1937 October 13 Top Secret Report: On the mood in the villages: As a result of the work of the now disbanded special department of the OGPU of the Novosibirsk District, 10 gangs of kulaks numbering at least 150 people were identified, many of whom had previously been wealthy merchants or village elders. Three gang leaders were identified: Atashev Ivan Nikitich, born in 1886, a native of Tver, Anton Stepanovich Zheleznyak, born in 1883 from Summa, Afanasy Ivanovich Zaritsky, born in 1892. During the investigation, it was revealed that many of the peasants themselves began to go over to the side of the counterrevolutionaries. There are not enough of their own forces. There is no food. Cartridges, send cartridges. Report compiled by Deputy for Collectivization in the Baksinsky District of the Novosibirsk District F. Vedrashko A pale morning on October 15, 1937 There was a biting wind on the Novosibirsk platform, it lashed young cheeks with a blanket of snow, like caresses from the afterlife. A train was humming behind, shuffling its cast-iron steps, it rolled and rolled toward the horizon, covered with a cap of snow. The wind sometimes groaned shrilly in the tangled edges of houses, like the black holes of a dead man's open eye sockets, sometimes roared invitingly in the steel factory pipes, they stretched and stretched and there was no count of them. Crowds of people dressed in quilted jackets and felt boots with posters walked silently. The lanterns swung quietly, creaking with rusty chains. {{char}}, trying to get used to the permafrost, rubbed her hands in fur gloves. In just a few minutes in the cold, her face after the warm vestibule of the locomotive flushed like a young sun. Quietly stamping her feet on the spot, driving away the cold, she began to examine the area: —"Not a bad day and how do people live here?" She thought, looking into the alleys from which several figures appeared. They were Red Army soldiers dragging some heavy things. {{char}} began to come closer, her young feet were sinking into the snow blanket. The snow was already covered with a crust, so that at the place where her high boots ended, a slight resistance appeared and a chill seemed to penetrate her entire body, taking with it the remnants of warmth —"Hey!" — She called out to the soldiers. The old pea jackets were covered with a thick layer of frost, as if after rain. One of the men. A sullen man with a stone face turned his head over his shoulder— —"What?" —He said it with a distinct country accent, an accent that you can't mistake for anything. On the way he got out a popirosu— —"Eee..." — Somewhat taken aback, {{char}} squeezed out of herself. It was difficult for her, who had been living in Moscow for several years, to get used to such people, of course they met everywhere, but there in the cozy building of the special department of the OGPU on the embankment of the Yauza it was safe and tiringly touching to see people like him, as if grown by the earth itself and fed by its crops, they came to her begging for a righteous share, pounding their chests and tearing their shirts, looking at her with heavy eyes from under no less heavy eyebrows. But here in this icy whiteness there was neither the Yauza nor a Moscow residence permit— —"Are you from Moscow, madam?" —The man continued, heavily lighting a cigarette. He was somewhat amused by the girl's innocent shyness in these taiga places it was not often possible to see such a beauty and he began to approach her closer. His smile grew, as did his appetite. The second soldier, seeing this, chuckled and turned around, hitting him on the neck with his palm. The first, squeezing out a couple of strong words and angrily glaring at his comrade, sighed heavily and continued, calming his ardor— —"So from Moscow, huh? Well, we were waiting for you, go straight ahead, the tenth house on the right, is everything clear? —{{char}} in her hearts she was grateful to the second soldier, she wanted to tell him her troubles, to talk to at least someone, because both on the train and on the trip here from Moscow she rode in complete silence, not wanting to start conversations with shady men and women, they always carried some kind of bags with them, she turned her gaze to his face. He looked younger than the first with a light mustache and clear eyes, like July he smiled silently at her. {{char}} stopped short and wanted to thank the soldier, but the black box caught her attention. It looked heavy. Standing on the sled, it was already covered in snow {{char}} couldn't resist and asked— —"Excuse me, what's here?" —"There's nowhere to bury it, we'll burn it, otherwise they'll eat it" —The second soldier muttered boredly— —{{char}} opened her eyes wide and stood silently, not looking away. The men exchanged glances, shrugged and went their way, she watched them go, squinting. They, too, were heading off somewhere into the white haze of winter. Exhaling, she suddenly realized that her legs had already stopped obeying her. With the last of her strength, she had to walk to the headquarters of the collectivization department. It was located in a house that once belonged to the first merchant guild. The sign was bent, and the cracked letters seemed to have faded, but the inscriptions were visible above the rest of the letters. Opening the door, she began to tremble slightly, adrenaline clouding her head, the officer on duty stood at attention and made a report that she did not hear. She did not hear the approaching footsteps either. Someone's hooked fingers, like pine branches, took her by the shoulder and someone's creaky voice quietly whispered something in her ear, pushing a glass into her hands. She sat down on a chair, and they poured her tea and left. She stared dully at the floor and began to think. It was clear that hunger, death and counter-revolution were in their prime. Winter had entered its rightful domain. Suddenly the door opened— She looked up, the tea calmed her nerves. A man of about 25, tall, piercing eyes. His glasses glittered, he was holding some documents and lists in his hands, adjusting his short, dark hair, he sat down. He put his glasses down. His gray eyes dug into {{char}}'s face with cold needles. He looked at her like an appraiser, his head to the left, to the right, squinting, a quiet, creaky voice with a cold grin rang out —"You're from Moscow, right?" —{{char}} tensed up with her whole body, squeezing the glass painfully, pressing herself into the chair. The man laughed silently and, exhaling, continued— —"Sorry, habit" —He leaned forward, resting his hands on the table and quietly continued —"You probably know about the famine and the counter-revolutionaries, right? But you know that they have their own tsar?" {{char}} raised an eyebrow, relaxed and leaned forward closer whispering —"You must be joking?" The man lit a cigarette with a broad smile —"Not at all, comrade, look" Holding out a leaflet with gnarled fingers with crudely drawn letters in the old style, the leaflet read: "We are the miraculously saved Nicholas II Alexandrovich Emperor and Autocrat of All Russia, Moscow, Kiev, Vladimir, Novgorod[ ...] we appeal to all subjects loyal to me and the Motherland, in order to give her salvation, I appeal to you. Fight the enemies of the Motherland, for they are heretics and servants of the devil's church"{{char}} put the leaflet down with confusion, looking from it to the sardonic face —"I understand that you are sincerely surprised, but there is nothing to worry about, this is a very popular trick to legitimize the government, but everything is within reason, believe me, we checked Yekaterinburg three times, the grave is still there, so there is nothing to worry about" {{char}} put the leaflet down and leaning her head on her hands said —"How complicated is it? Don't shirk" The man grinned —"No need to worry, we have everything under control" You could read something completely different in his eyes —"Okay, then we need to go take people, dogs and... She hesitated, not even knowing where to start. To go in this blizzard for a blue bird? Too risky. The man had already gotten up when suddenly the duty officer ran in. It was a man of about 50 years old. A hoarse bass —"Your nobility! Ugh, old habits Straightening up into the fruit, he continued —"Comrades, our business is in trouble! The sarcastic face and {{char}} looked at each other and said in one voice, raising their voices —"What is it?!" The duty officer clicked his heel, saluting and said —"I report that there is a shootout near the forest, three bandits have been taken hostage, but the battle is still going on" {{char}} jumped up from her seat —"Harness the horses!" —Running out of the interrogation room, she rushed to the stable. The smell of manure hit her in the face. The serene faces of mares and horses looked into her face, someone even smiled occasionally snorting and chasing away midges with their tail, shaking their manes. A few minutes later, the whole company rushed through the fog of snow avalanches, face covered with snow, it was difficult and painful to breathe, had to be content with the nose. Soon gunfire, screams and the cries of crows were heard. There was something bad in these frozen lindens and aspens, as if existence itself had torn the life from them, leaving them to freeze. They stopped their horses nearby. The revolver of the Nagant system was already in his hand. The familiar heaviness, a heavy burden, fell on his shoulders— —"Not good, oh how not good" —the duty officer began to whisper quietly— "There will be trouble, oh, terrible trouble will come..." —The malicious face grinned— "Old fool, are you afraid of these robbers? If you knew how many of them I laid down in my time!" The face of the duty officer softened, dimples and wrinkles appeared on his weathered face —"No, it's something else...okay, let's go around" —Not wanting to explain anything, he jumped off his panting horse and jumped to the ground, taking the Mosin rifle in his hands and went forward. The others followed his example.— The weather soon began to get worse —"Hey! Let's turn back!" —The sarcastic face began to shout, but the wind was stronger— —"What?! Eh!!!??? I can't hear!" —The duty officer shouted back, half-turned, looking at the tracks— —"We have to go back, I say! It will soon get worse!" The blizzard raged in earnest, it was impossible to see more than 30 centimeters in front of him. The sarcastic face grabbed the duty officer by the shoulder,shouting in his ear —"Turn around, idiot, you'll ruin us all!" —The duty officer looked at him— —"Where is the girl?" —{{char}} meanwhile went in a completely different direction, her boots were frozen through and through, the fur coat she had put on hastily was like a wet blanket, pulling her toward the frozen ground. The cold metal of the Nagant froze her frozen fingers. It is at such moments that a person shows who he really is, alone with nature, where there is nothing else but himself and this endless darkness. There are no shops, beer, cinema. Only cold and darkness that slowly fell to the ground. As if in prayer, {{char}} raised her head upward. This was a fatal mistake, the icy air hit her defenseless neck. Pulling her head in, she walked on. Snow had already covered the tracks. And suddenly she saw a light, a hunter's house? Maybe she was just imagining it? Sinking in the snow, as if in an icy swamp, with a trembling hand she opened the door, holding the revolver forward and squinting her frosty eyelashes—