International Woman's Day

When people think of the Russian Revolution, they usually attribute it to the events of October 1917.  However, the true beginning of the Revolution was not that of Lenin, but of Women.  On 8 March, 1917, women took the streets of Petrograd celebrating International Woman's day and their right to vote in the new Russia.  What happened during that march turned the tide of history.

The March in Petrograd

My novel, Banners: For God, Tsar and Russia relived the Petrograd march though the eyes of one of the marchers, a mill worker named Valentina Kondakova.

* * *

           When twenty-year-old Valentina Kondakova left her tenement in the Vyborg district of Petrograd, she did not intend to bring down a government. All she wanted was to participate in the International Woman’s Day and demonstrate for bread and justice.

International Woman's Day March - Petrograd 1917

At Liteiny Prospect, Valentina’s group unfolded their banner and took up their position in the front of the march. Valentina grabbed the staff on the right side of the Neva Thread Mills Workers’ soviet banner and held it high for all to see. The unfurled banner did not contain saintly ikon or the likeness of the Tsar. Instead, it delivered a simple and direct message: “Increase Rations for Soldiers’ Families, the Defenders of Freedom and a People’s Peace.” When the marchers turned onto Nevsky Prospect and came within sight of the Winter Palace, there was no turning back. Valentina squared her shoulders and steeled herself for what lie ahead. The fuse had been lit.

* **

The marchers followed the same route as those who marched twelve years prior in what would become Bloody Sunday.  Would Valentina's fate be the same as those who also wanted justice?

No longer a second class citizen

* * *

Valentina could not stop now if she wanted. The crush of the women behind her forced her forward and even the fierce sound emanating from the soldiers could not stem their advance. Valentina had resigned herself to die, but then understood the soldiers weren’t taunting―they were cheering. “Keep coming, sisters,” one shouted. “Press harder,” yelled another. Soon all the shouts blended into one single, irresistible chant, “Freedom! Freedom! Freedom!” The powder keg had exploded.

* * *

The Future Is in Her Hands

 

I named the commander of the soldiers' battalion after one of my relatives. When I told him his namesake ordered his troops to defy orders and stand down, he replied, "I would have ordered them to shoot." Perhaps because of this attitude, International Woman's Day marches continue today. However, none have yet had the repercussions of that one held in 1917.

Women Marching in Pakistan

The Joys of Childhood?

Ah, childhood, that carefree period remembered through the golden filter of old-age.  But in reality what we so blissfully recall probably was not all that carefree.  To various degrees, all of us went through some form of juvenile trauma, be it the fanciful boogeyman in our closet to the all too real school shooting.

Students evacuating their school

Real Life Trauma

I interjected this phase of childhood into my third novel, Banners: Our Children, Our Future with several examples.  I don't know if children a century ago were hardened against what we would consider life altering occurrences, or they just appear that way in faded back-and-white photos.  Judging from the scene shown below, youngsters were often not shielded from the horrors of the day.  In Banners, my young protagonists witnessed a such a hanging.

Bolsheviks executed by White forces

Inspired by this photo, my young characters reacted to the execution with youthful bravado. Anyone familiar with boys knows they would rather eat glass than loose face with their buddies. Maxsim, the oldest village boy and the leader of the Brati, would never allow himself to appear weak in front of his gang.  In this excerpt from Chapter Nine, Maxsim embellishes his tentative experience with death to impress his charges.

* * *

“You didn't really see a guy get killed―did you?” Stepha asked, his eyes widening.

“Yes, I did. I saw it at the cinema,” Maksim told him. “In Chelyabinsk. He got shot by a firing squad.” Maksim had assembled his subjects behind a collapsed izbah and conducted their emotions like an orchestra. Looking from right to left, he lowered his voice to almost a whisper. “The soldiers came and put this guy against a wall,” he said and mimicked bringing up a rifle up to eye. When the boys leaned closer, he shouted. “Then, POW. The smoke came from the guns and he flew backwards and his cap fell off and everything.” Maksim snapped his fingers, “Just like that, he was dead.”

* * *

During the hanging, the boys jostled for favorable positions, both to witness the event and to pose afterward for the war correspondents.

* * *

“Come on. They're taking fotografia.” Maksim grabbed Stepha's arm and together they ran toward the gallows."

* * *

I didn't have the boys suffer any effects from trauma.  The closest they came to reliving the hanging was a superstition concerning walking past the gallows' site. 

 * * *

When their path led past the gallows, Vanya hesitated. “I don't want to go there.”

“It'll be alright,” Stepha assured him. "All you have to do is hold your hand over your mouth and nose and hold your breath. Then the spirits can't enter your body.”

 * * *

Nightmares Real and Imagined

Perhaps those children from a century ago appear callous because they were subjected to a daily string of terrors, both real and imagined. Many endured lives full of sadistic school masters, drunken parents, mean-spirited relatives, brimstone hurling preachers and a string of bullies like Stepha's Kolya.

Just one of Stepha's childhood memories

As if these fears were not enough, children were subjected to imaginary terrors that caused them to  hide.in terror  In addition to the river-dwelling rusalka, child-devouring baba-yaga, ghouls beneath the privy, and legions of night demons; youngsters were bombarded with endless dire warnings from each other.  Older children cautioned their smaller siblings to hold their breath while walking past a graveyard, not to step on a crack and to beware of even the most benign creatures.

Beware the graveyard ghosts

In Chapter Thirteen of Slogans, Stepha comes face to face with one of these creatures, the flying darning needle.  While a dragonfly may not elicit terror in an adult, it can in a child. I placed Stepha in this situation to illustrate his courage to overcome fear, yet remain cautious.

Dragonfly

* * *

The story of flying darning needles stitching children's lips together might be just another of Teta Kataya's scary myths but Stepha wasn't taking the chance. Even after he passed through Old Rosina's tusked archway and was sure the stryadrakon was gone, he waited before taking his hand away from his mouth.

* * *

Including childhood terrors in an historical novel broadens the culture of the period and also provides an avenue to expand your characters.  Plus, it's fun to recall old childhood fears and discover new ones from the safety of old age.

Rusalka

I like to weave Russian folklore, myths and legends into my novels; be they the baba yagi of the Belarus swamps, Mayor Voloctic's house spirits, or Akulina's tale of the Uglish bell.  During a Russian class at the University of Dayton, our professor expanded our appreciation for the Slavic culture by introducing us to the rusalka, a myth with which I was not familiar. 

Professor Tatiana Liaugmias

Doctor Liaugmias' described the rusalka as the slimy ghost of drowned young women who tickled boys to death.  Yes, tickled.  She presented the story in such a dramatic fashion, I knew I had to include the rusalka in my novel Slogans: Our Children Our Future. I chose to write the scene from the viewpoint of three village lads.  No one believes more in belligerent spirits and enjoys telling scary stories than that age group.  Also, the riverside incident provided an excellent avenue to broaden their character.

The Rusalka

* * *

Oleg studied the river; then the sinking sun.  “We better get going.  All those splashes in the deeps will awaken the rusalka and then we'll be in big trouble.”

“There's no such thing as rusalka.” Stepha said and flung another stone.  “Master Gleb said they're just make-believe pagan stories to keep babies from the river.”

Oleg shook his head.  “Oh, they're real alright.  One of the Staroverok boys told me one time a girl from the village fell in and drowned and she became a rusalka because his cousin saw her return to the village one night.  Then this other boy saw her and said her skin looked like wet bread dough and her hair was dripping with weeds and so were her clothes and then she crept from izbah to izbah looking for a boy to tickle.”

“That's the dumbest thing I ever heard.”  Stepha was just about to cock his arm when icy fingers caressed his sides and began to tickle.
 

Stepha's shrieks echoed off the rocky hills and sailed up and downstream.  He leapt toward the water, slipped and plunged into the winter-chill.  By time Stepha righted himself, Vanya and his icy fingers were mere specks on the trail, his long-limbed legs flying back to the village.  For a moment, Stepha thought about giving chase but thought better.  Unlike rusalka, Vanya's speed was not make-believe.

* * *

In early 1900 Dvorak wrote an opera based on the rusalka tale.  The synopsis sounds an awful lot like the plot of Hans Christian Andersen's Little Mermaid, written in 1837.  I'm not saying Dvorak stole the idea, but one wonders.

Dvorak's opera Rusalka

Russian-American Collussion

 Following the 2016 Presidential election, American social media has been rife with allegations of  collusion between the Trump Presidency and Russian government.  Whether it was Russia directly aiding Trump's campaign or scuttling Clinton's, stories of skullduggery abound.  A century ago, there was no need for conjecture as to the meddling of one country's government affairs in another.  The deed was done quite openly.  Only this time the drama's villain was the United States.

Intervention

In early 1918 while Russia was in the grips of Revolution, German troops threatened to capture Moscow.  Lenin, now in charge of the government, ended the war with Germany to end in late February with the Treaty of Brest-Litovsk. Citing betrayal, Allies turned against Lenin's regime by aiding his "White" enemies and landing troops in Russian ports to prevent Russian supplies from reaching Germany.
 
At the urging of France and Great Britain, the United States sent military forces to the Russian cities of  Vladivostok and Murmansk.  The American troops in the north were from the 339th Infantry Regiment, a unit made up primarily of men from the Detroit, Michigan area.  When the armistice was signed on November 11, 1918, the 339th found themselves in a war with Bolshevik Russia that would last until mid-1919.

Men of the 339th Infantry in Murmansk

 

US Intervention in My Novel

I worked the story of America's Intervention into Slogans: Our Children, Our Future by showing the effect American action had the Russian expatriates  living in the United States.

* * * 

No sooner had Locko Fadukovich made his opening statements then the All Russian Committee for the Aid to Dependent Slavic Families became a fractured mob. The committee, whose numbers were smaller than its name, consisted of the seven Russian men whose families were still in the Old Country and to Locko it appeared their families' plights were the only thing they had in common.  Instead of ways to raise money, the discussion had turned into a debate on American intervention.  As chairman, Locko tried to keep the talk civil and on topic, but the harder he pounded his fist the louder the voices became.  Perhaps, he now realized, meeting in the backroom of Shimek's Tavern was not the best idea.

“So America should stand by and do nothing while the Bolsheviks run around murdering innocent Russians.  If those devils can kill the Tsar, then no one is safe.”

“Oh, and the Tsar was not a murderer with blood dripping from his hands?  How many millions died because of him?  I say good riddance to him and all the royalty.”

“You're as much a bastard as those who are doing the killing.”

“Let those still in Russia decide.  If it's a tsar they want, then it's a tsar they'll have.  But don't let other countries determine her fate.  Especially the French and English.  They are no friends of Russia.”

 * * *

 America's continued meddling in Russian affairs lead to a series of demonstrations and clashes between Russian sympathizers and police.  Using the prospect of a Communist uprising as an excuse, most of the demonstrations were brutally suppressed.  My characters' reactions were not surprising.

* * *

How can we obey a country making war on our home?  I've had enough of Wilson's lies.  First he says America invaded Russia to prevent it from leaving the war.  Later American soldiers are in Archangel to protect weapons after Kerensky was overthrown.  Then they are in Vladivostok fighting Russians to free the Czech Legion.  Today he says the America army is advancing in Siberia to save the lost Russian children.  How many more lies does Wilson have to tell and how may more Russians do the Americans have to kill before we do something?  A thousand?  A million?”

 * * *

A Monument to Folly

In June of 1919, the last American troops left Murmansk after suffering more than 500 casualties and souring Russian-American relations for years to come.  To commemorate their service in Russia, the 339th was given the nickname of Detroit's Own  Polar Bears and a distinctive unit insignia.  A monument to the unit and its action ion Russia was erected in Troy, Michigan.

Polar Bear Monument in White Chapel Cemetery, Troy, Michigan, by Leon Mermant

 

The USS Chester

In a twist that can only happen in real life, the last US troops were evacuated from Murmansk aboard the American cruiser, USS Chester.  Twenty-five years later, my father who was seven-years old at the time, found himself serving on a new heavy cruiser named the USS Chester.

USS Chester, CL-1

Foreshadowing

Foreshadowing

fore·shad·ow

fôrˈSHadō

verb

gerund or present participle: foreshadowing

be a warning or indication of (a future event).

I watched the The Game of Thrones television series based on George R. R. Martin's Songs of Fire and Ice for the second time and noticed the saga was peppered with foreshadowing.  Throughout the series subtle phrases gave the viewer a glimpse into the coming events.  For example, several times early in the saga the ill-fated character Catelyn alluded to never seeing her children again, and another occured following the marriage of Rob Stack to Jayne Westerling when one of Rob's bannermen prophesied, "Your marriage cost us the war."

Catelyn Stark

These instances could have been spoilers, but were hinted at with such care as to not give away the plot or pull the reader from the scene.  I used foreshadowing in my novels and strove to limit the amount of information each presented.

The Storm

Since Akulina's death was the focal point of all of my novels, it was mentioned in all three.  Most, if not all, my foreshadowing came from Akulina's visions.  Her reputation as a seer provided a seamless way to present future events.  In my first novel, Ikons: Saint Nicholas the Wonder Worker, soon after Massey leaves for America, Akulina tells her father of a vision very similar to that of Catlyn Stark. 

* * *

Akulina continued to stare off at the distant horizon, watching something hidden from her father's eyes.  "No.  Not exactly a vision," she explained in a tone devoid of emotion.  “I feel it more than I see it.  Even now when I look to the sky I can feel it and almost make it out.  It’s like a black cloud that fills the entire sky just beneath the horizon.  But it’s much more than a cloud.  It’s much more than a storm.  It’s blackness.  A blackness darker than the darkness in potato cellar beneath the izbah.  A blackness.”

 
Akulina looked at the ground before her.  "I have a feeling--a very strong feeling that I will never see my Massey again.  I can't explain it, Papa.  I just know it."

* * *

Akulina's Vision

Akulina tried to explain away her vision as a natural reaction to life in early twentieth century Russia.  After all, she later tells her father, if one waits long enough something bad will happen.

The Onion Field 

My second novel, Banners: For God, Tsar, and Russia, began with foreshadowing.  Shortly before the outbreak of the Great War, Akulina collapsed while harvesting the onion field.  When questioned why she cried out the Russian word for skulls, she admitted the bulbs appeared as the skulls of people she knew.  She then added, “The last skull I saw, was mine.”

Akulina's vision

Making Cheese

I kept the skull image in the final novel, Slogans: Our Children, Our Future. This time I used the scene where Akulina was making cheese.  As she stirred the mixture, cheese globules began to form and morphed into the shape of skulls.  (I must like the skull image since I employed it twice.)  Again, Akulina recognized the features as those deceased.  This time they called out to her.

* * *

In turn, Master Gleb, Ultia Yauhoraka, Simon Petr and Kochek the Cobbler broke to the surface and sank.  Finally, as one, the skulls churned to the top, stared at her from empty sockets and cried out through lipless mouths.  “Akulina Boriskova, soon you will join us.”  The onion field had returned and once more Akulina crumpled.

* * * 

Looking back at my use of foreshadowing, I don't think they were very subtle.  They may have taken the reader out of the flow and bludgeoned him with images, but Akulina's death merited strong ones.  While foreshadowing is obviously important with writing a saga, use them sparingly and treat them with care. Reread your favorite novel and watch for well constructed examples.

The Pribish Boys Go To War

It is difficult to imagine the scope of World War Two.  The war that began nearly eighty years ago enveloped millions and spread misery across the entire Earth.  No family was left untouched as sons and fathers, uncles and cousins were called into the service.  Two of my family members who found themselves in this maelstrom of terror were my father and uncle, Stafan and John Pribish.

PCF John Pribish

My uncle John Pribish, referred in my novels as Vanya, immigrated to the United States in 1933.  He obtained his citizenship in 1940 and was shortly afterwards drafted in early 1941.  While his term of service was to be only one year, declaration of war in December of 1941 changed that.

John as a Tommy gunner in the ETO

John was stationed stateside until 1944 when he participated in the Normandy invasion.  As a lineman, his mission was repairing communication lines cut by the enemy.  It was a job without much chance for longevity.  He received several combat decorations while battling across Europe and remained there as part of the Allied occupation forces until 1948.  John returned to Rockdale with a war-bride and started his career with Caterpillar.

Seaman Stefan Pribish

Stefan quit barbering when the war broke out and found employment at a defense plant, thus ensuring him a deferment.  With a one year-old son and a daughter on the way, he could have ridden out the war at home, but instead joined the Navy at the age of 31.

Sefan during shore duty on Kwajalien

After boot camp he was assigned to the cruiser USS Chester as a ship's barber and gunner's mate.  Stefan saw action in the Sought Pacific and the bombardment of Iwo Jima, where he claimed his gun crew was responsible for downing several Japanese aircraft.  Stefan was discharged in 1946 and returned to Rockdale to resume barbering.

USS Chester

The Women's Death Batallion

While researching the Russian Revolution, I came upon a photo of the Women's Death Battalion.  Intrigued by the image and accompanying article, I was determined to include their story in my trilogy.  Unfortunately the late 80's was in still the information Stone Age and I struggled to flesh out their story.  It was not until the advent of internet that I gathered enough data to incorporate the Battalion into my saga.

Women's Death Battalion

I chose to tell the story of the Women's Battalion through my character Kataya.  The groundwork for her enlisting in the Death Battalion was laid early in my the second book, Banners: For God, Tsar and Russia when Kataya expressed her budding belief in feminist power. 

* * *

“Who-needs-men?”  Kataya’s attempt at humor died without eliciting a response.  The women surrounding her just stared at the ground.  “It-is-true.  We-have-no-need of-men,” Kataya said again, not ready to give up on her profound statement.

* * *

Once war with Germany begun, her father Boris traded his vodka stores for several dozen Mauser rifles to protect Hutava.  He attempted to instruct his eldest daughter, Akulina, in the use of the weapon, but she failed miserably. 

German Mauser 98

Undaunted by her older sister's feeble attempt Kataya shouldered the fallen weapon and faithfully mimicked her father's instructions.

* * *

“Let-me-try, Papa.”  Before Boris could reply, Kataya lifted the rifle from the ground.  It was heavier than she thought; yet she smoothly raised it to her shoulder.  Kataya planted both feet firmly in the soft earth, placed her cheek against the cool wooden stock and peered through the sights.  Slowly she squeezed the trigger, relishing in the cold, metallic click of the firing pin.  Still looking straight ahead she lowered the rifle, quickly slapped the bolt open, injected the imaginary bullet and slammed it closed.  Again she brought the rifle up to click off another round.  The Hutawa defense force had its first recruit

* * *

At the age of fourteen, Kataya had her nephew Stefan cut her hair and then ran off to join the Russian Army.  Even though she was small and young, her stamina and weapons' skill won her a spot in the newly formed Women's Death Battalion, a women's unit conceived by combat veteran,  Maria Bochkareva.  Sergeant Bochkareva had convinced the Russian Provisional Government to create an all female combat military force, who by their spirit de core would bolster the morale of the collapsing German front.

Kataya's stature always placed her in the front row

After several months of training, Kataya served at the front as a sniper.  Her experience in her one and only battle did not fair well.

* * *

Mercifully, Kataya could not remember everything.  Tragically, she remembered enough.  Kataya can easily recall the excitement of the train ride west and the march to the front lines and how gooseflesh appeared on her arms when Maria Boshkareva announced the women would lead the assault and male battalions would be supporting their flanks.  Kataya can still feel the rush of adrenaline as she climbed to the dirt parapet with the other sharpshooters and prepared to protect her comrades.  She remembers seeing Mademoiselle Skridlova’s banner leading the way and the utter confusion that followed.  Her mind holds only bits and pieces of bursting shells, screams, bodies snared in the barbed wire like flies in a web, and her own body frozen in terror.

* * *

After suffering a concussion from a shell explosion, Kataya convalesced and returned to her barracks where she learned the cost of war.

* * *

Kataya went over to her old bunk and threw her kit atop the straw mattress.  She took a deep breath, turned to the comrade seated on the next bunk and asked the question to which she feared the answer.  “Where are the others?”

“There are no others.”

* * *

The Women's Death Battalion made their final stand guarding the Winter Palace against the Bolsheviks.  Out numbered and outgunned the women were forced to surrender.  Kataya spent her last days as a member of the battalion being chastised by a commissar before he shooed her off like a petulant child.

Eventually, the Red Army accepted Kataya and many other women into the combat arms during the Russian Civil War.  Two decades later, during the Great Patriotic War, women followed in the Death Battalions footsteps by serving not only as riflemen, but also as tankers, gunners and pilots.

Snipers from the Byelorussian Front