Go East, Young Red

One bright spring day in 1950, aglow with the look that once shone from Neapolitans headed for gold in the streets of New York, Pietro Merlino and Domenico Faticati left their Naples slum for a land of promise. But as they were devout Communists, this land was not the U.S., but Communist Hungary. They had no passports, but that did not matter; they had their party cards and all would be well. They would get jobs, send money to their hungry families (Merlino had eight children, Faticati four) and come home in two years with a brimful crock of gold. But at the border, the Russian occupation troops and the Hungarian border guards were not impressed by their bright dreams nor by their party cards. They sent Merlino and Faticati to the secret police in Budapest for questioning.

For ten days Merlino and Faticati pleaded with the Hungarians; they spoke of their Communist record, their belief in the proletarian ideals of Marx and Togliatti. They gladly wrote the 30-page life histories the police required and pictured their wretched lives in Naples. They asked for a chance in Hungary. The secret police sent them, without trial, to a concentration camp for political unreliables.

Coffin Torture. For three years, Merlino, 49, and Faticati, 45, lived in cold, dirt and hunger they had never known in Naples. There were 10,000 prisoners in the camp, crowded like cattle, 40 or 50 to a room. They got only potato soup, carrots and 200 grams of bread for their daily meal. Their letters, to their families and Communist friends in Italy, to Hungarian Communist Boss Matyas Rakosi, were not delivered. One day Faticati had a nervous breakdown; he screamed and cried for his four children. When the guards came, Merlino went to defend his comrade.

First, they were tossed into the camp jail. Next, a doctor examined them, reported they were in good health. Then they were dragged to a dark underground cubicle six feet square and four feet high. "It looked like a coffin," Merlino said. The two friends were tied down with chains to planks and metal rings, left wrists to right ankles, right wrists to left ankles. "The rings fitted very tightly." said Merlino, "and the slightest movement caused terrible pain. The torture lasted an hour and a half. I remember I once shouted, 'Togliatti, come and see what you've done to me.' "

At last, they managed to smuggle two messages to the Italian consul in Budapest. Last summer they were suddenly taken to the camp hospital for fattening and were told they could have their chance to work in Hungary or to return to Italy. They chose Italy's slums.

Still No Jobs. Back home in Naples last week, Merlino and Faticati were jobless and their children were still hungry. Merlino's wife, who takes in washing, had piled up debts of 150,000 lire ($240), which is big money in their neighborhood, and his eldest son was in jail for mistreating her. But there was one matter the two proletarians could attend to: they dropped by the local Communist Party headquarters and turned in their cards. "Look what has happened.'' Merlino told his old comrades, "because I listened to your trash. I just want to work. I just want to feed my children. I want to resign."

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