Comrade Yuri is a coming-of-age, historical novel set in Soviet Russia from the later years of the First
World war and into the 1940s. It deals with the plight of millions of homeless boys created by the First
World War and the Civil War between the Reds and the Whites during the Russian Revolution. The story
follows several boys from their teens into early middle-age as the boys try to cope, first with their orphaned
existence, and then with life under the totalitarian Soviet Communist dictatorship. Orphaned girls were often
taken in and sheltered by families who could afford to keep them. Orphaned boys were considered to be
too much trouble and were left to fend for themselves. The dedication page, table of contents and sample
pages from chapter one are shown below.
 Copyright © 2002 by Paul Roebling
Dedication Page
 This book is dedicated to the millions of Russian boys who were starved to death by the Communists
of the former Soviet Union. This slaughter of innocents was the result of incompetent government policies
put in place by Lenin as part of the "great social experiment" in which the individual counted for nothing.
The genocide continued under Joseph Stalin as a means of eliminating "untrustworthy elements" from Soviet
society through the use engineered famines in the Ukraine and elsewhere in the Marxist state. Those who
still glorify the "great social experiment" of communism should take a close look at its bitter fruits above.
Harvard University still teaches a course with the title Does Communism Deserve Another Chance? What
do you think?
Contents
1. White Solace......................................................1
2. Red Terror.......................................................46
3. South to Orenberg.............................................97
4. The British and Their Infernal Machines............148
5. Escape at Any Cost..........................................198
6. The Checka.....................................................231
7. Orsk Corrective Labor Camp.............................281
8. Path to Socialism Commune..............................318
9. Policeman for the State.....................................355
10. First Assignment...............................................396
11. Return to Sevastopol.........................................440
12. Spying on the Enemy........................................482
13. Famine and Suicide...........................................522
14. Forced Collectivization......................................559
15. The Germans Come Again.................................600
16. Smolensk and the Defense of Moscow................641
17. Assignment London...........................................699
18. A New Life.......................................................766
Chapter One
White Solace
Page 1
I was at peace on that lazy Saturday morning as I gazed out over the meandering stream below my small
village of Petgrovney, not far from the city of Ekaterinburg. But much of Russia was in turmoil. There was
a rumor that the czar and his family were imprisoned in Ekaterinburg, but my humble station in life as the
twelve-year-old son of a village school headmaster did not involve me in such important matters of state.
I glanced over at Pavel, my boyhood friend, intently watching the end of his fishing line dangling there
in the stream. We were not engaged in a boys' pastime but in a serious quest for food. The government
had requisitioned food from our village for soldiers at the front, leaving little for our own use. Even after
Russia left the war food was a constant preoccupation. And now that the Bolsheviks and Whites were
fighting each other for control of the country, both sides scavenged food from nearby villages. It was the
war and the shortage of food that had cost Pavel his whole family. Pavel's father had been killed while
battling the Germans in the West. Cholera had taken the rest of Pavel's family; his mother, his brothers and
his sisters. I had also lost my younger brother to this insidious disease. I brushed a tear from my cheek as
I remembered his smiling face. Pavel had come to live with me and my parents after his tragic loss, and
his company had eased my own sorrow.
Pavel shooed a pesky fly away from the sandy hair of his head. I knew that I loved Pavel as much as
my departed brother. Pavel and I were the same age, and we had been boyhood pals for as long as I could
remember. Pavel looked over toward me, and I answered his cherished smile with a grin and a nod as I
moved my fishing line in the stream, hoping to attract an elusive carp.
Page 2
I glanced over at the basket that held the mushrooms Pavel and I had gathered earlier that morning.
One had to search for mushrooms very early in the morning close to our village, for all were hungry, and
any mushrooms in the forest near the village were usually gone by late in the day. The one, lone carp I
had managed to catch tugged on the line running to the stake by my feet. Leaving the carp imprisoned in
the water would keep it fresh until we brought it and any companions home when our fishing ended for the
day.
Pavel leaped up as the end of his fishing pole dipped down. "I think I've got one, Yuri!" Pavel exclaimed
excitedly as he jerked his line onto the bank of the stream. "Aww, it got away," he said in disappointment.
Pavel adjusted the tiny piece of salt pork attached to his hook before casting his line back into the stream.
I looked up toward our village and the gleaming-white Orthodox church at the very top of the hill. Father
Dimitry was our parish priest - a kindly man with a bushy beard. The finery of his vestments and the splendor
of the church contrasted sharply with the rude dwellings that comprised our village. I served mass for Father
Dimitry on Sundays with Pavel by my side. The noble family of Baron Konstantin Rodinskov had paid for
the construction of our prized church many years ago. Almost everyone in our village had been serfs of the
Rodinskov family before that form or servitude had been abolished - also many years ago. Some villagers
still worked on the Rodinskov estates as laborers, but most muzhiks now owned the land that they farmed.
We still paid homage to the Rodinskovs on special occasions, and we were rewarded for this respect with
gifts of food and other necessities in these increasing hard times.
Page 3
But our village, along with several surrounding villages and hamlets, was now ruled by the Zemstva, of
which my father was a member. This elected council settled land disputes, mediated legal affairs, and saw
that taxes were fairly collected. It was this hint of self-government and freedom that gave me the hope I
might leave Petgrovney one day and achieve greater status in the city. My father was teaching me above
the level of most boys my age and encouraging me in my aspirations. Under my father's guidance, I had
constructed a crystal radio receiver, and I had already mastered the language of dots and dashes that allowed
me to understand the code that was often communicated by this marvelous means.
The crystal set made me a celebrity of sorts among my peers. Pavel would often beam with pride when
I showed off my prized possession to new boys. And I would sometimes invite my closest friends to listen
to this amazing new invention through the earphones that were required.
I was distracted from these thoughts by the sound of horses' hooves and the crunch of the wheels of
the carriage they were pulling along the dirt road behind me. I rose up and saw the Rodinskov carriage
approaching.
"It's Peter Rodinskov and his father, Yuri," Pavel said excitedly as he too saw the carriage and came
to stand beside me. "They must have business in Petgrovney today."
"Take off your cap and bow," I said as I nudged Pavel.
"Good-morning, Batyuska!" Pavel and I called out, addressing the noble pair as Little Father and bowing
with our caps in our hands.
Page 4
Our bows were acknowledged with a nod of the head by Peter's father, but Peter gave us a wave and
a smile. I admired Peter in his spotless, white uniform with its shiny buttons and decorations. Peter was
about the same age as Pavel and me, but we lived in worlds apart. I could only imagine the luxury and
grandeur in which he must exist.
"Peter waved to us," Pavel noted happily after the noble carriage had passed on its stately way up to
the village.
"Yes, he is not as formal and aloof as his father," I agreed. "But perhaps Peter will change when he is
older. It is frowned upon amongst the nobility to be too friendly with muzhiki like us."
"Do you think we could ever become Peter's friends?" Pavel asked.
"No, not unless we do something important or become famous," I replied.
"You have a crystal radio set," Pavel said. "That makes you famous."
"Only amongst our own kind, Pavel," I said with a chuckle. "Well, let's see if we can catch more than
one fish for dinner before we start back."
We returned to our fishing, and I started musing about what Pavel had said. Would I ever do anything
important in my life? The radio set was a start, but how far would that carry me? No, I would have to get
a university education to become an important person. Was that possible on my father's meager income?
Perhaps I could win a prize if I studied hard - a scholarship to a university. My father had already promised
me he would look into that possibility when I was older.
Page 5
"I got one!" Pavel exclaimed as he looped the flopping fish onto the bank of the stream. "Now we're
even," he chuckled and beamed at me.
"We will need two more if everyone is to have a fish for dinner," I noted. "Let's see who can catch the
next one."
I watched my line intently, hoping to beat Pavel this time. Pavel was the better fisherman. Being ahead
of him by one fish earlier in the morning was an unusual occurrence. Well, being even was not so bad.
Looking down, I noticed tiny ripples moving out from the bank of the stream, and I heard a rumbling
sound, like thunder a long way off. Then they appeared on the crest of the hill in the distance - White
Russian cavalry, and it seemed as if there were hundreds of them.
"Yuri! Soldiers!" Pavel called out to me as he saw them too.
The pounding of the horses' hooves was distinct now as the dense mass of men and horses approached;
sabers clanking and bridles chinking. Pavel and I took off our caps and waved them in the air over our heads
as the thundering hoard went dashing on by and up the hill toward our village; the dust kicked up by their
passing drifting back over us.
"Let's see if they stop in the village!" Pavel yelled excitedly, gathering up his fishing pole and the basket
with our precious mushrooms.
I retrieved our line of fish from the stream and joined Pavel as we rushed up the hill after the magnificent
band of heroic men on horseback. The dirt road had been churned up by the horses' hooves, making it seem
as if we were walking in a newly-plowed field. Soon I was panting from my exertions as I struggled up the
hill in anticipation of what we might find at the top.
Copyright © 2002 by Paul Roebling
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