Max Hoelz' Autobiography

I had a hard youth as the son of J. H[oelz], a mill worker. My father earned a weekly wage of 10 marks, which had to support eight people. I contemplated learning a trade, but this was impossible due to my parents' lack of empathy. After finishing school, I had to work as a day laborer for the large farmer Glotsche in Leutewitz near Riesa. I remained there for two years. The little free time I had, I used to prepare for a profession through books and other means.

After those two years, I left my service to try to move forward on my own. I became an unpaid intern at an automobile factory and, after half a year, went to England. There, I had the opportunity to intern in the office of a civil engineer specializing in railway construction while also attending a polytechnic school part-time.

In 1909, I returned to Germany from England and took a job as a technician with the Arthur Koppel company, a corporation based in Berlin. From there, I moved to the Hermann Bachstein company in Berlin’s Großbeerenstraße, where I held a similar position. They sent me to Bavaria to work on railway construction between Neunburg vorm Wald and Schönsee. Due to my limited technical training, my colleagues advised me to attend a technical school for 2–4 more semesters. I left my position and relocated to Dresden to prepare for higher education. To fund my studies, I sought part-time work and found employment at a movie theater, where I operated the machine from 7–11 p.m. This earned me an additional weekly income of 20 marks, which I used to cover my living expenses, books, and the modest tuition fees for Director Wiener’s one-year volunteer institute at Bürgerwiese in Dresden.

After a year, my health collapsed due to intense studies, grueling night work, and poor nutrition. On my doctor’s advice, I went to the forested Vogtland region to recover.

In 1914, I joined the hussar regiment in Großenhain and went to the front in October of the same year. I was continuously at the front until the summer of 1918, contrary to claims in [Fritz] Heckert’s pamphlet that I served as an administrator of a rear-area prison. In the summer of 1918, I was hospitalized and discharged in October 1918 as a war invalid with a monthly pension of 40 marks.

I sought work as a technician and found a position with Kell & Löser in Dresden, who sent me to Lorraine as a construction foreman. After seven weeks, I had to give up my job due to health issues sustained during the war. Doctors informed me that I would likely never be able to practice my actual profession again and that, for the sake of my health, I needed to find work that did not confine me indoors. My subsequent efforts to secure employment failed, and I was forced to rely on unemployment benefits. In April 1919, I was elected to the Unemployed Workers’ Council in Falkenstein in the Vogtland region.

Falkenstein, with its 15,000 inhabitants, had no fewer than 4,000 unemployed people at the time. Unemployment in the Vogtland was proportionally much higher than in any other region of the Reich. The once-thriving lace industry had been ruined by the outbreak of war, and recovery was impossible due to the lack of exports. Additionally, the Vogtland population was treated with incredible neglect in the distribution of food, coal, and other essentials.

The desperation of the masses, who had suffered severe hardship for about five years, grew daily and erupted in demonstrations against the authorities. During one such demonstration, the mayor was forced to march at the head of the unemployed through the town after the city council, under pressure from the masses, approved the demanded increase in support.

In response to this, the government sent in the military and arrested the unemployment council, hoping to quell the population's hunger through this show of force. However, the population was not intimidated by the brutal actions of the soldiers. Although unarmed, they drove the military out of the town, held the mayor and city councilors hostage, and secured the immediate release of the imprisoned Unemployed Workers’ Council members through their solidarity. As the chairman of the Unemployed Workers’ Council, I was regarded as the ringleader and instigator of these events and was placed under a wanted notice with a 2,000-mark reward for my capture.

I campaigned for the Communist Party in central Germany under a false name. During this time, I was arrested several times but was always freed by workers. I lived illegally until the Kapp Putsch began, during which the reward for my capture was increased to 5,000 marks.

On the eve of the Kapp Putsch, I spoke at a meeting in Selb, Bavaria, where informers recognized me but did not dare arrest me during the gathering. Early the next morning, around 4 a.m., I went to the train station with my companion to return to Hof. We noticed in time that the station was swarming with plainclothes gendarmes, so we fled into the forests just before the train's departure. Deep snow made it easy for them to track us, and they pursued us relentlessly from morning until evening. Exhausted, drenched, and starving, we arrived in Oberkotzau near Hof. We intended to catch the train to Hof but were recognized by gendarmes as we boarded. They demanded that I get off the train. I refused. They summoned reinforcements, and eight armed officers returned to the crowded railway car, threatening me with their revolvers.

Acting quickly, I reached into my coat pocket, took out a grenade, and told the passengers and gendarmes, "The moment anyone touches me, the whole car will blow up." The ensuing panic and commotion were indescribable. Everyone screamed, scrambled for the exits, with the gendarmes leading the way despite shouting at passengers to stay inside. Within seconds, I was alone in the carriage with the grenade. I used the opportunity to escape, jumping over tracks and barriers to disappear.

Later, comrades often asked if I had truly been willing to detonate the grenade or if it was just a bluff. For me, it was beyond doubt—I was fully prepared to follow through.

The next day, I marched to Oelsnitz in the Vogtland, where I learned of the government’s fall in Berlin. Given the completely changed situation, I decided to make myself available to comrades in the Vogtland. On the Monday following the Kapp Putsch, I arrived in Falkenstein at midday and learned that the 1,000-strong Reichswehr had just left the town and was camped outside. Only a small group of 8–10 men remained in the town with a truck.

After disarming this group with my comrades, we were informed that a strong patrol was returning to the town. We rushed to meet the Noske troops [Hoelz uses a term (Noskiten) which could also be translated as 'Noskites', or 'Noskeists'. -K.V.] with our newly acquired weapons, disarmed some of them, while others resisted and barricaded themselves in the castle under heavy fire. As we were breaking their resistance, another report came in that the entire unit was marching back. With only 15 rifles, we dared not confront them. We left the area and decided to besiege the "nest" with help from comrades in other locations.

At the same time, a large assembly was taking place in Auerbach, a half-hour away, where a general strike had been decided upon. I went to Auerbach with my comrades. Just as we arrived, the meeting was ending. At our urging, the workers returned to the venue. I asked them what they had discussed and decided upon in the meeting. They explained, "We are striking." I then told them that merely striking, behaving passively, would not suffice in this moment. Instead, we needed to seize the moment and take action. The immediate next step was for us, the unarmed, to acquire weapons from wherever they were.

Within minutes, we formed a demonstration of about 2,000 workers in front of the venue. We marched to the gendarmerie barracks, disarmed the gendarmes—who put up strong resistance, leading to some bloodshed—and came into possession of heavy and light machine guns, several crates full of hand grenades, new rifles, and numerous melee weapons. We took the gendarmes as hostages, fortified ourselves with the weapons in a larger venue, confiscated vehicles, and sent an envoy to Falkenstein Castle with an ultimatum to the Noske supporters: surrender by 2 a.m., or we would launch an attack. The soldiers responded by capturing our envoy and sent a detachment with four machine guns to Auerbach to root us out.

This surprise attack by the Noske forces, involving their four machine guns and the liberal use of hand grenades and flares, was repelled by a single young worker, just 20 years old, armed with a single machine gun. After an hour-long firefight—during which the Noske troops killed the estate tenant Wanitzki, who was looking out of his window in a nightshirt, and wounded his wife—they withdrew. On our side, there was only one minor injury and no fatalities.

After repelling this attack, we decided to take bolder measures and left Auerbach to advance on Falkenstein from various directions. The Noske supporters got wind of this and fled Falkenstein fortress at dawn. When we arrived at Falkenstein Castle with our automobiles and weapons, we found it empty. The "brave ones" had retreated to Plauen, three hours away, to join the Reichswehr battalion stationed there.

We could not be content with this success, especially as we learned that workers across the country, particularly in the Ruhr area, were fighting against the monarchist Kapp and Lüttwitz. We dismissed reports of the Kapp Putsch's failure and the reinstatement of the old government as mere propaganda meant to deceive and pacify the workers. We agreed that as long as hundreds of thousands of workers and comrades were engaged in intense struggles in the Ruhr region, we had to do everything in our power to support them. The best way to do this was not to rest on our local "victories," but to disarm the reactionary Reichswehr, bourgeoisie, and volunteer forces in the Vogtland area and arm the working class. Only with weapons in hand could the workers stand their ground against the Kapp-Lüttwitz faction.

The bourgeois press had spread the news that we had proclaimed a Soviet Republic in Vogtland. This did not deter us in our actions or decisions. We also had no time to requisition and distribute eggs and herrings, as some rumors suggested. Instead, we established recruitment offices to form a Red Army of Vogtland. Workers from across the country who came to join the proletarian struggle were armed, clothed, and paid as far as our supplies allowed. Each Red Guard received a daily wage of 25 marks, with married workers receiving an additional 15 marks per child weekly.

To raise funds for the maintenance, provisioning, and payment of the Red Guards, we took the following measures: public notices summoned capitalists, profiteers, and war profiteers to gather at a specified location on a designated day. They were asked whether they were willing to contribute 45,000 marks weekly to fund the existing Red troops. They agreed to comply with the current power dynamics and provide the requested sum, on the condition that the Red Guards, after disarming the police, gendarmerie, and all official authorities, would ensure order and prevent looting.

The number of troops reporting for duty and being enrolled grew daily, requiring other affluent groups in Vogtland to contribute financially. Without any pressure or coercion, Plauen's industrialists voluntarily committed to paying 100,000 marks weekly.

Among our key actions during the Kapp Putsch days was the disarming of the citizens' militia in the town of Markneukirchen. Action committees from neighboring towns requested our support, fearing an attack from Markneukirchen. We agreed and launched a coordinated attack on Markneukirchen with forces from Oelsnitz, Adorf, and other places.

As we advanced slowly toward the town, I sent an envoy to the mayor with an ultimatum to lay down their arms within 10 minutes, or we would attack. The mayor immediately replied that all weapons would be surrendered. However, skirmishes had already broken out between our forces and the citizens' militia, resulting in the death of the swimming pool attendant [Bademeister. -K.V.] Borch.

When we approached the town hall with our vehicles, the cars suddenly came to a halt. The resourceful citizens, having learned much from the four-year war, had dug proper, deep trenches and torn up the streets, preparing for a major battle. We provided the captured hostages—the mayor, two pastors, the leader of the citizens' militia, Lieutenant Schatz, and others—with the necessary shovels and forced them to fill in the approximately two-meter-deep trenches under our supervision. To ensure the remaining weapons were surrendered, the citizens were required to pay 100,000 marks immediately.

During the events of spring and summer 1919, over 20 workers from Falkenstein had been imprisoned at the Plauen courthouse, where they were put on trial under Noske’s protection during the Kapp Putsch. Despite expecting the Plauen workers to free our comrades, we waited in vain. Eventually, we decided to take matters into our own hands. In the middle of the night, 70 of us marched into Plauen, a city of 130,000 inhabitants.

When the prison gates would not open, we had to break through all the doors to force our way in. After freeing the workers, we took the chief prosecutor as a hostage to secure the release of the trial records. These were important to identify those who had acted as informants and traitors. This measure proved necessary, as we discovered from the records that two party members had worked as police informants. They were immediately detained. The prosecutor was released after handing over the records.

During the events of 1919 and early 1920, the 'Neue Vogtländische Zeitung' was an utterly reactionary paper that raged in the most incredible way against workers, particularly the unemployed. It was the first newspaper to openly refer to unemployment benefits as a "reward for laziness." Understandably, the masses' resentment against this newspaper was immense and grew even stronger when the paper brazenly called for murder by publishing appeals urging someone to earn the 5,000 marks and eliminate H[oelz].

On Palm Sunday, we held a public assembly in Plauen. After the meeting, the unemployed demanded a demonstration outside the newspaper's offices. The editors and all the reactionary hacks had safely fled beforehand, leaving the nest empty. To prevent further incitement by the 'Neue Vogtländische Zeitung', the rotary presses were destroyed.

Comrades informed us that a barracks about an hour from Chemnitz contained vast quantities of weapons, ammunition, and other equipment. These were under the control of the Reichswehr, which had stationed a captain and 50 men there. Reliable sources confirmed that these weapons had repeatedly been offered to the Chemnitz Workers’ Council or Action Committee [Aktionsausschuss. -K.V.], but they had failed to collect and distribute them to workers as the situation demanded. As our own supply of weapons was dwindling, we decided to procure the arms from Frankenberg. To reach Frankenberg, we had to pass through Zwickau and Chemnitz. I selected 30 particularly trustworthy comrades, who set off for Frankenberg armed only with a hand grenade each in their pockets.

When we arrived at the Chemnitz main train station, we suddenly found ourselves surrounded by approximately 600 police officers, likely intent on earning the 5,000 or 30,000 silver marks offered as a bounty. I was speechless at this reception, given that the Chemnitz Action Committee—composed of both right-wing socialists and communists—held actual power, with communists [Fritz] Heckert and [Heinrich] Brandler playing leading roles. Under these circumstances, I could not understand how the Chemnitz police dared confront us in this manner. The police had been informed from Zwickau that the infamous H[oelz] and 50 of his unarmed comrades were on their way to Chemnitz, ostensibly to storm the city of 150,000 inhabitants.

As the circle of police tightened around my group, I commanded, "Take out your grenades!" The effect was indescribable. Upon seeing the dangerous devices suddenly pulled from our pockets, the brave officers scattered in wild panic.

We believed the path was now clear to proceed to Frankenberg. However, after leaving the station, we were again surrounded by another contingent of police. I asked a tall sergeant standing before me what he intended to do. Either to calm me or to arrest me in the name of the law, he placed his hand on my shoulder. This prompted me to deliver such a powerful slap [Ohrfeige. -K.V.]that he fell flat onto the tracks. I seized his revolver and dispersed this group as well.

We then proceeded in single file along the railway embankment from Chemnitz to Frankenberg. About 15 minutes into our march, a sudden barrage of gunfire erupted behind us. Looking back, we saw hundreds of police and members of the Chemnitz citizens' militia armed with rifles following us from a respectful distance. Despite being armed to the teeth, they lacked the courage to approach closer. Shortly before Frankenberg, we encountered more fire from ahead. The Chemnitz authorities had telegraphed nearby villages, mobilizing their citizens' militias. Fighting through to Frankenberg, we were warmly welcomed by the workers and Action Committee there. The chairman of the Frankenberg Action Committee, Zunfahrli, confronted the advancing Chemnitz forces and declared that my comrades and I were under the protection of the Frankenberg workers. Should the Chemnitz forces advance further, the Frankenberg workers would fully side with us. This declaration stunned the Chemnitz forces, prompting their retreat.

An hour later, Brandler arrived in Frankenberg by car and urged me to accompany him to Chemnitz to explain the purpose of our endeavor to the Action Committee. The Chemnitz committee believed I intended to free Russian internees held in a nearby camp. I agreed and witnessed a stark example of the Chemnitz committee's "revolutionary energy." They had neither prevented nor attempted to prevent the Chemnitz police's actions. On the contrary, they would have welcomed my capture, allowing Heckert, Brandler, and their SPD allies to continue their hibernation undisturbed by the revolutionary vigor of the Vogtland workers.

Heckert and Brandler demanded that I conform to the actual circumstances and refrain from independent actions. They claimed it was not the time to form a Red Army or to distribute weapons and funds to workers.

This proposal from Heckert and Brandler struck me as an outrageous betrayal of the revolution. Reports from comrades arriving from the Ruhr region, detailing the workers' struggles against the Reichswehr, aligned with bourgeois accounts of the situation there. The fact that hundreds of thousands of workers were fighting to break centuries-long chains justified the measures we Vogtland workers took to support our brothers in the west. We believed—and still believe—that if not only the Vogtland workers but also Heckert, Brandler, and their ilk had fulfilled their duties instead of constantly braking the revolution’s momentum, the workers in Leipzig, Halle, and the Ruhr might not have been crushed. The conditions in Saxony were far more favorable than anywhere else in the Reich. Yet Heckert and Brandler not only stifled revolutionary initiatives but actively advanced reactionary plans. Evidence: Brandler signed passes for senior officers and government officials, allowing them to travel unimpeded through the Saxon workers' operational area to Bavaria, where they coordinated measures to suppress workers.

Heckert and Brandler were so terrified of revolutionary action in the Vogtland that they even declared at a conference that they would not object ['hätten nichts dagegen' - K.V.] if the police managed to capture and eliminate H[oelz]. They opposed only armed government actions.

When all attempts by the Chemnitz leaders to dissuade the Vogtland workers from their course failed, they resorted to even more shameful means. At a conference in Plauen, Brandler suggested I should disappear across the border and even offered me forged papers for this purpose. Naturally, I had to reject this proposal. In response, Heckert and Brandler severed their last ties with the Vogtland workers by expelling me from the party, condemning the revolutionary actions of the Vogtland proletariat.

At a conference in the castle of F., attended by Heckert, he forged my signature by placing my name under a proclamation meant to deceive the Saxon workers. In this proclamation, Heckert wrote that the Saxon government had withdrawn the bounty of 30,000 marks. This was a deliberate and therefore particularly despicable lie, as the government had no intention of doing so. This deceptive charade, played by the Chemnitz "leaders" from the beginning to the end of the action, made it easy for the resurgent reactionary forces to break the workers' will to fight.

When [Paul] Levi writes in his article in 'Internationale' that I requisitioned foodstuffs like eggs and herring, selling them at peace prices to the public, it only proves that he is deliberately lying or was intentionally misinformed by his associates Heckert and Brandler. The Chemnitz leaders knew all too well that we had no time to concern ourselves with economic matters. For us, it was far more important to expand and consolidate the political power that the Kapp Putsch had placed in our hands. Levi and Brandler’s writings serve only to mask their own ineptitude and cowardice. We workers in the Vogtland sought no special objectives nor aimed to act out of step; we merely fulfilled our duty, but with the utmost determination.

During the Kapp days, we never negotiated even once but acted decisively, always in the interest of the revolution. If Levi and Brandler whine about my breaking party discipline, I can state that I value discipline toward the revolution higher than discipline toward the party. It is not my place to theorize about the causes of the Chemnitz and Berlin central leadership's ineptitude and cowardice—especially since Russian comrades (cf. Karl Radek) have already judged them accordingly.

After the Ruhr uprising was crushed by the Reichswehr—a feat made possible only by the passive stance, the so-called "loyal opposition," of Levi and Brandler—the last revolutionary stronghold, the Vogtland, was targeted for suppression. Arm in arm with the Dresden public prosecutor, Brandler declared that I had never commanded significant power. This statement insults not only the workers of the Vogtland but also himself. He knows full well that not just hundreds but the entire Vogtland stood united behind me, supporting my actions and participating spontaneously in all operations.

Some 50,000 men, armed with all the latest large-scale weaponry, slowly encircled the Vogtland. We never intended to engage in regular combat with the Reichswehr forces advancing in such overwhelming numbers, especially after Heckert and Brandler's fervent agitation succeeded in driving a wedge between the workers. They sacrificed revolutionary unity for their party unity. Before the advancing troops could reach us, we evacuated our stronghold in F. and withdrew in an organized fashion to the border town of Klingenbach, awaiting workers from other regions to join us. We expected that, despite Chemnitz's denunciations, the workers would rise united against the Reichswehr’s incursion.

To pay our troops in Klingenbach, we were forced to take a forced loan from the capitalists, demanding one million marks, which was handed over without significant resistance. From this money, we paid members of the Red Army 500 to 1,000 marks each. The funds left behind in F. were deposited in various locations and reserved for the maintenance of families.

Apart from minor skirmishes and outpost engagements, there were no significant confrontations with the Reichswehr. We demolished a few bridges and tore up roads to slow their advance. As the encirclement tightened, I gathered the comrades and explained our situation in the darkness of the forest at night: we were completely surrounded, leaving only two options. Either we cross the border with our weapons and allow ourselves to be interned by the Czech government, or we disband on the spot and each tries to escape the Reichswehr cordon individually. The comrades unanimously rejected potential internment in Bohemia and decided that, given the situation and the impossibility of continued resistance, disbanding was the best option to deny the Reichswehr the opportunity for a massacre.

II
Before the war, I took no part in political life as I lacked any stimulus for it. Only through my wartime experiences did I find my way into political waters—not initially through scientific insight but instinctively, driven by emotion. I recall a phrase I once read: "What shapes a person is not what they experience, but how they feel about what they experience." The experiences I had during my four years on the front profoundly affected me and made me who I am today. They compelled me to act as I did, honestly, if I wanted to live with myself. Only later, after the outbreak of the November Revolution, did I, like so many others, come to a scientific understanding of the absolute necessity of social upheaval through the writings of Marx, Rosa Luxemburg, and others, as well as a course with Otto Rühle in the summer of 1919.

Today, I understand that a revolution is not "made" and does not occur simply because millions of proletarian hearts beat for it, but because it is necessitated by the entire economic development. I do not suffer from the delusion (like Levi) that I am a savior who will redeem the world. Nor do I presume to be a leader of the revolution. Instead, I am proud to fight in the front lines of the revolution as a simple soldier, unlike Levi, Brandler, Heckert, and their ilk, who trail at its rear.

In the bourgeois press and, to a great extent, even in socialist papers, much has been written about the measures I supposedly took as a "world savior" to alleviate the dire suffering in the Vogtland. I am fully aware that neither I nor my brave comrades could eliminate hardship, even if we provided the hungry and freezing masses with money, food, or clothing. What we did, such as requisitioning eggs and herring for distribution, only alleviated suffering temporarily. Any efforts we made to address the plight of individuals were always undertaken with the awareness that these were but drops of water on a hot stone. Nowhere else in the country has poverty and hunger left such deep scars as in the Vogtland.

During my illegal activities in 1919, I had the opportunity to find shelter in hundreds of working-class families who, although they barely had dry bread for themselves, shared the last of what they had with me in a spirit of solidarity. I saw with my own eyes children as young as six to ten years old who had frostbitten toes and feet because they had to stand for hours and even days in the bitter cold and deep snow, waiting in long lines with hundreds of others for a half-hundredweight of coal dust. Often, they returned home empty-handed because there was nothing left for the poorest of the poor, while hundreds of hundredweights of coal and briquettes were stored in the cellars of those who had decided to "hold out."

Together with like-minded comrades, I seized the coal supplies stored in these cellars and distributed them to those in need. We also inspected the pickle barrels and smokehouses of the hoarders, redistributing the delicacies we found to pregnant women, the malnourished, and the severely ill among the poor.

One memory from those days will remain with me forever.

We had "captured" some fatty hams, flour, and eggs and publicly announced that those in need should come forward. Among the many, many people who came was an elderly mother whose 26-year-old son had been bedridden with starvation typhus (tuberculosis) for a year. She pleaded for something to help him. She was told to return the next day for the distribution. True to her word, she arrived at the appointed hour with hundreds of others at the town hall, where the supplies were stored, and explained, deeply moved, that it was too late to help her son—he had died that morning. The bitterness and outrage of the masses were directed primarily at the mayor of F., who, as the "father of the city," showed no concern for the plight of its children.

During the war, when women complained to him about the poor and unjust distribution of food, he threatened them with beatings and being thrown down the stairs. What was strange was that in other towns and cities, the distribution of food was, if not good, at least better than in F. During the actions around the Kapp Putsch, I discovered that food had been offered to the mayor in countless instances, but he had refused to purchase it. When I confronted him, saying that everything possible must be done to alleviate the immense suffering in the town, he claimed he did not know the situation was so dire and did not believe anyone could starve in the current times. This is akin to Hindenburg and Ludendorff saying today, "We didn't know the war was so bloody."

One day, a driver serving in the Red Guard came to me and said that in Grünbach, a town about half an hour from F., the local council was selling large quantities of potatoes, while F. had been without any for months. I could hardly believe this and decided to investigate personally. We immediately drove to Grünbach to meet with the local council leader. I asked him if he had potatoes for sale. He said yes. I then asked if he could supply a larger quantity for the city of F. He agreed and made two wagons available to me on the spot. He also mentioned that if I had come an hour earlier, I could have taken 25,000 hundredweights, which he had just sold to the town of Brunndöbra after offering them to the mayor of F., who had declined. From the mouth of this bourgeois council leader, I also learned that he had repeatedly offered the mayor of F. goods like peas, oats, bacon, and potatoes, which he had procured through his good connections in Upper Silesia.

I then asked if he could secure food for the Vogtland region worth one million marks. He agreed and only wanted my assurance that I would guarantee payment for the goods. The food was immediately ordered by telegram and arrived in Vogtland within days.

To ensure payment for the goods, I called upon the capitalists of various towns to extend credit of one million marks to the financially strained municipalities. The municipalities would take over the food distribution themselves and sell it to the population at low prices, with the capitalists covering the deficit between purchase and sale prices. These measures were in the process of implementation when General Maerker's "iron fist" destroyed the promising endeavor.

At a meeting of the executive council, a completely blind man who earned his meager living by basket weaving requested a loan of 1,000 marks to buy willow branches for his craft. I immediately sent a member of the council to a wealthy wholesaler, summoned him, and demanded that he provide the requested amount. Without the need for coercion of any kind, the man, Bornstein, agreed to the request.

On numerous occasions, elderly and truly needy individuals approached me for assistance. I helped as best I could and as far as the circumstances allowed at the time.

At a large assembly in Truen, a 60-year-old man came on stage and, stuttering and awkwardly, presented a request. He and his wife had worked for 40 years for a noble landowner in Pfaffengrün. Their son also worked there. They received a wage of 50 pfennigs per hour. The elderly man had recently asked his employer for a raise, as he could neither live nor die on his current wage. The landowner reportedly told him: "I won't give you any more. Go to Hölz and let him give you something." The landowner must have known that I couldn't create money out of thin air but had to obtain it from where it lay in abundance, waiting for its purpose.

That same evening, I wrote a letter to the landowner, demanding that he immediately deliver 10,000 marks to the Red Executive Council so that we could provide a wage supplement to his laborers. If he failed to do so, we would seize his horses, sell them, and use the proceeds to cover his debt. Right on time, he delivered the 10,000 marks.

Such and similar cases were resolved without detracting from our primary goal: liberating workers from the capitalist yoke by overthrowing the old social and economic order and building a new, classless society.