Re: Addressing Filth.



WORKERS LIBRARY PUBLISHERS, INC.

P.O. BOX 148

STATION D

NEW YORK, N.Y.



Publishers of communist filth, i.e. THE OCTOBER DAYS IN MOSCOW, The Struggle For Power in 1917, I. MINTZ April 1941.



A sample, describing a street fight in Moscow, page 52: Their places were taken by a fourteen year-old boy called Andreyev, the son of a forge shop worker from the Mikhelson factory. Nothing could make him leave the trenches. He fired in turn from each of the rifles to prevent the Junkers from realizing the men had left the trenches. Somehow he accidentally dropped a rifle on the other side of the breastwork. Wishing to retrieve it he climbed over the trench and stood completely exposed to view. A Junker machine-gun riddled the lad. For three days this heroic youngster fought death. When his trench comrades came to visit him in the hospital his first anxious question was: "Well? Did you take the headquarters? Did you lick the Junkers?" "Yes," he was told. "Hurrah!" he cried in a small, weak voice. A smile spread over his wan features as he fell back, never to speak again.



Sounds akin to a "Tales of the Holocaust" entry. Good Morning!WORKERS LIBRARY PUBLISHERS, INC.P.O. BOX 148STATION DNEW YORK, N.Y.Publishers of communist filth, i.e. THE OCTOBER DAYS IN MOSCOW, The Struggle For Power in 1917, I. MINTZ April 1941.A sample, describing a street fight in Moscow, page 52: Their places were taken by a fourteen year-old boy called Andreyev, the son of a forge shop worker from the Mikhelson factory. Nothing could make him leave the trenches. He fired in turn from each of the rifles to prevent the Junkers from realizing the men had left the trenches. Somehow he accidentally dropped a rifle on the other side of the breastwork. Wishing to retrieve it he climbed over the trench and stood completely exposed to view. A Junker machine-gun riddled the lad. For three days this heroic youngster fought death. When his trench comrades came to visit him in the hospital his first anxious question was: "Well? Did you take the headquarters? Did you lick the Junkers?" "Yes," he was told. "Hurrah!" he cried in a small, weak voice. A smile spread over his wan features as he fell back, never to speak again.Sounds akin to a "Tales of the Holocaust" entry. Last edited by ADAMANT; 06-28-2007 at 05:25 PM . Reason: Caps