Chapter 23
In the spring of 1951, the battalion in which Kim served was transferred to the Urals, to the village of Koltsovo, to participate in the reconstruction of the airport near Sverdlovsk.
It was here that some important events in Kim’s life took place.
It began with the arrival of Captain Litvin to the battalion, the newly appointed deputy commander in charge of technical affairs. A highly skilled, experienced civil engineer with a firm, resolute character, he kept all the personnel of the unit at bay with his rigid, uncompromising requirements for the quality of work and technical safety and, if he deemed it necessary, rudely, without mincing words, reprimanded and punished the guilty offenders.
Kim admired his manners from afar, watching as, sparkling with his huge black eyes, the way he cracked down on slackers and bureaucrats. Soon Litvin needed an assistant, and his choice settled on Kim, who turned out to be almost the most literate of the soldiers and even familiar with the basics of drawing.
After a few test days, Kim was assigned to the position of technician- draftsman and transferred to the commandant’s platoon. This provided several important advantages. From now on he worked in a warm room at the drawing board, visited the dining hall with the clerks and officers on the last shift and could eat without rushing, in a calm environment. From the mandatory soldiers’ morning “wake up” and evening “lights out” he was also excused, because he would stay up late working with Litvin.
Between the boss and his subordinate, a mutual understanding quickly arose, and a free, almost friendly, trusting relationship was established. Litvin would swear terribly and threaten Kim with punishment if he found an accidental mistake in drawings or calculations, but he would quickly calm down, explain in a businesslike manner what should be corrected and never used his threats.
Among the employees of Sverdlovsk airport, many specialists were prevented by the war from obtaining secondary education. At their insistent requests, in the autumn of 1951 an evening high school was opened in Koltsovo and announced the start of admission for students in 8th -10th classes. The news was vigorously discussed among the officers and the conscripts of the military unit wherein Kim served. Unexpectedly, Litvin said that in his opinion Kim should also enter if not the 10th, then the 9th grade of that school and finish the 10th grade in the remaining two years of his military service, which would provide an opportunity to study at the institute immediately after demobilization. To Kim’s objection that he, a conscripted soldier, could not even dream of that because there was no possibility that he could regularly leave the unit in the evenings, Litvin promised to find out if that was truly the case.
Kim had no doubt that nothing would come of this endeavor, but Litvin did not throw his words to the wind. A few days later he handed Kim a long-term pass, which allowed him to stay outside his unit in the village until midnight. Stunned from his joy, Kim did not know how to thank his boss, while he only warned sternly that at the very first complaint about Kim’s behavior, the pass would be revoked.
The certificate of completion from the two courses of the river school could have served as a basis for admission to the tenth grade right away, but on Litvin’s advice, Kim intended to begin his studies in the ninth grade so as to successfully graduate the following year with a good knowledge base and a decent matriculation certificate.
However, very soon the circumstances changed these plans. After the first lessons, it became clear that in all of the classes, the older students had forgotten almost everything that they had once been taught, and without a renewal of that knowledge teaching them new material would be useless. Given this, the Pedagogical Council of the school decided that the first few weeks in all of the classes would be devoted to repeating the most important sections of the curriculum of the preceding classes. In the tenth grade, the plan would be to repeat the eighth and ninth grade programs. Kim immediately realized that these would be very favorable conditions for commencing studies in the tenth grade, appealed to the director about this request and received permission to transfer to the graduating class with the condition of a one-month probationary period.
Combining studies with military service turned out to be very difficult. The daily routine of a soldier allowed for an hour of personal time only before the end-of-day break time when Kim was at school, so in order to complete his homework on weekdays it was necessary to sacrifice one of the most important values of a soldier’s life- the duration of sleep. Taking advantage of his privileged position, Kim woke up in the morning an hour and a half before the mass reveille and sequestered himself with his textbooks in the break room.
This continued on until one day Litvin, eternally preoccupied with business, suddenly attentively looked into the tired, sunken face of his ward, and asked when he managed to have time to prepare for classes at school. Upon hearing the answer, Litvin thought about it quickly and suggested utilizing the time at the end of the work day for this, provided that the official business would not suffer. In response to Kim’s ardent gratitude, Litvin just slyly threatened to monitor his academic performance and to cancel the indulgence at the first “D”, which Kim promised in tone to manage without even a “C”.
After the monotonous, restricted by all kinds of prohibitions, everyday life of soldiers and the rough life in the barracks, the bright, almost festive, creative atmosphere that reigned in the school, deeply affected Kim, awakening in him a genuine interest in learning, knowledge.
Mathematics and physics in the tenth grade was taught by an engineer, a graduate of the Leningrad Polytechnic Institute. His wife, a teacher of Russian language and literature, became the class teacher of the tenth grade. The lessons of both usually took place in an informal, lively atmosphere, interesting and captivating. This young, beautiful Jewish couple of intelligent, creative people quickly gained popularity among the students. With Kim, they even developed a trusting, almost friendly relationship. Both teachers hotly approved of his intention to continue his studies at the institute after his demobilization and offered for him to come to their house on Sundays for additional extra classes. Kim gladly agreed and began visiting them regularly at their small apartment in a wooden barrack where the airport workers lived. On each visit he did not forget, first of all, to help the couple with sawing and chopping wood for the next few days, and then under their guidance, to solve problems and examples of increased difficulty in physics and math or writing dictations and expositions.
From them, native Leningraders, Kim heard about the unsurpassed beauty of their home city, its architectural ensembles, parks, palaces, unique museums, theaters, of the magical white nights. Under the impressions of these stories, accompanied furthermore by wonderful photographs, Kim developed a burning desire to spend his student years in this very city, especially since the Leningrad Polytechnic Institute had a hydraulic engineering department that he was interested in.
His conscientious attitude for studying quickly brought Kim into the ranks of the best students. At the end of the school year, after the matriculation examinations, he got straight A’s in all subjects except for one “B” in chemistry. The school administration nominated Kim for the award of a silver medal, but the commission that approved the awards unexpectedly lowered the rating of his composition by one point, and the coveted medal became out of reach.
The teachers who were friends with Kim had no doubt that he was deprived of his medal because of his “discordant” surname. At the time in the country there had just flared up a state campaign to expose the “rootless cosmopolitans” who allegedly worshiped the capitalist West, the vast majority of whom were figures within culture, arts, and sciences who were of Jewish nationality. According to the Leningrad residents who cared for Kim, this is what influenced the commission’s decision.
Deep in his heart, Kim admitted that his teachers were right, but still continued per the longstanding habit, as did millions of Soviet people, to thoughtlessly believe in the wisdom of the great Stalin, in the brotherhood of nations, the justice of Soviet power, the infallibility and truthfulness of official newspaper articles, etc. He also believed in the impartiality of the commission that deprived him of his medal, which could have provided him admission to the institute without passing examinations.
Nevertheless he was not too upset, as he was confident in his knowledge and had no doubt that he would be able to pass the competitions even in the Leningrad Polytechnic. By happy coincidence, just when Kim had obtained his matriculation certificate, there was enacted an order from the government, allowing soldiers with high school education after two years of service to take short-term officer courses and be discharged into the reserves.
Kim, who by this time, had served for more than two years, without hesitation, submitted his report and was soon sent to a training unit of the Corps of Engineers. After three months of intensive training, he successfully passed the exams and returned to his unit, where he was to await the order for his promotion to the rank of officer and the subsequent discharge.
Kim during his military service. Sverdlovsk Region, 1952.
In his absence, Litvin picked up another assistant, and Kim was entrusted with training young soldiers in engineer-sappering. Finally, in February 1953 an order was received for his assignment to the rank of junior technician-lieutenant, and he filed a report on his discharge to the reserves.
However, a few days later he was summoned to the political administration of the district, where he was categorically given an offer to refuse to be discharged voluntarily and after attending the courses for political workers to continue serving as a Komsomol instructor. When Kim countered that he was not going to become a personnel serviceman, they threatened to not only refuse to discharge him but also to send him to continue his service in remote and desolate places. Kim became seriously alarmed, the situation seemed hopeless…
Suddenly, everything changed all by itself for the better — on March 5, Stalin died.
When the battalion commander in front of a line of soldiers read out the official government notification about it, tears rolled down his cheeks. Without shame, the officers and soldiers cried. Together with everyone, for the “great, wise leader and teacher of the people” sincerely and deeply also grieved Kim. With the change of power in the country, the authorities, apparently, became no longer concerned with the fate of a junior lieutenant, and Kim was left alone. Soon he safely departed back home, to Namangan, shortening his term of military service by an entire year, with a good certificate of matriculation in his pocket and a dream of the Leningrad Polytechnic University in his head.
With the return of her son, Braina was transformed, cheered, and even seemed younger. Kim began to treat her sensitively and attentively, in every possible way displaying care for his mother. And Braina, who had always dreamed of such a relationship, could not help but rejoice in his behavior. After finishing her lessons at school, she hurried back to her only recently half-abandoned kibitka, where there now reigned order and there awaited a hot meal prepared by Kim.
At first, mother and son could not get enough of talking and at length conversed about a variety of topics, which brought them closer together more and more. After resting for a few days, and exchanging his military ID for a civilian passport, Kim took up searching for work and soon got a job as a locksmith at an auto-repair plant. And after work, he regularly spent a few hours on preparing for the entrance exams for the institute.
Braina fully approved of Kim’s desire to continue his studies, but at the same time tried to convince him to enroll in the hydraulic engineering department not of Leningrad, but in the Tashkent Polytechnic Institute in connection with important circumstances. In January of 1953, on the eve of Kim’s discharge from the army, the whole country was stirred up by a government announcement of the disclosure of a terrorist plot by a group of poisoner doctors from the Kremlin hospital, who allegedly methodically undermined the health of the leaders of the Communist Party and of the Soviet government. Most of the doctors mentioned in the report turned out to be Jews.
At the time — the heyday of the Stalinist cult — no one could suggest that the “doctors’ case” was a targeted antisemitic provocation on the day before Stalin’s planned mass deportation of Jews to Siberia. Braina too at first did not doubt that the accusations published in the press were credible, and together with everyone else was outraged at the insidiousness of a bunch of enemy agents, who turned out to be Jews. Soon however with deep concern she had to confirm that the exposure of the “werewolves in white coats” became the reason for a new rapid surge of state-sponsored antisemitism. At meetings organized by the authorities, the labor collectives of enterprises and institutions began the persecution of all Jews consecutively: doctors, scientists, teachers, engineers. Leningrad in this respect was no exception.
A longtime acquaintance of Braina’s who’d lived there for a long time, a former resident of Bobruisk, whose two sons had volunteered for the war and died in battle, was unceremoniously and shamefully expelled along with other Jewish employees from the medical institute, where for many years she had been successfully engaged in scientific work. In her letter to Braina she bitterly described the savage antisemitic antics of crowds on the city public transportation, in shops, and on the street. In Uzbekistan however, similar antisemitic manifestations were unheard of. This is why Braina was convincing Kim that in Tashkent he had much better chances for success, than in Leningrad.
But Kim did not want to hear about Tashkent. He dreamt of Leningrad, and his mother’s fears seemed to him to be exaggerated. He did not want to believe that in that legendary city of his, he who had faithfully served three years in the Soviet army, could comprehend failing only because of his Jewish nationality.
In the third year at the Leningrad Polytechnic Institute, was studying one of Braina’s former orphanage pupils named Vitaly, with whom she corresponded regularly. Braina wrote to him about her son’s plans, and he promised his help.