Our last day in the USSR

It was 45 years ago today when we made a bold step to leave the city of Riga, Latvia, a place that encapsulated our entire lives. This beautiful city was not just our home, it was the backdrop of our childhood memories—where we ran the narrow streets as carefree kids, sat in classrooms absorbing knowledge, and experienced the thrill of our first job. It was here that young love blossomed, leading us to tie the knot under the shadow of ancient buildings that whispered tales of the past. Our first son entered the world in this city, adding to the tapestry of our family, and it was also the resting place of our beloved grandparents, their memories woven into the very fabric of our lives.

Yet, on that fateful day, we turned our backs on all that we cherished. We stepped away from familiar streets and the comforting embrace of a city that had shaped our identities. In search of what we deeply yearned for—freedom—we ventured into the unknown, drawn by promises of a life unchained by the oppressive grip of a communist regime. The concept of freedom was, to us, a distant star, shimmering yet vague. We understood little about its true essence, but we were convinced that any life outside that stagnant existence was a life worth pursuing.

To honor this significant step, I wish to share an excerpt from my recent book—one that captures the emotions and reflections of our last day in the USSR, a day filled with both dread and hope, as we stood on the precipice of a new beginning.

***

…

Our departure from the country was set by the government on May 15th. We were instructed to visit the "INTURIST" offices at Hotel Riga, which was a popular choice among foreign tourists. The purpose of our visit was to exchange Russian rubles for US dollars and purchase tickets for our scheduled departure from the country.

We were only allowed to have $100.00 per adult and $50.00 for a child. That was all the money we could have. To purchase dollars, we had to pay a special exchange rate for future immigrants of 3.00 rubles per $1.00 instead of the official rate of 0.60 rubles per $1.00. Despite this, we still got a good deal, as the black market rate was up to 10.00 Russian rubles per $1.00. We had a lot of money to spare.

$250.00 wasn't a huge sum of money, but we held those never-seen-so-close pieces of paper as an enormous treasure, as an advance of the forthcoming freedom and prosperity.

The lady at the "INTURIST" office, who was managing everything, had a cheerful smile. She checked our visas and put a stamp on them that read, "The currency is sold". 

When it came to train tickets, she informed us that "INTURIST" only dealt with airfare, and since we were instructed to leave by train, it was our responsibility to purchase a regular ticket directly from the railroad.

That sounded easy, and we walked to the central railroad station that was nearby.

 A lady at the ticket booth asks me to show the passport. I showed her an exit visa, which, at the time was the only document we had.

She looked at my visa, raised her eyes toward me, and said that she could not sell the requested tickets without seeing an actual soviet passport.

   - Not allowed! - she declared and closed the booth window right in front of my face.

At that point, I wasn't surprised anymore. I learned to expect all kinds of obstacles on our way. One more stick in my wheel,- all right! And I took it as a challenge.

The station manager whom I went to see right away happened to be a man in uniform, and I felt better already. Obviously, he should be easier to deal with than all of those uniformed ladies I encountered during the past weeks.

 He listened to my problem and concurred that according to the Latvian Railroad regulation international tickets couldn't be sold without verifying a person's identity through the passport Soviet or a foreign one.

Yet he was friendly enough to suggest that in the nearby republic of Estonia, those regulations were set differently. Estonia shared a semi-open border with Finland and Finns were allowed to purchase international railroad tickets without strict verification. Therefore if I will travel to Tallinn, I will be able to purchase advance tickets from Tallinn to Vienna, Austria via Riga, Minsk, Brest, Warsow, and Bratislava. It sounded incredible, but it was the only way I saw how to get out of the USSR.

***

18. The one-way tickets out of the soviet paradise

I left for Tallinn on the same day. Over there I purchased not three, but four railroad tickets to be sure that we would occupy one entire sleeping room on a train. I also purchased a round-trip ticket for one person from Riga to Tallinn for the same day.

My plan was a bit complicated but workable. On May 12th, my friend will travel to Tallinn from Riga and will enter a train that should depart back to Riga. He needs to be sure to secure the entire sleeping room that I purchased tickets for. If necessary he will bribe the train conductor not to allow anybody to take our empty places on the train. When the train comes to Riga on May 13th my friend will exit our sleeping room and we will enter. Then the train will stop in Vilnius for an hour, continue to Minsk and stay there overnight. I will be able to run a short trip to visit my grandpa who lived there at the time, come back by the train, and we will follow the railroad to Brest. We will go through customs in Brest and on May 15th leave for Vienna via Warsaw and Bratislava. It was an elaborate arrangement, but I was absolutely sure it would work. I quickly chose a trustworthy friend who volunteered to travel to Tallinn when needed on our behalf and help.

In Tallinn, I was able to purchase all of my tickets quite quickly. Since my train back to Riga was scheduled to depart the next morning, I had a lot of free time on my hands. My life in the past weeks and months had been very busy and stressful, leaving me with no time to unwind and relax.

I suddenly found myself in the middle of that old and lovely town where Lily and I spent so much beautiful time together. We loved that town and liked to escape there just for a few days to enjoy its old medieval streets and lovely cafes. We used to drink hot red wine, sipping it through the stick of cinnamon and dreamed about our future travel plans to unknown countries and continents.

I walked alone on the cobblestone streets, realizing that it might be my last visit to this place. I felt incredibly sad and lonely. Even though it was already spring, the weather was rather chilly and drizzly. I stopped at every cafe where Lily and I had been together, had a few drinks, and then settled in an old basement bar called “Karolinka” until closing time. Although I had arranged to stay with the family of some friends, I didn’t go there. I could have spent the night in a hotel, but I chose not to. Instead, I spent the entire night walking on the streets.

I was reflecting on the uncertainty of our lives and the lives of my parents and grandparents, whom I might never see again. Our future seemed like a vast unknown, with only a flicker of hope for a better life. I felt responsible for the welfare of Lily and Mark, but I was unsure if I could meet the goals I had set for myself.

 In the morning, I fell asleep on the train that took me back to our busy life in Riga.

Our next major task was to travel to Moscow and visit the embassies of Poland, Czechoslovakia, Austria, and Holland. The first two countries we were supposed to cross on the way to Vienna, and it was required by the Soviets to get an official permit to do that.

Austria was the final destination of our trip, and we were supposed to confirm at the embassy that this was our intention. Sounds idiotic, doesn’t it? But this was the requirement by the Soviets.

Holland embassy represented the interests of Israel in the USSR. 

We were emigrating to Israel officially. It was risky to mention any other plans, as we could be accused of fraudulent activity and get into trouble. We even instructed our little Mark to inform everyone that we were moving to Israel, and he would sometimes say it aloud in public, which often created an uncomfortable situation as many people did not have a favorable opinion of the Jews or Israel.

 In the Holland embassy, we were able to ask authorities to take our documents and have them secure until we request those to be delivered to the place and country where we will end up settling. We also had an opportunity to send large ship containers of home stuff to Trieste, Italy. In the Holland embassy, we had that arranged. Those containers would be on hold until requested by us on a later day. All of those services weren’t free, but rather very expensive. We, however, didn’t have any monetary problems at that time.

Originally we didn't plan to have any large ship containers to be sent to Trieste. But we underestimated our savings. We ended up having so much money left on our hands that it was the only way to spend our money wisely. Or so we thought. And it was after I left my parents the excess of 10,000 rubles. That was a huge sum of money that helped them live well for a decade until my mom finally came to join us after my father's tragic passing. 

We purchased a complete set of furniture for a two-bedroom apartment, assuming it would be our maximum possible living space abroad. 

We made arrangements directly with a furniture factory in Riga, bypassing the official buying process. The furniture we purchased occupied three shipping containers, each measuring 2x2x2 meters. The containers were sent directly from the factory to customs and eventually to the port of Trieste, Italy.

 I paid a bribe to the customs officer to allow me to add some cupboard boxes filled with my personal belongings and books to the furniture. We thought it would give us an opportunity to furnish our future apartment and help us to survive until we establish our situation in the new country.

Looking ahead in my story, I must mention that the money we had spent was ultimately of no use. When we arrived in the USA, we were unable to pay for the delivery of our shipping containers. So we waited. It was only after two years of living in Des Moines, Iowa that we were able to pay an additional $800.00 to the cross-Atlantic shipping company for the ship, railroad, and trucking deliveries.

When the three large wooden crates arrived at our apartment parking lot, we quickly realized that the wood they were made of was more valuable than their contents.

One of the boxes we discovered was completely empty, with everything inside having been stolen and replaced with wood shavings. However, we were able to find Lily's amethyst necklace tucked away between two of the boards, seemingly dropped by the thieves in a hurry. As for the furniture itself, although it was bulky, it wasn't really to our liking. We promptly got rid of the sleeping sofa and chairs. However, we held on to the multi-shelf wall unit, moving it from place to place until it finally fell apart.

But of course, back in the USSR, we had no idea how our life would turn.

We planned our Moscow trip well. We hired a taxi driver in advance and he was able to take us to every embassy in one day.

We were able to do it in a day because the Soviets cut emigration in 1980. 

Long lines of emigrants at every embassy in the late 1970s were not as common in 1980. 

Moscow was getting ready for the 1980 Olympic games by getting rid of unwanted elements of society. That was how officials named Jewish people applying for emigration from the USSR. The city was decorated with images of a smiling Olympic teddy bear. That was what foreigners were supposed to see. Political protests and movements for human rights and freedom of emigration were suppressed to maintain a positive image of Soviet happiness.

Yet it was still crowded at the foreign embassies especially the Austrian and the Holland. The Soviets hide those people standing in line in the shade of the nearby streets.

 We were instructed to stand in line silently, waiting for a militia man to shout "Next. Go now!" We then crossed an empty street, walked briskly for one city block under the watch of the militiamen, and finally entered the doors of the embassy.

As we walked towards the Holland embassy, I had all the necessary documents in my bag, which were permitted to be carried. On the other hand, all the documents that were not allowed were concealed under my clothes. This was how I managed to smuggle in my university diploma and engineering certificate.

I remember how surprised we were at the polite and friendly behavior of everyone inside the embassies. They treated us with respect, answered all our questions, and attended to everyone's needs. It was a stark contrast to the Soviet bureaucrats we had dealt with over the past several weeks.

It was interesting that the ordinary soviet people had no idea of why all those people standing in line there. I remember one walking by a lady asking me what the line was for and maybe there was something there that she may need as well. I replied that this was the line for the people to get the hell out of the soviet union. She gave me a harsh look and quickly walked away.

After finishing all of our official business in Moscow, we had a couple of days to relax. We decided to take our Moscow friends and relatives to one of the city's famous restaurants for a goodbye dinner. The restaurant was located in one of Moscow's new high-rise districts. It was called Kalinin Prospect. It was a modern part of the city designed to resemble the Western world. We stayed there until closing time, chatting about life, dreams, and aspirations, hoping that those would come true. We drank a lot, perhaps more than we should have, but it was common in Russia to drink to forget.

   - You know... - One of my very dear friends told me - if you ever come back to Russia I will hate you...

   -  I will never come back... - I replied.

***

19. The last day to say goodbye

And finally, the day to say goodbye came to us. It was a very difficult day. My soul was in crumbles, my heart was broken and bled. I was leaving behind my beloved parents, grandparents, and dearest friends without any hope of seeing them ever again. I was leaving the city that I was endlessly in love with, the place where I grew up and spent all my life until "NOW". That "NOW" was a big unknown full of hope, but basically an empty one. We were at the edge of our destiny and were ready to dive in with our eyes opened, yet at that moment we thought about the past and people we were leaving behind and not about the future.

We packed our suitcases. Two for each adult and one for the child. That was all we were allowed to take. All our possession was reduced to five pieces of luggage, but we didn't think about it. We thought about the people we were about to lose.

My father didn't go with us to the railroad station. He couldn't. It was too difficult for him to handle. We hugged, standing in the kitchen in silence. I remember his cheeks that were unshaven and barbed me prickly. His eyes looked empty and full of tears, yet those tears didn't run down but stayed in. A very manly and stingy tears. That was how I remember him. A broken man. A man whose life consisted of unfinished poetry, unwritten stories, unsung songs, and unrealized dreams. Yet, full of love for me as I was the only hope to be forfield in that life of his that was going nowhere.

All of the residents of our commune apartment also came to the kitchen to say goodbye. Everybody was crying, but me. All my feelings suddenly froze. 

Our friends helped us with the luggage. We stopped at my grandparent's place to say goodbye. It was very sad. We all realized how inadvertent our life was at that point and we never will see one another again. But with my grandparents, the level of understanding was very different. They both had siblings who left for the free world at the beginning of the 1900' and built a very good life for themself and their families. My grandparents were sad to lose us, yet wished us the very same success their siblings achieved over there.

As our train arrived at the central station platform, a large crowd of people had gathered to bid us farewell. Many of them wanted to have a last drink, last word, or last hug before we left. Some even brought flowers, but unfortunately, we were unable to take them with us. Despite this, the atmosphere was lovely and emotional. Ununiformed militia members were present on the side of the platform, but nobody paid any attention to them, including us.

My friend went to Tallinn on our behalf and arranged everything perfectly. He saved our whole sleeping compartment for us. We came on the train, took our seats, and he left. The train slowly started to move away. 

The faces of my dear friends started to disappear in the far, and suddenly I noticed my father. He stood alone, away from the crowd, wearing the brown sheepskin jacket I left behind and his gray French cap. He did come to say goodbye anyway!

 That was how I remembered him. 

As the train picked up speed and crossed the Daugava River, I stood in the gangway and looked out. I gazed upon the familiar old Riga town skyline before it gradually disappeared from view. That was a moment, I felt all my strength leave me, and tears uncontrollably streamed down my face. I cried shamelessly for a few minutes before returning to my usual strong composure and to my family who now depended only on me.

 We sat on the bench together across from the stuck of our suitcases and I hugged tightly Lily and Mark and said: "Mi Poehali", meaning - Here we go!

 That marked the beginning of our journey.

***

20. Our oneway train to unknown freedom

Everything looked to me like it was going according to the plan. I noticed, however, that our train car did not have any other passengers. The conductor put a sign outside the window that said "International". The gangways on both ends were locked, and I couldn't go to the restaurant to buy some food. Although we had some snacks with us, especially for our little Mark. 

Lily's aunt and uncle decided to go along with us all the way to the border. 

They came on the train with us and we sat across each other in silence. The conductor came and asked them to leave and to take sits according to their tickets. Lily's aunt Dora gave us a grocery bag with hard salami, bread, cookies, and oranges. Funny to say, it was our main provision for the next couple of days. Lily's aunt and uncle left for their train car. They traveled in a different car and couldn't come across the gangway to spend time with us. We saw them through the glass window of the gangway and we sent smiles to each other. 

That, however, was sad.

We crossed the Republic of Lithuania with a stop in Vilnius, but we weren't allowed to go outside. Our car conductor was very strict and said that it wasn't allowed for us.

The next stop was Minsk. It was scheduled to be 8 hours long layover, and I planned to take a taxi to see my paternal grandfather who lived there at the time.

Despite our busy schedule, a few weeks ago we visited Minsk just to see my grandpa. 

When we first told my grandfather about our decision to emigrate I didn't know what reaction to expect. Yet, he happened to support our decision more strongly, than my other family. Apparently, throughout his life, he witnessed more disgusting and inhumane things done by the Soviets than anybody else. That was why he hated the system he gave all his life to, and was happy for us to be able to leave and be free.

He told us the story about his father who left for America in 1905 with two of his brothers. After establishing his life in New York he came back to take his family with him for the new life in America. His father stayed with them in the little house in a Jewish shtetl called Zhitkovichi, and then he left because Grandma didn't want to go. My grandpa's father Meyer Portnow, as it was our family's actual name, was coming back several times. Last time it was at the beginning of the 1920s'. Yet his wife chose communism over America.

Afterward, Grandma gave her maiden name to all three sons and our family's last name became Mirsky.

Meyer brought them the whole suitcase full of gifts from America, and then he left again, and my grandpa had never seen him again. Yet all through the years, he saved that suitcase. He got that suitcase from under the bed and gave it to me as a gift.

   - This old suitcase is the only thing that I have from my father. I want to travel back to America with you. And if you ever will find my dear father's grave, please say a kaddish for him in my place... - that was what my grandpa said, and a lonesome tear dropped from his eye. 

Grandpa told us that he secretly kept in touch with his dad all the time until the 1960s when Meyer passed away. 

He gave me an old photograph where Meyer stood in front of his store, " Medical Supplies Portnow & Co." on 49 Delancey Street in New York City.

I was fascinated with the story. I knew some about it but not much. 

It was a very short visit and now I wanted to ask him more about his life as a child and about my great-great father Meyer Portnow in America. That was why it was so important for me to visit with my grandpa once again.

However, my destiny decided otherwise.

When our train came to Minsk the conductor closed our compartment door and lacked it. Our train car was disconnected and pushed to some backyard rail. Then authorities unlocked our compartment but didn't allow us to go outside the car. They put an armed military guard with the dog by the door and I realized what "Persona Non Grata" really meant.

Early the next morning, our car was hooked up to a train and we departed for Brest, which was the last Soviet town on the border with Poland. I had taken that train before with my friends when they left for Israel. I went along to help them. On the same train, we went with Lily's parents to help them and to say the last goodbye before they left the country. I witnessed a lot of atrocities, but no one to my knowledge received such humiliating and insulting treatment as we had that time.

 It seemed like the authorities were doing everything in their power to make me despise them as much as possible. That was something they were extremely good and efficient, I should add.

As I was there before, I knew what we needed to do, where the customs offices were, and where we were supposed to go.

We exited the train, loaded our possessions on the pushcart, and hurried to the customs house. I wanted to be one of the first in line, so the custom house officers wouldn't be too tired and angry.

To our surprise, the waiting hall was full of people who had come here the night before. There were emigrants from all over the Soviet Union. It was a big and very colorful crowd. Most people were waiting in silence, and only two heads of large families loudly argued one with another. One family was from Armenia and another from Georgia. Apparently, they had a rivalry in everything. 

We took our place in the line and started to wait. It was about 5 am, but the customs was opening at 7 am, therefore we had two hours to wait. Time went very slowly.

We didn't have many items prepared for resale. Remember, we only had $250.00 that was all that the Soviets allowed us to have. Other emigrants drugged along extra bottles of Soviet Champagne, Vodka, Soviet Cognac, jars with caviar, and so on hopping to sell it and have a little pocket money to start with. We didn't have many extras, yet in every suitcase, I had hidden a can of black caviar that Aunt Dora got for us. We had two bottles of champagne, and two bottles of imported cognac, which was allowed by regulations.

The overhead radio transmitted an announcement that two liters of vodka per person would be allowed to be taken in hand-held luggage. That vodka could be purchased in a special kiosk located in the waiting hall. Many emigrants hurry to purchase extra bottles. We didn't.

Then the overhead radio made a new announcement to disregard the previous, what was transmitted before. It said that the newly announced alcohol limits applied to cognac only. 

Emigrants ran to pay an extra fee and to exchange vodka they just purchased for cognac. We didn't.

 I understood that all of those announcements were arranged to drain the last money from the emigrants and line up the pockets of people who worked there at customs. The system was rotten as well as the people serving it. I knew it. Perhaps some other emigrants didn't.

After a long wait, the customs finally opened their doors. To the side of the hall, the officers set up a special screening area for a random cavity check. The light shone through the screen, and everybody in line could see the shadows. It was evident what was being done, and everyone fell silent. Nobody wanted to be picked for the cavity search, and we were all scared and intimidated. 

As we were waiting, we struck up a conversation with a couple behind us in the queue. They were in their late thirties and from Riga, just like us. The man was a hat maker, and the woman was a hairdresser. However, the woman was picked for a special search, and she screamed loudly.

Oh my... How loudly she screamed! 

It was a terrible experience for her, and we all felt sorry for her. As it turned out, she had hidden some coral necklaces on her body, and the authorities confiscated them. It was unclear how they knew, but they did.

Soon after we got an opportunity to enter. I set our suitcases on special tables and opened them. Lily with Mark stood nearby in silence. An officer started his routine. He took each item in a time, unwraping what was packed, and unfolding what was folded. He was distant but polite actually. He acted as he was doing his job. That all. He spent a long time playing with my drafting set, rolling and unrolling each compass. He played with Mark's toys. We had a small set of mechanical monkeys on a stick. If the rope was pulled, the monkeys raised their arms. The officer smiled.

He noticed that Lily had a bracelet with a huge piece of amber on it. I bought it for her at some arts and crafts show not long ago.

   - Give it to me, - he said.

   - Give it to him. Please do what he said. - I echo the officer quietly, but everything burst inside me at that moment. I was upset by the realization of our helplessness and my inability to protect my wife.

Lily gave him a bracelet. Her face didn't show any emotions, but I knew she was burning inside just like I was.

   - This one exceeds the limits set for a piece of custom jewelry. It isn't allowed. I will take it. It will be confiscated. - the officer said.

We stood in silence and let him take it. He looked around and put a bracelet inside his packet.

   - What do you have in those plastic boxes? - officer asked.

   - It's our photo slides. We were told that photos are not allowed, but slides are. Therefore we transfered our family photos to slides as we were told to do - I replied.

   - I have no idea who told you that. I need to check with my superior. Otherwise, I need to check every slide and every negative. I don't have time for that, - the officer noted and went to ask his boss.

We stood in disarray. That was all our family photos. Most pictures were of Mark from the very first days of his life.

 The customs officer came back with the man in a military uniform with red and gold insignia indicating that he was an internal police or a KGB. He had a military rank of a Major.

   - What do you have here? - Major asked me.

   - Those are our family photos on slides, - I explained.

   - Let me see what you really have, - said Major.

He pulled up a stool, sat on it, put one leg dressed in a military boot over another, and started to check slides one after another looking through them on a light coming from the window.

We stood in silence.

   - What is there on that slide? - Major asked me in a few minutes.

   - This is me with my dog, Mars, in the photo. I had a huge east-European Sheppard dog. We are standing by the Daugava River near the railroad bridge there, - I explained.

   - You said, "Near the bridge", did you? - asked Major.

   - Yes, - I replied.

   - Do you know that every bridge is considered a military object? Why did you take a photo of the bridge and mascarade with your dog? Do you want to take our secrets to the Capitalists West?! - Major raised his voice.

   - Comrade Major, it is ridiculous. It is just an innocent family photograph. No state secrets are there! - I exclaimed.

   - You called me ridiculous! And you addressed me as a comrade? - Major was getting red in his face.

   - I am terribly sorry. I misspoke. Please forgive me. - I said.

   - The photo slides will be all confiscated as those could or couldn't have some images unpermitted to be taken across the border. - Major declare.

Lily, I, and a little Mark stood in silence.

   - What is in that next box? - asked Major and pointed to the old antique tin box that I took from my grandparents a long time ago.

 It was from the early 1900s and it said Wisotsky Tea on the lid. I held my coin collection in that box. Each coin was in a separate plastic bag with a paper stamped "Permited to take from the USSR. Taxes Paid."

   - Do you have a paper that you belong to the Soviet numismatic society? - asked Major.

   - No, I have not. But I paid a special tax for each coin at the museum and got permission to take it with me... - I replied.

A cold stream of sweat ran down my spine and I understood that I was saying goodbye to my coin collection.

   - Unfortunately, the coins will be confiscated. - declared Major and left with my box in his hands.

The rest of the customs check was uneventful. The officer didn't confiscate anything else. We were told to pack our suitcases and to go to the holding room until the train departure. So we did.

Every muscle inside of me was trembling, but I tried my best not to show it. Although losing my coin collection and family photo slides was upsetting, the most disturbing thing for me was the way they forcibly took a bracelet from Lily's arm. Despite the situation, Lily remained composed and appeared to be stronger than I was. It was especially difficult for her because she was the one taking care of little Mark and trying to make it seem like it was just another trip for him.

The holding room was more like a holding cell with all walls made of glass. On one side it had an opening to the corridor leading to the railroad platform. The corridor had doors to the restrooms, we could see those, but we weren't allowed to go.

 They put an armed military guard at the entrance to our holding cell. He was a mean-looking guy with a face that didn't show any emotions. I couldn't tell any, he was evidently from the russian far north with non-emotional facial features, wide cheekbones, and monolid eyes. It was those types of eyes when the skin of the upper eyelid covered the inner part of the eye. With the machine gun across his chest, he looked very threateningly.

The two larger walls of the cell were open to the common holding area full of people waiting for a train on one side, and custom house offices on another.

It was another 2 hours to wait until our train departure time. We stood in speechlessness.

   - It wasn't too terrible... - I broke the silence.

   - I don't know if it could be worth... - Lily replied.

   - I want to go to pee... - said little Mark.

   - You need to hold darling. It's not allowed just now - I said and looked at Mark with regret.

   - ...but I really, really want to... I can't hold any more, - said Mark.

He just turned three years old and was a very obedient boy. But when one needed to go, even for grown-ups it might be a problem.

I approached our guard and asked him politely,

   - Excuse me, comrade soldier. Our little boy needs to go to the restroom. He really needs to go, you see.

Our guard stood in complete silence.

   - It will be a moment. He will do everything very quickly. I promise you. We will be in and out. Can we go, please? - I asked.

Our guard stood in complete silence.

   - Perhaps silence is a quiet form of agreement, - I told Lily and took little Mark by the hand.

   - Let's go to the restroom very quickly - I told to little Mark, and so we went.

We walked quietly around our guard and toward the restroom door. The guard's face remained unemotional.

We took one more step and suddenly something happened. 

The guard, like he just woke up, jumped in front of us and screamed, 

   - Stop, or I shoot you! 

He pulled the shutter of his Kalashnikov and put the gun barrel against little Mark's chest. I stood behind little Mark holding him by the shoulders.

The rest happened very quickly. I didn't think twice. It was rather my jerk reaction.

I pooled Mark's pants down and told him,

   - If you want to pee, do it. Do it now! -

   - It isn't good to pee on the floor, - said little Mark.

   - If your Papa told you to do it, it is allowed. Pee, at once! - I stated and looked into the guard's eyes with disgust, those eyes that I still couldn't see ...

And little Mark relieved himself straight on soviet soldiers' tarp boots.

It was May 15th, 1980. We didn't know about cell phones and social media. If something like that happened now, that photo would become a Pulitzer Award winner. But there were no photos. 

A little Jewish boy was pissing on the soviet soldier's boots.

 And there was a disoriented soldier in the soviet uniform. The soldier who didn't know what to do next.

And there were perhaps two dozen people watching what was happening through the glass wall of the holding cell. 

And there was a small puddle of urine on the hallway floor.

 And there was a child piss on the soldier's tarp boots. 

And there was silence...

As I looked around, everything suddenly clicked into place and I realized what had just happened and why the soldier did that horrible thing. Standing on the other side of the holding cell was the very same KGB Major who took my coin collection and our family slides. He had witnessed everything that just transpired. He might have been the person our guard had noticed, prompting him to jump and act the way he did. Regardless, my attempts at explaining the situation were futile - I knew that I was in trouble once again.

Finally, the overhead speakers announced that our train had arrived. We saw people rushing to the platform. We attempted to go, but our guard stopped us. We didn't argue.

A few minutes passed and Major came in. He had a stool in his hand. He slowly put that stool in the middle of the room and sat down.

   - I would like to check your luggage again. Please open your suitcases, - he said.

I didn't argue. I took our suitcases from the cart and opened them.

The clock was ticking. The train departure was coming close.

Major stood up, walked around the room, and then he turned upside up every our suitcase spreading our stuff all over the floor.

We stood in silence.

He sat down on the stool again. With one leg crossed over the other, he settled into a comfortable position. He stretched his soft leather boots. The very soft and comfortable ones, unlike the ones that the soldier was wearing. He pulled a hand-held stopwatch from the pocket of his pants and smiled. He was really enjoying himself.

   - There are three minutes 'till the train departure. You can run now... - He pushed a button off the stopwatch and burst into sarcastic laughter.

We realized how critical our time was. We couldn't waste a single minute.

   - Take all our papers, train tickets, and Mark, and run to the train. I will take care of the rest, - I said.

Lily hastily grabbed all she could, took Mark into her arms, and they dashed toward the train.

Our train tickets were for the last car on the train. From where we were that car was very far. Lily ran as fast as she could. I grabbed two suitcases and filled those up with everything I could from the floor. I carry it to the train and put it on one of the train car entrances. Something has fallen on the ground. I picked that up and through to one of the open windows. Then I made a second run and grabbed my grandpa's suitcase. As I made it back to the train, it started to move. I picked a few other things and jumped on the step of the moving train.

The train station and the platform disappeared from view with some of our things scattered around.

I ran through the train cars toward the end to be sure that Lily and Mark made it. They were there. We hugged and I went back to the train to collect our things. It took me a while.

Finally, we were together in our seats and in our compartment.

   - Look, we made it after all, - I said starting to laugh and cry hysterically.

Lily helped me calm down and I stepped out to the train corridor for a quick smoke. I lit my cigarette hastily and peered outside the train window. I saw heaps of black and grey rubble that looked like melted snow, but it couldn't be snow because spring was almost over. These mounds were piled along the railway line. I noticed a couple of rundown houses with white wooden-framed windows and fences made from discarded airplane and gun parts. It had been 35 years since WWII ended, but in those parts, it looked like the war had ended just recently. Perhaps the fences were made from the gun parts lost in the final battle. It was a sad thought, one that made my mind wander.

Suddenly the train slowed down and stopped. Right in front of us was a border crossing with a black-and-white barrier, and a post with the letters "USSR" on it. Our train jerked and moved again.

 We have crossed the border. 

The damn border of this evil country...

***

21. Crossing the final frontier

I am not a person who uses a lot of foul language. I was rarely cursing. Yet, at that moment, blood ran to my head. I looked at those four letters on the black-and-white piece of wood and I let myself out.

I loudly cursed every member of the soviet government that I remember by name including the head man Brezhnev himself, in the dirtiest way wishing them to be violently raped by the beasts of the jungles and I screamed that I was sorry for the beast because it tarnished itself over the slime of those non-humans.

Most of the passengers on the train were Soviet military officers who were going to be stationed in Poland or Czechoslovakia for service. As I started my tirade all of the compartment doors started to close. They didn't want to hear my passionate speech.

Evidently, the cursing helped me to calm down and I returned to our compartment.

   - We just crossed the border. It's finally over. We can relax now. - I said and we hugged, all three of us. 

   - Your tickets, please. - Suddenly I heard a voice behind me. It was a lady, a train conductor in uniform.

   - Not again... - I whispered.

Lily handed me all our paperwork and I showed our train tickets to the uniformed lady.

   - Were you intended to go? - she asked.

   - We are going to Vienna, Austria. - I said.

   - No, you are not - she replied.

   - But our tickets show Brest-Warsaw-Bratislava-Vienna. Don't you see? - I responded.

   - Yes. Your tickets show that. That is right, but this car doesn't go to Vienna. A train car number #13 is only scheduled to go to Warsaw. Didn't you see the sign on the side wall,- Brest-Warsaw when you came on the train? - she asked. - You should have seen it, inquired, and exchanged your tickets while in Brest. You had plenty of time. - she voiced strongly.

   - So, what is going to happen now?- I asked.

   - You should leave the train in Warsaw and purchase different tickets to Vienna. But I should warn you. They do not accept US dollars over there. They only take Polish money. Do you have any? - she asked.

   - No, it's ridiculous. I don't have any Polish money, obviously. It's gotta be the other way. Is there another way to help us? - I asked, and my voice sounded desperate.

   - Well... Yes, there is a way. I can transfer you to another car. But it will cost you some... - she said quickly and quietly.

   - How much? - I asked.

   - 230.00 American dollars.- she replied.

   - But we only have $250.00. That will be almost all we have.- I replied in visible uncertainty.

   - I know it is hard. But I am not a monster, you know. I am leaving you a $20.00 for a pocket change. Don't you worry? Your Jewish friends in Vienna will give you more. I know. - and she smiled sarcastically.

I knew she was an extortionist. I knew that she was hustling us. Yet, she had power and we did not. I gave her the money. Honestly, I didn't care anymore. I wanted all of this nightmare to end...

As the conductor was escorting us to a different train car, we walked past the two immigrant families we had spotted while waiting in line for customs. One family was from Georgia, and the other came from Armenia. They were engaged in a heated argument, shouting at each other. I understood that some of them had refused to pay a bribe and had chosen to stay in their seats.

The conductor placed us in a compartment with other immigrants. There was an elderly Jewish couple from Baku, Azerbaidzhan, and an old russian woman from the city of Tambov, Russia. The compartment was set for only four passengers. A lady conductor unhooked extra luggage shelves under the ceiling and told us that we would travel on those. 

We agreed silently.

The elderly couple from Baku remained quiet, while a talkative grandma from Tambov, whom we called Babushka, due to her attire resembling the character from the old movies, wrapped in a large gray scarf, shared her life story with us. In just a minute, we learned about her son who had married a "Jew-woman", as she called her daughter-in-law. They emigrated to Brooklyn, New York. She called it "Brook-leen". She was going there to take care of her grandson as a babysitter.

 She told us that when she came to "OVIR" in Moscow to apply for emigration, as there was no "OVIR" in Tombov, agents thought she lost her mind. She was the only emigrant from Tombov ever. Baba Manya, it was her name, got a large loaf of rye bread wrapped into a hand towel from a bag and put it on a small table by the window.

   - Please taste that. I baked it myself, - she said.

The couple from Baku offered some sweets, and we added salami to our impromptu dinner. We ordered tea and talked endlessly about our past, silently dreaming of the future.

Our train made a stop in Warsaw. We watched through the window but didn’t dare to go out. A rain started, and we didn’t see much, anyway.

As the train began moving once again, we caught a glimpse of those emigrant families from Georgia and Armenia who had been left behind on the platform, surrounded by all of their bags, in the drizzling rain. They didn’t argue anymore. The devastated reality erased their so evident difference in everything. It was a heartbreaking sight to witness, but I couldn’t help but recognize that their predicament was the result of the choices they had made.

Meanwhile, the day was coming to a night and we all got situated to sleep.

I helped Lily to crawl up on the wooden shelf on one side of the compartment. Little Mark and I took the opposite shelf. For little Mark, it was a game and an adventure. It absolutely wasn't for me.

The shelf was narrow, and to balance myself I put my leg across the middle to support myself from the opposite shelf where Lily was sleeping. 

Before going to sleep we took our gold wedding rings, and necklaces and hid those under the mattress. We heard rumors about train robberies and warned everyone to protect themselves. It was a wise move. Right after the shortstop in Bratislava, at about two o'clock at night, the guards with the dog came to our compartment.

   - Documents! Gold! - demanded the Czechoslovakian guard, flashing the light into the faces.

We showed our exit visas.

   - Gold! - the guard screamed again and roughly checked everyone's neck for chains or necklaces.

The guard was rude. I explained that the Polish guards had already taken everything from us. The guard left empty-handed. The train moved and we were left unharmed.

Baba Manya was very thankful to me as I saved her small, gold baptism cross she had. She was in tears.

By the next morning, we have finally crossed the border with Austria. We were now out of the Soviet influence zone, and there were no more uniformed guards with dogs, no more red stars and banners. All the signs were in German, and everything was neat, clean, and well-maintained.

People on the train were polite and smiling. The change of scenery was incredible.

Soon our train came to Vienna. We got our stuff and rushed to the doors. We were anxious. I wanted to be first there to exit.

The train came to a stop and I looked outside as a breath of fresh air hit me in the face. The military orchestra dressed in full military attire was marching toward our door. I instinctively stretched myself. 

Are they marching to meet us? It could not be, but... And I waved my arm salute for them.

The military band marched by our doors paying no attention to us.

 Some special dignitary arrived in the next car.

We came down to a platform and looked around. I suddenly realized that we had no idea what to do next and where to go.

I noticed a strange man. He was short and chubby, dressed in a long grey raincoat, and was wearing a semi-military cap. His entire personality reminded me of a Good Soldier Svejk from "His Fortunes of the World War" written by Jaroslav Hashek. That was one of my favorite satiric book heroes.

   - Russki, Po Russki! - he was shouting.

Nobody ever called me a russian before, as I always was identified as a Jew. Yet I felt that he was looking for us, and I waved my hand.

   - Russki, Po Russki! - said a funny man trying to catch his breath,

   - Israel, go Camp. No Israel, go Free - he said in russian with a heavy German accent.

   - We go free, - I replied.

   - You sit on the bench. - a funny man said and left in a hurry, as he was trying to collect other immigrants from the train.

We sat down on the bench surrounded by our four suitcases, as one was left on the train platform in Brest, but we had already forgotten everything that had happened before. 

Little Mark held his favorite toy in his little hands. It was the very same spinning toy, the "Yula", the one my grandpa brought for me and taught me how to play dreidel. Suddenly little Mark opened his hands and "Yula" fell down to the ground. It pivoted for a second and fell on a side.

   - Papa, Papa! - screamed little Mark. - Look, I am a winner. "Yula" fell on the winning side. I got it all! -

   - You certainly did! - I said.

And all three of us hugged together.

We were free in the free world. 

We have made it through our Exodus. 

We made it happen.

We sit on the bench smiling, looking for all of those people walking around us, realizing that we are too, the little tiny part of that world we call free.

That was May 17th, 1980. 

It was the day the new chapter of our life story began.