                                  T H E

                               Z E P H Y R

                      __     M A G A Z I N E
                     {__]++++++++++++++++++++++++++[]
                     Issue #55                3-18-88

                A weekly electronic magazine for users of
                            THE ZEPHYR II BBS
                        (Mesa, AZ - 602-894-6526)
                    owned and operated by T. H. Smith

                        Editor - Gene B. Williams

     . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
     . You may share this magazine with your friends under the   .
     . condition that the magazine remain complete and intact,   .
     . with no editing, revisions or modifications of any kind,  .
     . and including this opening section and statement.         .
     . If you like the magazine, our Sysop and I would appreciate.
     . it if you would let your friends know where they can log  .
     . in to find the magazine (and incidentally one of the      .
     . finest BBSs in the country!).                             .
     . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
                                (c) 1988

    THIS ISSUE:

       I have something a little different for you this time.
       Most of you know that I make my living as a writer. Some of
    you are even familiar with my work beyond what you see here. (If
    not, all you have to do is go to any library or bookstore. I
    usually write under my own name.)
       One project I have going is called RUN FOR FREEDOM. I gave
    a synopsis of the book in an earlier issue. What I'm giving
    you here is a complete chapter from the book.
       Chapter One introduces the characters and their life in
    Odessa. Chapter Two shows the beginnings of the revolution,
    and acts of vandalism as a power plant is burned down, and an
    orphanage is set on fire.
       I picked Chapter Three. If there's enough interest, and
    enough requests, I can go back and give you Chapter One, then
    Two and so on. (In Chapter Four the Gruber family is thrown
    out of their home and make their way to Siberia on a forged
    pass.)
       I hope you enjoy it.
       Oh, by the way, this is hardly fare for 1200 baud. I suggest
    that you capture it and read it at leisure.

                             RUN FOR FREEDOM

                   Chapter Three - The Winds of Change

         The changes continued and grew in importance. The war was
    still going badly. The abdication of Czar Nicholas became a
    central topic of discussion, with some mourning that abdication,
    some cheering it, and some confused by the situation. He'd
    abdicated, turning over the throne to his brother, Michael, who
    in turn abdicated in favor of Nicholas. The news treated it as a
    game of ball, with responsibility being tossed back and forth and
    no one wanting the ball.
         A Provisional Government was put into power. The confusion
    concerning the throne was bad enough. Within the Provisional
    Government were factions, each of which wanted control. One
    wanted power to go back to Nicholas. Another wanted Michael to
    take power, at least for a while. Still another wanted to set up
    a new Dumas made up of existing nobility.
         More powerful were various socialist groups who wanted power
    taken from the royal house and given to the people. One of the
    most vocal of these, the Bolsheviks, made up only 10% of the
    whole, but through their energetic and often violent attempts
    made more of an impact than their mere numbers.
         The Bolsheviks wanted to draw up an immediate armistice with
    Germany. "Bring an end to the war and get on with the business of
    rebuilding our country." The Easter of 1917 saw Lenin returning
    to St. Petersburg and serving as a focal point for the
    Bolsheviks.
         In mid-July the Bolsheviks made a grab for power, unsuccess-
    fully. Lenin and some of his top men fled to Finland for safety.
    One leader, Trotsky, was arrested. The situation returned to the
    plodding, confusing and weak government.
         Public protests increased both in number and severity. At
    first most were small marches that remained peaceful other than
    the shouting of slogans. As the revolution spread the protests
    became riots - more violent, even deadly - especially after Lenin
    went to Finland and Trotsky was put into prison.
         Odessa was far to the south of the troubles. The rumors
    reached us, along with letters from friends all across the
    country that told of troubles. In Odessa things were still fairly
    peaceful. Although Madame Maximova went on complaining and
    suspecting that the fire at the orphanage had been set, Papa was
    convinced that it had been an unfortunate accident.
         Other events were impossible to dismiss. The fire at the
    power plant in Balzer had been set by an individual troublemaker,
    but was just one example of similar things that were happening
    more and more often. Families were packing up and abandoning
    their homes. In some areas, those families who hadn't left were
    being forced out.
         The relationship between Papa and Anatoly grew more
    strained. Some days Papa would come home with a smile, as he
    always had before. More frequently we could see and feel a
    tenseness in him. At times I'd hear him saying things to Mama
    about how distressing work had become.
         "Anatoly spent the entire day going to each employee,
    talking about how the utilities should belong to them, and how no
    one should be above anyone else. I couldn't get him to do any
    work at all. When I tried to talk to him he said that things are
    changing and walked away. He's becoming unmanageable at times,
    and I'm just not sure what to do about it."
         To me, it was like a disease spreading. And it even infected
    the orphanage. At one of the regular parties I heard one of the
    new boys telling another that the only reason my parents were so
    generous with the orphanage was because they wanted the children
    to stay there and not get out into the world.
         That caused a fight between the two boys. Mama broke it up
    and tried to bring peace. The new boy wanted nothing to do with
    it. He called my mother some names I didn't understand and
    stomped off.
         Mama and Papa did what they could to keep our lives as
    normal as possible. His duties took Papa out of town more often,
    but when he was in town he spent every spare second with his
    family. We attended church, had our picnics on the beach, drove
    into the country to buy produce from the German farms and visited
    with friends.
         Summer was coming to an end. The nip of autumn was getting
    into the air. Papa had been called out of town again. Mama had
    been asked to sing at evening services at the church. We girls
    were excited, as we always were. It was wonderful having Mama
    sing to us at home, but hearing her clear voice in the church was
    something special.
         It was a pleasant evening. We decided to walk, as did many
    others. The streets leading to the church were filled with
    people, all dressed in their finest. Almost everyone smiled at us
    and greeted Mama, saying that they were looking forward to
    hearing her sing.
         It was a beautiful service. By the time Mama had given her
    second song everyone in attendance seemed to have forgotten any
    and all troubles. After the services we had to spend nearly an
    hour on the steps of the church while people complimented Mama,
    and us.
         Finally we walked toward home across the plaza. It was
    getting dark. Suddenly we heard some shots. From around a corner
    and then across the plaza, people started to run. Many were
    screaming.
         Across the plaza a group of people began to fight. Some were
    knocked down then kicked with heavy boots. It was hard to tell
    who was who. I wonder now if even they knew, or if they were just
    brawling from emotion.
         More shots sounded. Panic broke out. I saw one man grab at
    his chest and fall, but I couldn't tell if he'd been shot. Too
    much was going on, and soon my view was blocked by running
    people.
         Mama tried to get us away, but there was too much panic. The
    crowd collided with us. I felt Mama's hand torn from mine. I was
    alone.
         People ran into me from all sides. I was bumped this way and
    that, and finally lost my footing and went down.
         I was being trampled. The explosions of gunfire were
    everywhere. A few hands reached down to help, only to be torn
    away. Each time I tried to get to my feet, someone else slammed
    into me and threw me back to the ground. As I struggled to my
    feet again a sharp pain, like a hornet sting, struck the back of
    my head just beneath my left ear. Everything turned dark.
         As though in a dream, I felt someone pick me up and begin to
    run. Then there was a loud bang. I heard a groan and felt myself
    falling again.
         When I awoke I found myself next to a fence in a small yard.
    A tiny house was nearby. It was dark everywhere else. There was
    still a stinging on the side of my head. I reached up and touched
    the spot. Even in the darkness I could see that my fingers came
    away darker.
         As I tried to stand everything became blurry. I could hear a
    dog barking and thought I felt a painful tugging at my ankle. It
    brought me back down to the ground again, with my head hitting
    the fence on the way.
         The next thing I knew, arms were around me, lifting. A woman
    was carrying me into the house and then laid me on a bench. She
    put a wet cloth on my forehead.
         I started to cry for my mother. The woman held me close and
    kept telling me that she'd take me home if I would tell her where
    I lived and what my name was.
         Through the rest of the night I kept passing out. The woman
    was in more of a panic than I was. She'd heard the shots and was
    frightened. It turned out later that her husband and eldest son
    had gone to the war. Neither had returned. Then here she was
    caring for a badly injured 7-year-old child.
         The sun was coming up. She handed me a cup of hot tea. At
    last I managed to get out, "My name is Ella Gruber. My Papa is
    Petre Gruber. We live in one of the villas by the shore."
         "I know where the villa is," she said. "I'll take you there.
    First let me clean your wound again and replace the bandage."
         For the first time I looked down at my clothing. It was
    covered with blood, as was the cloth she removed from the side of
    my head. Just as I felt myself beginning to panic, there came the
    sharp pain as she washed the gash and then put a clean cloth over
    it. I winced and began to cry. To calm me she muttered gentle
    phrases. "Hush, little darling. It will be okay. You'll be with
    your mama and papa soon."
         She wrapped me in a blanket and helped me into a small 4-
    wheeled wagon. It was just large enough for me to sit in and
    stretch my legs straight. She'd placed pillows on the bottom and
    behind my back to soften the ride.
         The streets seemed strange, as though the violence of the
    previous night had somehow changed them. I finally recognized the
    front gate of our home. Then Ivan's face was above mine.
         He turned and shouted towards the house, then lifted me from
    the wagon. There were tears in his eyes. "Ellichka. Our dear
    Ellichka," and "God bless you, woman. God bless you!" he kept
    saying.
         Fraulein Schultz, Sena, Fenja and my sister raced from the
    house. It was like a long awaited reunion, with hugs and kisses
    all around until I could barely breathe. My head hurt and I felt
    sleepy, but being home again made me feel wonderful.
         Even Ivan and Sena forgot their feud for the moment and gave
    each other a hug. Then she seemed to catch herself and pulled
    away quickly, giving Ivan a glare. Just as quickly the glare
    disappeared and was replaced by a smile. She reached over and
    patted Ivan on the shoulder. I had to laugh, which made my head
    hurt again.
         We all went into the house. Sena and Fenja rushed about,
    bringing hot tea from the samovar and plates of cookies, candies
    and pastries. Fraulein Schultz explained that Mama was still gone
    in a search for me. Everyone was curious as to what had happened.
         "My name is Marusja," the woman said. "There was all that
    trouble last night. I live alone just one house from the plaza. I
    think I even heard some bullets hitting the house. I couldn't
    sleep. Then the dog started to bark. I went outside and found
    this little girl. I'm sorry to say that my dog bit her on the
    ankle.
         "I don't know how she got to our yard. Someone must have
    carried her. I saw other blood on the fence and on the ground. I
    don't think it was hers. Someone must have carried her - someone
    had also been injured.
         "Her head was bleeding and she was unconscious. I brought
    her into my home and tried to take care of her. It wasn't until
    this morning that she could tell me where she lived."
         It was at that moment that Mama came through the door. She
    had her arm in a sling. It had been broken. The hugs - and the
    story - had to be repeated. We learned more about Marusja in the
    hours that followed.
         Her husband, Frantz, and son, Timofrey, had both been
    drafted. She had already been informed that her husband had been
    killed. Timofrey was missing, presumed dead. She lived alone in
    the small house with her dog, and took in laundry and ironing
    when she could get it.
         She'd obviously had many hardships. They showed in the lines
    of her face and in the shabby, ill-fitting dress and boots she
    wore.
         Anatoly Bogdanov arrived moments later. It surprised even
    Mama when he told her that he'd spent the entire night searching
    for me when he learned that I was missing in the riot. He also
    had found out more details. The full story began to be pieced
    together.
         A troop of soldiers had come into a street just off the
    plaza and had become involved in an argument. Angry words were
    exchanged, then blows. One of the soldiers fired his rifle.
    Citizens began to fire back. It turned into a full riot, with
    many people being injured, some severely. Amazingly, only one
    person had been killed.
         Marusja looked more and more sad with the news. "This
    frightens me, Madame Gruber. When children aren't safe, the times
    are very bad."
         Mama went upstairs and came back carrying some dresses and
    three pairs of shoes. "These belong to my mother," she said to
    Marusja, "but don't fit her now. I think she'd like it very much
    if you would have them."
         They went into the music room where a large mirror hung on
    the wall. All the dresses and shoes fit her perfectly. As she
    tried on each, more tears came to her eyes.
         "You are too kind, Madame Gruber. Too kind. I've never had
    dresses like these ever in my life. They are even from Germany."
         Mama turned to Anatoly. "I'm so glad Papa didn't have to go
    through all this, Anatoly. And so glad that you were here to help
    us. I appreciate it very much."
         "Madame Gruber, I owe you and your husband so much. Any
    time, if I can be of help, please call on me."
         The next day Papa came home. He was shocked to hear the
    story. Even as Mama was telling it to him, he pulled me up onto
    his lap and hugged me close for over an hour.
         The next day they took me to the doctor. He was whispering
    but I overhead him tell my parents that it looked like a graze
    from a bullet. It frightened me badly when I heard him say that
    if it had been just an inch or two different I would be dead.
    I had bad headaches for several days. Mama made me stay in bed
    and gave me herbal tea and some medicine from the doctor. It was
    irritating to have a bandage on my neck and over my ear, but I
    was determined to be brave, like the characters in Fraulein
    Schultz's stories.
         Anatoly stopped by twice to see how I was. The second time I
    could see that there was something wrong between he and Papa, as
    though they'd had an argument earlier that day at work. That must
    have been the case. As he left I over heard Anatoly saying to
    Papa, "Please accept my apologies Comrade Gruber. I didn't really
    mean what I said this afternoon."
         As their voices faded away down the stairs, it seemed that
    the tone was friendly again. Even so, Anatoly didn't come to see
    me again. He didn't return to our house until early November.
         It was the beginning of November. Late one afternoon he
    entered the yard with a huge smile on his face.
         "We've won, Comrade," he said to Papa. "Have you heard?"
         "I haven't heard anything, Anatoly."
         "Comrade Bogdanov from now on. That's the way it will be. No
    more Gospodin. That is are obsolete now." Papa and Mama both
    looked puzzled. "Yes, they're not to be used anymore," Anatoly
    continued. "The old regime is gone at last. We took the palace
    last night and now we're in charge of things."
         Mama quickly and politely excused herself giving as the
    reason that it was time for our baths. She took Linachka and I
    out of the room before we could protest that we'd had a bath that
    morning, as we had every morning.
         "Shhh, Papa wants to talk to Anatoly alone," she told us.
         It wouldn't have meant much to us children anyway. Not at
    the time. Over the next weeks it didn't make any sense to us. We
    knew about St. Petersburg and that the Czar had his winter palace
    there. For Linachka and I, in Odessa, it meant little more than
    stories in letters from Uncle Paul.
         What meant more was that fighting had begun around Odessa.
    The army there was considered "White" - the loyalists. The
    revolutionaries - the Red Army - were fighting to push them out
    of the area. From our house we'd occasionally hear gunshots in
    the distance.
         Papa came home one day and told us that the White Army had
    left and that the Red Army was in control of Odessa. There were
    many rumors. Nobody knew what the truth was, or how bad things
    would be.
         Grandpa Adam began to spend more nights with us.
         "I heard that the town is under control of the Red Army," he
    said. "This morning I saw armed guards driving people from their
    homes. Then the homes were plundered and set on fire. Such a
    waste. It's wrong to put people out of their homes, but why
    destroy the homes afterwards? It doesn't make any sense.
         "Petja, we're going to have to be very careful and be ready
    to make some quick decisions."
         At times I thought Papa would go along with those
    instructions and that we'd soon be moving. I wondered where we'd
    go. To see Aunt Lina in Grossliebenthal? Maybe to Saratov to
    visit with Papa's friend Valentin? Or perhaps we'd go to the
    house in Kurgan where Papa lived before marrying Mama, and which
    he still owned? It may have been not knowing that kept Papa in
    Odessa. Rumors were that fighting had spread everywhere, which
    meant that no place was any safer than Odessa unless we left the
    country completely. Grandpa Adam was willing. Papa wasn't.
         Each time he seemed ready to pack us and leave, something
    would come up and he would have to go out of town on business. He
    hated to leave his family, and hated to travel during the winter,
    but there was no choice. Now more than ever it was important that
    he do his job perfectly, without mistakes or complaints.
         Papa came back from one such trip. Things quieted down
    again, at least in Odessa. When he went to work the next day he
    took me along. I was thrilled. It had been many months since Papa
    had let me go to the plant with him.
         When we arrived in the office Anatoly's desk was gone. Papa
    finally found it in another room. Standing beside it was a man
    wearing the uniform of the Red guard, including a cap with a red
    star on the front. It wasn't until the man spoke that Papa
    realized that it was Anatoly.
         "Ah, Comrade Gruber," he said. "As you can see I've made
    some changes here. From now on I am in charge, and you work for
    me. I'll have my own office and everything will be reorganized as
    I instruct. Of course, you'll work just as you always have. I
    expect you to help me hold my position and to handle any problems
    that arise."
         Papa had been used to the changes in Anatoly but seemed to
    be taken aback by this sudden change in attitude. Anatoly had
    been smug before, yet he always realized that Papa was in charge
    of the plant. He knew that only Papa had the skills to keep it
    all going.
         I could see Papa swallow hard and take a deep breath.
    "Anatoly, what has happened to you?"
         Anatoly leaned back against his desk. "You keep forgetting,
    Petre. It's not Anatoly. Not anymore. From now on it will be
    Comrad Bogdanov. And you will show me respect, as fits my
    station. You work for me now, not the other way around."
         As he spoke, anger crept into Anatoly's voice. Papa pulled
    me closer. I could feel the tightness in his muscles. His deep
    voice was just as tight as he said, "It will be as you say, . . .
    Comrade Bogdanov."
         It was a dreary day. Papa went through his work mechanically
    and didn't talk much. He'd give me reassuring smiles and pats now
    and then, but there was no hiding that something was very wrong
    that frightened him.
         That evening at home I heard Papa as he told Mama. "Can you
    imagine that, Musja? Anatoly! He has changed so much, and so
    fast. He has put himself in charge. He'll never be able to handle
    things. Certainly not on his own."
         "Just be careful, Petja," Mama said. "These are dangerous
    times. Anatoly was a good friend. He even helped us to look for
    Elichka that night. I haven't been sure about him for a long
    time. One day he seems like an enemy and the next he spends the
    entire night walking through the streets looking for our daughter
    and the next . . . ." There was a long pause. "I'm not sure about
    him. Or about anyone. Who can we trust?"
         The situation worsened. Anatoly enjoyed his new position of
    being the boss. He demanded not just that Papa carry out the
    normal duties but expected Papa to do most of Anatoly's work,
    too, while Anatoly sat in his new office. And he demanded that
    Papa not tell anyone that it was he, not Anatoly, who was taking
    care of things."
         It put a strain on Papa. As hard as he tried to keep our
    lives happy, he rarely smiled through that winter. Not even with
    the approach of Easter.
         In March the new Bolshevik government had signed an
    armistice with Germany. Many were bitter about it. The country
    was torn from within which meant that the treaty wasn't a good
    one for Russia. Much land had to be given up or made independent,
    which included the Ukraine where much of the produce was grown.
         Instead of ending with the war, shortages got worse and were
    made worse yet as more and more landholders were thrown from
    their land. The idea was that the land should be owned by all the
    people instead of just by the rich. What happened in reality was
    that the owners were turned out - sometimes shot, sometimes sent
    into exile to the prison camps of Siberia. Then the houses were
    burned to the ground. The crops and animals were left to die. All
    over Russia people were starving to death, dying of rampant
    disease. Often both.
         We still got most of our food from the German settlements.
    They'd been relatively untouched which meant that we could get
    the food we needed. Despite that, our Easter of 1918 didn't have
    the same sense of joy of earlier years.
         Before World War I it had been a common custom to hold an
    open house and lay out a big spread of differents foods. The
    celebration lasted a week or longer, with people coming and going
    constantly. By 1917 the shortages had caused most people to have
    more simple fare, and less of it. Or to forego the open house
    tradition entirely. By Easter of 1918 there were almost no open
    house celebrations. There was too little food, and too much fear.
         Mama received an invitation to sing again at the church. It
    helped to give us a better sense of normalcy and eased the
    tensions for us.
         By tradition food was to be blessed at the church. We packed
    the basket filled with colored eggs, paska and kulich and climbed
    into the carriage Ivan had prepared for us.
         The ceremony was beautiful. Mama's clear voice made it even
    better. There were so many people that the priest suggested that
    we all go outside to form the line for the blessing of the food.
    He walked along, chanting prayers and sprinkling holy water over
    the baskets.
         Suddenly there was shouting. Rocks began to fly into the
    crowd of churchgoers. A man standing near to me was hit in the
    face and fell down. The churchgoers broke in a panic. People
    began to run everywhere, bumping into each other, knocking over
    the baskets of food which were then trampled underfoot. Mixed in
    were the cries and screams of injured people.
         Our family became separated. I couldn't see Mama, Papa or
    anyone else of the family except for Linachka. I grabbed her hand
    and together we ran in the direction of the carriages. Linachka
    wanted to crawl beneath one of the carriages, but I wouldn't let
    her. The horses seemed badly spooked and I wasn't sure that they
    wouldn't tear loose and run us over.
         Ivan was the first to get to us. He picked us up, one in
    each arm, and carried us behind the carriages. He told us to stay
    down and then went to calm the horses.
         Mama came up, bringing the other children with her, and
    shouted, "Ivan, let's get the children out of here and home. The
    others will come when they can."
         During the drive home Mama did what she could to calm us
    after the frightening experience.
         We found out that the same thing was happening elsewhere, at
    all the churches. It was the work of the anti-Christ movement.
    The communists. They wanted all the churches to close down and so
    had organized attacks on churches all over the country.
         There had been extensive damage to the church. The alter had
    been vandalized. Priceless religious icons were stolen or
    destroyed. The priest was in the hospital with severe injuries.
         A few people came to our home over the next few weeks,
    hoping that Papa might have some answers or might be able to use
    his influence to help. It was heartbreaking to hear him have to
    say that he had no influence. Not any more.
         "My son came back from Rostow last week," one lady said. "He
    told me that the same incident happened there, too. Where is our
    country heading?"
         The Easter spirit was gone. Our beautiful table of food went
    almost untouched. Very few people came to enjoy the open house or
    the celebration. Even fewer had celebrations of their own. No one
    even dared go to the church for fear of another anti-Christian
    riot.
         The people of Odessa began to stay at home more often. The
    heart hadn't just gone out of Easter, it had been driven out of
    the city entirely. It was rare to see smiles. Those who had been
    friends before gave each other suspicious glances.
         Pro-Boshevik and anti-Bolshevik factions were everywhere. If
    either side got the the idea that someone might be a part of the
    opposition, that person too often ended up dead. Just the act of
    not reporting someone, even within one's own family, could be a
    capital crime.
         The bad news continued. In a letter Aunt Lina described
    their own growing fears. Many of the landowners and manufacturers
    in and near Grossliebenthal had been under attack. Many had been
    thrown out, with all their property confiscated. Some had been
    let go. More had been taken captive and then sent to prison camps
    in Siberia. More than a few were simply taken outside and shot.
    Aunt Lina was afraid that they would soon become targets.
         Papa answered the letter right away, urging them to leave
    everything behind and come to Odessa immediately. A week went by,
    then two, then three. There was no response. Finally Papa decided
    to take a few days from work and get Aunt Lina and the rest of
    the family there.
         Papa had told Mama to pack his case, saying that he'd be
    going whether Anatoly liked it or not. He brought me along with
    him so as to have an excuse to leave the plant early.
         Anatoly readily granted Papa a few days leave. Papa hadn't
    told him the real reason, just that it was a family matter. He
    insinuated that Grandpa Peter's health was getting very bad and
    that we wanted him to be with us in his last days. Anatoly seemed
    to recognize that things were going badly, and maybe he even felt
    a little guilty about it.
         "How are you going to travel?" Anatoly asked. "There are
    almost no trains running now, and all of them are only for
    military personnel."
         "I don't know," Papa answered. "I'll find a way, even if I
    have to walk."
         Anatoly looked at Papa for a while and finally said, "Maybe
    I can help. I've become a powerful man now. I can give you a
    pass. It will allow you to use any train, first class." He bent
    over the pad of paper and began writing. "I'm sorry to hear that
    a member of your family is ill, Comrade Gruber. And I hope he'll
    be better soon. We know that you're a valuable employee at the
    plant, and want your mind to be on your work, not elsewhere."
         He put several stamps on the paper and handed it to Papa.
    Papa began to thank him. Something in Papa's voice seemed to
    affect Anatoly. That or his own conscience. Or both.
         He waved his hand and shook his head. "No, Comrade. Don't
    thank me. You did so much for me and my family in the past. It
    might seem like it at times, but I haven't forgotten. I truly
    believe in the cause, but so often I can't but wonder why it is
    that people like you and your family have to suffer."
         He reached over and touched my hair. "I remember the night
    Ellichka was injured. When your wife told me that she was missing
    in the riot, I forgot all about the class struggle and could only
    think that it might have been my child. If the situation had been
    reversed, and it was my child who was missing . . . I know you
    Comrade Gruber. You would comb the city and keep going until the
    child was found."
         All that night I kept thinking that if it hadn't been for
    you and Madame Gruber, my children might not even have a father.
    You intervened and prevented my being sent to the front two
    times.
         "It's my turn to help, Petre. And please forgive me for not
    doing more."
         Papa turned to leave. "Comrade Gruber! One more thing." Papa
    turned to face Anatoly and saw that he was smiling. "While you're
    gone, I'll watch out for your family, just as you've so often
    watched mine. I won't let anything happen."
         Next day Papa left. None of us wanted him to leave, Mama
    least of all. Emotions were high. There was danger all around us
    and having Papa gone was frightening.
         As they climbed into the carriage I heard Ivan whisper to
    Papa, "Don't worry, Gospodin Gruber. I'd lay my life down for
    your family." As Papa began to smile Ivan added, "And if that
    isn't enough, Sena is here. The Red guard wouldn't stand a
    chance, at least not if they try to get in through the kitchen
    door."
         Papa and Ivan rode off laughing. We were left behind with
    only our worries, and the rumors of ever increasing fighting in
    the country. Trains were being attacked on a regular basis by
    both sides in the conflict. The only thing that helped was that
    we were kept busy in preparing the house for our visitors. There
    would be Aunt Lina, her husband Robert, their daughter Erikie,
    her husband Ulrich and their three children. No doubt they'd all
    be here for some time - at least until all the trouble cooled
    down and they could go home again.
         We'd taken to sitting by the window each day watching for
    Papa to return. Days passed. Then a week. I once heard Mama
    whispering to Fraulein Schultz that we should begin to pack and
    get out, and her fears that Papa would never return.
         One evening we heard carriage bells ringing. A buggy was
    entering through the iron gate. It was Papa! We all ran out to
    greet him, and all felt our hearts fall when we saw that he was
    alone.
         "Where are Aunt Lina and Uncle and the rest of the family?"
    I asked.
         Papa gave me a quick hug and said, "They can't come right
    now. Maybe later. I'll tell you all about it tomorrow." He leaned
    over and whispered something to Mama. Her face turned white and I
    could see that she was fighting back tears.
         Something was wrong. She turned to Fraulein Schultz and
    said, "Give the children dinner and put them to bed. I'm going to
    help Papa put the horses up." Then she turned to us and said,
    "Your father is very tired, my dears. You can talk to him in the
    morning. Tomorrow he'll tell you all about his journey."
         I heard Grandpa Adam come in. Sister was still asleep. I
    tried to go back to sleep but heard Grandpa say, "You've been
    crying, Petja. What happened?"  I laid there in the darkness,
    frightened. Listening.
         "I don't know how to tell you this, father."
         "What has happened," Grandpa repeated. "Have they been
    disowned? Were they driven out of their home."
         "No, no. They're . . . they're not with us anymore."
         There was silence. I could hear both Mama and Papa sobbing.
    Then Papa continued. "They were executed, father. All of them.
    Even the children. It's a miracle that I'm still alive."
         I couldn't believe it. The whole family, dead. Murdered. I
    wanted to rush downstairs.
         "I got there in the evening," Papa said. "There weren't any
    carriages available at the station so I had to walk to their
    house. It was almost dark by the time I got there.
         "Erica opened the door. She looked scared. We went into the
    living room where the rest of the family had gathered. They were
    all surprised to see me and seemed concerned. Robert said that I
    shouldn't be there. That it wasn't safe.
         "The house was a mess. There were broken things all over.
    Robert told me that the soldiers had done damage all through the
    house and barn. They'd come to deliver an order from the
    commissar that the family had to leave their house and
    possessions. Their name was on a list of names. Many of the other
    German families had already been thrown out, and quite a few had
    been arrested and taken away. They were surprised that Ulrich and
    Robert hadn't been taken away.
         "All their horses and cattle had been confiscated. So had
    both carriages. They had no way to leave, and no where to go.
         "I insisted that we pack quickly and leave immediately, and
    that we all come here to Odessa. They were afraid to take
    anything. The Red soldiers had warned them to not take anything.
    I told them that they should at least pack some clothes. I wish
    to God that we hadn't even tried. If I'd known, we would have
    left right then.
         "We were just about ready to leave when there came the
    sounds of horses. There was a knock on the front door, but before
    anyone could get there it was kicked in. Five soldiers and an
    officer stormed in.
         "They drove us all out of the house, into the backyard and
    pushed us against the brick fence. It was then that we realized
    what was going to happen. Katarina, the oldest child began to
    scream. One of the soldiers hit her in the face and knocked her
    down.
         "I screamed, 'What are you doing, you bloodthirsty animals?'
    A soldier hit me in the head with his rifle and ordered me to
    line up with the others against the wall. I took out the pass
    that Anatoly had given me. The officer saw all the stamps on it
    and seemed impressed.
         " 'Come with me, Comrade,' he said. 'We'll talk about it.'
         "I told him that he'd be held responsible if anything
    happened to me or to my family. He lead me through the gate and
    around to the front, saying that the light was better for him to
    examine the pass.
         " 'You alone are mentioned on the pass, Comrade Gruber. I'm
    sorry, but I have my orders.'
         I tried to push him away and get to the family. There were
    gunshots from the back. The officer grabbed my arm. 'You can't do
    anything,' he said. 'Get out of here. Quickly! Or even your pass
    won't help you.'
         "I spent the rest of the night in hiding. Soldiers were
    everywhere. Now and then through the night I heard more shots. I
    don't know how many other families died that night.
         "I went back the next day. The house was empty. In the back
    I found a few personal things. Helga's little shoe. Andre's
    jacket. A blood-stained wedding ring. The grass was crushed and
    bloody where they had fallen.
         "All seven were murdered. Even Helga, and she was only two-
    years-old!"
         Again it was quiet except for the sobbing. I heard some soft
    clinking and imagined Mama pouring a glass of herb tea for Papa.
    After a moment he began again.
         "There were some of the neighbors waiting for me when I came
    to the front again. At first I wasn't sure what was going to
    happen. Then one came forward carrying a picture in a frame. She
    said that she'd sneaked into the house and had taken it. She'd
    recognized me the evening before. They all expressed their sorrow
    and said that they knew something bad was happening but that they
    were too afraid to try to help.
         "There were so many times I didn't think I was going to get
    home again, even with the pass Anatoly gave me.
         "When I arrived at the train station I showed my pass. The
    ticket officer looked at the red star and showed me to a car that
    was filled with Red Army officers. I was the only civilian.
         "I wish I could have been anywhere but there. I was sure
    that at any moment one of them would begin to question the pass
    and my reason for being there. Instead they were polite and all
    in a good mood. They even offered me vodka from the bottles, and
    food from a basket of sausages, fried chicken, cheese, and bread.
    Another brought out cans of chocolate candy and passed them
    around.
         "I did my best to appear friendly. They asked me where I
    lived, what I did, why I was traveling and so on. I acted
    friendly and a little drunk. They believed me when I said that I
    was on business for Commissar Bogdanov. We clicked glasses and
    said 'Sa sdordvie' - to your health. It was still very
    frightening.
         "At last I pretended to pass out from the vodka and listened
    to them talking. Each told about his particular assignment. One
    of them had been involved in making out the lists and orders for
    executions. I wanted to grab him by the throat to find out if
    he'd been responsible for the deaths of our family.
         "They were bragging about their new lifestyles, and how
    their families had moved into large, expensive homes that had
    been confiscated. One talked about the beautiful jewels and furs
    he'd taken from homes and brought to his wife. Another said that
    he had a box of jewels in his pocket that he'd taken from the
    last mansion he'd sacked. I opened one eye carefully to look. He
    had bracelets and rings and necklaces. I wondered how many had
    lost their lives so he could have them in his pocket.
         "They talk about how they're distributing wealth among the
    poor. What it comes down to is that they're taking it for
    themselves and killing anyone who objects.
         "Finally I did fall asleep. When I awoke all the officers
    were gone but one, and he was sound asleep in a corner. Very soon
    one of the other officers came in and said that there was
    shooting at the next station. Even as he talked the train began
    to slow down and then stopped. We sat there for several hours
    before the train got started again. That happened several more
    times on the way.
         "Once, when we passed near some thick trees, there were some
    shots that broke the windows. Soldiers on the train fired back
    into the trees, but we didn't stop."
         As Papa told the story, I kept thinking about Helga, just
    barely two, and eight-year-old Andre, a boy my own age, being
    stood against a wall and shot down with the rest of their family.
    Their only crime was that they were the grandchildren of people
    wealthy enough to have owned a power station. It didn't matter
    that the station had been burned down. It didn't matter that
    three of the victims were just children.
         My parents began to prepare for anything that might happen.
    It was still quiet in Odessa, but there had been trouble, and the
    situation was getting worse and worse elsewhere. I heard more
    people talking about the Red Army, Lenin, Marx, communism, how
    unfair and unjust the rich were. It didn't make any sense to me.
    People were being shot. More were being arrested and sent to
    prison camps where they could expect to live just a few months
    because of the harsh treatment. No trial was needed. The only
    crime they'd committed was that of having some wealth. The more
    wealth, the harsher the treatment.
         The offspring were also punished. It didn't matter that a
    young man was on his own, working hard and struggling to make a
    living for his new family. If his parents, and often just his
    grandparents, had any holdings at all, he was declared just as
    guilty, as were his new wife and any children he had.
         Fraulein Schultz moved into our room. She brought in a
    mattress and slept on the floor. Sister and I both woke up many
    nights screaming from nightmares.
         We didn't know that the nightmare hadn't even begun yet.

    UNTIL NEXT TIME

       The Soviet Union of today is a far cry from how things were
    in the decades following the 1917 revolution. The ruling family,
    the Romanovs, were thrown out of power, which left a Provisional
    Government. That was an extremely weak system that ended up
    actually promoting a fracturing of those in control.
       Although they held only 10% of the government seats, the
    Bolsheviks were both vocal and violent. They grabbed power. Lenin
    created the forerunner of the KGB in December of 1917 to make sure
    that anti-Bolsheviks were squashed.
       What followed were some useless efforts to pull the country
    back together. When Lenin died there was another power struggle
    which left Stalin in charge. Under his thumb there were a series
    of purges so violent that no one knows how many were killed. The
    estimates run anywhere from 5 million to 60 million. So many were
    killed, in so many ways, that it wasn't possible to keep records.
       RUN FOR FREEDOM is a true story about those times.

       As I said at the opening, if this chapter stirred interest I
    can easily put up other chapters from the book. All you have to do
    is to let me know.

Zephyr Magazine is © Gene Williams. All rights reserved.