The daily worker. [volume] (Chicago, Ill.) 1924-1958, 1933-12-08

happy, to show their uniforms seemed
the limit OF joy for them.
The German comrade with me
snorted in disgust. Watch them,
look one Of them in the eye. He
can't look you in the eye" A young
fellow came down the street. we
looked at him squarely in the face.
He twisted his face our way for a
moment then shiftiIy look away. My
comrade snorted again, II told you.
Let's get out Of here. Come on up to
the house and wen listen in on Mos
COW"
Workers neighborhood. Squat worn
houses, dilapidated. Up two flights
Of stairs and Max opened the door
facing us. Two rooms, kitchen and
bedroom. He and his wife lived here.
No children, They were existing on
ten marks a week. No room for
children.
On the kitchen table was a radio
Max hung my coat up and his wife
offered to make coffee. Max fiddled
with the dials Crashes, buzzing,
snatches of voices, music. Then a
settling around station. A clear
mans voice speaking in clear German.
That's Moscow" said Frau fish.
She leaned over the radio to hear
better. was a bit elf-consciously
the guest, and thought that perhaps
these German comrades had invited
the American comrade up to give an
exhibition Of their revolutionary fer
yor. But not this. Quite easily they
had forgotten me, now that Moscow
was speaking I can't understand
German. did not have to. The
place, German workers two rooms;
the time, Fascist Germany, and this
night, streets filled with Nazi holi-
day. Quiet up here and the radio,
the listening Herr and Frau fish
fish is not their name, of course. The
Nazi organization in New York would
copy the name and send it to their
German bureau and some cold night
in Hamburg q big car filled with
police and storm troopers would make
a raid. And then torture and con-
centration camp for Herr and Frau
fish. Not long ways to Fascist
Germany. Five and a half days on a
fast ship to all these forces, and here
in New York now we are intimately
affected by and affecting what's going
on in Germany.
THE heat in the kitchen from the
little stove, the voice droning
away, was bit drowsy. I awoke
with the fresh hight toned voice Of a
woman sounding in the kitchen. Rot
Front Rot Front, she cried
strongly.
Turn it lower!" said Herr fish.
I echoed his words silently. But his
wife very casually turned it lower.
With goodness knows who listening
in, from some surrounding apartment,
and to know you are listening in on
Moscow is a very serious offense. But
I've noticed before the casual strong
courage OF these German working
women. Not more than their hus-
bands, their sons, but equal to it.
They'll play the Internationale in
minute, but first they broadcast the
chimes of the Kremlin." said Frau
fish. A brief period of silence ever
the radio, We waited expectantly, /
tensely. Then deep braSsy booming,
a play of notes up and down the scale,
the heavy deep booming, yet musical.
chimes. Miniature in the little kit
chen, yet you could feel and see the
cold clear Moscow night with the
Kremlin chimes booming over the
new workers quarters, their clean
illness, their new healthy workers.
Romance right now was alive in
this little German kitchen. How close
the Soviet Union with its growth, its
new life was. How stark, starving
Germany with its movement down
ward with starvation under the press,
the battering of the workers under
Fascism.
Yet the Kremlin chimes booming
low III the kitchen made it all seem
heading alright, pain, fear, misery
now-but coming out Of 1t, a Soviet
Germany, Quick upon the Kremlin
chimes as they died away came the
Internationale. Tt seemed very loud.
very clear. We listened silently. We
hear 1t in our unit meetings, our dem
onstrationS, our marches in the States.
And here, a thousand miles away
A NJ TT G. II