Russia in 1919 | Page 5

Bolsheviks to go into Russia to get further material
for my history of the revolution, but at the last moment there was
opposition and it seemed likely that I should be refused permission.
Fortunately, however, a copy of the Morning Post reached Stockholm,
containing a report of a lecture by Mr. Lockhart in which he had said
that as I had been out of Russia for six months I had no right to speak
of conditions there. Armed with this I argued that it would be very
unfair if I were not allowed to come and see things for myself. I had no
further difficulties.
We crossed by boat to Abo, grinding our way through the ice, and then
travelled by rail to the Russian frontier, taking several days over the
journey owing to delays variously explained by the Finnish authorities.
We were told that the Russian White Guards had planned an attack on
the train. Litvinov, half-smiling, wondered if they were purposely
giving time to the White Guards to organize such an attack. Several
nervous folk inclined to that opinion. But at Viborg we were told that
there were grave disorders in Petrograd and that the Finns did not wish
to fling us into the middle of a scrimmage. Then someone obtained a
newspaper and we read a detailed account of what was happening. This
account was, as I learnt on my return, duly telegraphed to England like
much other news of a similar character. There had been a serious revolt
in Petrograd. The Semenovsky regiment had gone over to the mutineers,
who had seized the town. The Government, however, had escaped to
Kronstadt, whence they were bombarding Petrograd with naval guns.

This sounded fairly lively, but there was nothing to be done, so we
finished up the chess tournament we had begun on the boat. An
Esthonian won it, and I was second, by reason of a lucky win over
Litvinov, who is really a better player. By Sunday night we reached
Terijoki and on Monday moved slowly to the frontier of Finland close
to Bieloostrov. A squad of Finnish soldiers was waiting, excluding
everybody from the station and seeing that no dangerous revolutionary
should break away on Finnish territory. There were no horses, but three
hand sledges were brought, and we piled the luggage on them, and then
set off to walk to the frontier duly convoyed by the Finns. A Finnish
lieutenant walked at the head of the procession, chatting
good-humouredly in Swedish and German, much as a man might think
it worth while to be kind to a crowd of unfortunates just about to be
flung into a boiling cauldron. We walked a few hundred yards along the
line and then turned into a road deep in snow through a little bare wood,
and so down to the little wooden bridge over the narrow frozen stream
that separates Finland from Russia. The bridge, not twenty yards across,
has a toll bar at each end, two sentry boxes and two sentries. On the
Russian side the bar was the familiar black and white of the old
Russian Empire, with a sentry box to match. The Finns seemingly had
not yet had time to paint their bar and box.
The Finns lifted their toll bar, and the Finnish officers leading our
escort walked solemnly to the middle of the bridge. Then the luggage
was dumped there, while we stood watching the trembling of the
rickety little bridge under the weight of our belongings, for we were all
taking in with us as much food as we decently could. We were none of
us allowed on the bridge until an officer and a few men had come down
to meet us on the Russian side. Only little Nina, Vorovskv's daughter,
about ten years old, chattering Swedish with the Finns, got leave from
them, and shyly, step by step, went down the other side of the bridge
and struck up acquaintance with the soldier of the Red Army who stood
there, gun in hand, and obligingly bent to show her the sign, set in his
hat, of the crossed sickle and hammer of the Peasants' and Workmen's
Republic. At last the Finnish lieutenant took the list of his prisoners and
called out the names "Vorovsky, wife and one bairn," looking
laughingly over his shoulder at Nina flirting with the sentry. Then
"Litvinov," and so on through all the Russians, about thirty of them.

We four visitors, Grimlund the Swede, Puntervald and Stang, the
Norwegians, and I, came last. At last, after a general shout of farewell,
and "Helse Finland" from Nina, the Finns turned and went back into
their civilization, and we went forward into the new struggling
civilization of Russia. Crossing that bridge we passed from one
philosophy to another,