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The School: On Revolution

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Message Mark Sashine
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Whenever I hear about  the Revolution  I remember a short bio story written by a young Russian writer Arkady Gaidar. He was about 15 in 1917 when the Socialist Revolution took place in Russia.  In a story  he describes a boy his age whose father, a Russian petty officer  was executed for going AWOL during  the WWI. Another soldier brought his dad's belongings to the boy and among them was a  mini Mauser pistol, found in the German trenches. The boy since then always carried the pistol in a special pocket near his heart.

So in 1917 during the turmoils of the first months he found himself on a train alone and befriended another boy of about 17. They both decided to go  South and join the Revolutionary Guard group under the command of  Red Colonel Sivers. They  took off at one of the southern stations and his friend suggested to cut the way through the woods. He had a compass and other instruments and seemed very confident. The boys went through the woods for a day and stopped for a night, made a fire  (they had some provisions) and  then the older one made himself  sort of a baton and managed to kill a bird with it. He was very handy. They fell asleep and in the morning the 15 years'- old went to the stream  to wash himself and met his friend already there.  They slept  fully clothed, so he started to take off his boots  and at that moment another boy hit him by a baton on the head and he fell unconscious.  When he  opened his eyes he saw  another boy roaming in his sack. The boy looked at him, grinned and said:

-Aha, you back, you fool. I am going to the South but not to Sivers. I am going to join the White Army under Gen. Krasnov.

With that he picked up his baton and prepared to swing it. At that moment, lying on the ground, the teenager pulled out a pistol and pointed it. That did not stop the assailant; he  only shrieked with fury a rushed at him swinging. The 15years' -old pulled the trigger and lost his senses again. When next time he  looked he saw his former friend lying on the ground. Dead. He picked up  both sacks and ran through the woods crying.

That's how it was during  the Revolution  and that's what happened between the two teenagers, the ones who by our laws would not be able to drink, to vote or to buy guns. That's how it ended between the two kids.

I am all for change and for  better life and for justice. But as we remember the glory of achievements we should forever remind ourselves  this rather strange statement about every Revolution:


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The writer is 67 years old, semi- retired engineer, PhD, PE. I write fiction on a regular basis and I am also 10 years on OEN.

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