Chief of the Military Revolutionary Committee
For the Secretary
Late in the night we went through the empty streets and under the
Iberian Gate to the great Red Square in front of the Kremlin. The
church of Vasili Blazheiny loomed fantastic, its bright-coloured,
convoluted and blazoned cupolas vague in the darkness. There was no
sign of any damage.... Along one side of the square the dark towers and
walls of the Kremlin stood up. On the high walls flickered redly the
light of hidden flames; voices reached us across the immense place,
and the sound of picks and shovels. We crossed over.
Mountains of dirt and rock were piled high near the base of the wall.
Climbing these we looked down into two massive pits, ten or fifteen
feet deep and fifty yards long, where hundreds of soldiers and
workers were digging in the light of huge fires.
A young student spoke to us in German. "The Brotherhood Grave," he
explained. "To-morrow we shall bury here five hundred proletarians
who died for the Revolution."
He took us down into the pit. In frantic haste swung the picks and
shovels, and the earth-mountains grew. No one spoke. Overhead the
night was thick with stars, and the ancient Imperial Kremlin wall
towered up immeasurably.
"Here in this holy place," said the student, "holiest of all Russia,
we shall bury our most holy.
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