IN THE HACK OF THE FAMINE

Evening Star, Issue 17957, 2 May 1922, Page 3

IN THE HACK OF THE FAMINE

ii. [By J. E. Heckhr.] A DRIVE THROUGH A VALLEY OF DEATH. For about £ls I managed to gel a courageous driver with a fairly good horse and sleigh, and .off we went early _ in the morninguirough a snowstorm which made_ the trip by no means pleasant. My driver, who was born and reared in this region, knew the roads, which no other mortal would have found, because of the snowdrifts. Ho, too, talked a lot; and told mo a great deal about the peasants’ point of view as to the revolution, the present Government, and the famine situation. For three years lie had scon service in the Imperialist war (the term now used in Russia for the World War). His_ prosperous farm was destroyed by the Civil War, i for Samara had seen some fighting between j the Czechs and Whites on the one band, and the Reds on the oilier. Like most peasants, lie understood next to nothing of the causes and issues of the revolution. “To us,” he said, “it is all the same whether we have a Tsar or President, whether his name is Nicholas, Kuzma, or Alexander, whether we have a White or Red Government, as long as wo have order and a chance to live.” From his talk I concluded that on the whole the peasant population has reconciled itself to the Soviet Government. They feel that it is the only Government which Russia has, and the only alternative to it would bo black anarchy, which they fear more than anything else. 1 was surprised at the emphasis that this simple peasant put upon the necessity of a firm Government and order, a trait very uncommon in Russia before the Revolution, for the Russian peasant was notoriously anarchistic in ids tendencies. The new economic policy which now guarantees the peasant the fruit of his labors, the energetic measure taken by the Government to stamp out banditism and disease, and the Titanic efforts made to tight the famine —all these help to establish confidence in the Soviet regime and to strengthen it among tno peasant population. As we drove among the snowdrifts through the barren plains the large villages which we passed presented a gloomy sight. More than half of the houses wore abandoned, but few chimneys were smoking, hardly a living being was seen, neither cattle nor man. Only around the feeding centres of the A.R.A. and the Government. supply stations were seen small groups of children and adults standing in line with their little pails waiting for their daily rations. Their pale faces and ragged appearance testified of the mi cry of those dead villages, which were once populous and prosprous. Thus we drove for about forty miles, passing some ten villages, and everywhere we saw the same sight. It was a drive through a valley of death and misery, covered by the pale white sheet of the prairie snow. Exhausted by the storm, we finally reached the railroad station of Kenel, where I learned that a refugee train was not far ahead of ns, with some fifty cars loaded wtih about 1,200 refugees, who were going on to Buzuluk and beyond to the Turkestan district. A NIGHT IN A REFUGEE TRAIN. My letters of introduction with which the Soviet officials j:. Moscow had generously supplied mo worked like magic when I presented them to the bearded station master. “Yes. you may ride on this train,” he said ; “ for Americans we always make exception.” “Can you assign mo a seat?” I inquired. “ There are no scats in this train,” he smiled; “ but you may squeeze into the ‘teplushka’ of the personnel.” (A teplushka is a box oar warmed by a ■sheet-iron stove). “You will find it somewhere at the end of the train.” I thanked him and walked along the Jong line of box cars which were packed with humans of all ages—little babies, children, men, and women—all mixed probably according to families. • These poor folks, I learned, were refugees from the Obdulovka district, some 300 versts north of Samara. Their village had suffered not only from famine, hot was also destroyed by fire. Thus, homeless and without food, the Government decided to evacuate them to Turkestan, where they may find food and refuge, and where there is a chance for them to start life over again. For about three weeks these refugees had been on their way, and it may take another month or two before they will reach their final destination. Refugee trains do not enjoy the scheduled traffic regulations ; they are shoved along whenever the single track line is open, and then they stand, especially at this period of snowdrifts, sometimes for a week, before they get a chance to make another hundred miles. I have seen refugee trains that were for four months creeping along towards the south-east to the promised lands of Turkestan. How many of these unfortunates will survive the privations of the long journey I do not venture to guess, but I fear the toll of death will he heavy. Hardly a day passed without the death of one or more in the long row of box cars. Typhus and the other diseases of hunger and insanitary conditions are common on these refugee trains. How great was my admiration for the heroisiti of the Russian medical and sanitary personnel accompanying this train when I finally reached the teplushka in which they lived, and which I was to share with them. A young, beautiful girl of about twenty-two, clad in simple peasant garments and a rough sheepskin coat, was in charge on the train. Her intelligent face told me that she had grown, up in a different environment. She told me that in the early days of the Revolution, just after graduating from a fashionable young women’s institute at Pctrograd, she volunteered to servo as a nurse. Indofatigably for the last four years she roughed it through Russia, serving in hospitals at the front, in Red Gross trains, and in refugee centres. Smilingly she welcomed me to share her modest tepiushka, which was nothing but a rough box car partly piled up with fire food, on top of which Were laid some rough boards which served a.s bunks during the night and as seats during the day. An iron sheet stove stood in the centre, and to the right of the door was attached a rough table and ‘a single chair, which the hostess kindly offered to me, but which, of course, I refused, seating myself upon a pile of wood. There were some twenty people packed in this car. About half of them belonged to the personnel escorting the refugees. The rest were picked up travellers like myself, whom .they were willing to take along. Among them were some Government Commissars, an old priest (who was very jolly, and seemed to have the sympathy even of the Reds), and also a professor and his wife, who had made their way from Irkutsk, in Siberia, travelling in "this fashion already for about two mouths, and who were going on to Orenburg- , Although it was dark, I did not feel like sleeping, but chatted with my fair hostess and the professor practically throughout the night as our teplushka jolted slowly through the snow-storm or stood for hours at the stations. The stories of life of my companions and their work in Revolutionary Russia were told simply, without ardor. It was a tale of suffering and endless privations and struggle against foreign invaders, against disease, cold, hunger, and the ignorance of the masses. Yet in spite of these continuous privations there was a determination amongst these people to suffer it to the end, and to conquer all difficulties, in order that Russia might continue its new life, born out of the horrors of the Revolution. BUZULUK. It was about 3 o’clock in the morning when wo finally jolted into the Buzuluk station. t We had covered about 100 miles in twelve hours, which is not bad for a refugee 'train. Since I had no idea where to go at this time of night, I stayed in the teplushka till morning. Buzuluk is a city of about 50,000 population, eemi-Oriental agd in

character. In normal times it was a great trading centre in grain and other raw materials, and even now there arc seen caravans of camels, which give it a pictuiesquc Oriental appearance. The Buzuluk oyzd (county; has Buffered very much from the crop filurc, nnd_ is considered'among the worst of the famine area. The Society of Friends has taken this district for its field, and feeds at present about one hundred thousand children, which number is to be increased as rapidly as possible. Three-fourths of this number are fed by the British section, and one-fourth by the American Friends. Both sections, however, work in close cooperation, and have the same headquarters in Buzuluk and Moscow. The Government functionaries have complete confidence in the .Society of Friends, and the word “Quaker” is a password everywhere one goes. The Government desires greatly to work in close, co-operation with the Friends,‘and has propu.-ed a pi in of federating its activities with those of the Quakers. The Government also coutri- , bates generously to the overhead expenses of the society in order, as they say, “ every dollar or pound may bo saved for buying food abroad.” 1 myself carried thirty million roubles wiih me from Moscow, and another 100 million was sent by the next courier. There are no strings to these contributions; “just use as you may find it ueccs-aiy." wn« the only comment the Government officials made. In spile of the great efforts made by tho Society of Friends and the Government organisations, the need for more help is imperative to cheek tho hortible mort.lity from siaivatiou and typhus. In Bnzniuk City alone there are eighteen thousand starving ■ children, and at the tunc of only 1,800 were fed regularly by the Government and Quaker organisations. I was prevent at a .meeting where a Guvornmen representative, w.tii heartrending emotion, was toiling of the suffering in tile Buzuluk City. He pleaded wilii tho Society of Friends lo lake on the leading of 600, more of lire worst cases in tho city. When Mr Watts, the beloved chief of the International Friends’ Service in Russia, looked over his records and announced that the society would be able to take over 800 mure children, the Government official could not control his emotion any longer. He, rose in his seat, and with tears in his eyes embraced Mr Watts and kissed h:ra. I could not but wish that our American and British Friends could witness this scene. I am sure they would not rest until all the 18,000 children of Buzuluk were provided fo-. (To be continued.)