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Roll Over Play Dead
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–Carol Ann Muir, Gold Hill.
Roll Over Play Dead
By Dan Milton
The search begins . . .
Roll Over Play Dead is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, businesses, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 by Dan Milton
All Rights Reserved
Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support.
Published by Dan Milton at Smashwords.
This book is available in print at most online retailers
Visit my website at www.danmilton.com.
ISBN: 978-1-50863-470-6
ISBN: 978-1-63452-736-1 (ebook)
Table of Contents
Preface
Journey to Safety – Russia 1943-1944
The Trade
A Lion for a Companion
Secret Mission – mid-western U.S.
Freighter EXTAVIA
Disappearance –Lake Iliamna 1944
A Small Russian Village – late spring 1945
Summer of ‘61
Vladivostok Connection – two months earlier
Hat Island
The Community of Kokhanok
‘The Russian’
The Journal
Navy Intelligence
Ghost Image
Conflict in Bepa
4 Minutes 38 Seconds – March 27, 1964
Summer of ‘64
What Now?
Summer of ‘65
Discovery
Return Home
Epilogue
About the Author
Preface
The goal set by the author was to write a high-tech adventure thriller that everyone in the family could enjoy. The author spent almost his entire career in the high-tech computer industry pioneering many areas. He draws upon his early personal oceanographic experiences in one of the most beautiful and rugged areas of Alaska—Lake Iliamna; one of the largest bodies of fresh water in the United States. Many streams that feed into the lake provide prime breeding areas for the chinook and sockeye salmon. It is also only one of two lakes in North America with fresh water seals. Those indigenous to the area talk in whispers about a large creature in the lake. What better background for an adventure thriller.
The book describes the commitment of a young man who left on a journey of discovery obeying the wishes of his grandfather and the needs of his village. It covers the hardships he felt in leaving his family, who were about to be overrun by the German army in WWII. He left without knowing if he would ever see any of his friends or family again. He is willing to suffer privation and even death for the sake of others. Isn’t that what life is—caring enough to put others first.
The book, though fast-paced, is about dedication and perseverance. It is about setting goals, making plans and then working hard to achieve those objectives. It is about having hope. It is about believing in someone and never giving up. It is about love. It is about having faith and not setting limits. It is about reaching farther than you think you are capable. It is about giving it all you have and more.
Please let your friends know how much you enjoyed reading Roll Over Play Dead.
Dan Milton
Central Point, Oregon
Journey to Safety – Russia 1943-1944
All night long the noise was deafening, and the sky was illuminated from the many explosions. No one in the small rural village of Bepa, located in the Terek Oblast of south-western Russia, was able to sleep. The intense battle raging at the front was now only 35 kilometers to the west. The smoke was thick on the horizon, with the smell of cordite everywhere. Refugees passing along the main road, a few kilometers to the east, told stories of their cruel and barbaric treatment suffered at the hands of the advancing German Army. Because it has been a hard fought battle, the Germans are enraged at the number of casualties they have suffered, and they are determined to make the Russians pay.
The mood of the villagers was one of impending doom as the time to leave approached. The villagers, possibly experiencing their last time in the only home they have ever known, fearfully faced a cold gray morning. For most of them, they will be leaving the confines of the village for the first time. But, they have no choice. To stay means death. Those left in the village were the elderly, the very young and the physically impaired—those for whom the German Army would have no use. The others, especially those fit—men or women, young or old, had been conscripted into the Russian army and were currently at the front defending the homeland. Those left behind had difficulty communicating with the outside world. They were unaware of the battle raging for Stalingrad, the Russian Army’s last stand, just north of them.
The old women of the village, in each of their respective homes, took collective notice of the crumbs left over from the morning’s meal. It reminded them that it was possibly the last baking they would ever do in their village. What they baked and packed must sustain their families on their journey to safety. The fires had gone out in their brick ovens. The heat still emanating from the ovens did little to warm the huts on this early spring day. They packed their meager possessions as they finished tidying up—it would be unthinkable for them to leave a dirty home.
With so many of the villagers fighting in the war, the Village Elder, Mikhail Timofeyovich, was the only member left of the Bepa Village Council. Into his 80’s, he suffered from arthritis and other common ailments of an old man worn down by time and the elements. His movements were slow and painful, though his mind was still sharp. The rumor had it that he was a direct descendant of Yermak, the most notorious Volga River pirate of his day. Mikhail’s determination was strengthened by a great love he had for his people and the many years of hardship he had suffered in this poor village.
Mikhail led the people of Bepa well—always focused on their welfare above all else. As he sat in the home he had known for so long; his mind turned to thoughts of his son Pyotr serving in the Russian Army near Stalingrad. He silently prayed, “Please, may he be safe and come home to us soon. With Pyotr’s wife passing away just three years ago, it would be impossible to bear the loss of his son as well.” And now he thought, “I must send Pyotr’s son on a very perilous journey to save all that we have. I hope Pyotr will forgive me.”
Mikhail, roused from his thoughts, as Alexei, his grandson, entered the room said, “Alexei, go get Grigory. I must speak to you both.”
Grigory, who was the only other young man still in Bepa, is in his late teens. He is now an assistant to the newly ordained Russian Orthodox Church parish priest, Father Alexander. Grigory had been taken in by Father Alexander several years back when Grigory’s mother abandoned him. Blind from birth, he relies heavily on his other sens
es, which have grown in sensitivity over time. Even though he is somewhat frail and physically weak, he has a strong and determined character, and because he learned easily, he has been a great help to Father Alexander. Grigory’s goal is to become a priest like Father Alexander so that he too can help others.
Previous medical training at Saint Petersburg State Medical Academy landed Father Alexander at a Russian Army field hospital near the front. His family wanted him to follow in his father’s footsteps, so they sent him to study medicine. But, after five years of schooling, he felt a different calling. Having had a roommate that studied at Oxford University gave Father Alexander the opportunity to learn a little English.
Alexei arrived a little breathless into the room that served as the local Russian Orthodox Church, to find Grigory packing what few possessions he owned. “Grigory, come quickly,” said Alexei, “We must meet with grandfather.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know, but it seems urgent.”
As they hurried, Alexei remembered being teased because of his leg. He had injured it two years previously and it had not healed correctly, causing him to have a slight hobble. He remembered when that pig of a bully had shouted ‘gimp’ and knocked him down. Grigory, even though blind, had jumped in to help—swinging wildly in all directions hoping to hit something. As the bully ran away from this ‘crazed demon’, Alexei and Grigory became inseparable best friends.
On seeing the two young men enter the room, Mikhail spoke to them in a tone matching the somber mood of the moment. He said, “Alexei, Grigory, at the last meeting of the Council of Elders they decided to abandon Bepa before it is overrun by the German Army. The council also determined that we must safeguard at all costs what little wealth the people have.”
Mikhail was tasked by the Council of Elders to protect everything of value by sending his grandson on this important mission—one that would determine if their humble village was to survive. It would take all the courage that Mikhail could muster to send his grandson on such a perilous journey; such a heavy burden on Alexei, who has not yet seen his 16th birthday. Only God knows if he will survive.
On the table in front of Mikhail, was a small, but precious pile, containing the items of value collected from the villagers. Everything of value—gold jewelry that had been handed down within families for generations, and from the church, the gold candlestick holders and the two sacred ancient Icons. It was to them a small but valued treasure.
The Icons, from the Stroganov School, are small. They date back to the late 16th century. They represent the best of the miniature technique used by the artist as well as his refinement of detail. They have been in the local Russian Orthodox Church for hundreds of years. Each of the Icons is a flat panel painting on wood. One of them depicts the Archangel Michael with mighty wings and a halo. His robes are gold, brown and red. The second Icon shows a group of saints with distinctive gold and silver halos.
As he leaned toward Grigory, Mikhail said, “Please fetch the parish register from the church.”
When Grigory returned with the register, Mikhail said, “The German Army must not confiscate our parish register when they occupy Bepa. If they do, they will destroy our history. The register, which has been here for over 200 years, is one of the most valuable possessions we have. Each of the parish priests has faithfully recorded the births, marriages and deaths of all who have lived in Bepa along with all other significant events. The genealogy goes back to the early 1700’s. The loss of this register would be an immense loss to our people and all those who come after.”
As the two young men, mere teenagers, sat at the table, Mikhail said, “Alexei, you and Grigory are the only hope that our village has to survive after the war. Grigory, with Father Alexander gone, you will be our continuing tie to the Church. Alexei you will be traveling to America. It is far from here. Father Alexander, before he left for the front, found a place for you to stay in a small village on Lake Iliamna in Alaska until the war is over. It will be with a priest he met some years ago. The English that Father Alexander taught you these last few years will be very helpful.”
Mikhail continued, “If I could, I would go myself, but I know I would not have enough stamina to complete it. You both know that my place is here with the remnant of our village. It will be very hard. I must keep up their hopes. That is why I’m asking you to go.”
Alexei, concerned about his father fighting at the front, asked, “What will happen if Papa returns before we do?”
With a deep sigh, Mikhail says, “It is in God’s hands.”
Alexei, with a lump in his throat, said, “Grandfather, I am afraid that I will never see either you or Papa again.”
Mikhail finished outlining the plan and instructed Alexei on what he would need to do. He told Alexei, “You will be safe in Alaska. As soon as we are safely back we will send for you. Before Father Alexander left for the front, he also contacted the churches in Saratov, Kuybyshev, Molotov, Chelyabinsk, Novosibirsk, Irkutsk and Vladivostok, as well as the church offices in America. Here are the names of those priests who will help you on your journey. There is also a Right of Safe Passage letter and Visa for you from the church offices in America.”
“Alexei, remember the importance of what you are carrying. These are hard times. There are many who would attempt to steal the precious treasure, destroy the register and harm you, so trust no one. I have gathered some money for your journey. It isn’t much. But it’s all we have, so use it wisely.”
“Grigory, you must leave right away in case the Germans arrive before the villagers can be ready to go. You will accompany Alexei until you reach Saratov. It will take some 3-4 weeks. You should travel together. A small church, by the name of ‘Our Lady of Love’, lies on the banks of the Volga River just outside Saratov. Wait there for us to catch up with you. The local parish priest will take you in until we arrive. He will also help Alexei gain passage on a Volga River cargo boat heading for Kuybyshev and then on to Molotov. Put together what you will need. You must be on the road soon. While you get ready, I will pack this precious parcel. Stop by my daughter Alexandra’s house, she has packed some food for both of you to take.”
On their way back to Mikhail’s home, they stopped off to see Alexandra. As only a motherly aunt could, she said, “Don’t forget to take a blanket and warm clothes. There will be cold nights.”
Alexei and Grigory stopped at Mikhail’s home with their loaded knapsacks. All the villagers were gathered to bid them goodbye. Mikhail entrusted the parcel and the parish register into Alexei’s care. He placed them in the bottom of his knapsack while they received farewell hugs. They walked down the path leading out of the village, with cries of “God speed” ringing in their ears knowing they had one last stop to make.
Alexei stood beside Grigory in the village cemetery, situated behind the church. Alexei looked at the grave of his mother who had died just three short years previously. He looked forward to talking with her during his weekly visits. He still missed her deeply. The tears quickly came as he told his mother that he was going on a long journey. He said that he would be okay. He reached into his knapsack and fetched the most valuable thing he owned—a beautiful multi-colored marble. He said, “Mama, I am leaving this treasure with you. Please keep it safe till I return. It is all that I have.” After digging a shallow hole beside a small wooden cross in front of his mother’s grave, he buried the marble.
As they left the graveyard, Alexei and Grigory continued down the narrow road and out of the village. Their thoughts were on the journey ahead as they joined ranks with the throng of refugees heading east. They had never before left family and friends and the protection of their Village. They knew not what they would find.
The Trade
Trudging alongside a long column of refugees fleeing the German Army, Alexei and Grigory thought about the home they had just left. Bepa, settled by the Terek Cossacks during the mid-1500’s in a natural haven located on a bank of the Terek River.
Though the birth of local self-governance, by way of a Council of Elders, dated back to the nineteenth century, Soviet times transformed it into a powerless branch of the State. During his 80 or so years, Mikhail Timofeyovich, the Village Elder, lived under both a Czar regime and then the State, following the 1917 revolution. With the help of the current local Russian Orthodox Church parish priest, Mikhail managed to stay aloof from the State pressures and kept some level of freedom within the Village. He knew the difference between the cost of serfdom and the cost of freedom.
Moving forward with the throng of refugees, Grigory held tightly to Alexei’s knapsack, since he was outside the familiar confines of his Village. What a pair—a 15-year-old young man, with a leg that inhibited his stride, who will walk for hundreds of kilometers, beside a teenager that cannot see where he is going. They experienced destruction everywhere. The war was not far off. The German Luftwaffe had been busy. Alexei described this devastation to Grigory in detail. Grigory’s usual response was, “Yes, I know, I can smell it!”
One late afternoon, Grigory, with his heightened sense of hearing said, “Alexei, I hear a strange buzzing, and it’s getting louder.”
Roll Over Play Dead