"Antonov! We'll take him ourselves," the Reds reply. "Harm him and we'll kill you—every one of you."
Red Guards Tricked
by the Red Cross Car.
Desperate situations induce desperate ventures.
"Oh, for a Red Cross car," sighed an officer. "The Reds might let that thru their lines."
"Well, if we haven't the car, we've got the crosses," said another officer, producing four big Red Cross labels. He pasted them on front, sides and back of an auto. At once it looked like a Red Cross car.
Two officers took the front seat. One at the wheel, the other with his hand on the auto pocket and a revolver in his hand. A haggard man, half crazed with fear, the father of one of the Yunkers climbed into the rear.
"Jump in and come along," said the officers to me. The Whites always took it for granted that anyone in bourgeois dress was on the bourgeois side. Even many who knew of the revolutionary activity of men like John Reed, for example, and myself, assumed it was only a ruse to get the confidence of the Bolsheviks.
I climbed into the car and the hood was pushed thru the archway. At sight of the Red Cross the firing of the Red Guard ceased. Slowly and anxiously we drove up to the Red lines. The soldiers, sailors and workmen received us, guns in hand.
