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KUROPATY Rain poured down on the dilapidated apartment building at the end of Lomonosov Street in the city of Irkutsk, Russia. Nothing but a single light peering out from a third floor window challenged the darkness of the late hour. Inside a man in his late thirties with sandy hair and wire-rimmed glasses sat at a desk in a small one-bedroom apartment littered with stacks of books, newspapers, and folders of various sizes with official-looking documents protruding from them. In his hands he held a newspaper clipping that had been sent to him along with a letter from a friend in Moscow.
To the Director, Project Vigilance, Irkutsk State University: (1)I hearby resign my position on the Project Vigilance Executive Committee and associated positions, responsibilities, and obligations. Respectfully, Constantine Sergeivitch Sobchak (2)Constantine, who was known as Kostya to his friends, paused for a moment to proofread the letter, then wandered over to the small stove in his kitchen to start some water boiling for tea. He had just poured himself a cup when he heard a knock at his door. It was unusual, but not unheard of, for someone to call at this hour. It could have been a neighbor trying to trace the source of a plumbing leak, or a restless colleague from the university come to deliver more papers.
"Yes, I am...but, if you don't mind me asking, who are you? I don't recognize you. Are you from the university? Is this a business matter?" "My name is Lucien, and indeed, I am here to discuss business with you. May I come in?"
"Do you mind if I sit down?" asked Lucien. "Eh...no, go right ahead." Lucien sat down on Kostya's couch. Kostya sat opposite him in the chair at his desk. "Um, look, if you've come here about Project Vigilance, there's something you ought to know..." "Oh yes, I'm aware. You're quitting." A combination of surprise and disbelief gripped Kostya. "...No, that's impossible. I haven't told anyone! I've never even discussed the possibility of leaving with anyone associated with the project. Why, I just wrote my letter of resignation not ten minutes ago!" "That's true, but you've been considering it for a while now, haven't you?" "Yes...but how could you possibly know that? Who are you?" "Allow me to explain. I am not from the university. But I take a great interest in what you do and, even though we have never met, I do know a great deal about you. Now, explaining exactly who I am and how I know these things would be tricky and I'm not sure you would believe me. So I propose I bargain. I wager that I know things about yourself that nobody else could possibly know. If I can demonstrate this to you to your satisfaction, you in return will forgo questions about who I am and allow me to get straight to discussing my business with you." Kostya paused to consider whether the strange-looking man sitting on his couch could have some kind of connection to one of Russia's police or intelligence services. That was one way in which this man could have gotten information about him and his connection to Project Vigilance. During the late 1980s and into 1990 and 1991, when Project Vigilance was still just a fledgling organization, the KGB monitored and regularly harassed the project's members. Even after the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991, there had been cases where ad-hoc groups of hardline Communists used former KGB officers to get information on individual project members in order to stalk, harass, and threaten them. But Kostya felt no sense of menace or hostility about this man. If Kostya had to guess, he would have said that Lucien was a music teacher, or a professor of Latin or some other long dead language, or perhaps a librarian. In addition, he was intrigued by Lucien's idea of a wager. "That sounds like an interesting challenge. I accept. Now, what is it that you know about me that no one else knows?" "Quite a bit, actually, but I'll stick with these three thoughts. When you were eight years old, having been influenced no doubt by your grandmother's stories about Old Russia, you came to believe that there was a domovoi (4) living in a burrow under your family's house. Once you even left a saucer of milk out for it. But a few days after you first found the burrow you saw that it was only a muskrat. You fell in love for the first time when you were twelve years old when you developed a schoolboy crush on your teacher, Larisa Nikolaievna Shavrova. And though you hate to admit it, even to yourself, you love the smell of lilacs."Stunned silence followed. "Lucien, those are all true. But how could you know that?" "Hmmm, my dear Kostya, I do believe it's my turn to be asking the questions," said Lucien with a smile. Kostya decided to let the matter drop and play along with Lucien, thinking that perhaps he could get around to questioning his guest later. "Well, a bargain is a bargain. So, what can I do for you?" "I would like you to tell me why you are quitting Project Vigilance." "All right. But if you know so much about me, shouldn't you know that already?" "I can guess. But I would rather hear you say it for yourself." "Very well." Kostya paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. "I think it would be easier if I started at the beginning." "By all means. Go right ahead." Kostya leaned back in his chair. "It began when I was a graduate student at the university. I became friends with people who were critics of the Communist Party. We would get together and discuss the Party's restrictions on speech and debate, its failure to improve the people's standard of living, its support of the war in Afghanistan, things like that. We heaped criticism on the Party. But we kept it locked away in a closet. We were too afraid to react publicly or establish a formal organization. We were too afraid. Glasnost was just in its infancy then, and there were still limits on what people like us could say.
"That article was enough to finally motivate us to take action. We joined the ragtag group that Ivan Andreivitch had put together to support researching and informing the public about the crimes of the Great Terror. We didn't have official political or legal recognition from the government or the Party. We didn't even have a back account. But we had a name - Project Vigilance - and we had an unshakable belief that what we were doing was right and was absolutely necessary. "I wasn't an archaeologist like Ivan Andreivitch, so I wouldn't have been of much help doing excavations of grave sites or things of that sort. I wasn't very good at public relations things either - I was never very comfortable with soliciting donations or the like. But as it turned out, I was very good at searching historical archives. Delving through arrest records and court papers, security files, gravesite excavation reports, taking names of those who had disappeared and searching for clues of what became of them...I was good at that. Not everyone can stand to do that sort of thing. It's dull, it's tedious, and more often than not, especially in the days before 1991 when our access to information was limited, it was most often fruitless. But it's an important part of what Project Vigilance does. "My association with the project introduced me to two people who had a profound impact on my life. One of them was Ivan Andreivitch Plyushkin. "Ivan Andreivitch is an amazing man. To me he is courage personified. I remember the first time I met him. You could see the determination blazing in his eyes. He was a critic of the Soviet state going all the way back to Khrushchev's day. He tested the limits of glasnost when it was brand new by becoming the first person in the Soviet Union to discuss in detail the mass executions committed during the Terror. He has given himself totally to the cause of exposing the evils of the past and the present. He worked around the clock, day after day. Even to this day he hasn't married; he's never had the time, you see. He is always doing something to advance the cause of Project Vigilance. He is my hero." "I see. And I assume the second person to whom you referred is the woman who is the subject of that newspaper clipping you received today." "Yes. That is Irina. She and I met while we were both working for Project Vigilance in Moscow. I fell in love with her right away. Her eyes and her smile were positively enchanting. When she smiled her whole face would light up in the most incredible way. And I loved her laugh, and the way she would make me laugh. I could tell her anything. I've never met anyone like her." "But something happened." Kostya nodded. "Five years ago Ivan Andreivitch told me that some people at the university here in Irkutsk were attempting to establish a branch chapter of Project Vigilance. They needed help to get themselves organized and also to head the archive-search operation; through good fortune they had discovered a huge archive of state records going all the way back to the 1920s. Ivan Andreivitch told me that he wanted me to go head up the new project. "I was excited. It seemed like such a tremendous opportunity. I couldn't wait to get here. But when I discussed it with Irina, she didn't want to go. She didn't want to leave behind her friends and her family in Moscow. She'd lived in Moscow all her life. She didn't want to just pick and leave because I wanted to, even if it was for a good cause. And so we fought, and in the end, neither of us gave in. Finally, I told her that maybe I wouldn't be gone for long. Maybe I would just go for a year. Or maybe two. And then I could come back and we could be together again. She told me she didn't know if she wanted to wait that long. And that was how things stood when I left Moscow to come here." "What did Ivan think of your decision to go without Irina?" "He didn't know. Not until much later. Irina and I had decided to keep our relationship a secret from the rest of the Project Vigilance staff." Kostya let out a sigh before continuing. "I wrote letters to her regularly after I first came to Irkutsk. She wrote back faithfully, at first. But then her letters became less and less frequent. At the time, I didn't dwell on that much because I was doing so much work on the project. Eventually I stopped writing back. I vaguely remember thinking to myself that I could always just go back to Moscow and the two of us could just start again where we had left off. But there never came a time when I really wanted to go back. There was always so much work to be done, right here, and I was in the middle of it. And that was always enough. Until..."
Kostya sighed again. "Lately, it just seems like it's finally getting to me. Working long, long days...and often nights, and weekends. Mindnumbingly dull shuffling of papers and records and files and going to committee meetings and writing letters to and filling out forms for faceless bureaucrats who seem to exist for the sole purpose of making other people's lives as unpleasant as possible. And what do I have to show for it? A tiny apartment full of papers thousands of miles away from the one woman who I really cared for." Kostya ran the fingers of both his hands, something he often did when he was frustrated. The look on Lucien's face changed from one of interest to one of concern.
"Do you really believe that? That the things you have done to expose the Terror, to help people find out what happened to friends and relatives years ago, to spark the debate that Russia needs to confront its past so its people can heal? You think there is no work that needs to be done now, while idiots like Stalin's grandson (6) holds rallies in Georgia and Russia and saying things like Stalin had nothing to do with the executions and purges committed during his rule? A man who says that even today almost everyone loves Stalin and the only ones that don't are cheats and swindlers?""You have a point. But...maybe it's time for the struggle to go on without me. I've been involved in it for so long. Maybe it's time for me to move on." "I see. Well, if you don't mind, let me share my opinion. I think perhaps you have put a little too much of yourself in what you do. Working yourself too hard will get to anyone in the end. As a result, bad news, like that which arrived from Moscow today, has a harder impact than it otherwise might. "But an even bigger problem is that you don't really understand how what you have done with Project Vigilance has really changed people's lives. You've spent too much of your time in meetings and searching archives and battling with the government for this or that document. All those are important, of course, but I think it would help if you were able to view things from another perspective."
Lucien stood up and motioned toward the door to the apartment. "Come with me. I would like to show you something." "Come with you? Where? At this hour? It's so late..." "Young man, I promise that all will be made clear to you soon. For now, I must ask you to trust me." And with that, Lucien strode through the apartment door. Kostya thought it over for a moment and then, coming to the conclusion that he had nothing to lose, shrugged his shoulders and followed Lucien.
Kostya stepped through the trees and studied their surroundings more intently. They seemed to be in a forest thinly populated by pine trees. But under the trees he could see something else - a number of holes in the ground. And not just animal burrows or even dried-up streambeds or ponds , but long, huge gaping holes with weatherworn edges, like giant pockmarks in the earth.
Lucien looked thoughtful for a moment. "Ah, I nearly forgot. You've never actually been here before. This," he said, gesturing to the trees around them and the trenches in the earth, "is Kuropaty."
"But...how did we get hear?" "Well, that's a bit complicated. We can discuss that another time. Right now, let's go for a walk. This way." (8)Lucien led Kosta through row after row of the mass graves, passing by flowers and other small tokens of affection left behind by mourners. "I would have expected something...more dramatic. If it wasn't for these," said Kostya, pointing to one of the great scars in the earth, this one large enough to hold as many as one hundred victims or perhaps more, "one might think this place was just another forest." "Yes, on the surface it's hard to believe that this place could possibly have been the site of so many deaths. You can't tell just by looking around that for four and a half years, truckload after truckload of 'enemies of the state' were brought here to be eliminated. Every day. As many as sixteen truckloads in one day. Even after the Germans started bombing Minsk, just a few miles from here, NKVD (9) officers were still shooting people here. (10) "The trucks would drive right up to the grave pits, because those had been already dug, you see. The people were taken out of the trucks and their hands were untied. Then one pair at a time, the NKVD would lead them up to the pits and shoot them in the back of the head, many of them without ever being told what crime they had been charged with.
Mother and Father I have searched for you since your disappearance in 1937. At last, after 52 years, I have found you. Galya Even Constantine Sergeivitch Sobchak, who knew the history of this place, who had an appreciation greater than almost anyone else in world for the scale and barbarity of the crimes committed in the name of Stalin during the Great Terror, who had read countless accounts of mothers, fathers, sons, and daughters who had fallen into the meat grinder that had been the war against the 'enemies of the state', felt his heart wrench upon reading this simple message. (12)There was silence between the two of them for a long moment before Lucien spoke up:
"In 1989, your work with Project Vigilance made public the fact that Galya's parents had been executed and buried here at Kuropaty. Galya was able to come here and do what she had wanted to do for 52 years: say goodbye to her parents. She sleeps peacefully now for the first time since that horrible night in 1937."
"Anton Leonidevitch Pugo grew up very close to this place during the 1930s. He never saw what happened hear, never witnessed a single execution, but he and his family knew what was going on. They used to see the trucks roll in full of people and come back empty. Sometimes they would hear the gun shots. Once in a while, they could hear the echoes of the screams of victims. But he, his family, and his neighbors never talked about what happened at Kuropaty. They were too afraid of what would happen if they asked too many questions.
"Finally, nine years ago, Anton read an editorial you had written about how horrible the Great Terror had been and how important it was for people to confront the horrors of that period. That was the spark Anton needed. Anton was inspired to confront his fears and stand up to the hardline Communists who were attempting to rehabilitate Stalin. He joined Project Vigilance and, as a witness, was able to provide important testimony about what happened here at Kuropaty. "Anton died of a heart attack in 1996. But during those last few years of his life, he had something he hadn't known in years: peace of mind. "There are many other people like Galya, Ivan, and Anton that I could tell you about, if you'd like..." Kostya looked overwhelmed, but managed to give Lucien an answer.
"Of course. Take all the time you wish. Simply let me know when you're ready to leave." Kostya wandered from grave to grave for a time, stopping to admire various items left behind by mourners: bouquets of flowers, crosses made out of twigs and pebbles, wooden icons, and even handwritten notes and letters. He studied the graves and tried to estimate, based on their size, how many people could have been buried in them. Finally, he sat down on the ground in front of Galya's little sign and lost himself in thought. He sat there for several hours, not even getting up to take shelter under the trees after a drizzly rain began falling. At length, he stood up and said to Lucien, simply, "I've seen enough." In the blink of an eye they were back in Kostya's apartment. After a brief silence, Lucien spoke first. "I really should leave before anyone notices that I've gone. I'm not here on sanctioned business and, while my master may not fault my reasons for wanting to come here, I think I'm supposed to get permission first.
"Well, enough of my prattling. It's probably time for me to leave you to your own devices, so...er...well...good night." Kostya looked perplexed for a moment. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but didn't quite know how to express it. At last, he said simply "Lucien?" "Yes?" "...Thank you." Lucien smiled and then, very tentatively, extended his hand to Kostya, who shook it vigorously. Lucien's face positively beamed with delight. Then he gave Kostya a slight bow, turned, stepped out of the apartment and closed the door behind him. Kostya took the letter he had typed earlier that evening from the typewriter, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it into a waste basket. He took a folder from his desk and removed a list of names of people who had vanished more than half a century ago.
- Tom Morgan, 6 April 1999 Disclaimer: I have been exposed to enough lawyers in my day to compel me to say something like "Lucien, Morpheus the Lord of Dreams, and the SANDMAN series are trademarks of DC Comics." ENDNOTES 1. Project Vigilance is something I made up for this story, but it is based on an organization called Memorial, a non-profit organization that emerged in the Soviet Union at a time before the power structure in that country had really bought off on concepts like democracy and freedom of speech. Memorial was founded to rehabilitate people who were victimized by the state during Joseph Stalin's reign. Stalin ruled the Soviet Union from the late 1920's to his death in 1953. This period is considered to have been the most brutal and repressive in the history of the Soviet Union. Memorial is still active in Russia today. There is a website for one of Memorial's chapters at http://ngo.ryazan.ru/win/memorial/mem-e.htm where you can find out more information about the organization. 2. It is a tradition in Russia for a person to have a middle name that is based on his or her father's name. This name is called a patronymic. So if your father is named Sergei, you would have a patronymic like Sergeivitch. In addition, when Russians address one another, they often refer to someone by their first name and patronymic. 3. This is the character Lucien, from the SANDMAN series by Neil Gaiman. Lucien is a sort of major-domo to the Lord of Dreams, and is keeper of the Lord of Dream's library, which is a library of books which have been imagined but never actually written. 4. In Russian folklore, a domovoi was believed to be a kind of guardian spirit of the household. They were believed to be useful things to have around because they could warn a family of coming disasters. 5. While Stalin's regime was repressive throughout his entire reign, the period from 1935 to 1941 was particularly brutal. During this period, millions of people were arrested, tortured, and executed or shipped off to spend years in prison camps called gulags, and often on no credible evidence whatsoever. An exact number of people executed in these years has not been established, but is generally believed to be as high as 15 million. This period, which has been called The Great Terror, was sparked by the investigation of the murder of Serge Kirov, a prominent Communist Party official who was a potential rival to Stalin. From what I recall, it was never definitively proven, but there is evidence that Kirov may have been killed on Stalin's orders. 6. Joseph Stalin's grandson Yevgeny Dzhugashvili is a 63 year old retired Soviet Army colonel who has recently begun a campaign to rehabilitate his grandfather. He denies that his grandfather was responsible for the horrors of the Great Terror, and claims that the everyday Russian people love and revere Stalin. Fortunately, Dzhugashvili's pro-Stalin movement is very small and not believed to have any political clout. 7. Kuropaty may be a notorious site, but it is only one of a number of sites where people who were executed during the Terror were buried. 8. In SANDMAN #38, "The Hunt", we see that Lucien seems to be able to take shortcuts through normal three-dimensional space, and can take people with him when he does so (see page 22). 9. The secret police establishment of the Soviet Union went through several incarnations and several names before becoming the KGB. During the time of the Great Terror, it was known was the NKVD, which stood for People's Commissariat for Internal Affairs. 10. See The New Russians by Hedrick Smith. Smith quotes a source (p.123) who says that executions took place at Kuropaty right up until July 23rd, 1941, when the Germans advanced upon Minsk. The Germans and their Axis allies began the invasion of the Soviet Union about a month earlier, on June 22nd. I think that this fact is a good indicator for just how pervasive the Great Terror was: an entire month after the Germans invaded, when the Soviets were taking heavy losses, and the very existence of the Soviet Union was threatened (the initial German offensive ultimately fell just a few miles short of taking Moscow), the NKVD was still busy rounding up "enemies of the people". 11. According to Smith, Moscow TV producer Nina Soboleva said this to him in April, 1989 (see Smith, p.121 and p.125). 12. Again according to Smith, he saw this very same message on a grave at Kuropaty when he went to visit there in 1989. Even seven years after I first read this book, this simple message still blows me away. The story about Galya in subsequent paragraphs is my own invention. |
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