The Novocherkassk Tragedy, June 1-3 1962.

by Piotr Suda

(Piotr Siuda was one of the participants in the workers
uprising in Novocherkassk in 1962. After several years of
imprisonment he devoted himself to investigating tha tragedy
and bringing information about it to the public. This became
possible only after the beginning of glasnost. This article
is part of a longer piece which appeared originally in 1988
in samizdat magazine, "Obschina".)

In the 1950's industrial wages in the USSR were arbitrarily
lowered almost every year. These decreases allowed officials
to publish statistics indicating increases in labor
efficiency, automation and mechanization, decreases in the
cost of production without corresponding new capital
investment, and improvements in organization and in
technology. In capitalist countries, if a corporation tried
to improve its financial showings by lowering wages, the
workers would respond with protests and strikes. In the
USSR, however, the working class was unable for decades to
struggle in defence of its own interests. The
democratization of the late 1950's was really a way for the
authorities to fool the working masses into hoping for a
genuine dialogue with state and party officials. The
Novocherkassk tragedy exposed the fraud and hypocrisy of the
criminal totalitarian regime.
On January 1, 1962, wages were lowered by 30 to 35 percent
at the largest electrolocomotive plant in Novocherkassk
(NEVZ). The last shop in the plant where wages were
scheduled to be lowered was the steel shop. By that time
workers in the other shops had somehow become accustomed to
the constant infringement on their rights but for the
workers in the steel foundry the cut in wages was a fresh
insult.
On the morning of June 1 the government radio announced that
there would be a sharp "temporary" increase in the price of
meat and dairy products (up to 35%). It was an unexpected
and severe attack on the standard of living of all working
people in the USSR and was bound to produce general
discontent. But there were other circumstances which also
contributed to the strike at NEVZ.
City and factory authorities had long been neglecting the
severe housing problem at NEVZ. What construction that had
taken place was grossly inadequate and the cost of lodging
in the private sector amounted to about 30 percent of a
worker's monthly wages.
Because Novocherkassk was, at that time, considered a city
of students, very little meat and butter were delivered to
the government stores and they were too expensive at the
market. The new increase in state prices led to an increase
over the already very high prices for food at the market.
On the way to the plant that morning the workers discussed
the price increases with great indignation and in the steel
shop the workers gathered in small groups and feverishly
discussed the announced price increases but also the recent
lowering of wages. No one, however, thought at that time of
protests, meetings, or strikes. The workers had neither
organization nor leadership and were afraid of the very idea
of trying to liberate themselves from the political and
social slavery imposed on the working people of the USSR by
stalinism.
It is probable that the discontented grumblings of the
workers reached the ears of the party committee and the
plant director, because the director, Kurochkin, and the
party secretary visited the steel shop to speak to the
workers. It was not, however, a business-like dialogue but
an arrogant, lordly monologue. As the director spoke to the
group of workers surrounding them, a women approached
holding meat pies and Kurochkin, trying to be clever, said
to the workers: "You don't have any money, so eat meat pies
with liver." This remark was the very spark that brought
about the tragedy of Novocherkassk. This event concentrated
and reflected the whole spectrum of the social, political
and material situation of the working people of the USSR.
The workers were outraged by the director's insensitivity
and they divided into groups and began shouting: "Bloody
swine, they are jeering at us!" One group went to the plant
compressor shop and switched on the plant whistle. V.I.
Tchernykh and V.K. Vlasenko were in that group. Another
group went round the shops of the plant with appeals to stop
all work and to call a strike.
It is necessary to note that neither at the beginning of the
strike, nor during the ensuing events of June 1-3, were any
groups formed that could have taken responsibility for the
organization and direction of the workers' actions. All the
events took place on the spot, spontaneously. The initiative
bubbled up from below, from the mass of workers. No
outsiders had anything to do with the events. This testifies
to the absence of workers representation in the face of the
unlimited power usurped by the stalinist officialdom. And
from this we must conclude that a situation in which the
working class lacks the will to struggle is intolerable.
There was no need to campaign for the strike among the
workers of the plant. It was enough for the group which
called for a strike to appear, and work stopped immediately.
The mass of strikers was growing like an avalanche. At that
time there were about 14 thousand workers at the plant. The
workers went out to the plant grounds and filled the square
near the plant management office. The square could not hold
all the strikers.
A group of workers removed some bars from the fence
surrounding the square and used them to barricade the
railway line leading to the plant; they hung some red cloth
over it. Thus the Moscow-Saratov train was stopped, and
railway traffic on that part of the line was interrupted. By
interrupting railway traffic the workers were trying to
spread information about their strike along the railway
line.
On the initiative of the plant metal craftsman V.I.
Tchernykh, his comrade, the shop painter V.D.Koroteev,
painted posters with demands like: "Give us meat and
butter," "We need apartments." These posters were fastened
to one of the trolley posts at the railway which was being
electrified. Someone wrote on the locomotive of the
passenger train: "Make meat from Khrushchev!" This slogan
also appeared in some other places. The second and third
shift workers and the inhabitants of the workers' villages
began to flow towards the plant.
Neither the party organs nor administration of the plant or
the authorities tried to negotiate with the workers. The
leading engineer at the plant, S.N. Yolkin, tried to speak
to the workers on his own initiative; he had no authority to
hold negotiations and made neither promises nor assertions,
but only tried to convince the workers to stop the riot and
begin working. The indignant workers dragged him into the
back of a truck and tried to demand  a real solution to the
problems from him. I also asked him questions and this was
later used against me at my trial.
At about noon the word spread amongst the strikers: "The
militia has come!" All the people rushed to the railroad and
towards the militia. I was at the front of the crowd and
when I reached the railroad, I looked around. What I saw was
very impressive. About 350-400 metres of the railway were
submerged beneath a menacing and dense wave of people and
about 200-250 metres beyond the railway line more than 100
militiamen were forming two ranks. The vehicles which had
delivered them were turning around on the vacant lot. On
seeing the menacing wave of people the militia ranks
dissolved immediately. The militiamen rushed after the
vehicles which were turning around and jumped in confusion
into the moving trucks. Only two militiamen failed to
escape; their knees were shaking, either with fear or from
running. The wave of strikers did not overtake the
militiamen who managed to make a cowardly escape and who
left their two comrades at fate's mercy. But wrathful as
they were, the workers were not violent; they did not even
touch the remaining militiamen and saw them off with the
advice not to poke their noses into strikes. I was an eye-
witness, so I can confidently assert that the author of the
article "Days of Darkness, Days of Enlightenment" is lying
when he declares that "several militiamen were wounded".
They could only have been wounded by themselves during their
panic-stricken attempts to board the trucks. Neither should
the strikers be slandered today. This episode showed both
the unlimited cowardice of "the law and order service" and
the working people's hatred towards them. This episode also
showed the noble spirit of the working people who did not
touch their enemies when they saw their impotence.
We later learned that the militiamen were given plain
clothes to wear instead of uniforms and they were sent into
the crowd of strikers. These cowards are inevitably mean and
insidious, so they were sent into the crowd of workers as to
make better use of their nature. KGB men were also sent
there; they were supplied with miniature cameras, built into
lighters, cigarette cases, and who knows what else. Photos
were also taken from the fire-tower. Later, during the
inquest, I saw piles of photos of thousands of strikers. The
well-oiled machinery of the police state worked almost
perfectly.
Attempts were also made to provoke the strikers. June 1 was
a clear, hot day. There were no sources of water near the
plant grounds. I remember the painful thirst felt by
everybody but nobody left the square. The people were united
by their faith in their power and in the fairness of their
demands. At that moment a truck heavily loaded with boxes of
lemonade, approached the square. The temptation was immense
for everybody but not a single bottle was taken from the
truck. Railway traffic was paralyzed completely, but the
truck with the lemonade was allowed to go through the whole
crowd of many thousands of thirsty people. The provocation
failed.
By the end of the work day the first military detachments of
the Novocherkassk garrison arrived at the square but they
were not armed. Having approached the people, the soldiers
were immediately absorbed by the crowd. The soldiers and the
strikers began to fraternize, to embrace and kiss each
other. Yes, they kissed each other. It was difficult for the
officers to separate the soldiers from  the people, to
gather them and to take them away from the strikers. After
some time, the first secretary of the Rostov district CPSU
committee Basov tried to speak from the balcony of the plant
management office wing which was being built. He was
surrounded by officials. The cowardice of the party
officials was not only obvious to everyone, but also
insulting. Nobody wanted to speak to the strikers on equal
terms, which testified to their extreme subjugation and lack
of any rights. The strikers threw various objects at Basov
and his toadies but they were, literally, high above the
mass of the working people, so it was impossible to hit
them.
Then the armoured carriers with officers began to arrive at
the square. The authorities had determined that the soldiers
of the Novocherkassk garrison were unreliable, and decided
to rely upon the officers. It was a small-scale civil war.
The officers literally felt the strength of the workers'
hands. The workers were swinging the armoured carriers from
side to side with amazing ease. The colonels and majors
rocking on their seats and trying to keep self-control
presented a pitiful sight. The confusion and fear on their
faces showed that they could not stop the people's wrath
either. The armoured carriers left the square. The unarmed,
disorganized workers were so far winning one victory after
another with seaming ease, due only to their numerical
strength and the unity of their outrage, without any direct
violence or extremism. This very fact frightened the
"leaders" and rulers, the party and state officials, most of
all. The people had risen from their knees!
The strikers' enthusiasm did not decrease; on the contrary,
it increased with each new attempt to suppress their
actions. A spontaneous meeting sprang up. The peak of a
pedestrian tunnel served as a platform. At the meeting there
were appeals to send workers to other cities, to other
enterprises, to seize the city post-office and telegraph in
order to send appeals for support for the strike of electric
locomotive builders to every city. It was then that we first
heard that the roads to the city were blocked by the militia
and the troops.
I did not intend to speak at the meeting but I was alarmed
by the appeals to seize government offices. I  remembered
all to well the accounts of those who had taken part in the
events in Hungary and in Georgia. Attempts to capture
government offices in the city could have terrible
consequences. Later the authorities characterized these
appeals as calls to seize power in the city and this absurd
assertion worked so magically that up until recently I did
not even try to dispute such nonsense. On hearing the calls
to seize government offices, I appealed to the workers to
continue the strike and to maintain discipline. I suggested
that the next day everybody should go hold a demonstration
in the city, work out common demands and present these
demands to the authorities. The appeal to seize government
offices was rejected completely. It was decided to have a
demonstration in the city the next morning. This fact alone
shows that the events in the city were not accompanied by
any kind of extremism or violence against the authorities.
Later, neither the investigators nor the court could find
(hard as they tried) any proof of extremism or violence
aside from two insignificant cases. The first case concerned
the chief engineer of the plant, S.N. Yolkin, who was
forcefully dragged into a truck, but  was not beaten. The
second case concerned the communist Braginsky, who received
a few earboxes from his subordinates; but they did not
inflict any trauma and it was not necessary for him to see a
doctor.
Late that evening, when the workers' wrath had reached its
highest level but they still had no concrete means of
expressing it, they took Khrushchev's portrait down from the
facade of the plant management office. Then they went
through all the rooms, took down all the portraits and threw
them into a heap in the square and made a large, smoky fire.
The crowd near the plant began to break up as it was
beginning to get dark. At that time a group of workers
headed by a wonderful man, Sergei Sotnikov, went to the gas-
distributing station in order to block the delivery of gas
to the industrial enterprises of the city but they were
unable to do it.
At 5 o'clock in the morning I was awakened by the noise of
tanks and left for the plant. About 400-500 metres from the
railway, the villagers began to gather in small groups of 5-
15 people. I came up to the group standing nearest to the
railway, about 300-350 metres from it. We all observed that
the railway along the plant and the plant itself were
surrounded by soldiers with sub-machine guns. Near the plant
and the Locomotivstroi railway station there were tanks.
The people told me that at about midnight the troops and the
tanks had been brought into the city, the village and the
plant. They said  that during the night the inhabitants had
tried to build barricades from improvised materials in front
of the tanks, but that the tanks had overcome them easily.
Then the workers began to jump onto the moving tanks and to
cover the observation slits with their clothes as to blind
them.
An officer and a soldier armed with a sub-machine gun
approached our group. The group dissolved quickly except for
5 to 7 people who remained. The wrangling with the officer
began. He demanded that we go to the plant. We refused,
saying,"let the troops which have seized the plant do the
work". During this heated exchange we failed to notice that
two sub-machine gunners had appeared behind us. We were
arrested and delivered to the plant management office.
Around us there were many soldiers from the Caucasus,
officers, civilians, and KGB officers. The latter met me
with malicious joy, saying they had long been "waiting" for
me and were glad to meet me. I was soon delivered to the
GOVD (City Department of Internal Affairs) by car, escorted
by three men as well as the driver; there a large staff of
officials was busily engaged in suppressing the uprising.
During the drive the men in the car swung their fists in
front of me, threatened me, and insulted me.
More and more arrested people were brought to the GOVD. I
was led to a room where about six officials were seated. A
brief interrogation was held. They demanded a promise from
me that I would not take part in the "mass riots". I
answered that I would do the same as the majority of
workers. They suggested that I think it over and dismissed
me. I heard the tension and nervousness increase behind the
door. The telephones were ringing incessantly. The order was
issued that no large assemblies be allowed. I understood
that I had made a mistake and gotten into trouble, so I
asked to see the officials again and began to tell them that
I had thought it over and would not take part in the
disturbances. But, due to my young age, I failed to keep
back a malicious smile, and that gave me away. I was brought
to the cell, and after 15-20 minutes put into a Black Maria
together with five other men and sent to Bataisk, a town 52
kilometres from Novocherkassk. From that moment my
participation in the Novocherkassk tragedy ended. I spent
long months and years under investigative isolation in the
cells of the KGB, in the Novocherkassk prison and in a
concentration camp together with the active participants of
the further events. I did all I could to reconstruct little
by little the course of the ensuing events. I checked and
re-checked, compared all the facts, the smallest details, so
I can vouch for the accuracy of this account.

In the morning the workers of the first shift, and of other
shifts as well, came to the plant. The plant was crowded
with soldiers. Tanks were standing near the gates. There
were outsiders in the shops - soldiers and civilians,
evidently KGB men. In spite of the demands to disperse, the
workers were gathering in groups. Their indignation and
wrath were growing. A group of workers began to leave the
work area, to leave the shops. Everybody was seized by
elemental rage. The small groups began to merge into large
ones. This process could not be stopped by anyone. The
larger groups began to move towards the entrance of the
factory. The courtyard of the plant could not hold all the
workers. The pressure on the gates was increasing. The
workers swung the gates open by force and flooded the
square. They remembered the meeting the day before and the
appeals for a demonstration. Many thousands of people
started for the city. The way was long: it was 12 kilometres
from the plant to the city centre. Some of the workers went
to other plants with appeals to support the strike. The
appeals were readily answered by the builders, the workers
of the electrode plant, the Neftemash (oil industry machine)
plant and some smaller enterprises. Columns of marchers were
converging on the city from everywhere and there appeared
red flags, portraits of Lenin. The demonstrators were
singing revolutionary songs. Everybody was excited, full of
belief in their power and in the fairness of their demands.
The column of demonstrators was becoming larger and larger.
While approaching the bridge across the railway and the
Toozlov river, the demonstrators noticed a cordon of two
tanks and armed soldiers on the bridge. The column slowed to
a standstill and the revolutionary singing died down. Then
the dense mass of people moved slowly forward.  Outcries
were heard: "Give way to the working class!" Then the shouts
merged into a powerful, unified chant. The soldiers and the
tankmen  not only did not try to stop the column of
marchers, but actually helped the people get over the tanks.
The stream of people flowed on both sides of the bridge
cordon. The excitement grew. The revolutionary songs grew
louder, more harmonious and more powerfull.
The demonstration reached Moskovskaya Street, the main
street in the city. I will not even try to estimate the
number of demonstrators but everyone agreed that the large
city square in front of the CPSU committee (the former
palace-office of the ataman of the Don Army), the most part
of Moskovskaya street, and part of Podtyolkov Prospect were
crowded with people.
The demonstrators were seething in front of the city CPSU
committee building. The building itself was full of soldiers
from the Caucasus. The demonstrators exchanged heated
remarks with the soldiers through the door. One Caucasian
lost his temper, broke the glass of the door with the butt
of his sub-machine gun and through the hole struck a woman
with it. Under the pressure of the indignant demonstrators,
the door of the building swung open. The crowd broke through
and scattered the soldiers. The one who had struck the woman
appeared under the staircase. According to some reports he
was beaten black and blue. It was the only case of beating a
representative of the state or of the armed forces that had
captured the city. The City Committee building was
completely occupied by the demonstrators. They rushed into
one of the rooms. On the table there was cognac and rich
refreshments, and the table was set for two. Nobody could
escape from the room, although, according to some stories,
during the seizure of the committee by the demonstrators
many civilians jumped out of the second floor windows;
evidently these were the KGB men. There was nobody in the
room and the workers began to search it. Behind the sofa
they found the public prosecutor from the district
prosecutor's office and A.N. Shelepin was hiding in the
bookcase. Wasn't it his guard that had jumped out of the
window so courageously? The demonstrators began to drag
Shelepin and the prosecutor to the balcony, demanding that
they speak before the people but they refused. Then the
demonstrators took the cognac and the refreshments and
showed them from the balcony for everybody to see. A rally
began.
Y.P. Levchenko spoke at the rally. She reported that at
night and in the morning the arrests of the strikers had
taken place and that the arrested had been beaten. She was
telling the truth but she could hardly know that many of
those arrested were already far from the city. The demands
to liberate the prisoners became more and more persistent. A
group of workers went to the offices of the city militia. It
was also full of Caucasian soldiers. The demonstrators began
to push themselves into the building. The door swung open
and the demonstrators rushed into the building. At that
moment one of the soldiers brandished a sub-machine gun at a
worker in blue overalls. The latter grabbed the gun and a
struggle began. The sub-machine gun appeared in the worker's
hands but the soldier had the sub-machine gun's ammunition
clip. The gun in the worker's hands could serve only as a
cudgel but he did not use it even in that capacity yet the
soldiers were commanded to open fire and the worker was
killed on the spot. Not a single bullet is likely to have
been wasted: the crowd was too dense. And the crowd in the
city department building was seized with panic.
One of the participants in these events who was later
imprisoned, Alexander Teremkov, who was wounded in the
shoulder-blade by a ricochet, told me in the concentration
camp that they had been compelled to pile up the bodies in
the cellar of the neighbouring State Bank, and that they
were still alive, jerking their arms and legs. Who knows,
maybe some of them could have been saved. None of the
participants could give even an approximate number of the
dead.

The soldiers near the party committee building were also
ordered to open fire, though there had been no assault, no
violence there. Curious children were sitting high in the
trees in a small public garden in front of the party
committee. Behind them stood a monument to Lenin...
Several witnesses reported that the officer who had been
ordered to open fire, refused to give the order to the
soldiers and shot himself in front of the formation. But
nevertheless the soldiers opened fire. First upwards, at the
trees, at the children who fell down, killed, wounded,
frightened. In such a way the party, the state and the army
were eradicating different trends of thought, asserting the
unity of the party and the people, proving the democratic
character of the socialist state. Then the machine guns were
pointed at the crowd.
People have told me: an elderly man was running by a
concrete vase on a pedestal. A bullet struck his head and
his brains were instantly splashed all over the pedestal. A
mother was walking by a store carrying a dead baby. A
hairdresser was killed at her work-place. A girl was lying
in a pool of blood. A dumbfounded major stepped into this
blood. Somebody said to him: "You swine, look where you are
standing!" The major shot himself on the spot. People have
told me a lot but I will stop here.

Trucks and buses were driven to the site. The corpses were
hastily thrown and thrust into them. Not a single  body was
given to the family to be buried. The hospitals were crowded
with wounded. Nobody knows what became of them. The blood
was washed from the streets by fire engines but dark stains
of blood remained on the asphalt for a long time.
I have heard about this shooting more than once. People have
told me: the soldiers are opened fire, the panic-stricken
crowd began running. The firing stopped - the crowd stopped
too and crawled slowly back. The soldiers began firing
again. Everything was repeated. Up till now the number of
dead, crippled and wounded is unknown.
No, the uprising was still not suppressed. The crowd in the
square continued to seethe. Terrible rumours were spreading
all over the city. Some people were leaving the square,
others were entering. Information was received that members
of the Political Bureau of the CPSU and the government had
arrived at the city. Among them were A.I. Mikoyan, and F.R.
Kozlov. Without any elections, spontaneously, a delegation
from the demonstrators was formed. The representatives of
the Central Committee and the government were afraid of the
working masses. They were hiding near the tank unit. The
delegation went there. Delegate B.N. Mokrousov recited a
poem by Nekrasov called " Who lives well in Russia" to the
representatives of the Central Committee and the government
modified so as to concern Khrushchev's rule, Khrushchev's
and Brezhnev's. This was the main reason that the Supreme
Court of the RSFSR, under the chairmanship of L.N. Smirnov,
sentenced him to be shot.
It has been reported that on hearing about the tragedy
Kozlov wept. Possibly, but these were crocodile tears.
Mikoyan demanded that the demonstrators allow the tanks to
leave the square, after which he would speak. When this
demand was told to the demonstrators they answered clearly:
"No! Let them look at their handiwork!" They did look at
their handiwork - in the light of a helicopter which was
flying over the square and the adjoining streets.
Mikoyan spoke on the municipal radio station. The
newscasters, even the local one, uttered not a single word
about the events. A curfew was imposed. Rumours began to
spread about a possible banishment of all the citizens. But
the tragedy was not over. A period of trials followed.
The most blatantly cruel was the trial of 14 of the
participants in the strike and rallies. This trial was held
in the military garrison KKUKS. Seven of the fourteen were
sentenced to be shot - sentenced to death by the Supreme
Court of the RSFSR with L.I. Smirnov presiding and with the
participation of prosecutor A.A. Kruglov. They were
prosecuted for banditism according to Article 77 of the
RSFSR Criminal Code and for mass riots according to Article
79 of the RSFSR Criminal Code.
The tendency of such prosecutions was obvious. People with
previous convictions were picked out from the participants
first of all. At another trial a person with evident mental
defects was convicted. The only goal was to compromise the
Novocherkassk uprising by any means.
Already in the prison cells after the trials we made
attempts to figure out the number of convicts by counting
them by name. It amounted to no less than 105 people. The
exact number remains unknown. The trials were lavish
considering the sentences; the most common were for 10 to 15
years.
It should be admitted that in the KGB cells we were treated
with extreme politeness but the isolation from the external
world was absolute: No radio, no newspapers. In the carpeted
corridors the warders' steps were noiseless and the dead
silence was oppressing. An electric light was burning day
and night. The food, however, was plentiful and substantial,
better than we had outside where the situation with food was
very hard.
At first they demanded evidence on the Novocherkassk
tragedy, but they stopped on realizing that they would get
nothing from me. Then they began to insist on a "little
thing" - that I should admit that the events were criminal
and that my participation in them was a mistake. But by that
time I had already got to know about the terrible tragedy in
Novocherkassk. It was impossible to give in then. It was I
who had called for continuing the strike and for a
demonstration, and I fully realized my responsibility for
the deaths. Giving in would have been the vilest treason. I
refused to be freed at such a cost. Then they began to work
on me.
I repeat that in the KGB I was neither beaten nor tortured,
they treated me with extreme courtesy and spoke in a polite
manner. The other people under investigation were at first
strongly convinced that their cases were coming to an end
and each of them would soon be set free. Then the person
under investigation who had been fooled in such a way was
placed in my cell. Such neighbours could think about nothing
but their coming freedom. And when they were called upon
with baggage, they were happy. I must point out that the
cells were designed for two. Then another fooled neighbour
was brought. It is terrible for a young man to stay alone,
completely isolated from the external world, and to see that
all the participants of the Novocherkassk tragedy are
returning safely to liberty, that liberty was quite
accessible - it was enough to weaken one's resolve a bit.
The only trouble was that all the dreamers who had believed
the KGB appeared later as convicts in the prison cells and
concentration camps where I met them. But at that time it
was also hard on me; I also believed. I was in my 25th year
and I could not bear it any more. In the cells we were
allowed to have an abundance of cigarettes and matches. I
had heard that it was possible to poison oneself with a
sulphur match. Secretly, so that even my neighbour noticed
nothing, I crumbled the sulphur from 20 match-boxes. I
waited till he fell asleep, dissolved the sulphur in the
water and took the mug to my lips. But the warders turned
out to have seen what the neighbour had not seen. Before I
managed to make a gulp, the door opened noiselessly and the
mug was on the floor. I need not describe the further
scenes. Let everybody imagine them in their own way. They
stopped working on me and in order to give me a
psychological rest, they sent me to the Novocherkassk
prison, to a common cell. The meeting with the
Novocherkassians was really a treat for me but the warders
in the prison were boorish and rude.
One day a guard sergeant rushed into the cell. He began to
insult all Novocherkassians in hysterical tones, shouting
something about the troubles with the weavers from Ivanovo-
Voznesensk before the revolution. I got indignant, refused
to take any food and demanded to speak to a prosecutor.
After dinner I was taken to the prosecutor and sharply
protested our treatment by the guard. After that I heard
nothing more about boorishness and rudeness towards the
Novocherkassians on the part of the guard. I was sent back
to the KGB cells.
In September 1962 in the Lenin district court of Rostov-on-
the-Don under the chairmanship of member of the board of the
Rostov court, N.A. Yaroslavski, and with the participation
of the prosecutor A.I. Brizhan, there was a trial of seven
Novocherkassians including me. Formally, the trial was open,
but nobody in Novocherkassk knew about it. That is why there
was nobody at the trial except the relatives of the
defendants and the witnesses. The court sentenced one of us
to seven years, three to ten years and three, including me,
to twelve years. Soon after the trial I was sent to the
Novocherkassk prison again. This time I met a lot of
acquaintances there.
I do not remember in which month the first transport of
Novocherkassians was sent to the Komi ASSR. I was sent with
the second transport in winter. The concentration camp to
which the Novocherkassians were sent to serve their terms,
was about 40 kilometres from the Sindor railway station in
the Komi ASSR.
Our meeting with our fellow-townspeople was joyful but from
the very first we were overwhelmed by the news that the
first Novocherkassians had been organized by the guards into
some kind of internal police force to maintain order inside
the camp. This news aroused our extreme indignation. We
(V. Vlasenko, V. Tchernykh, V. Globa, myself and others)
managed to convince them that the existence of something
like this and the participation in it of Novocherkassians
was unacceptable. So the guards' plan failed. All the
prisoners of our concentration camp worked at timber-cutting
and the building of a narrow-gauge railway designed to
transport timber. Camp life went its usual way. Periodically
small and sharp conflicts with the camp administration
sprang up. Once, a dispute with a guard resulted in sub-
machine gun fire being directed at me but at the very last
moment another guard struck the gun upwards and the fire
went into the air. We managed to insist on dismissing a
brutal officer from the organs of the MVD (the Ministry of
Internal Affairs), and to open an evening school with the
teachers from the number of prisoners. At the same time we
did not listen meekly to the deceptive lessons on political
science. Once the major in charge of these studies lost his
temper and called me to his room and forbade me to attend
these lessons.
Even among the officers of the guard there were people who
were friendly towards the Novocherkassians. Once, on a day
off, I was standing near the small camp football ground. A
guard lieutenant stopped near me. When he was sure that
there was nobody about, he told me through his teeth,
without moving his lips, that a tragedy similar to the
Novocherkassian one had taken place in Murom. In this way
the Novocherkassians got to know about one more crime
committed by the party and the state.
There were cases of the entire brigade refusing to work as a
form of protest. They resulted only in prisoners being
punished with solitary confinement.
After some time the cases of the Novocherkassians started to
be reviewed in Moscow. I was one of the last whose term was
shortened to 6 years. The Novocherkassians began to be freed
in the spring of 1965. As for me, no freedom was in sight. I
felt depressed and dejected.
My mother, who had passed through all the circles of the
stalinist hell, who was sentenced in 1943 according to
Article 58.10 of the Criminal Code of the USSR, part two,
who had served her full penalty in the concentration camp in
the Kirov district, had remained "stoic". In those years she
lived in Novocherkassk less than in Moscow; she lived also
in Sindor. She was a reliable postwoman for the prisoners; I
remember not a single failure of communication, not a single
misfortune with the mail. She bribed everyone possible,
considering that everyone sold themselves cheap. It was due
to bribery that she managed to get a good reference for me
and I was liberated before time in July 1968.

Written on the 2nd of May, 1988
Completed on the 1st of July 1988

The above English text of Piotr Siauda's story was published
in Russian Labour Review (Moscow). For more information
contact the publishers at (cube@glas.apc.org) or by mail at
21-62 Volzhsky blvd., 109462 Moscow, Russia.

