The Daily Worker Newspaper, April 6, 1927, Page 6

Page Six THE DAILY WORKER, NEW YORK, WEDNESDAY, APRIL 6, 1927 Blood Flows in Berlin 3y JOE BERLIN, . (By blood of along Bis cekstri green police, who rve under cial democratic chief, fired peaceful demonstrat of men, women, and children who marched to Se the a so- into protest against the fascist terror in- | d and protected by isie. 1, pa Violenec for in the ajr some time. ( 1 the worker: Germany, like the workers the world ever, will ¢ e the internatiopal proletarian holiday. The German fascists Bounced a count lemons May 8.. From all parts of the Reich the black hordes of reaction will march to Berlin. The subsidized hooligans of the nihelm have open- ly announced their plan to terrorize the workers. ' week they gave a few preliminary examples. On Sunday the workers bog, on the outs Berlin, ¢ brated the anniver of the Paris Commune. They were entertained by @ brass band of ommunists from the Rote Front rbund, a mili- tant working cla om espe cially feared and by the fascists. On the s maneuvers Both gro the same t cists attacke have an- ation for of Juter- Ary 400 fascists held 1earby town. to Berlin on brave 400 fa: 5 Commun ne day the They beat them with sticks and fle heavy poles; they threw stones at them; they fired into the small group of ur ned workers. The police at the railway station of Lichterfeld-Ost, where the fascist pogrom took did not lift a finger. Twenty of the Communists were wounded. Six of them had to be taken to the hospital. From the Lichterfeld-Ost station the fascists went on to Berlin with the ery: “Kill the Jews!” the streets. They beat up people in Often Attack. This is not an isolated incident. The anniversary of the Paris Com- mune was celebrated by workers in various parts of Germany, and in a number of places the celebrations were followed fascist pogroms. In Duisburg a gang of fascists at- tacked a small group of social demo- eratic workers. In Solingen they at- tacked Communist workers. Thousands March. Yesterday the Rote Frontkaempfer- | bund called on the workers of Berlin to demonstrate against the fascist | terror. . Thousands of workers gath- ed at the end of the Tiergarten to ch toward Friedrich Carl Platz. members of the R. F. B. and of its women’s auxiliary wore uni- forms and carried banners. The side- walks and gutter were jammed with workers—young and old, men, women and children. They were indignant over Sunday events. At the head of the R, F. B. lines stood half a dozen of Sunday's vic- tims with bandaged heads. In front of them was a line of green police on horseback. The streets were full of police in uniform and plain clothes. From the side streets there came pouring in R. F. B. workers in uni- form, on foot and in motor trucks. They carried red banners and placards. “Down with the fascist terror!” “Workers, defend yourselves May 8!” “Prepare against the danger of in- ternational war!” “Down with fascism and reaction!” “Our blood shall not flow in vain!” | Behind each contingent of R. F. B.| workers came a truckload of green police. The brass bands scattered along the R. I. B. line struck up the Internationale and the demonstration began to move, thousands of voices taking up the words, thousands of heads bared under the arclights of Berlin’s polished streets. We were marching through the bourgeois quarter of the city. The R. F. B. swung along four abreast, the workers on the sidewalks and in the gutter moved in loose formation. Ahead of us we could see the backs of the green police bouncing on their horses. An excited young man started to) run about among the front lines of the workers, urging them to push on! faster. The leader of the R. F. B. said: | “Be careful! He is a provocateur!” Murder Begins. The excited young man disappeared. The mass moved on, part of it get-| ting ahead of the R. F. B. lines. We came to a street car crossing. The police horses backed up against the crowd. The singing went on. | “Down. with the fascists!” “Down!” “Down!” “Down!” The police sabres flashed in the air. Some one scr | ‘Dogs! “Murde A shot rang out. The mass at the | * ad of the demonstration began to) Several more shots were ices began to shout: iter! Weiter!” “Keep together and march on!” We were moving along Bismarck- strasse. I looked down and saw a line of blood which continued for a block. Some wounded worker was still marching. The deep voiced mass | was still singing revolutionary songs. on “Voelker hoert die Signale, Auf zum letzten Gefecht!” | “Pure Reason.” We turned into Kantstrasse, named | after an 18th century German philos- opher who wrote a book called The | { aj | Critique of Pure Reason.... 4 At the |head of the procession the sabres }must. have been slashing again, for there s blood along the philoso- | phe: But the ma movin “Weiter! Weite’ At the Friedrich Carl Platz there e three more trucks full of green police, On the corner stood a long police officer with a long green ¢ her boots and a sword, ng the > with the exagger- ated hauteur of mplicissimus car- toon. The R. F. B. fife corps struck up “Wir sind ¢ junge Garde,” and the mass kept moving. “Rot, Front! Rot’ Front!” et, too. kept Front! Rot’ Thaelman Slashed. From that point’ the processi went on more or less peacefull Later we learned that three worke had been wounded by revolver shots, and about twenty had received sabre euts. Among the latter were Com- rade Thaelman, one of the leaders of .| the German Communist Party. Meantime a similar scene took place in Weberwiese, in the east part of the city. Several thousand work- ers gathered to march on to join the onstration in Charlottenburg. The green police charged into'them, using sabres and revolvers. One man was killed and a number wounded. Net results of the day: one dead, forty wounded. Bloodthirsty Socialists. Today, Herr Zérgiebel, chief of the Berlin police, has issued an order to his men that all wds must be dis- persed. He is a member of the Social Democratic Party. Herr Gerzinsk police president, defended last night’s murderous action of the police before the Prussian Landtag. He is also a social democrat. The Vorwaerts, of- ficial organ of the Social Democratic Party, writes today that the poor po- lice had to defend itself. The press of the extreme right publishes head- lines about a Communist. assault on the poor police. Such is stabilized Germany. i The workers are going to hold an- other demonstration in Lichterfelde- Ost tonight to protest against the white terror. The Communist Party has publicly pointed out the connec- tion of this week’s events with the fascist preparations for May 1 and 8, and with the general drive to con- solidate the power of the bourgeoisie politically as well as economically, Different in U. S. 3..R. Two weeks ago I saw an entirely different kind of demonstration. was in Moscow, the soviets were going on. Square was filled with groups of workers, comsomols and Red Army men from early morning till late at night, listening to speeches about the magnificance of the elections, the British note, the world situation. A few “milizioners” stood by directing izvoschiks to go down a side street so at not to disturb the comrades in the square. The days when the police of cap-| italists, landlords and bankers could | freight car. Half-naked, they crouched | together for warmth. The weak, sick- shoot into groups of unarmed work- ers are gone forever in Russia. In {t| of advantageous moves led by his where elections to| ‘tiend and of the two decorations Soviet | Presented to him for daring. Fragments from “The Broken Charm” A Free Translation From the Russian of A. Andreyiv. By VERA and VIOLET MITKOVSKY. Part 1 The soul matures sometimes youth and sometimes even in adol- escence, It is then one begins to feel | n the comes the desire to kindle | a then reach for another, even} brighter. Stirring events—wars, rev- olutions, hasten boyhood into youth, youth into manhood, and bring old men to senility. The native land of two youths, Tro- pin and Golubovsky, clamped for cen- | turies in the relentless charmed ‘ring, as breaking through that ring, not a cunning more fine or a magic e potent, but by force. Countless m rising millions trod the new way, followed it eagerly, firmly, relent- lessly. With them marched Tropin| and Golubovsky. Tropin, . having * « ’ All night they stumbled through ches swept their faces. Only at times Fakeyiv complained of the foot he had hurt. He was trembling and con- tinually stubbing his bare toes, “We'll die anyway.” At times he would exclaim angrily, “Why did we run away? We’ll only wander into one of their camps again. The devil knows where are troops are. They’re *re- treating. Maybe we wouldn’t have been shot, but now, we're sure to—” The giant Iversov slapped him on the shoulder with the huge paw which a few hours before had strangled the white guard. “Come, pull yourself to- gether, comrade; we'll live.” “Leave | bare-footed on the brush—the forest {ened peasant feet were swollen and in}lay near, bleeding. His powerful young body | was weakening, his spirit, falling. | Yet it was always Golubovsky who dof action, to grope for a| the forest, silently, scowling as bran-| said, | “Come, we sit too long. This is no | birthday-party.” He had eaten noth- |ing for several days and was thin, pale under his tan, but his black eyee | were still glowing and his voice firm. |Iversov gazed at Golubovsky’s tall form with fear, respect, and worship. | He thought aloud, “Yet he goes on and ; still he will not eat. What a man!” | When they halted, he gave him bits |of bread, this incomprehensible man who starved himself. At each of these j Tests the conversation never varied. | It was always the command, “Remem- ber this place. Lead them here. Are | you listening? Do you give me your glimpsed Truth, followed her with his| me alone,” Fakeyiy shrugged away.| Word to lead them back? Any regi- heart and mind, nor was he deluded. | Silence again. They stumbled along, | ment, the first: you come across. Are Golubovsky, worshipping beauty and | closing their eyes as branches brushed | You listening?” strength, went with his comrade. In the February revolution Golub- ovsky had commanded a company in| one of the first regiments to mutiny | ‘and had joined together the units of | the outlying districts of St. Peters- | burg. In the October revolution he | again took arms, this time against Kerensky, He was sincere when he| said, “It is the strength of the Bol- | sheviks I Jove. Strength is beauty and weakness is ugliness.” And the kindly Tropin answered, “There you | go again.” | With eyes smouldering gloomily | in his swarthy face, aged beyond its | years, Eugene Golubovsky would say, | “Now at the front there is no tak- | ing prisoners or giving quarter; I will get a transfer.” It was a long time since Golubovsky had laughed or joked. It was terrible | to hear him say, | “They murdered my bride on the Plesetskaia. She was a Communist. | They pinned her to the floor of a trpin with bayonets.” | “You are cruel, Gene.” As in child- | hood, Tropin spoke the words with a/ sigh. Golubovsky was finally sent to command one of the Red regiments | on the Siberian front. He rarely wrote to his chum, but Tropin often | jad news of him. Soldiers returning from the front and newspapers told - Commander Golubovsky, the regi- | mental secretary Fakeyiv, and the | courier, Iversov, escaped from the} enemy’s camp. It was a desperate | attempt, made at night, just as the train was approaching the rear of | the white army. They were nearing | a station, The prisoners, in rags, their | shoes taken from them by their cap- tors, sat with one guard in a dark * * ly Fakeyiv’s teeth were chattering and he pressed closer to Iversov, the | powerful twenty year old Siberian, | trying to gain some warmth from the the “cultured west” it will go on for| a little while until the workers take power. Booze Deaths Increase. ' strong young body. 3 | Suddenly Commander Golubovsky BALTIMORE, Md., April 5.—The | whispered into Iversov’s ear, death rate from alcoholism has “Es- | ” ; a creased over 900 percent in Baltimor SADE). Ray Mts area TO 8 from 1900 to 1926, Health Commis- sioner Jones said today. There were four alcoholic deaths in the city in 1920 and 74 from alcoholicism in 1926 Jones said. Worker and Wife Killed by Gas. John Burtha, a laborer, and his wife, Mary, each fifty years old, were found dead from gas poisoning in bed in their furnished room at 55 Con- | They found themselves in the shadow cord street, Brooklyn, yesterday. © answer, added, “By the throat.” The whisper was still as a thought. Iver- sov rose noiselessly. Feet shuffled, a | rifle rattled, and in a second the la- | boring gasps ceased. Golubovsky ran his bayonet twice through the guard | and left it there, pinning him to the | floor. The train whistle sounded—the station! They jumped from the mov- ling train. Fakeyiv nearly broke his leg. He was clumsy and frightened. of the train, half-naked, standing “Bob,” a mongrel (a cross between a collie and an niredale) stood guard all night in the rain over his friend, a white poodle, which had been injured by an auto in New York's busy streets and , then shot to death by a policeman, “Bob” even dragged the dead dog to shelter. The veterinarian pictured here finally coaxed “Bob” iway and now has adopted him, giving him the freedom of his dog sanitarium with all its comforts, | by. In the morning they rested. “Not enough food. Bad.” Iversov shook his head. “Do you know these parts?” Gol- ubovsky asked him. “Not very well. But farther on is our country. We'll reach it, Comrade Commander.” A smile spread over Iversov’s fat, kindly face. “We can't reach it,” said Golubov- sky quietly. “One might, but three— impossible.” Golubovsky drew up his great height. His voice rang out as clearly as a short time ago when command- ing his regiment: “Iversov! One of us must reach our territory that he may lead our troops to the rear of the enemy’s larmy. Its right flank is weak. Even a small company, preferably cavalry, entering the rear, might decide mat- ters for us oa this front. Iversov! remember this path as well as you can. You know the tundra better than I know the streets of St. Petersburg. Come, divide the food into tiny por- tions, one for each day. If you eat it all at once you won't be able to crawl half the'way. Understand?” “How? I alone? Iversov did not understand. “There is barely enough for you alone—you are stronger than we. “He,” Golubovsky pointed at Fakeyiv, “he certainly couldn’t live through it!” And I—you know yourself I had a contusion lately and have been wound- ed. Then you know this country.” ‘Commander, Commander, . . . “Stop! I will go on with you as far as I can without food. As for | him,” he pointed at Fakeyiv, “he can go no farther. We’ll tie him to a tree, Iversov, or he will return to the whites and ruin himself, us, and, what mat- ters most, our plans. He'll be afraid to die in the forest and would go back to hell itself. I know him—a coward.” “Comrade Commander! Impossible! If we die, we all die, if we go on, we go on together. How can we tie a man to a tree?” exclaimed Iversov rapidly. “Comrade Golubovsky!” staggered on his swollen feet. white face was convulsed. “Comrade Iversov! Remember, we are no longer prisoners. I am issu- ing a military command. Bind Fakey- iv!” thundered the voice at the sound of which but lately three hundred men had frozen into position or as one man dashed into battle. He con- tinued quietly but firmly, “Iversov! 1 saved you at Belash. Don’t stop to save me now, save the cause and your- self. Save yourself that you may save the cause. You will lead our men back. The matter is clear: three die or one goes on. Silence Iversov! You are to be married. Remember, you told me?” Even more quietly he went on, “Remember—Katia, Iversov? You must save yourself for her sake. Why argue? Can three walk ten days and nights on one day’s rations? You alone, eating a little, can make it. I am still your commander. We are not in prison.. For the last time I repeat, I am issuing a military order.” * * * Frenzied scolding, prayers, and curses streamed from Fakeyiv’s lips. Weak, narrow-chested, with swollen feet, he was being crushetl by Iver- sov’s firm, heavy-boned bulk. “Tighter,” Golubovsky was saying. “Comrades! Dear comrades! Ah-h-! What does this mean? Oh—oh! Com ...Com...“Golubovsky was stuffing his mouth with a crumpled, torn-off shirt sleeve. “Ooo-00-00.” He clenched his teeth. ° “Stop this! Open your mouth,” said Golubovsky. Trembling against the tree-trunk, Fakeyiv desperately wrig- gled his head. Gazing up at him, his eyes filled with tears, lversov was binding his feet with strips of torn- off clothing. ; “Force his mouth open.” The tear- ful brown eyes were brimming over. “Fool. He'll scream.” Iversov lowered his eyes and a great sob shook his large frame. Tears streaked his round, sun-burnt young cheeks. He raised two dirty red hands, each larger than the small face he was now clamping between them. “Com. . . Com. . .00. .oo, .”” Fakeyiv caught at the fingers with his teeth. “Oo. .oo. .” Huge firm hands forced open the pow- erless jaws. * Fakeyiv Hfs They went on again—-now two. They rested only when too tired to move. It was always Golubovsky who stopped, but not for long. They went on again, curling their bare toes as they stepped on rough stumps and prickly shrubs. Even Iversov’s hard- | “T am listening, Comrade Command- er.” Then Iversov would whine in the tone of a beggar, “Comrade com- mander, eat just a little. I won't go on alone. How can I go on alone?” Or, himself hungry, he would reso- lutely refuse to eat. “I won’t eat if you kill me. I don’t want any food. If you stare, I starve with you.” The unchanging answer was always, “You old woman! Why don’t you start cry- ing? Dishrag—no soldier.” “How can I? I’m not an animal. A man starving and I. .” “And you're a fool,” said Golubovsky sharply. Then a minute later, “You wont then?” “Alone, no.” “Then let us go on.” The bread was left behind on a stump —all they had. “Comrade Command- er,” said the piteous voice behind Gol- ubovsky. “Well?” The large brown eyes looked like those of a suffering horse. Golubovsky turned his back on. them. “We are not going to a ball. Come, take the bread.” As they went on, he said sharply over his shoulder, “Let this be the last time. I’m no peevish girl to be talked around.” Day came. They had not gone a mile since morning before Golubovsky sat down on a stump. Iversoy, silent and hiding his fear, gazed at the pale face tinged with yellow and at the laboring bony chest. He tried to rise— sank down again. “Rest, man, rest,” said Iversov quietly, then sighed. The voice and the sigh were full of pity, “Prokopi,” suddenly called Golub- ovsky. Long ago, when on the com- manding staff, he had called his fa- vorite so, by his Christian name. Iv- ersov became uneasy. His voice shook. “What is it? He forgot to add the customary Comrade Commander. | “Go on—I can’t. You'll reach it now.” He laid his head on the mossy stump as though it were a pillow. A slight breeze rose. The bushes shiv- ered and rustled above the up-turned face. Iversov shuddered, He knelt by the stump, there in the holly bushes, with that face, so“well known but Fragments from the Broken to curb crime. Chief among the now unrecognizable. Only the eyes remained the same—black stones, not eyes. “Comrade Commander, do as you please, I won’t leave you. I can carry you. I have strength enough.” spoke rapidly, gulping. “Honestly, there are only two days left. Come, eat a piece. There is some left, see. Eat it or I'll force you to and then earry you. My back is strong and my feet—look, they can stand it. Com- on ie tae Scarce audibly but firmly, “Go, don’t waste time.” Iversov’s inner struggle was great. He clasped his head between his -hands, his teeth chattering. Suddenly he began to weep and mumble like an old woman wailing over a corpse. “Oh, oh, ai, ai, it makes my heart sick. O my friend, my comrade. How often you have saved me. At Belash you received a bullet for me. And now again. You'll starve for me, a fool. You are needed, an educated man, a commander. Gol- ubovsky’s voice was still stern as he answered, “Hound! Traitor! Stop philandering around. Go!” “Comrade Commander, I can’t go alone.” The thin face smiled for the first time in years. “Pity is a weak- ness. Crush it.” The holly leaves rustled above the calm face. “Forgive me, Comrade Commander. Good-bye.” “Go, then, go.” The uncertain steps serunched a short distance along the moss, then returned. “Oh, what shall Ido? What shall I do? Golubovsky’s voice was but a part of the rustling breeze, “Here again? Go, I say.” Iversov turned and disappeared, run- ning swiftly. ‘ A few days later a company of cav- alry, guided by a Red Army soldier, lately escaped from the enemy, enter- ed the forest. After a long search they suddenly came upon the body of bad regimental commander, Golubov- sky. His eyes had been pecked out. (To be continued) Robbed of $40,000. CHICAGO, April 5.—P. H. Wett- stein, New York jewelry salesman, to. day was robbed of $40,000 in gems by eight armed men riding in an auto- mobile. He Toscanini Conducts Philharmonic. Artuso Toscanini, the composer, has been retained as regular conductor of the philharmonie orchestra, it was announced yesterday, He will take the baton next January. Read The Daily Worker Every Day | ~ iaeranecaloresceiaeeabrbierle Tie \ FOOTN By EUGENE LYONS = OTESHE NEWS IMPERIALIST HYMN Onward Christian nations With guns and Poison gas, Forward Christian soldiers For Mammon, God and jazz. Teach the yellow heathen With Christian shot and shell Respect for Christian Powers And fear of Christian hell. Don’t they like As it is run by Then let them old China us? ‘ leave their country. And make no heathen fuss. The stars and stripes forever, + Also the union jack, Beneath their folds we'll plunder And live on China’s back. —ADOLF WOLFF. How To Be Comfortably Dead. (If you have the price) “100 years from now,” the exclusive Fairview Mausoleum of Fairview, N. J., heads an advertisement which then reads: “Where will today’s cemeteries be? way as most of those that Gone, the same existed a hundred years ago. Fairview, Mausoleum with its huge endowment fund for perpetuay’ upkeep will be more glorious than ever—with its forty-three hundred peaceful dead.” Not to be outdone, the Kensico Cemetery announces: “The New Kensico Mausoleum-has been completed more than a year. It is a beautiful, heated and lighted building with an atmosphere of luxury and comfort. In- definite tise may be arranged for.” The prospects for indefinite use will be especially. attractive to well-to-do corpses. Note on the Age of Specialization—The New York World puts this caption over a story on the city’s new police chief: “WARREN TO LEAVE CRIME TO POLICE.” Some More About Liberals—Take the tragic events at Nanking. Tragic, of course, for a great many reasons. epochal world-circling reasons. Big Above all in revealing the de- liberate intention of the British imperialists to frustrate the Chinese revolution—any pretext (or no pretext) for drawing the other powers into supporting its designs; British bomb planes ready to blow up the Chinese arsenals; tanks ready to mow down the workers; ships ready to blockade the Yangtse and choke populous cities to death. The Nanking affair calls up a picture of giant forces preparing for giant struggles. But how does a liberal react to this picture? Norman Thomas in the “New Leader” leads off a piece on it with these words: “The Nanking incident was in itself tragic and disap- pointing to those who had high hopes of the discipline and re- straint of the Nationalist army.” Until this happened, of course, we all thought that the Chinese civil war was being fought with wooden swords and bread pellets for the entertainment of kind- hearted and sympathetic observers. Furthermore, Mr. Thomas is annoyed because “the whole affair has been grossly exag- gerated all over the world”—exaggerated in Russia to the dis- credit of the imperialist bombers; exaggerated in the rest of the world to the discedit of the Chinese. He fails to grasp that these exaggerations—like the shootings themselves—are only minor signs of a great clash of interests, mere sparks thrown off by blazing emotions on both sides. Thus always the liberal permits a secondary consideration, a breach of etiquette or some big and the significant facts. runs from the ®cene crying for A Trium; human is on and no chance of anybody peeping. Religious Note.—Recording the petty annoyance to blot out the He is quickly “disappointed” and “moderate sentiment.” of Civilization—Our notion of the completely “suppressed” who eats fried chicken with knife and fork when all alone accomplishments of a local evangelist, the pious “Offenbacherzeitung” says: “The subject of the inauguration sermon was the immaculate conception of Mary, which was delivered terfully by Prater Gerhard.” A Greenwich Villager Calls On The Statue of Liberty. (Note for the provincial readers: Greenwich Village is a state of insipidity.) “Well,” the Villager breathed to his vis-a-vis, as he gently replaced the lace handkerchief into a well-cut sleeve, “my dear, you are delightful. And so well preserved! There are such fine lines in your face. I really believe that you write poetry. Bu’ then again, you shouldn’t hold your arm in the air, It spoils the alignment of your pose. artistic. It is in- And it makes you look dumb and athletic, like a prizefighter, or a baseball pitcher warming up. I can see that you are not at all blase, or shall I say sophisticated? Really, you are quite naive, like an adolescent who writes poetry. “No, I can’t find the time, “But I mean as a sideline, of art?” I do believe you write poetry?” I must pose for artists al) day.” do you go in for any other form “Art never is a sideline. In my spare time I decorate.” “You do? That's fine. Interior decorating?” — “Oh, no. I decorate the harbor.” , “What's that? I never heard of it.” _ “Go on, now, get out of here, you make me sick. yourself. You're a nuisance. Go hide The revolution’s coming.” “But you mustn’t be so impolite and inhospitable. - Why, you haven't even offered me a example of your work.” cup of tea yet, nor shown me an ““Oh, all right, you win.” And she decorated his eye a beau- tiful shade of blue. And since the Villager missed his boat back, he was drowned trying to swim back, not having had any experience with ocean water, or, for that matter, any other kind. ~—H. C. SCHWARE. ) j | } \ ¥ |