Moscow Bound #3
The German Empire and Soviet Russia do not officially share an open border. The route across the vast East European Plain is blocked by Poland, which has closed its frontiers to both Germany and Russia. The only viable overland path into Russia runs through East Prussia and the city of Königsberg. Soviet Russia does not prevent people from entering or leaving, yet because of frequent border disputes with Poland, Romania, and the Japanese Empire, they still maintain strict checkpoints. To enter or exit Russia, one must possess a visa—along with a passport as proof of identity.
To anyone from the 21st century, this system might sound familiar. The key difference is that these regulations have only been in place for a little over a decade. As someone born into the working class, I had never once left Germany in my entire life. So when I received my first visa, I couldn’t stop staring at it in fascination.
“Wow…”
“Is it that impressive, Heinz?”
“Of course it is. I’ve never seen anything like this before.”
You simply fill out where you’re going, how many days you’ll stay, and the purpose of your visit. Unless there is a major disqualifying factor, they issue the visa. Those major disqualifying factors are defined by the German Imperial Constitution—things like plotting to overthrow the state or committing acts of terrorism. Incidentally, everything the People’s Front is trying to achieve technically falls under “overthrowing the state.” After all, we intend to flip this country upside down while it still clings to its capitalist order.
Yet the applications are rarely rejected. Thanks to Articles 111 and 114 of the Imperial Constitution, freedom of movement is guaranteed as a fundamental right. The constitution itself cannot infringe upon it. It is the Russian side that demands a visa; entering or leaving Germany requires none. Whether this “disqualifying factor” clause can override the constitution remains legally ambiguous, so the border authorities tend to wave people through unless there is an obvious problem.
We sailed from the Baltic port of Stettin across to Germany’s exclave in East Prussia, reaching Königsberg. From there, we boarded a train bound for the Russian border. As expected, they asked for our visas.
“Sir? The Soviet Union requires a visa for entry and exit. May I see yours?”
“Here it is.”
After verification, they allowed us to leave German territory. Passing through the Lithuanian Soviet Socialist Republic and the Latvian Soviet Socialist Republic after crossing the German border from Königsberg, we finally approached our destination.
“It’s rather cold.”
It was nearly the end of May. Normally the temperature would have climbed comfortably into the low twenties Celsius, so I hadn’t expected much chill and had dressed lightly. But from Königsberg onward, the mercury had hovered stubbornly around fifteen degrees.
“I told you to wear something warm. Why don’t you take out a proper coat now?”
“Yes, I think I’d better.”
In the end, I couldn’t endure it any longer. Ernst Thälmann pulled a coat from his travel bag and handed it to me.
Thus we continued northeast by train. After a grueling fifteen-hour journey that stretched across two full days, the conductor’s voice rang out:
“Leningrad Station! All passengers disembarking, please exit now!”
We had arrived in Leningrad, the second most important city in the Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic. Once known as Petrograd—named after Saint Peter from Christian tradition—this city had been renamed in 1927 to honor the funeral of the revolutionary leader Comrade Vladimir Lenin.
While it could not match the opulent wealth of pre-Depression London, New York, or Paris, Leningrad possessed a profound humanity that capitalism could never offer.
We stepped off the train around midnight on May 21st.
“The white nights…”
The famous phenomenon of the north welcomed us. At this high latitude, even though the sun should have set long ago, it lingered stubbornly on the horizon. Its golden light stretched endlessly across the Neva River that bisected the heart of Leningrad.
“Are you the German delegation?”
We had just unloaded our luggage and were walking toward the Leningrad Soviet Party Office when a man who appeared to be a party official approached us.
“That is correct. I am Ernst Thälmann, representing the Communist Party of Germany.”
“And I am Emilia Heinz, representing the German Labour Party!”
I had heard that the Communist Workers’ Party (KAPD) had received an invitation but decided not to attend.
“Then you have come to the right place. I understand you are scheduled to depart for Moscow. If it would not be an inconvenience, would you consider spending the night here in Leningrad? The Central Committee of the Communist Party has instructed us to extend the utmost hospitality to all delegates attending the Comintern World Congress.”
“Wasn’t that the same directive three years ago?”
“Indeed it was. Now that I think about it, it has been quite a while. It is good to see you again, Comrade Thälmann.”
“The feeling is mutual. Three years, Comrade Kodatsky.”
The two men clasped hands and embraced warmly.
…Hm?
“You two know each other?”
“Of course we do. This is… are you still vice-chairman?”
“Oh no, I became chairman a year and a month ago.”
“Really? How time flies. Allow me to introduce Comrade Ivan Kodatsky, chairman of the Leningrad Regional Committee.”
“Ah, hello.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Comrade Emilia Heinz. I am Ivan Kodatsky. I look forward to working with you.”
Still somewhat dazed, I shook hands with him as well. It was remarkable that the chairman of the city soviet had come out personally—without any visible security detail—to greet us.
“Please, come inside.”
And so our group of fifteen followed Comrade Kodatsky to the Leningrad City Hall. The building was not particularly grand, yet it possessed its own modest charm.
While Thälmann and Deputy Piк conversed with Comrade Kodatsky, I sipped the tea that had been brought to me.
“I’ve only grown busier since we last met three years ago. The position of regional committee chairman carries far more responsibility than I expected. It is on an entirely different level from when I was vice-chairman.”
“Still, the citizens elected you because they trust in your abilities. You must live up to that. Are the elections held every year?”
“Yes, annually. I am now serving my second term. How have you and Comrade Piк been faring?”
“We are managing. Everyone seems quite worried about the situation in Germany, but since we are pursuing multiple avenues of struggle rather than relying solely on armed uprising, there is no need for excessive concern.”
“Even so, the recent turmoil in German politics has been troubling.”
“Comrade Thälmann does have a habit of exaggerating.”
“Exaggerating, Piк? The fact remains that many unsettling things have occurred.”
“I simply mean there is no need to worry to that extent. If the worst comes to pass, our steadfast Soviet comrades will lend their support. I trust in all of you.”
“It is an honor to hear you say so, Comrade Piк.”
“Ahem…”
Thälmann cleared his throat and changed the subject.
“And how is the Party?”
“The Communist Party continues as always. I last visited the Kremlin last year, so I am not fully up to date on recent developments. However, given the instability in Germany, I understand they are significantly expanding the Red Army and investing heavily in railways and infrastructure.”
“Three years ago, when Comrade Lenin was still alive, the outlook seemed far more optimistic, did it not?”
“Things are proceeding reasonably well. The concerns Comrade Lenin expressed have not yet materialized. Though it may not be appropriate for a city bureaucrat to say so, bureaucratization has been largely kept in check. The constant policy shifts can be irritating, but the Party continues to operate within democratic principles.”
Both men burst into laughter.
“I wondered where you had gone. So this is where you were hiding.”
Another man entered the room.
“Ah, Comrade Voroshilov! It has been too long!”
“Good to see you again, Comrade Thälmann, Comrade Piк. Is this young comrade traveling with you?”
“Indeed. Heinz?”
“Hello. I am Emilia Heinz, representative of the German Labour Party. It is a pleasure to meet you.”
“I am Kliment Voroshilov, People’s Commissar for Military and Naval Affairs. A pleasure.”
I shook hands with Comrade Voroshilov, whose long mustache drooped dramatically.
“The rest of your delegation is scheduled to depart for Moscow tomorrow to attend the Comintern World Congress. I arranged for you to stay at the city hall tonight.”
“I see. Though perhaps the many guesthouses scattered throughout the city would offer better accommodations.”
“That may be true, but since Comrade Voroshilov is also here, I thought it would be good to introduce you while offering you a place to stay.”
“Understood, Comrade Kodatsky. May I sit?”
“Please do, Comrade Voroshilov.”
The Soviet Union maintained a firmly established bureaucratic system. Yet thanks to measures implemented by Comrade Lenin before his death, all officials—regardless of rank or duty—held equal ceremonial status. Since there were no “chairmen” to appoint them, most were chosen through internal Party votes and could be removed by popular vote. The reason Comrade Kodatsky addressed Comrade Voroshilov with respect was simply that the latter was about a decade his senior.
“As you all know, the international situation has become increasingly unstable. When the American stock market crashed in October 1929, we rejoiced, believing capitalism had finally failed. But the workers and peoples of the West have been seduced by those who claim capitalism can be reformed rather than abolished. They have chosen the wrong path.”
“We have the same problem in Germany. That bastard who keeps spouting nonsense about how nation matters more than class.”
“You mean Hitler?”
“Was that his name?”
“Yes. Adolf Hitler… the leader of a minor party called the National Socialist Party. He lives in a rather detached mental world. He blames all weakness and poverty on Jews and leftists while cleverly avoiding criticism of capitalists. He possesses a dangerous talent for agitating both capitalists and workers alike.”
“A populist, then.”
“A right-wing populist, which makes him dangerous. He even created an ideology called ‘National Socialism’ to differentiate himself from the active fascists in Italy, thereby stealing the word ‘socialism’ that Marx himself redefined.”
“A cunning bastard.”
“Indeed. I read about it in the papers. Apparently he and Deputy Heinz here had quite the shouting match?”
“That did happen.”
“Ah…”
It seemed news of my multiple clashes with the Nazis had already reached Russia. There was nothing surprising about that. The Soviet Union was hardly lacking in intelligence capabilities, and it paid closer attention to the international left-wing movement than anywhere else.
“When did you see it?”
“Last month, I believe?”
“So you didn’t fight Hitler directly… That man has subordinates under him, and the one with the sharpest tongue is a fellow named Joseph Goebbels. I went head-to-head with him.”
“From what I hear, you flattened his nose nicely! Battling his sophistry!”
The others in the room burst into laughter at Voroshilov’s animated gestures as he reenacted the scene, even throwing a few mock punches. Truthfully, I hadn’t exactly flattened anyone’s nose—the police had broken it up—but I let them enjoy the story.
“The problem is their logic is completely twisted. They stitch together several baseless claims until they sound plausible, then speak as if they are absolute truth. Most people fall for it. Especially German workers who are tightening their belts because of the government’s austerity measures.”
“Their displaced anger is being directed at the Jews.”
“Jews? But why on earth the Jews?”
“If you listen to what they say, it’s absurd. They claim Jews suck the money out of Germans. So capitalism becomes ‘Jewish-capitalism’ and communism becomes ‘Jewish-Bolshevism.’”
“Pfft! They actually say that seriously?”
“They do, and that’s why it’s a problem. People are being deceived. Our leftist message—that workers should rise up themselves, overthrow the capitalists, and seize the means of production—is far less appealing than the clear enemy and sense of satisfaction offered by those shouting to drive out the Jews.”
“Anyway, just talking about those people gives me a headache. Let’s drop the subject.”
“Agreed. Have you all eaten?”
“Of course not… Wait, it’s already one in the morning?!”
Thälmann glanced at his watch and jumped in surprise. Through the windows, the sky was still bright with pure white sunlight.
“Haha, did that startle you, Comrade Thälmann?”
“I knew about it, but… I never quite get used to it no matter how many times I come. None of us have had dinner and we’re all starving. If you wouldn’t mind…”
“I will have something brought out immediately, comrades.”
After a modest supper (or late-night snack?), we managed to fall asleep despite the relentless sunlight pouring through the windows. The next morning, we boarded the train bound for Moscow.
MOSCOW