VLADIMIR SOLOVYOV
473
raised hand. I ran up to him: 'What's wrong, Comrade Stalin?' In re–
sponse, I heard an incoherent sound, something like 'zzz.' On the floor
lay a pocket watch, and a copy of
Pravda;
on the table, I saw a bottle of
mineral water and a glass.
"I urgently called Starostin, Tukov, and Butusova on the intercom.
They came right away. One of us asked, 'Would you like us to help you
to the couch, Comrade Stalin?' He nodded weakly. Together, we
moved him to the couch in the dining room. We immediately called
Ignatov at the KGB, but he was too chicken-hearted and referred us to
Beria. We had to move our patient to the large halL We did that to–
gether, too, and then laid him down on the sofa and covered him with
a blanket. He looked as if he was suffering from cold; he must have been
lying there, helpless, since seven or eight p.m. I remained on duty at his
bedside."
M. Starostin, Special Assignments, recounts: "I called Malenkov up,
right away, to tell him that Comrade Stalin was sick. After about half an
hour, Malenkov called back. 'I can't find Beria. You'll have to find him
yourself.' Another half-hour passed. Beria called: 'Don't tell anybody of
Stalin's illness, and don't call anybody.' "
P. Lozgachev states, "[ sat at Stalin's bedside by myself, feeling
completely depressed by my helplessness . Starostin kept running around,
bugging me to call the bosses. Who was I supposed to call? Everybody
who needed to know already knew. That night was so hard on me; it
seemed endless. By morning my temples turned gray. I stayed on, alone.
"Two a.m.: still no doctors. At three a.m., March 2nd, I heard a
car coming. I felt better, thinking, 'Finally the physicians have arrived,
and I can hand Stalin over to them.' But I was wrong: it was Beria and
Malenkov.
"Beria marched forth, without paying attention to anybody.
Malenkov's shoes were creaking; he took them off, and entered wearing
socks, with his shoes under his arm. The comrades stopped some distance
away from the patient, and silently stood there for a while. Suddenly,
Stalin snored loudly. 'What arc you panicking about?' Beria said to me.
'Don't you sec that Comrade Stalin is sound asleep? Calm down, don't
bug us, and don't bug Comrade Stalin either.'
"I tried to tell him that Comrade Stalin was seriously sick and re–
quired emergency medical care. But the comrades would not listen and
departed in haste. Beria cursed at Starostin. His only printable words
were, 'Who the hell put you morons to work for Stalin?' And so
Malenkov and Beria left."
No one in Stalin's closest circle wanted him to pull through. Each
wished him dead. Was it fear? Paranoia? Or was it merely the sober
judgment of the situation? Simple survival instinct?
