As we sat in the office of the Headquarters of the Supreme Soviet that May 15, Ida quietly approached several of us individually, and asked each one whether she would participate in a demonstration. In the end, six women were able to bring themselves to take this risk: Natalya Khasina, Elena Chernobilskaya, Faina Koran, Natalya Katz, Ida Nudel, and myself.

Ida warned of the danger involved. We would be surrounded by a beastly crowd whose actions were totally unpredictable. KGB ‘plainclothes men’ would be mixed in with civilians and physical abuse as well as verbal attacks would be a real possibility. She wanted each of us to understand the risks involved, and, for those who chose to follow through, to go into the demonstration with their eyes wide open. Moreover, we had to be emotionally prepared to hide our fear, as one must hide fear from an animal so that it will not bite.

The place chosen for our demonstration was near the Borovitsky Gate* of the Kremlin Wall. This site was ideal. In addition to the obvious dramatic effect, it was atop a sharp incline and although we would be clearly visible, it would not be easily accessible. The particular uniqueness of our act was compounded by the fact that this type of demonstration was one of the few of its kind to be attempted in our generation. A Saturday was picked not only because our husbands could be near us to watch the children, but also because there would be fewer KGB agents in town. We knew that one of the privileges of KGB employment was ownership of vacation homes (dachas) in the country, and naturally the agents used them whenever possible. The day itself was bright and clear, one we would ordinarily take full advantage of with picnics or walks in the park. However, on that day the invigorating spring atmosphere served to strengthening our resolve and offer hope. Our mission consumed us. We were nervous, but ready.

On Tuesday, May 23, 1978 after careful planning, we started to slowly climb up the hill to ensure an element of surprise. At precisely 2:00 p.m. we unfurled our banners, which read:

“Give us our visas to Israel”

Our group did not attract any attention. Down below, Pedestrians casually strolled by. Our husbands who stood at the foot of the hill were the only ones who were aware of the purpose of our presence there. I was shaking, as it was my first demonstration. Ida encouraged me the whole way through. Our husbands later reported all that they had observed. At the bottom of the hill a crowd gathered. At first there were just a few curious onlookers. Then more joined, until they numbered about thirty.

The KGB had done a poor job of protecting the Kremlin. Comments from observers ranged from astonishment - “Who would have guessed? Just minutes ago there was nothing there.” - to anger - How dare they?” and “They need a good beating!”- to patriotism “What a shame that the Holocaust left some behind” and “Clean the air of the Jews. Now we need to finish the job!” Most passers-by, however, quickened their pace, fearing that any attention paid us would be equated with sympathy.

We stood holding our banners for about five minutes, during which, the KGB and Kremlin security personnel seemed oblivious of our presence. Then as I traded places with Elena to relieve my tired arm, our banner turned towards a policeman stationed at the gate. When he realized what was happening, he rushed to a telephone booth, comically reminiscent of a Charlie Chaplin film. With no justification for their lack of vigilance, male and female agents, all in civilian clothes, furiously started up the hill. Shouting “How dare you do this in the very heart of our country!” between their huffing and puffing, they finally were able to back us up against the Kremlin Wall and seize our banner. There we stood for a moment until we could slip by them.

As we started down the hill more agents shouted for us to stop. Following Ida’s instructions, we tried to pay no attention to them, but we had gotten only a bit further when the KGB agents appeared, grabbed us, and herded us into an office inside the Kremlin. We had remained silent throughout this demonstration, and had done something that had never been done before. This was fact, and our hope was that it would effect a decision on our cases.

It must be noted that in the confusion several foreign correspondents at the scene suffered even worse physical abuse than we did, for the KGB used force in dealing with them, confiscating cameras and film. We knew that publicity was very important in the fight for our freedom; otherwise these costly efforts would disappear without a record. They would become non-events. We also knew that frequently those present in order to publicize such an episode are as open to danger as the participants. Their attention and courage were truly appreciated by us all. They were our umbilical cord to the western world.

Our constant bodyguards from the KGB arrived in an uproar. Anger was showing on their red, blotchy faces, because our demonstration, having taken them by surprise, had destroyed any chance for them to receive their bonuses. The only recognition they would get, they knew, were reprimands, and their faces reflected their cruelty, their anger, and their anticipated disappointment. The bonus, a pittance at best, had eluded them that year.

An investigator appeared and began to question us one by one. We were always kept apart and interrogated separately. We were asked: “First and last name?”. In reply, each held out her internal passport. As the interrogation continued, his tone and volume increased: “Do you know the others? Who held the banners? Who instigated this demonstration? Do you know that you broke the law?”

Later, we discovered that we had all given more or less the same replies: “We have not broken the law. According to the Soviet Constitution, demonstrations are permitted. We do not wish to talk with you, and you can ask your witnesses who held the banners…”. “Sign this report to show that you have read it and know what it says”. “We don’t see why such a report should be made at all, so we will not sign it.”

We had now managed to find our collective voice. A motor vehicle took us to the police station that had jurisdiction over the Kremlin area. Again, each of us was called singly for interrogation. “Where do you work? In what capacity? You’re intelligent people, why are you doing this?”. “We need visas to leave the Soviet Union.” What other answer could we give? We elicited some sympathy. “I’d let anyone go who wants to leave” an officer said. “Why torture people?” And we provoked disgust: “I’d notify their place of work and let their employers take proper measures.”

Thus, the human race is divided in opinions, so many in favor of liberty, and so many against. The investigator himself had other matters, such as alcohol, on his brain. I could smell it plainly on his breath, and taking advantage of his drunken state, I complained that I was not obligated to answer the questions of a man who was drunk. To my surprise, he merely said, “If you worked as much as I do, you’d look drunk, too.” But he was replaced within the five minutes.

The chief officer then tried the tactic of pretending to be friendly, and was so good at it, he almost succeeded in persuading us that we had an ally. He patted Ida on the shoulder. “Ida’s leading you into battle like a mother hen”, he said and then he added, “I have one request to make of you, please demonstrate in other areas of the city. Otherwise we will lose our bonuses.”

Reports were made out and read to us in the presence of witnesses but, again, we refused to sign them. Our processing ended at nine in the evening. We were again released.