class organization of the revolutionary toiling masses. That is the sense of the great Ukrainian movement, and its best expression is to be found in the Makhnovstchina. Without the help IN VARIOUS WALKS 237 of government or political parties the peasants drove away the landlords; by their own efforts they secured the land. Their military units have successfully fought every counter-revolutionary force. The Bolsheviki with their Red Army usually came into the already freed district, there to impose their mastery upon city and country, and proclaim their dictatorship. Is it any wonder the people hate them and fight them as bitterly as the Whites?"
She is a typical specimen of the rebel Ukrainian, of the type molded in the crucible of hard revolutionary life. All night we talked of the burning problems of the South, of the needs of the peasantry, and the activi- ties of the povstantsi, whose beloved and almost venerated leader is bafka * Makhno, the Stenka Razin of the Revolution.
She related stories of the great devotion of the peasantry to Nestor and told interesting anecdotes of his campaigns. Once, when Makhno with a small company found himself surrounded by a large Bol- shevik force, he caused a marriage to be performed in the village occupied by the enemy. Makhno's men in borrowed holiday attire attended the celebration, their famous "sawed off" guns hidden upon their bodies. In the midst of the carousal, the Red soldiers the worse for the liquor freely supplied by the villagers, the pretended holiday makers opened fire, taking the Bol- shevik garrison by surprise and putting them to flight.
The very mention of Makhno's name, Gallina said, brings terror to the enemy and frequently whole com- panies of the Red Army join his forces. Commissars and Communists — identical terms to the povstantsl —. find no mercy, but the common soldier is always given the choice of remaining with him or going free.
"That was the case also," she continued in her melodious voice, "with Grigoriev's army. You have •Father, leader.
238 THE BOLSHEVIK MYTH heard of him, haven't you, comrade? He was an officer of the Tsar, but at the outbreak of the Revolution he became a free lance. At one time he was with Petlura, then he'fought him, and later he joined the Red Army. He was just a military adventurer, though not without some ability. He was very vain, loving to style himself the Ataman of Khersonstchina, because his greatest successes were in that province. Later he turned against the Bolsheviki and invited Makhno to make common cause with him. But Nestor found out that Grigoriev was planning to join Denikin; besides, he was guilty of many pogroms. The slaughter of Jews he organized in Yekaterinoslav in May of last year (1919) was especially atrocious. Makhno decided to eliminate him. He called a meeting, to which the Ataman and his men were invited. It was a large gathering at which 20,000 peasants and povstantsi were present.* Nestor publicly accused Grigoriev of counter-revolutionary designs, charged him with po- groms and denounced him as an enemy of the people. The Ataman and his staff were executed on the spot. Almost his whole force joined our povstantsi" Gallina spoke of executions in an even, ordinary tone, as of matters of common occurrence. Life in the Ukraina, among the rebel peasantry, had made constant struggle and violence the habitual tenor of her existence. Occasionally she would slightly raise her voice in indignation when reports of Jew baiting by povstantsi were mentioned. She felt deeply outraged by such base misrepresentation. These stories were deliberately spread by the Bolsheviki, she averred. No one could be more severe in punishing such excesses than Nestor. Some of his best comrades are Jews; there are a number of them in the Revolutionary Soviet and in other branches of the army. Few men •Took place in the village of Sentovo, Kherson province, July 27, 1 91 9.
IN VARIOUS WALKS 239 are so loved and respected by the povstantsi as Yossif, the Emigrant, who is a Jew, and Makhno's best friend.
"We are not such barbarians as we are painted," she said with a charming smile. "But you will learn more about us when you visit us, which will not be far off, I hope."
She listened wistfully to the news from the Western world, and plied me with questions about life in America and the attitude of its workers to Russia. The role of women on the "other side" was of intense interest to her, and she was eager to procure books dealing at length with the subject. She looked dejected on learning that almost nothing was known in the States about the Ukrainian peasant movement, but she recovered quickly, remarking: "Naturally, for we are so isolated. But some day they will know."
The night had turned to dawn, and all too quickly the morning was breaking. It was high time for Gallina to be on her way. Regretfully she left us, expressing her confidence in our speedy meeting in the camp of Makhno. In complete self-possession she stepped out of the house, while with bated breath we accompanied her at a distance, fearful lest a chance identification result fatally for the daring girl.
CHAPTER XXXI THE TCHEKA A pall hangs over the home of my friend Kolya, the tailor. His wife is ill, the children neglected, dirty, and hungry. The plumbing is out of order, and water must be carried from the next street, four flights up. Kolya always performed the heavy work; his absence falls heavily upon the little family.
From time to time the neighbors look in on the sick woman. "Your husband will soon return," they assure her cheerfully, but I know that all their efforts to find him have proved fruitless. Kolya is in the Tcheka.
The workers of the clothing factory where my friend is employed have of late been very discontented. Their main complaint concerns the arbitrary methods of the yatcheika, the little group of Communists within every Soviet institution. Friction between them and the shop committee resulted in the arrest of the latter. In protest the workers declared a strike. Three dele- gates were sent to the Tcheka with the request to release the prisoners, but the men disappeared, and Kolya was among them.
"They call the strikers counter-revolutionists," Kolya's sister said. "They have made a list of the 'opposition' in the shop, and every day someone is missing."
"It's the old Pirro methods," remarked a neighbor, a young woman in charge of a children's dining room.
"Pirro methods?" I asked in surprise.
"Don't you know the Pirro affair? It was of a piece with the usual methods of Latsis, then head of the All-Ukrainian Extraordinary Commission. It was 240 THE TCHEKA 241 in the summer of 19 19, and the Kiev Teheka was working—" "Working — that's right, just the proper word," interrupted her brother.
"Yes, 'working' under high pressure," she continued, "under instructions of Peters, who came from Moscow now and then. His presence in the city was always the signal for renewed arrests and shooting. Well, one day the Soviet papers announced the arrival of Count Pirro, Brazilian Ambassador. I was at the time employed in the Chinese Consulate, which gave a gala dinner in honor of the Count, on which occasion I made his acquaintance. I was surprised to find the Brazilian speaking excellent Russian, but he explained that he had spent many years in our country before the Revolution. He sighed over the old days, and did not in the least disguise his unfriendliness to Bolshevism and its methods.
"Within a few days he began to organize his staff on a large scale. He asked me and my friends to recommend people for work in his consulate. 'Except Bolsheviki,' he said. 'I want only bourgeois and intel- lectuals who have no sympathy with the Communists. They'll be safe with me,' he told us in confidence, hinting at the wholesale destruction of the intelligentsia by the Tcheka. Many hastened to offer their services to the Count, eager for the protection offered. Pirro accepted them all, placing some in his offices, while others were put on the waiting list, and their names and addresses recorded. To be brief, within a short time they were all arrested and most of them shot, among them Mme. Popladskaya, Pirro's personal secretary, whom he was pretending to help join her husband in Paris. Pirro disappeared, but he was seen to leave town in Peters' automobile. It soon became known that the alleged Brazilian Count was an agent 242 THE BOLSHEVIK MYTH of the Tcheka, a provocateur. Many people in Kiev are positive that it was Peters himself."
I related to my friend an incident which occurred soon after our Expedition arrived in the city. Early one morning a visitor called at our car, requesting to see the predsedateL Of commanding stature, well pro- portioned, and straight as a young pine, he was a fine specimen of physical manhood. He had just returned from the front, he said, as if in explanation of his ridiculously belligerent appearance: two heavy guns hung from his belt, a Tcherkassian dagger between them; at his side he carried a long sword, and a huge alarm whistle, set in silver, was suspended from his neck. His features were clean cut, nose aquiline, the sensuous lips somewhat shaded by a full beard. But the most striking feature were his eyes, the color of steel, cold, sharp, and piercing.
He introduced himself as an army man who had fought on every battlefield in the Ukraina. But he was tired of war and bloodshed, he said; he wanted a rest or at least a more peaceful occupation. The work of our Expedition appealed to him. Could he not be of service to us? Surely a large city like Kiev could not be thoroughly canvassed during our short stay. He would therefore suggest that we appoint a local man as our representative to continue the work after our Expedition should leave. He would con- sider himself honored to aid our important mission.
There was nothing unusual in his proposal, since it is our practice to leave an authorized person in the larger cities to supply the Museum with documents of current history. We promised to consider his appli- cation, and within a few days he called again. I thought he looked strangely animated, perhaps even under the influence of drink. He immediately launched into exaggerated assurances of his fitness as our col- laborator. He knew every important Communist in THE TCHEKA 243 the city, he asserted; he was even on terms of inti- macy with most of them. The previous night, he de- clared, he had spent in the company of high-placed commissars, among whom was also the chief of the Tcheka. With that he began a recital of its activities, relating revolting details of torture and execution. He spoke with increasing fervor, and growing excite- ment. At last he announced himself a commandant. He had shot many counter-revolutionists, he boasted, and he had never felt any qualms about his work. His eyes gleamed with a fierce, savage fire, and suddenly he drew the dagger from his belt. Leaning over close to me and wildly waving the weapon, he cried, "Look at it — it's bloody to the hilt." Then he fell back into a chair, exhausted, and with a touch of sentimentality he muttered: "I've had enough — I'm tired — I want a rest." _ "To judge from your description," remarked the young woman, "it must have been X, one of the most notorious executioners of the provincial Tcheka. He is given to such escapades, especially when under the influence of drugs, for he is addicted to cocaine. One of his hobbies is to get himself photographed — like this."
She rose, searched a moment among her effects, and handed me a small picture. It represented a man entirely nude, gun in hand, in the posture of taking deliberate aim. I recognized our visitor.
• •••••• August 2j, 1920. — Rumors of Bolshevik reverses are delaying our departure. There are persistent reports of Red Army defeats: Odessa is said to be evacuating, an enemy fleet in the Black Sea attacking the city, and Wrangel marching against it from the Crimea.
Nothing definite is to be ascertained in the general confusion, but from authoritative circles we have 244 THE BOLSHEVIK MYTH learned that Red forces are being concentrated in the vicinity. The new developments, Yossif has informed me, compelled Makhno to retire from the province. To my great regret our plan of meeting the povstantsi leader becomes impracticable for the present. With much anxiety I think of Gallina and her safety in the new turn of affairs.
Our Expedition faces the alternative of returning to Moscow or proceeding further South. In spite of in- sistent advice to the contrary, we decide to continue according to our schedule, which includes Odessa and the Caucasus.
CHAPTER XXXII ODESSA: LIFE AND VISION September 2, IQ20. — Late yesterday afternoon we reached Odessa, our little commune greatly disturbed over the fate of Alsberg. Our traveling companion, whose cheerful spirit and ready helpfulness contributed so much toward making our journey more pleasant, was arrested on August 30, while we were stopping in Zhmerinka. The local Tcheka agents had received orders from Moscow to "return the American corre- spondent, 11 because he had gone to the Ukraina "with- out the knowledge 11 of the authorities. In vain we argued and produced Zinoviev's letter giving Alsberg permission to join the Expedition. He was removed from the train, to be taken under convoy to Moscow. The wires we sent to Lenin, Zinoviev, and Balabanova, protesting against the arrest and urging the release of our friend, have so far remained unanswered.
The great city, formerly the most important ship- ping center of the country, was shrouded in darkness, its electric supply station having been almost completely destroyed by fire several days previously. With con- siderable difficulty we found our way to one of the principal thoroughfares. On the corner we were de- tained by a milltsioner who informed us that it is for- bidden to be about after sunset, except by special per- mission. It required considerable persuasion before the officer was convinced of our "reliability 11 and per- mitted us to return to the car. Our first impressions seemed to justify the disconcerting reports we had heard en route.
No more cheerful is the once beautiful city in the 245 S 4 6 THE BOLSHEVIK MYTH glow of the bright morning sun. Few persons are on the streets; the houses and parks are neglected; the pavements broken and filthy. Everywhere is evidence of the poverty and suffering in the wake of foreign occupation and civil war. Food is very scarce; prices exorbitantly high on the markets which are still per- mitted to operate. The peasants of the district, sys- tematically expropriated by their changing masters, now refuse to plant more than is necessary for their own needs, leaving the cities to their fate.
Externally Odessa is quiet, and there is no sign of enemy warships in the harbor. But an atmosphere of anxious suspense is felt everywhere: bands of Green and Makhno forces are said to be in the neighborhood, and Wrangel is reported to have taken some villages northeast, in the vicinity of Rostov. A spirit of qui vive pervades the Soviet bureaus, everyone wearing a preoccupied air as if listening for the first note of alarm and ready to take flight.
Much disorganization prevails in the unions. The new Communist management has not yet gained full control over the "liquidated" Menshevik and Anarchist leadership. Many of the latter are still at the head of labor affairs, persistently elected by the workers in open defiance of Communist orders. Among the oppo- sition Shakhvorostov, an Anarchist of militant type, has such a strong following that the Bolsheviki have not dared to remove him. Due to his friendly efforts, the Soviet of Unions has decided to call a meeting of secretaries, whom I am to address in the interest of the Museum.
The non-partisan proletarians, who constitute the great body of labor, look with scorn at the readiness of the Communists to flee should an enemy appear. Par- ticularly the sailors of the destroyed Black Sea fleet, many of whom are in the city, resent the situation. The masses cannot evacuate, they say; the workers ODESSA: LIFE AND VISION 247 are doomed to remain, whoever comes, and to fight it out as best they can. Have not the unions, aided by the peasantry, waged successful guerrilla warfare against the Greek and Italian forces and the White generals? Then there was no distinction of political party — all revolutionists fought side by side. But every time the enemy is driven out, the Communists institute their dictatorship, seek to dominate the revo- lutionary committee in charge of the safety of the city, and eliminate the old and tried fighters. The masses know how to protect themselves against invaders, but they resent the domination of a political party that seeks to monopolize the Revolution.