JOURNEYS Mennonite Stories of Faith and Survival in Stalins Russia, John B. Toews, 1998

r own report with Somov first. Utilize mine only as last resort. Also tell him if you are not back in a few days I’ll send my report to the camp administration in Dolinka.” I thanked him profusely and rode back to the summer camp. I felt as though I was ready for battle. Help came from an unex¬ pected source. I calmly awaited Somovs summons. I knew it was inevitable and so packed my few belongings. Who knew how this episode might end? There was great unrest in our camp. People came to me on one pretext or another and assured me of their support .... As expected a guard came to get me towards evening. I was to meet Somov at 9 p . m . When we arrived in Karadshar I placed my horse in the barn and asked for directions to the “Third Hut” as the residence of the third section of the NKVD was known. No one was in the reception room when I arrived. After a few min¬ utes Somovs assistant, the investigator Pilenko, opened the side door. He greeted me courteously and asked me to wait. Darkness gradually enveloped me. There was no lamp. It was an uncanny and depressing silence. A sequence of images, one sadder than the next, filled my mind. I’d lost track of time when the door finally opened and Pilenko called for me. These kind of people always worked nights. I entered Pilenko s office. Korneva and Zvyagin sat on a bench to the right side of the door. A double door led to Somovs office. Korneva hissed at me but Pilenko silenced her. He opened the door and ushered me into Somovs office, who was sitting at his desk. He did not return my greeting. With an angry hand gesture he signalled for Pilenko to leave. A coal oil lamp stood on the table burning brightly. The electricity was always shut off by twelve 126 JOURNEYS midnight. There was a long, depressing silence. It reminded me of the interrogation in the Dnepropetrovsk prison. Somov kept working, reading papers and taking notes. Finally he looked up and in a crackling voice exclaimed: “So you are here.” Now the interrogation, conducted according to all the rules of this art form, began. I categorically rejected all accusations. Somov lost his self-control. He jumped up from his chair and paced up and down screaming at me in anger. After a while he threw a pile of papers on the table and shouted: “Here! read these!!” I examined them one after another. All were signed by Korneva and Zvyagin. The documents he sought signatures for at the farm only had one signature - his. I pushed the papers aside and said, “I don’t have to read anymore. I know who wrote them and why. These are nothing but lies and provocations.” There was a momentary silence. Then he exploded like a vol¬ cano. “Get up you scoundrel!” A torrent of the worst Russian swear words ensued. I got out my documents. First the one out¬ lining their strategy for my arrest and destruction, which they wanted to achieve with lies, deceit and provocations. Somov sat down at the table and read thr