by Earl Nelson
My dorm was like I imagined it would be. A soviet-style concrete behemoth with no architectural grace at all. My third-floor room was not any better. The walls were painted battleship grey and the floors were a grimy linoleum.
There was a single bed with a mattress that was scary-looking, and there was no bed linen to be had.
I went down to the ground floor with the idea of asking where I could buy a new mattress, sheets, and blankets.
I soon found out that they were being sold from a ground floor office. It seems the building superintendent or whatever they called them had a nice sideline going.
It also explained why I had seen other students carrying bedding up the steps. The building was only six floors, so they hadn’t bothered to include elevators. I sent a silent thanks to the person who had arranged my room.
One poor kid came in the front door with sheets and blankets he had brought from home. A couple of thugs took care of that. This was a monopoly. At least they only stole his stuff, they didn’t beat him, at least not much.
Again, keeping a low profile, I bit the bullet and bought my bedding. Then had to carry it up the steps. The mattress was single so it could have been worse.
On the way up the stairs, I wondered how the thugs could sell us bedding for the equivalent of twenty US dollars? It would cost them more than that. It dawned on me that the bedding cost them nothing. They were selling us the bedding that went with each room.
I thought at least they were industrious in carrying all that bedding down the steps to resell it to us. Being a little slow it took me a minute to realize that the bedding hadn’t been taken up the stairs at all.
The thugs were probably being paid to haul the stuff upstairs. Instead, they had us doing their job for them.
I thought about what I could do about it but realized that I had bigger battles to fight.
Shortly after I had made my bed and hung up my clothes my roommate showed up. I don’t know where he was from, but I can tell you they don’t speak Russian there. Maybe it was Tajik or Kyrgyz. I know they don’t speak Russian there.
I tried Russian, Spanish, Mandarin, and English. Not even my little bits of French, Portuguese, German, or Italian helped.
We gave up trying to communicate. Maybe it was for the best. We managed to work out a few signs, like going to the bathroom or to eat and that was about it.
I kept my bow and arrows under my bed. Since I knew he would look as soon as I was out of the room, I showed them to him before placing them there. With no common language, I didn’t have to come up with a story as to why I had them. I did always keep the Nagant pistol with me.
It was hard to imagine that he hadn’t got a glimpse of it, but he never made an issue of it.
That first day I walked around the campus getting to know the layout. It was a nice campus. The modern buildings on Sparrow Hill were ugly but functional. The best Soviet building designs were among the worse in the world.
The University had been established in 1755 but this campus was built in 1953. How do you build an old modern building that looks like it is going to fall until you look at the base structure and then you think it will outlast the pyramids? Unless shoddy cement was used in its construction.
It was kind of sad. The Russian government wanted a true university campus but didn’t know how to go about it. I suspect the faculty and courses are the same. Not that I had ended up that impressed with Oxford. I suspect the US schools weren’t that much better, buildings yes, faculty no.
There seemed to be a trend in the US that everyone should have a college degree and that work with your hands was to be looked down upon. I couldn’t see that ending well.
All you had to do was look at China, Africa, or India. There everyone wanted a white-collar job and looked down on those that didn’t have the education. That resulted in backwardness and corruption. I was an example of a person getting the education they needed, not one decreed by a remote bureaucrat and being a success.
While I was thinking these high-minded thoughts, I also realized Russia has some of the prettiest girls in the world. Not that I would be unfaithful to Nina.
I wonder what she was up to these days, I had been gone now for almost five months. Was she waiting for me?
I found five possible escape routes from campus. Two by subway. One by train tracks or even hopping a freight car and two more by footpaths.
These would only be used if I had to flee the campus, probably having to abandon my gear. That made me think about having small stashes at various points so I would have some money and a change of clothes if nothing else.
After my afternoon out I tried out the dining hall. I was awfully glad that I wouldn’t be here very long. I hate sausage.
Chapter 29
I hadn’t slept in any sort of dorm situation for a long time. I had forgotten that some students were up at all hours and had no respect for others. It was a fitful night's sleep at best.
The next morning, I ate in the dining hall. They were serving scrambled eggs, hashed browned potatoes, and sausage. I skipped the sausage.
There was a coffee urn. After trying that I had a cup of tea. The tea was black as a witch's heart, sweet as a maiden's breath, and strong as a pig's odor. I didn’t make that up, I read it somewhere.
Anyway, the tea was better than the coffee.
After taking care of my morning needs, I went to Red Square. I had the idea of destroying Lenin's tomb with fire arrows.
I would find a safe place to shoot them from and land a pattern on the roof as I had in the limo parking garage at the Soviet Embassy in London.
It would show the world that the Soviets weren’t invincible, and the Soviets would know who had done it.
When I arrived at Red Square, I found one small miscalculation in my plan. Lenin’s Tomb is made from red marble. My arrows wouldn’t set that on fire. I doubted if they would even damage the marble.
So back to the drawing board. What could I destroy or damage that would hurt the Soviet government but not the Russian people?
Even if I managed to set someplace like the Winter Palace on fire, it would enrage the people, but not hurt the Soviet Commissars.
I decided to move on to my next target. I wanted to hurt the Red Army. There was no way that I could do that by force of arms. I had even thought about attacking the facilities where they made nuclear bombs.
There were two obstacles to that plan. The factories would be well defended, but the real plan killer was that I had no idea where those factories were.
I would hurt the Red Army in its pocketbook. I had talked with one of the dissidents and found out the Red Army followed the Soviet model of top-down control.
A central point in the Treasury would issue an order of payment to the banks who in turn would deposit money in each Army command’s account. The Commands in turn would issue orders to transfer money to their unit's accounts. This would continue down until orders were issued that money would be given to the individual soldier, sailor, or airman.
My plan was simple, burn down the building which contained the records that started the whole process.
I was told which building in the State Treasury complex that was. I walked through the complex. There was free passage along the sidewalks. If you attempted to enter any of the buildings, you had to go through a security setup.
What they checked I had no idea and didn’t care as I had no intention of entering any of the buildings.
I just needed to find a good spot to shoot from. I could hit the roof of a building like the one in front of me from four hundred yards.
Next, I to find a place within four hundred yards that I could not only shoot from but escape from.
I circled the area around the building. Sticking to the sidewalks and looking both ways before crossing the street. Russian drivers are terrible. I don’t think they ever looked at the road.
I wasn’t the only one on foot in the area, but I was the only one not dressed as an office worke
r. While not sticking out like a sore thumb I was different. Different enough that a police car pulled over beside me.
The cop riding shotgun singled me to stop where I was. They got out of their cruiser and approached me. The way they did it told me they were professionals. I wouldn’t have a chance against them, even if they didn’t have guns.
I did the only thing I could, I played my role. My role was an innocent student out for a walk on a clear fall day.
“Papers please.”
At least it was, please. I wasn’t in trouble yet.
“Certainly, officer,” as I handed him my papers.
“Mr. Popov or may I call you Ivan?”
“Ivan will do.”
“Well Ivan, your papers say you are a student at Moscow University. Why are you walking around here? It is over five miles from your school.”
“It is!? I have been walking for hours but had no idea how I got here. I was thinking of my girlfriend back home and lost track of everything.”
“Where is home?”
“Vladivostok.”
“You don’t sound like you are from there.”
“I grew up in Manchuria, my parents moved to Vladivostok several years ago and I have had trouble picking up Russian.”
The other officer surprised me by asking me in Mandarin if I understood him. I did barely because his accent was atrocious.
I replied in Mandarin, “I do understand you, but your Mandarin accent is like my Russian, not good.”
He laughed at that.
“Why did your parents move?”
“They started a business there when relations between China and Russia were good. Dad thought he would get in early on a new marketplace. Then things went bad, and we had to leave. Our neighbors who had been friends stopped buying from our store and wrote bad things on the side of our house.”
The officer who spoke a little Mandarin was shaking his head in agreement.
“I was in the Army stationed there when it started to go bad. Your parents made a wise decision.”
“Enjoy your walk and thinking of your girl.”
“I will officers, I need to head back or I will miss dinner.”
“You don’t want to do that, the chef there is famous for how many different ways they can prepare sausage.”
“Then I had better get moving. I wouldn’t want to miss that!”
They returned to their cruiser and pulled away.
I think I deserved an Oscar for that performance.
I had no choice now but to head back to school. If I continued to walk this area and they saw me again I would be taken in for some serious questions. My cover wouldn’t stand up to any inquiries to Vladivostok.
As I walked back toward the University, I saw the answer to my shooting location. It was five hundred yards from the building, but it was elevated.
Railroad tracks crossed the road ahead of me. There was a signal tower over the tracks. It was a huge metal framework crossing the tracks. It had a series of lights on it which acted as traffic lights for oncoming trains.
The beauty of these was that they were very tall as engines had to go under them and that they had steps built in so that the lights could be changed when they burnt out.
With the added height I could hit the roof of my target building. The rails weren’t rusted so I knew the tracks were in use.
I didn’t stop walking as I looked around. Instead, I went back to my dorm. I ate at a little café on the way back. It was a shame I had to miss out on one of the Chef's famous sausage recipes.
Once back in my room I was prepared to study one of the engineering handbooks so as not to arouse any suspicions in my roommate.
He wasn’t there so I read the newspaper to work on my Russian. He stumbled in drunk several hours later and went right to bed. I didn’t think I had to worry about him.
The next morning, I didn’t bother going to breakfast at school but stopped at a different restaurant that served breakfast. Bacon, eggs over easy, and hashed browns set me up for the day.
I know bacon and sausage come from the same animals but what a difference. I also bought a bread and cheese sandwich for lunch. They also sold me a thermos of tea. I had given up on Russian coffee.
Back at the railroad tracks near the Treasury complex, I settled in for a long day. I chose a spot that was out of sight of the road, but I could see passing trains.
It turned out the track must have been the mainline. I thought so as there were four sets of rails. There was a train at least every half hour. Since there were no crossing gates, I was able to see how reckless Russian drivers were.
They would speed up if they saw a train coming. Not once did I see a driver deliberately give the train the right of way. One guy had the train clip his rear bumper but not enough to spin him out. These guys were crazy.
Now, these tracks were on an uphill grade, so the trains were moving slowly as they reached this point. This gave me a better idea of how to escape after I took my shots.
Chapter 30
That evening I walked back to the train crossing. If nothing else, I was getting exercise. Maybe not the running I had been doing, but certainly in distance covered.
It was dusk when I got back to the crossing. I was relieved that the train traffic had remained the same. It was almost like clockwork.
Growing up in a railroading family in Bellefontaine, I knew how to hop a freight train. Waiting for the right moment I ran alongside a boxcar and grabbed the ladder on its side.
I swung in the air for a minute but was able to catch my feet on a lower rung. Then it was just a climb to the top of the car.
I sat cross-legged on top of the car as it moved slowly along. The night of my attack I would drop down from the signal bar to a boxcar. It was only a three-foot drop, almost a long step so easy to do.
The brakemen at BN yard would do that in the winter as it was safer than running alongside a car coated in ice trying to jump up to the ladder when your hands could slip at any moment.
Jumping from the signal bar was considered a safety violation but no one was ever called on it.
I was looking for a get-off spot that was far enough away from the Treasury building that if seen I wouldn’t be connected with it.
What I found was much better. The train rolled into a huge marshaling yard. This is where trains were made up by switching the box cars around so those that heading for a common destination were hooked together.
I was going to head west towards Poland, then on through East Germany. If I could figure out where the westbound trains were assembled, I could go directly from the Treasury hit to my Russian escape.
I had to escape from the Treasury hit, ‘friend’ hit, and a Soviet hit. Then I had to escape from Russia to friendly territory.
As the last chance, I would go to the American, British, or even Chinese Embassies. The only problem with that is that I would be seen going in and would not be able to get back out.
Now all I had to do was scout out my ‘friend,’ and find something to destroy that would be perceived as a hit on the Soviet Union and not the Russian people.
I got off the boxcar by climbing down the ladder and lowering myself. When I felt my feet touch the ground, I took off running in the direction to the cars were rolling.
I was able to clear the trackbed and tumble down the side. Not the most elegant dismount but it worked as I didn’t get injured.
My Dad could make it look like he was taking a simple step, never losing his balance, or awkwardly changing his speed. Of course, he had done it many times.
When I got off the train, I saw the ground was littered with white cards, they were about four inches by eight inches. I got a big smile as I knew what they were for.
A switchman, a guy who is qualified to make up a train by switching cars around is given a list by the yardmaster as to what cars by serial number are to be hooked together to make up a train.
The best part is that at the top of the card was the tr
ain number, track number, and destination. Now all I had to do was learn the track numbering system, and which direction the common destinations were in.
Since trains were being made up constantly, I watched a switchman make up a train. When he was finished, he tossed his card on the ground. By seeing where he had the brakemen put the cars it was easy to learn the yard layout.
It was getting late or early depending on how you looked at it I decided I had better head back to school and get some sleep.
Since I didn’t know where I was relative to the school, I simply waited for the next train that was heading back the way I came.
Stepping off the car at my original crossing worked better this time. From there it was a long but easy walk back to my dorm. I kept an eye out for police cars, but none were around.
The sun was just rising when I climbed into bed.
I woke up to my roommate returning from class. He was noisy as all get out. He didn’t say a word to me as he threw his books on his bed and left. I suspect heading to the nearest bar.
I was wrong as I saw him in the commons room as I was leaving to find some food. He had a bottle of beer in hand so at least I had that part right.
After eating a dinner of Borscht and Golubsty. I headed on my next mission. That was to find out how to ambush my ‘friend’ who had tormented me in prison and faked my execution. He would pay for his funny joke.
I took a cab to Lubyanka square where my target worked. I would watch the front door at quitting time which was soon and see if he would come out that way.
There were a group of men playing chess in the immediate area surrounding the statue of Felix Dzerzhinsky, the founder of the Cheka, the forerunner of the KGB.
I would wander from a chess match to match pretending I knew what going on. These guys played better than I ever would. I did learn several chess terms I hadn’t hear before, fianchetto and en passant. I also learned Russian for, son of a bitch but I don’t think that is restricted to chess.
Around five o’clock play was suspended as the men all gathered to look at the main entrance. That was convenient for me as that is what I was here for.
