The peasants, especially those living
in the Ukraine, stubbornly resisted the Soviet government's attempts
to take over their land. In the face of bitter opposition, Communist
officials resorted to force to win peasant obedience. Millions
of peasants were killed. Millions more were sent to forced labour
camps in Siberia from which they never returned. In the end, the
Communists were successful, but at tremendous cost in human lives
and decreased food production.
"Papa! Papa!" a small boy shouted,
"there's a truck coming down the road filled with soldiers!"
The bearded peasant took another swallow of his soup. "So,"
he said to the boy, "your standing up will not make bring
them sooner. Sit down and eat your soup."
"But Papa --"
The peasant looked up at the boy,who promptly
removed his cap and slid into his place at the the table. The
family sat stiff and silent as the sound of the car came nearer,
then stopped. A moment later, a heavy hand knocked at the door.
The father slowly rose. On the way to the door, he straightened
his back and lifted his head.
"Yes?" he said to the officer
outside.
"Yuri Shastinovich?" the officer
inquired.
"You and your family did not report
to the collectivized farm last week as you were ordered to do."
The peasant drew a deep breath. "No,"
he said, "we did not. I told the men who came here that we
do not believe in collectivized farms. We will stay here on our
own farm."
"Old man," the officer said
with a sneer, "do you not want to obey the orders of our
glorious leader Stalin? He says all farmers must report to the
collectivized farms. There they will have modern equipment and
all the new techniques. In this way they can grow more food to
feed the workers in the cities. "I will feed them what I
can grow here, on mu own farm," the peasant answered stiffly.
"Listen carefully, old man,"
the officer muttered. "You must take all of your livestock,
your supplies, and your tools and report immediately to the collective
farm. There you will share what you have with others. At harvest,
you and the others will pay part of your grain to the government
for use of the land. Part of it will go to the machine tractor
station for the use of the machinery. The rest will be yours to
divide among yourselves. In this way, you will all benefit, do
you understand? You will be able to produce more for the workers.
And you will have more for yourselves."
"I will not go." the peasant
repeated. "My family and I stay on our own land."
"But the land does not belong to
you - Oh, what's the use of talk?" the officer said disgustedly.
He turned toward the peasant's wife. She was standing across the
room, her arms protectively wrapped around her son's shoulders.
"Do you have other men fold around here?"
She swallowed hard and nodded. "A father and a brother."
she said, "a little distance to the west."
Tell them what happens to men who will not go to the collectives," the officer said sharply. He turned quickly on his heel, nodding at the squad of soldiers behind him. As he passed them a sudden volley of shots rang out. The peasant cried out once but fell. The soldiers got back into the truck and drove away.