Chords obscurantism. Volume two. Vasily Varga
Lenin exclaimed, but Dzerzhinsky well knew that Lenin was just showing off. – What happened next, comrade Dzerzhinsky?
– And then we visited the Constituent Assembly and politely asked them to stop this farce, blaming them for the death of several workers who were undoubtedly among this enthusiastic crowd with flowers in their hands.
– Just make sure they don’t get together again.” We do not intend to share power with anyone, comrades. This is very important. Comrade Sky! where is comrade Skye and … and Vatzetis? Cusis, call them. And here they are, my dears. Such brave soldiers. Look at them and imitate them. What a bearing, everyone has a fighting spirit! Vatsetis am asking to approve commander of the Northern front, and Skaya henceforth chief of my security and commandant of Smolny. Comrade Trotsky, Vatsetis is now yours. The fate of the revolution is in your hands. And, in General, we should think about changing the capital of the proletarian state. There are too many enemies in Petrograd. In addition, the Germans may come here. But this is still just a thought, just a hint, although it is all very important. 77
As soon as the Bolsheviks seized power in Petrograd, and the first night of St. Bartholomew’s day passed in the city, an eerie silence reigned for a while; the city froze as if it had died out. But not for long. The proletariat, dazed with happiness, came out into the deserted streets and without thinking, set to work; the proletariat was armed with everything. Who a chisel, a hammer who, who stabbed who shotgun who’s hunting rifle, even a scythe without a handle, the thugs of the larger caliber was Browning, pistols, grenades and automatic weapons. The city was already asleep, except for cafes, restaurants, and night brothels. No one could have imagined that this night would be the last, that the warm, cozy home in the subconscious state would have to be changed to the cold waters of the Neva and there give their last breaths. All kinds of hatred, evil poverty, including murderers released from prison, were waiting for this night like manna from heaven.
The center of Petrograd was the first to suffer. The sound of hammers and axes resounded through the front doors. Those on duty were happy to open the front doors and even joined their fellow believers, led them to their rooms and lit candles. The first victims were the master’s daughters, then their wives, who were brutally raped right there in their beds in front of the master, and then stabbed with bayonets, and then dragged to be thrown into the Neva, some dressed in thin underwear, some naked, bleeding.
Somewhere there was a looting of shops, retail stores, various warehouses with food supplies.
Lenin had already realized that this was too much and would not do any good, but it was impossible to stop the raging crowd. And was it worth it? the proletariat has been fighting for power for so long, it has got this power, it has earned the opportunity to take a crack at it, and let it blow off steam.
But courage, debauchery, and drunkenness were followed by the demand: bread, bread!
All the raging proletarians, including the gopniks, quickly ground up the loot and, stunned by the unexpected good, turned their proletarian eyes to the new authorities. There was a terrible question and demand in those eyes: why is there no bread? why? feed the revolutionaries. Here, for the first time, the Soviet government had to begin a difficult problem – the problem of leading the proletarian masses.
And this mission could only be led by Lenin-the hope of all the humiliated and insulted. And Lenin was not at a loss. He immediately accused the haves, already dead, of sabotaging-they put the bread away, so that it did not get to the proletariat, but the proletariat will still survive, and in the meantime, each Gopnik a gram of stale rye, sometimes covered with mold, bread, a pinch of salt and two frozen potatoes. Nothing else. There were difficulties, or rather interruptions even with water. But gopniki (residents of the city hostel of the proletariat)were not satisfied with this, they were looking for someone to Rob.
There were very few residents of Petrograd, mostly on the outskirts, the center was completely cut out, there was not much to buy, even frozen potatoes, so everyone suffered, except the servants of the people, who gorged themselves on delicacies in Smolny. But the proletariat, accustomed to difficulties, bravely endured hardships, including starvation, in the hope that the leader would solve this problem.
The Soviet government distributed the vacated housing among the revolutionaries, primarily among the leadership, and the remainder among the gopniki.
The most comfortable apartments were occupied by servants of the people. The former caste of high-ranking officials of the capital was forced to go to heaven ahead of schedule, and the one that miraculously survived, these pitiful remnants, was forced to make room, move the whole family into one room, where the servants used to live, and the servants on the contrary occupied the best rooms with first-class furniture, dishes and silverware. And that was the great good of the Soviet government, it was partial, selective, so to speak experimental, for show. Bourgeois exploiters who were lucky enough to survive were usually arrested by the red Commissars and shot in their basements without trial. How dare they stay alive? Lenin charged Dzerzhinsky with this question, and the Democrat Felix Edmundovich, a Polish Jew who had become the executioner of the Russian people, invented many ways to kill the recalcitrant, but the best of them was a shot in the back of the head. As a butcher plunges a knife into the heart of a submissive animal, so Dzerzhinsky put the barrel to the back of the victim’s head and pulled the trigger. The victim twitched once and fell into an eternal sleep. No shouting at you, no matting, no pleading for mercy, and the sound of the shot turned into a musical chord. Especially for Lenin, who, with Asiatic cruelty, like a true son of Tamerlane, demanded the massacre of the innocent only because they belonged to the highest caste and formed the color, backbone, and brain of Russia. He hated the intelligentsia and did not hesitate to call it “shit”. And Dzerzhinsky succeeded in basement operations like no other. He tried with all his strength.
Where are the tsarist gendarmes to the Communist fighters in leather jackets, bulging eyes and just shaved off their paces, who renounced their faith and became hussars!? For many years, Soviet propaganda hammered into the minds of its citizens that Lenin was the father of children, the most humane man on earth, and Dzerzhinsky was the father of all people. such a good boy, was implacable to the enemies of the revolution, the people and the state. But the tsarist gendarmes – it’s just bad people. For this shameless, and admittedly successful, lie, we must thank the leader and his associates.
The well-to-do people who passed The Bartholomew nights were confiscated good clothes, gold jewelry, supplies of bread, money, transferred to the smallest room without mattresses and blankets, and to avoid starvation, left them potato peels. People deprived of all rights, clothing and food, could not help grumbling, and even tried to take revenge on the executioners. There were cases when red Commissars suddenly disappeared during such raids…
Dzerzhinsky reported to Lenin on the disappearances of the red Commissars.
These are bourgeois terrorists! Lenin said, banging his fist on the table. – I remind you, this is unacceptable, take hostages, lock them in specially equipped basements; put up guards and if in three days they do not indicate the location of the captured Commissar, then shoot every single one – children, the elderly, the sick, fathers and mothers. If our Commissar is an important person, shoot not only the family, but also relatives: brothers and sisters.
– If we take several people hostage and shoot them, it will not do much, – expressed his thought Dzerzhinsky.
– And you take as many hostages as you can, twenty, thirty, a hundred, a whole block. And shoot everyone, but so that others can hear and see. Do not spare your cartridges, do not show bourgeois pity for the enemies of the revolution. Let it be a science for them. Go ahead, comrade Dzerzhinsky! Act, act, and act again.
His red eyes were protruding, he waved his arms, and the saliva that spattered in all directions was considered bullets that hit the enemies of the revolution.
Yes, I know what to do, Vladimir Ilyich, but this is a small experiment, another one, so to speak… with the isolation of the hosts and… potato peelings.