The following days were filled with organizational work. The plague interfered. It stole his best comrades from him. Otherwise, Comrade Laval would probably have scarcely noticed it; he was totally absorbed in organizing the workers’ councils on the southern outskirts of Paris. Hygiene and precautions a must. The rest is up to the doctors. The plague was even useful to some degree. It purged the downtown and western quarters of their bourgeois elements. Now the outskirts had to get on their feet, so that the moment the epidemic was eradicated, all of bourgeois Paris would awake to the clamping jaws of a proletarian blockade. Taking control of the plague-weakened city would be easy as pie.
But the plague showed no signs of abating, it decimated the proletarian ranks with sinister efficiency. It was extremely difficult to work in such conditions. Each day one had to start from scratch. And on top of everything – famine. The young, developing commune was sentenced to die by starvation. The remaining ranks of the Parisian proletariat, already thinned out, would die fighting for a morsel of bread at the barricades of the Anglo-American territory. Moreover, Comrade Laval didn’t believe such substantial food supplies would be found over there in the first place.
Everything was turning to rubble before his very eyes, under a cruel, unswerving axe. The last threat they had sent those imperialists filling their bellies in peace and abundance across the cordon, patiently waiting until plague and famine finally killed off the last Parisian, had failed. What was left? Capitulate and wait for death with hands folded over one knee, or charge at it headfirst, at the barricades of the plague-infested Anglo-American territory?
Comrade Laval silently hefted tons of stubborn, gloomy thoughts, as he once had shoveled coal.
Long after midnight there was a knock at the door of Comrade Lecoq, commander of the Soviet Republic of Belleville army.
Comrade Lecoq groped for his pince-nez on the chair by his bedside, stuck it on his nose, and throwing his greatcoat over his underwear, went to the door, turning on the lights as he went.
“Is that you, Comrade Laval? What’s happened? Is it urgent?”
“I’ve come to you on business, Comrade Commandant. And my business is urgent. It’s not personal, it concerns the whole commune. I couldn’t hold out till morning. Please don’t be angry…” said Comrade Laval, crumpling his cap in his hands.
“Not at all, not at all!” said Comrade Lecoq, bustling about. “Come in. I’m at your service. If it’s important, the time of day doesn’t matter. Sleep can wait. Have a seat. Cigarette? I’m all ears. What’s the matter?”
“I’ve come, Comrade Commandant, with regard to the commune’s provisions. I can’t allow the last proletariat to be sent to charge the Anglo-American barricades. We won’t find any food there anyway. It’s sheer suicide.”
Comrade Lecoq nearly lost his pince-nez in surprise.
“How can this be, comrade? That was the resolution of the Council of Delegates. You already mentioned this at the session. Your motion was already tried. It brought no results. We had to pass another resolution. And now that this resolution has been passed it’s too late to turn back. The timing is not the best. If each of us began to criticize and overturn the Council’s resolutions, where would we be? You know perfectly well why this particular resolution was passed, and at the time you didn’t protest. You understood there was no alternative.”
“There is an alternative,” Comrade Laval said grimly. “I didn’t see it then, but I do now. That’s why I’ve come to see you so late, Comrade Commandant.”
“What have you suddenly found? You’ve seen that they weren’t intimidated by your telegram. They didn’t bring a single railcar of food by the deadline. What should we wait for? Who is going to bring it to us?”
“That’s why I’ve come, Comrade Commandant. I’ll bring it to you,” blurted Laval.
“You?”
Comrade Lecoq leaned forward in astonishment.
“What do you mean, you? Where are you going to get it?”
“Where I get it is my own business. Obviously it’ll mean crossing the cordon.”
Comrade Lecoq coughed with impatience.
“Comrade, have you come to make jokes? What does that mean, ‘crossing the cordon’? We have no time here for jokes.”
“It’s not jokes I have in mind, Comrade Commandant. I’ve come to tell you that tomorrow I’m coming back with provisions for the commune, and I’ve come during the night because the matter is urgent, to my mind, and there’s not a moment to lose.”
Comrade Lecoq studied his guest carefully and responded only after a long pause:
“How, may I ask, are you going to get food for the commune across the cordon by yourself?”
“By breaking through the cordon, obviously. A whole army couldn’t do it, but a few men might be able to slip through. Especially by water.”
“So what if you slip through and return with a loaf of bread? Is the commune supposed to feed itself off that? Do you know how much it will take to feed the commune? Freight cars! How are you going to slip back through with them? Carry them on your back?”
“Not on my back, but it won’t be hard to carry them by water.”
“What water?”
“Just regular water. There’s no cordon on the river. They haven’t bricked up the river.”
“And what about it. They guard it day and night. A fish couldn’t get through.”
“I haven’t come to you for nothing, Comrade Commandant. I’ve checked everything. I know what I’m talking about. You can get out by river.”
“How?”
“Not during the day, but at night.”
“But you know they shine floodlights on the Seine to make sure no one sails down it at night.”
“They do light it up, but not the whole of the Seine, only for one mile. Two floodlights. One on each side. There’s no more floodlights in the area, and why should there be? It’s as bright as daylight.”
“So how do you think you’ll be able to sail through?”
“Sailing through won’t be too hard, even with more than one ship, as many as you like. You’ve only got to shut off the floodlights.”
“How do you intend to do that?”
“Again, it’s very simple when you know the exact positions of the floodlights. Two shots from a five-inch gun should do the job. We pulled more complicated stunts in the navy.”
“Let’s say you manage to knock out both floodlights. They’ll have them repaired in half an hour.”
“In half an hour I could get all of Belleville through, if you want. Especially now. The nights are dark as pitch.”
“OK. And on the way back?”
“The way back will be harder, of course. We can always try. On the way back they won’t catch on right away who’s going where. And if they catch on at the first cordon, I don’t suppose they’ll do much shooting. The cordon is meant to keep people in Paris. Whoever chooses to enter the wolf’s lair can go where he pleases. Why shoot? They’ll fire twice to give us a scare and then leave us alone.”
“All that sounds well and good. But where do you intend to get your hands on the food?”
Comrade Laval drew in closer:
“If you sail straight down the Seine, some thirty-five miles from Paris, there is a place called Tansorel. My hometown. I know every pebble by heart. There’s a steam mill a verst from the shore, a huge one that grinds grain for the whole area. At this time there should be a good dozen freight cars of flour in it. We should be able to collect three barges with two hundred sacks, give or take a few. A tugboat couldn’t haul more. I thought about taking empty barges from here as well, but it will be easier to slip through with a single tugboat. And we’ll pick up the barges there from the local sawmill. They used to float planks to Paris by barge. Now they don’t make the runs, and the barges are just sitting there. We’ll load up three of them, be back before dawn. Six hundred sacks, two hundred pounds apiece. Not too much – but it’ll feed the commune for a month. After that, we’ll see. Maybe the plague will be over by then, maybe the proletariat will bring reinforcements? We’ll have bought ourselves some time.”