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88 pages

English

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Based on a true story, Stationed in Moscow...For Good – A Tale of Love and Peril in the Cold War depicts the dramatic defection of Sgt. James McMillin, a young man who gave up his family, country, career, and identity to be forever branded a traitor in 1948. It begins with the passionate and totally committed love of his life, Galina Dunaeva.

This amazing spy story, filled with compassion, romance, and suspense set during a most tense and sinister period of the "Cold War" illustrates the trappings of the dreaded NKVD/KGB and how it affected life in Moscow—and the USSR—for everyone. The aftermath of U.S. Sgt. McMillin's defection as told in this book will complete the story of what became of James McMillin after slipping behind the Iron Curtain, never to return.

Sujets

Policier & Thriller

Thriller

Fiction

Espionage

Thrillers

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Publié par	eBookIt.com
Date de parution	21 février 2013
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781936688456
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0500€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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Stationed In Moscow ... For Good
A Tale of Love and Peril in the Cold War

by
Vladimir McMillin

© 2013 Vladimir McMillin
All rights reserved.

Stationed in Moscow...For Good
A Tale of Love and Peril in the Cold War is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Published in eBook format by AKA-Publishing
Converted by http://www.eBookIt.com

ISBN-13: 978-1-9366-8845-6

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical or by any information or storage and retrieval system without permission in writing from the author.

Also available in Paperback ISBN 978-1-936688-42-5

This book is dedicated to those who gave me great inspiration:

Michael *Misha* Robbins,
Greg *Grisha* Miller,
my beautiful wife, Larissa,
my wonderful sons Vlad, Andrei and Sasha,
and to my dearest Mom and Dad.
Prologue
The news published in almost all American newspapers and major magazines in May of 1948 including Life and Newsweek shocked the entire American establishment. The “Cold War” between the USA and the USSR was gaining momentum and the “Iron Curtain” was built to divide the relationship between former War World II allies. James McMillin, 21-year-old U.S. Army sergeant serving with the Embassy in Moscow, deserted his post in exchange for the love of Russian woman, Galina Dunaeva. Russian authorities released propaganda stating that it was a political act—McMillin’s protest against the anti-Soviet policies of the capitalists. But back in the United States some Americans held their own view on this incident; one of them former roommate of McMillin in Moscow’s American House, the first landing place for most American servicemen, Sgt. Paul Beatley. He told journalists what was really happening in Moscow when McMillin decided to defect.
According to Beatley, nearly every newly arrived American soldier in Moscow was showered with the attention of Russian girls. “Everyday life for Russians was so boring that the beautiful young local girls were willing to do almost anything to date Americans. The young men were great entertainment for them. Of course, we suspected that they were connected with the KGB, but who cared? We were young, and the sexy Russian girls were so enchanting we couldn’t resist them.”
American House was a two-story, red-brick building facing the Moscow River, close to Park Kulturi Bridge. It was only about a mile from the Kremlin, Moscow’s historic downtown where Soviet government offices were located. The U.S. Embassy was also close by. On the right side was the KGB office building, at that time it was called the NKVD—the secret police department.
The American Embassy officials were relatively sure that hidden microphones were planted in the walls of American House, placed there by the NKVD, so soldiers were instructed to be very careful of their conversations while in their rooms. About thirty-five men lived in American House in very poor conditions. The atmosphere was depressing; the cracked walls were dirty yellow, floors were rotting away in places, so the pretty Russians girls were a good diversion for the soldiers during their isolated existence at American House. Beatley was really surprised by the fact that these young women, who were willing to give up everything to have fun, were personable, and once taken on as a steady girlfriend, were faithful to one man—at least while he was around.
Beatley told journalists that he remembered well meeting Galina Dunaeva for the first time. “She had married Sgt. John Biconish two weeks before I arrived in Moscow. When word got to his authorities, he was sent back to the United States and Galina was left behind. She was so sad. One thing I have to say is that she was unquestionably the most beautiful of all the girls who came to American House.” According to Beatley, he could still picture Galina. She was five feet seven inches tall and weighed around 115 pounds with a lovely fair complexion and lush blonde hair. Her appealing blue eyes were framed in a sweetly oblong face—accentuated by a scar under the chin. She had a perfect figure and a flirtatious and gregarious personality.
“Jimmy fell in love with Galina right before my eyes at a routine dancing party at American House. Knowing her situation, he was very gentle with her and helped her out after Biconish had been transferred back to the states. Jimmy was about my age. He was six feet tall and weighed about 150 pounds. He was well liked and respected for his intelligence. He didn’t drink and he didn’t take up with the girls—that is, until he fell for Galina.”
Beatley told reporters that he and Jimmy liked each other from the start, and Jimmy never minded his presence when Galina was around.
“For nine months I roomed with Jimmy. Then we parted ways. It was not my fault, but Jimmy started to suspect that I was looking differently at Galina. He was a jealous guy. I understood him. He was deeply in love with her.”
After Beatley had been back in the States for a couple months, he read about Jimmy’s “desertion.” He said one thing he knew for sure was that Jimmy was never a Communist or party sympathizer.
“There were no pro-Communists at the Embassy, that’s for sure. The drab Moscow life, the heavy atmosphere of fear and suspicion smothered any tendencies in that direction. Jimmy had often said there was nothing in Russia that could compare with the American way of life.”
Beatley told interviewers that he never thought of Galina as a clever, experienced KGB agent. He remembers her as a vain, possessive woman. She never argued a point—she insisted. After breaking away from Beatley, Jimmy started to become very strange. He stopped coming to mess and rarely spoke to anyone. Galina was with him all the time.
Beatley, when confronted by journalists simply said, “Maybe we should not blame the guy too much.”
Chapter 1
I grew up in Moscow, but not in a typical Russian family, and for sure not with typical Russian parents. My last name, McMillin, was not a common name in Russia. Actually there were no other McMillins in Russia at all. There were only three of us. My half sister’s last name was Dunaeva, our mom’s maiden name. I am seven years younger than she.
I figured out that my family was unusual when I was three years old. One of my earliest memories was my third birthday. I remember being fascinated when my dad unwrapped and began putting together all the pieces of my birthday gift, a shiny white American Ford pedal car!
No kid in Russia at that time—the beginning of the 1950s—had a pedal machine. It wasn’t even in anybody’s dreams. Nobody had ever heard of such a thing. I was very proud to have such a pedal machine. I didn’t care where it came from. When I drove that beauty on the sidewalks, dozens of people followed with amazement on their faces.
Another thing that was unusual about my early life was that when I went outside to play at the little playground near our apartment, there were always two big guys near me. I didn’t know they were security men. They didn’t bother me and they didn’t let anybody laugh at me. Some kids tried to make fun of me, calling me “stinky American guy,” but these two men immediately shut them up. I knew that my dad spoke Russian with an unfamiliar heavy accent but again, I didn’t care. I loved my dad and mom and I knew they loved me very much.
When I went to school, my mom explained to me that my dad was an American and if somebody started to poke fun, don’t pay attention. That was easy for her to say, but in reality I sometimes felt very hurt by the jokes of my classmates.
At geography lesson, when my class found out that the highest mountain in Alaska was called McKinley it made everybody look at me and laugh because it was similar to McMillin. One time, unintentionally, the teacher laughed even louder. She looked at me with a kind smile on her face and called me to her desk. I was surprised and confused when she called me McKinley instead of McMillin. It was a slip—she didn’t mean to do it, but it was too late. My destiny was decided. From that moment everybody began to use the incident to tease me… they stopped using my first name and nicknamed me “Kinley” after that mountain. But my classmates noticed that I was becoming tougher.
The first time in my life I was confronted with prejudice connected with my American Dad and my family was when I was seven years old. I was playing in the street near our house with other kids my age. My usual security men were not around. One teenager from the neighborhood noticed I was without protection and he smacked me right in the face. I felt the pain, my eyes started watering and I was ready to cry. I could not figure out why this guy whom I had met before so many times would do such a thing. Suddenly I heard him yelling “You American son of a bitch, get out of here, go home and stay there with your stinking American Daddy. Ha, ha, ha.” I ran home in tears of embarrassment and pain. Once I got there and saw my Mom, I ran to her and held on to her tighter than ever before and asked her the questions, “Why they are calling me ‘American son of a bitch’? Why they are calling my dad ‘Stinking American’? And what is it ‘Son of a bitch?’” My mom was really puzzled. She kissed me on the forehead and hugged me. We were silent for a moment.
After a while she told me to go outside and continue to play like nothing happened. “Don’t be scared. Just know that I will watch and if something happens I will be there, near you. By the way, a bitch is a female dog, and what he said was pretty offensive. But try not to pay attention to it. If this guy approaches you again, just tell him that you know that a bitch is a dog and you are the son of a wom