Kim Philby turned to drink after defection to Soviet Union

Kim Philby, the British double agent who defected to the Soviet Union in 1963, admitted whilst living in his communist heaven that communism….err……sucked. Can you imagine being totally in love with the idea that you commit treason against your country to go to live in the reality of the USSR? Coming from the once glorious England, it sure must have been a bit of an eye opener back in 1963. But never mind Mr Philby – you aren’t the only one to fall for the commie dream. Just look at most industrialised countries today and you’ll find some of your fellow ideological comrades still jumping up and down to live under the hammer and sickle. After all, communism has brought such wealth and success to every country that’s embraced it…..

Communism – a great idea, but there’s just no money in it.

 Hat tip: Julian B

Kim Philby, the British double agent, tried to drink himself to death in Russia after losing faith in communism, his last wife has claimed.

Rufina Pukhova, a Russian-Polish woman who married Philby after he defected to the Soviet Union in 1963, said he had also been depressed by his failings in the years leading up to his death.

She told a Russian newspaper that Cambridge-educated Philby, who died in 1988, would drink two glasses of cognac a night before asking her to hide the bottle as his drinking threatened to get out of hand.

Philby was viewed as a traitor in Britain after his work as a double agent for the KGB was made public, but was welcomed as a hero in Russia – a reputation that remains to this day.

He found occasional work as an adviser to the KGB but soon became isolated and disenchanted with his surroundings.
 
Mrs Pukhova said: “Kim believed in a just society and devoted his whole life to communism. And here he was struck by disappointment, brought to tears. He said, ‘Why do old people live so badly here? After all, they won the war’.”
 
Source

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About limelite001

This is my tribute to highlighting the hyposcrisy in the left and racial world...

Posted on 1 April 2011, in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.

  1. HAVA VOLOVICH was a newspaper sub-editor who was arrested in 1937, aged 21, for being publicly critical of the damage done to Ukrainian peasants by the new collective system, which grouped together dozens of farms to make one giant super-farm. She remained in the Gulag for 16 years, where she became one of the tens of thousands of young prisoners to become pregnant and have a baby. Prison nurseries did exist, but malnutrition, restrictive breast-feeding schedules and astonishing cruelty often resulted in the child suffering an early death.

    A number of men offered their ‘services’ — and I did not choose the best by any means. But the result of my choice was an angelic little girl with golden curls. I called her Eleanor.

    There were three mothers in our barracks and we were given a tiny little room of our own. By night, we brushed from our babies the bedbugs that fell from the ceiling like sand. By day, we left them with any old woman who had been let off work, knowing these women would calmly help themselves to the food we left for the children.
    No escape: Women and children work at a gulag in 1932. Prison nurseries did exist, but malnutrition, restrictive breast-feeding schedules and astonishing cruelty often resulted in the child suffering an early death

    No escape: Women and children work at a gulag in 1932. Prison nurseries did exist, but malnutrition, restrictive breast-feeding schedules and astonishing cruelty often resulted in the child suffering an early death

    Every night for a year, I stood at my child’s cot, picking off the bedbugs and praying, begging God to prolong my torment by 100 years if it meant I wouldn’t be parted from my daughter.

    But God did not answer my prayer. Eleanor had barely started walking and had just uttered her first, heart-warming word — ‘Mama’ — when we were dressed in rags, despite the winter’s chill, bundled into a freight car and transferred to the ‘mother’s camp’.

    Here, I was expected to work in the forest, felling trees as normal during the day — while my pudgy little angel with the golden curls, back at the camp’s infant shelter, soon turned into a pale ghost with blue shadows under her eyes and sores all over her lips.

    I caught a chill on the bladder, terrible lumbago and shaved my hair off to avoid getting lice. My appearance could not have been more miserable and wretched. But in return for bribes of firewood, the guards let me see my daughter outside normal hours. But the things I saw!

    I saw nurses shoving and kicking children out of bed before washing them in ice-cold water. I saw a nurse grab the nearest baby, tie back its arms and then cram spoonful after spoonful of hot porridge down its throat.

    My little Eleanor began to fade faster. ‘Mama, want home,’ she cried one evening, her little body covered with mysterious bruises.

    On the last day of her life, when I picked her up to breast-feed her, she stared wide-eyed into the distance, clawing and biting at my breast, begging to be put down.

    In the evening, when I came back with my little bundle of firewood, her cot was empty. I found her lying naked in the morgue among the corpses of the adult prisoners. She had spent one year and four months in this world and died on March 3, 1944.

    http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1371768/Testimony-Gulags-forgotten-victims-Steal-mans-bread-die-.html

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