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Seventeen: Monsters
Seventeen: Monsters
…
Otto
It was as he had long feared. Three stone-faced NKVD men with their blue-topped caps stood outside his door.
”Comrade Kuusinen, it's time.”
Looking at the NKVD officer with a resigned look on his face, Otto Wille Kuusinen just nodded and reached for his overcoat and hat in the foyer. He glanced to his right, to see his live-in lover, Marina Amiragova, stand there in the doorway, half-dressed, clutching a teacup in her hand.
They had been in the middle of their breakfast.
”Go back to the kitchen, Marina”, Kuusinen said, but she just stood there, staring.
Kuusinen's wife had been arrested in 1938. He had been living with Marina since.
The NKVD officer looked at Kuusinen meaningfully, and the sort of elfin-looking slight man walked out of the door with his shoulders hunched.
Behind him, Kuusinen could hear a teacup shattering on the floor.
Out on the street, a dark sedan stood waiting, with a driver. The NKVD men stuffed Kuusinen to the back seat and two of them sat on his both sides, with the officer taking the seat next to the driver.
Nobody spoke as the car took off into the morning traffic, leaving the Moscow suburbs towards the centre of the Soviet capital.
After a minute, a sudden panic grabbed Kuusinen. A cold sweat started rising on his forehead.
”You're taking me to Lubyanka, aren't you?”, he said weakly, getting no answer from the four men in the car, smelling of makhorka and sweat. Kuusinen suspected he himself smelled like fear.
They say the NKVD can smell fear, after all.
There was no answer.
”I am the Secretary of the Executive Committee of the Comintern, you know”, Kuusinen said and then immediately realized how hollow his attempt at special pleading sounded. The NKVD personnel served at the pleasure of Comrade Stalin – like anyone else working for the Soviet state apparatus did. These men were not concerned with the positions of lesser comrades, no matter how fancy their titles were. They were just carrying out their orders.
Clutching his knees with white knuckles as the car pulled into the Garden Ring, Kuusinen was painfully aware that they were now only some blocks from the feared headquarters of the People's Commissariat for Internal Affairs. To be honest, Kuusinen had already hoped that after Yezhov was reassigned from his post at the head of the okhrana, the position of himself and those few other Finnish emigres that had escaped the purges so far would become easier.
Little did he know, then.
In a minute the car rolled through the Meshchansky District and by and by then arrived at the Lubyanka Square. As the driver slowed down, the Finnish Communist looked up to the pile of a Tsarist-era building some said they were just about to start expanding to accommodate the ever-growing role of the state security apparatus in the Soviet Workers' State.
Just as Kuusinen started preparing for the car to pull into the Lubyanka building itself, the driver suddenly accelerated again and started taking the vehicle into another direction.
Kuusinen felt confused. What were they trying to pull now?
After a while, though, he started feeling a steely sort of relief. Slowly he realized where they were actually going.
When the car finally pulled up at the Kremlin, Kuusinen was sweating heavily, now out of pure, unadulterated relief.
After the customary walk through the corridors, the man was led directly into the heart of the Kremlin. Escorted by a guard into the General Secretary's office. As the serious young man with a square jaw closed the door behind him, Kuusinen gingerly walked on, towards the two men in the front of the room.
Josef Stalin was consulting some papers. He puffed on his pipe thoughtfully as he did so, with another man hovering next to him.
Vyacheslav Molotov, Stalin's loyal retainer, was first of the two to look at Kuusinen as he approached. After a few seconds, the Soviet leader also appeared to notice his arrival.
”Ah, Comrade Kuusinen”, Generalissimus Stalin said, raising his bushy eyebrows.
”What took you so long? Been seeing the sights of Moscow this fine morning, have you, comrade? It is a glorious August morning out there to be sure.”
Only now that Stalin said it, Otto Wille Kuusinen realized what a delightful morning it was outside. It had been raining the night before, but the morning had risen bright and crisp. For some reason, any musings about the Moscow weather today had not had any space in his thoughts by now.
”Good morning, Comrade General Secretary”, Kuusinen said, nodding, ”Yes, I took a little drive through central Moscow just now. Very, ah, invigorating.”
He made eye contact with the other man, too, to acknowledge him as well.
”Comrade Molotov”, he said, nodding.
Stalin smiled to him genially.
”It does make one happy to be alive, doesn't it, to see a morning like this one unfold? Do take a seat, comrade”, he said, pointing with his pipe.
It appeared very much so that Josef Stalin was in high spirits this morning.
The man pushed aside some of the papers on the table and fixed his gaze on the Finn.
”No beating around the bush, comrade Kuusinen – there is a reason I called you here today.”
He paused, as if gathering his thoughts.
”You must have heard the news from Finland, right? A frightful accident has claimed the lives of several members of their government, and left several others maimed, perhaps for life.”
Kuusinen nodded.
”Yes, I've heard of it. With some of them, like Mannerheim, some could call it poetic justice.”
Stalin looked at him with a scolding look on his face.
”Now, now, comrade. We wouldn't want to hope for people to lose body parts to errant artillery fire, would we? Are we monsters, Otto Wilhelmovich? No, we are not.”
Stalin paused to suck on his pipe.
”This... accident... however – it gives us an opportunity and an opening. I do believe we need to push our advantage in terms of Finland. Comrade, you are to reach out to all your contacts in Finland at once and help us get an understanding of the situation on the ground. As of late, the Finns have been quite... recalcitrant towards some of the things we have been suggesting to them. It is to be hoped that under these new circumstances, they would prove more... understanding towards the views of the USSR.”
Kuusinen nodded, thoughtfully.
”I will do that, certainly. The situation in Finland appears quite chaotic, to be honest. It is certain that it could all work to our advantage.”
Again, Stalin smiled.
”Indeed. Several things are happening on that front, stand assured. Once we have our matters concluded with the European powers, once we have our foreign relations in order, we can afford to take an interest into our own backyard as well. And do some weeding and pest control, perhaps.”
Kuusinen looked at Molotov who had by now said nothing.
Now the man seemed to be chuckling. Stalin glanced at him and then looked back at Kuusinen.
”Comrade, a piece of advice: one of these days, you might find yourself with new responsibilities – perhaps an entirely new position, what? If I was you, I'd start making arrangements for that.”
Stalin suddenly stood up, gathering a pile of papers into his hands.
”That's it, for now. I have pressing matters to attend to, with Vyacheslav Mikhailovich here”, he said, nodding to the People's Commissar for Foreign Affairs.
"Finland, comrade Kuusinen. Get to it, and don't let me detain you.”
As Stalin turned away, Otto Wille Kuusinen understood that it was his que to leave.
Minutes later, Kuusinen again found himself on the streets of Moscow, with the sun shining from a cloudless sky. The Finnish Communist took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the for once fresh and high-oxygen Moscow morning air.
Only now he did truly realize what a wonderful day it was.
…
Shout, shout for joy!
Shout, shout for freedom
And shout, shout for happiness.
And you can leave with a smile on your face.
Shout, shout for joy!
Shout, shout for freedom
And shout, shout for happiness!
And you can go on on lying
Or you can know the truth.
…
To Be Continued
Seventeen: Monsters
…
Otto
It was as he had long feared. Three stone-faced NKVD men with their blue-topped caps stood outside his door.
”Comrade Kuusinen, it's time.”
Looking at the NKVD officer with a resigned look on his face, Otto Wille Kuusinen just nodded and reached for his overcoat and hat in the foyer. He glanced to his right, to see his live-in lover, Marina Amiragova, stand there in the doorway, half-dressed, clutching a teacup in her hand.
They had been in the middle of their breakfast.
”Go back to the kitchen, Marina”, Kuusinen said, but she just stood there, staring.
Kuusinen's wife had been arrested in 1938. He had been living with Marina since.
The NKVD officer looked at Kuusinen meaningfully, and the sort of elfin-looking slight man walked out of the door with his shoulders hunched.
Behind him, Kuusinen could hear a teacup shattering on the floor.
Out on the street, a dark sedan stood waiting, with a driver. The NKVD men stuffed Kuusinen to the back seat and two of them sat on his both sides, with the officer taking the seat next to the driver.
Nobody spoke as the car took off into the morning traffic, leaving the Moscow suburbs towards the centre of the Soviet capital.
After a minute, a sudden panic grabbed Kuusinen. A cold sweat started rising on his forehead.
”You're taking me to Lubyanka, aren't you?”, he said weakly, getting no answer from the four men in the car, smelling of makhorka and sweat. Kuusinen suspected he himself smelled like fear.
They say the NKVD can smell fear, after all.
There was no answer.
”I am the Secretary of the Executive Committee of the Comintern, you know”, Kuusinen said and then immediately realized how hollow his attempt at special pleading sounded. The NKVD personnel served at the pleasure of Comrade Stalin – like anyone else working for the Soviet state apparatus did. These men were not concerned with the positions of lesser comrades, no matter how fancy their titles were. They were just carrying out their orders.
Clutching his knees with white knuckles as the car pulled into the Garden Ring, Kuusinen was painfully aware that they were now only some blocks from the feared headquarters of the People's Commissariat for Internal Affairs. To be honest, Kuusinen had already hoped that after Yezhov was reassigned from his post at the head of the okhrana, the position of himself and those few other Finnish emigres that had escaped the purges so far would become easier.
Little did he know, then.
In a minute the car rolled through the Meshchansky District and by and by then arrived at the Lubyanka Square. As the driver slowed down, the Finnish Communist looked up to the pile of a Tsarist-era building some said they were just about to start expanding to accommodate the ever-growing role of the state security apparatus in the Soviet Workers' State.
Just as Kuusinen started preparing for the car to pull into the Lubyanka building itself, the driver suddenly accelerated again and started taking the vehicle into another direction.
Kuusinen felt confused. What were they trying to pull now?
After a while, though, he started feeling a steely sort of relief. Slowly he realized where they were actually going.
When the car finally pulled up at the Kremlin, Kuusinen was sweating heavily, now out of pure, unadulterated relief.
After the customary walk through the corridors, the man was led directly into the heart of the Kremlin. Escorted by a guard into the General Secretary's office. As the serious young man with a square jaw closed the door behind him, Kuusinen gingerly walked on, towards the two men in the front of the room.
Josef Stalin was consulting some papers. He puffed on his pipe thoughtfully as he did so, with another man hovering next to him.
Vyacheslav Molotov, Stalin's loyal retainer, was first of the two to look at Kuusinen as he approached. After a few seconds, the Soviet leader also appeared to notice his arrival.
”Ah, Comrade Kuusinen”, Generalissimus Stalin said, raising his bushy eyebrows.
”What took you so long? Been seeing the sights of Moscow this fine morning, have you, comrade? It is a glorious August morning out there to be sure.”
Only now that Stalin said it, Otto Wille Kuusinen realized what a delightful morning it was outside. It had been raining the night before, but the morning had risen bright and crisp. For some reason, any musings about the Moscow weather today had not had any space in his thoughts by now.
”Good morning, Comrade General Secretary”, Kuusinen said, nodding, ”Yes, I took a little drive through central Moscow just now. Very, ah, invigorating.”
He made eye contact with the other man, too, to acknowledge him as well.
”Comrade Molotov”, he said, nodding.
Stalin smiled to him genially.
”It does make one happy to be alive, doesn't it, to see a morning like this one unfold? Do take a seat, comrade”, he said, pointing with his pipe.
It appeared very much so that Josef Stalin was in high spirits this morning.
The man pushed aside some of the papers on the table and fixed his gaze on the Finn.
”No beating around the bush, comrade Kuusinen – there is a reason I called you here today.”
He paused, as if gathering his thoughts.
”You must have heard the news from Finland, right? A frightful accident has claimed the lives of several members of their government, and left several others maimed, perhaps for life.”
Kuusinen nodded.
”Yes, I've heard of it. With some of them, like Mannerheim, some could call it poetic justice.”
Stalin looked at him with a scolding look on his face.
”Now, now, comrade. We wouldn't want to hope for people to lose body parts to errant artillery fire, would we? Are we monsters, Otto Wilhelmovich? No, we are not.”
Stalin paused to suck on his pipe.
”This... accident... however – it gives us an opportunity and an opening. I do believe we need to push our advantage in terms of Finland. Comrade, you are to reach out to all your contacts in Finland at once and help us get an understanding of the situation on the ground. As of late, the Finns have been quite... recalcitrant towards some of the things we have been suggesting to them. It is to be hoped that under these new circumstances, they would prove more... understanding towards the views of the USSR.”
Kuusinen nodded, thoughtfully.
”I will do that, certainly. The situation in Finland appears quite chaotic, to be honest. It is certain that it could all work to our advantage.”
Again, Stalin smiled.
”Indeed. Several things are happening on that front, stand assured. Once we have our matters concluded with the European powers, once we have our foreign relations in order, we can afford to take an interest into our own backyard as well. And do some weeding and pest control, perhaps.”
Kuusinen looked at Molotov who had by now said nothing.
Now the man seemed to be chuckling. Stalin glanced at him and then looked back at Kuusinen.
”Comrade, a piece of advice: one of these days, you might find yourself with new responsibilities – perhaps an entirely new position, what? If I was you, I'd start making arrangements for that.”
Stalin suddenly stood up, gathering a pile of papers into his hands.
”That's it, for now. I have pressing matters to attend to, with Vyacheslav Mikhailovich here”, he said, nodding to the People's Commissar for Foreign Affairs.
"Finland, comrade Kuusinen. Get to it, and don't let me detain you.”
As Stalin turned away, Otto Wille Kuusinen understood that it was his que to leave.
Minutes later, Kuusinen again found himself on the streets of Moscow, with the sun shining from a cloudless sky. The Finnish Communist took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the for once fresh and high-oxygen Moscow morning air.
Only now he did truly realize what a wonderful day it was.
…
Shout, shout for joy!
Shout, shout for freedom
And shout, shout for happiness.
And you can leave with a smile on your face.
Shout, shout for joy!
Shout, shout for freedom
And shout, shout for happiness!
And you can go on on lying
Or you can know the truth.
…
To Be Continued
- DrakonFin
- Word Count: 1.4k