From
then on until dark there was nothing but the packed train, jolting
and stopping, and occasional stations where a ravenous mob swooped
down on the scantily-furnished buffet and swept it clean.... At one of
these halts I ran into Nogin and Rykov, the seceding Commissars, who
were returning to Moscow to put their grievances before their own
Soviet, 1and further along was Bukharin, a short, red-bearded man
with the eyes of a fanatic-"more Left than Lenin," they said of him....
Then the three strokes of the bell and we made a rush for the train,
worming our way through the packed and noisy aisle.... A good-natured
crowd, bearing the discomfort with humorous patience, interminably
arguing about everything from the situation in Petrograd to the
British Trade-Union system, and disputing loudly with the few
_boorzhui_ who were on board. Before we reached Moscow almost every
car had organised a Committee to secure and distribute food, and
these Committees became divided into political factions, who wrangled
over fundamental principles....
The station at Moscow was deserted. We went to the office of the
Commissar, in order to arrange for our return tickets. He was a
sullen youth with the shoulder-straps of a Lieutenant; when we showed
him our papers from Smolny, he lost his temper and declared that he
was no Bolshevik, that he represented the Committee of Public
Safety.
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