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  • 06 – Russia

    RUSSIA, 1951

    Photo – 12-year-old Mironov in Budyonovka. The future General Mironov. The future “General Mironov” already with that proud look, as if he knew that Budyonovka would seal his fate. Almost like a KGB passport photo in slow motion, only twelve years too early and it’s easy to imagine how this boy would later be
    described in the memories of others as “always destined for greatness.”

    …I wanted to become a Chekist just like Uncle Sasha. I wanted to walk around town in a leather jacket and catch bandits and CIA spies. I also wanted to wear that Budyonovka Red Army hat, like that one on the picture in Uncle Sasha’s room.

  • 05 – Russia

    RUSSIA, 1951

    I knew that our guest Uncle Sasha was a Chekist. But why, for example, would a Chekist hide in Odessa?

    Chekists were supposed to walk around town in leather jackets and leather caps with stars, and at night catch American soldiers and spies, or hunt down smugglers at the port. Besides, Chekists seemed to me to be stern, elderly men, but Uncle Sasha was very young, no more than twenty-two.

    To me, a 12-year old boy, he must have seemed to be a serious old man! Just look at his mouth — it’s as if it had been cut with a chisel; his forehead is wrinkled like an old man’s, but his eyes are still quick, sharp, and completely clear, like polished glass. And he’s strong, too. Tall. His hands are large. I couldn’t wrap one arm around his wrist.

  • 04 – Mother Russia

    RUSSIA, 1992

    In April 1992, having finished our duty in China,

    I returned home, to my dear Mother Russia. I did not have a chance to enjoy my quiet life, however, because in August, just after 3 months of fishing and hunting in Vologda lake area…

    A beautiful summer day was drawing to a close. The crimson sun was already low on the horizon. The domes of the churches glowed golden, and a cool breeze blew from the gardens.

    I was getting ready to drink my evening tea on the terrace, when suddenly a leather-clad motocycle riding courier stopped by at me house and handed me a telegram: I was being sent on another dangerous mission…

  • 03 – Russia

    RUSSIAN EMPIRE, 1914

    …And while Komrad Hu Weng slept, images of my father’s past flashed before my eyes like in a movie. Winter of 1914. A pipe factory in Russian town Samara. In two huge halls with tall windows covering the entire walls and glass ceilings, fitters and
    pattern makers work in the sixth tool shop, while in the spacious workshop, on brand new made in Great Britain machines, turners, pattern makers, and millers work hard.
    My Father was literate so he read the news to the workers. They were concerned about stories about revolutionaries who had escaped from European exile, and arrests in the city. The head of the tool shop, Staff Captain Vysotsky, pretended not to be
    interested in the mood of the workers, and only the senior foreman, Lyman, who did not like my Father, passing by the animated workers, muttered under his heavy breath:
    “Don’t forget yourselves! This isn’t France.”

  • 02 – In China

    CHINA, 1991

    …We headed toward the railway bridge across the river. The night was moonlit and quiet. The valley seemed to have frozen in a clear smokey ice. We moved slowly, trying not to be detected. We were tasked with dismantling the railway track behind the bridge to prevent the enemy from using their armored train in the offensive.