December 8, 1924
Leningrad, USSR
“Mamushka! Viki is not doing his schoolwork!”
Startled by his younger brother’s outburst, 10 year old Viktor Dragunov, the son of Igor Dragunov, glanced up from his desk. At the door, Ivan, whom he had referred to calling as Ivan the Terrible due to his natural talent of being irritating and showing up when he is least wanted, showing gazed over at his older brother’s desk, littered withred and blue toy soldiers with Imperial markings where books of grammar and arithmetic served as the battlefield of the reenactment of the Great Northern War against Sweden . Before the older Dragunov brother could muster up a rebuttal, his mother Yelena appeared at the doorway as well, frowning at her oldest son.
The year was 1924, 6 years after the tyrant Czar Nikolai was overthrown and executed along with the rest of the Romanov dynasty, in the middle of a chilly winter afternoon during the month of February in the city of Leningrad. During those years, Vladimir Lenin, the man who orchestrated the Czar’s overthrow and the formation of the current State of the Soviets, and his followers , the Bolsheviks, cemented their power on the state by crushing all resistance from those loyal to the deposed Czar and the remnants of the White army until his death last month. Since then, Joseph Stalin, the USSR’s General Secretary, took over and continued the Proletariat leader’s work. Young Viktor took pride in the fact that his father fought for Red Army during the War of Liberation and played a part in the formation of the Soviet Union. It would win favor upon the Dragunov family as long as they lived in Leningrad, formerly known as St. Petersburg, now named for the man who was known as the father of the current state.
“Viktor, we already had this talk before. If you need to clear your mind, you go on outside and play with the boys, but once you finish up, you come straight home and set upon your studies. You understand that, right?”
The young Viktor hung his head. ”Da, mama.”
“Anyway, you went out to play today, correct? Were you with Fedyushka and Feodor?”
Viktor nodded his head. ”Da. We played football and cricket with the neighborhood boys.”
His mother crossed her arms, her green eyes narrowing. “All well, but I’d have assumed it would have burned out that excess energy you always seem to possess. Perhaps I am mistaken or you aren’t engaging in enough physical activity?”
“Mama, I promise I will finish up my work tonight. Just don’t confiscate my toys.”
“Be sure that you complete it or I will visitGospozhaSemenova to request that you won’t get any play time until you complete all your schoolwork,” Mrs. Dragunova reprimanded her unmotivated son. “On another note, does she use the rod to discipline you?”
Young Viktor lowered his head shamefully. “Aye, mamma. Too many times to count. ”
A knowing smile passed on his mother’s lips. “Ah, here I was thinking it would have taught you your manners and how to define your priorities better. When was the most recent beating you received?”
The young abstracted Russian boy glanced downward, his cheeks flushing the color of peaches. “Just this morning, both Dima and I were caught drawing pictures of Peter the Great and Karl of Sweden riding at each other like cavalry soldiers, lances at the ready, and Mrs. Semenova saw it, but she wasn’t really thrilled. She wanted us to remain on task as we were learning about Leo Tolstoy, a boring man from a boring time.”
Yelena Dragunova only laughed and shook her head. “Last time, it was Rurik and Dmitry Donskoy. What will be next? Stalin? Lenin? Trotsky? Ivan the Terrible? At least I know you have a knack for history, but you should know that history isn’t the only subject you need to know to get into the university. ”
“Who said I wanted to go to the university? It is just more schooling. I am not the bookish type to sit in a classroom all day, my nose buried in books with small print. I want to enlist in the Krasnaya Armiya and become a soldier like papa to fight against those who would wish the state harm.
“Do you now?” His mother raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps you could serve the state as a successful doctor, scientist, or engineer. Well, let’s discuss this with your father once he returns-” A wailing sound reached their ears from the other room. “I guess I will have to attend to Danil’s needs. Just complete the rest of your schoolwork before you go to bed tonight.”
As soon as Yelena hurried from the room, Ivan glanced over at his older brother, a devious smirk plastered on his face. Once his mother left, Viktor begrudgingly sat down at his desk and began to work on his sums. Would Ivan the Terrible,Rurik, Alexander Nevsky or Alexander Suvorov have scored their greatest military victories stuck in a room, adding up and multiplying numbers? When had Oleg and Dmitri Donsky had to use math or science or even literature in the battlefield? From the corner of his eye, he spotted his own Ivan the Terrible spying on him from the doorway.
“What are you looking at me like that for, you little rat?” Viktor balled his fists. “This is the third time you squealed on me. ”
Ivan stuck his tongue out, his vibrant green eyes crossing playfully. “You are supposed to be a good boy and do your homework like me.” The middle Dragunov boy chuckled. “I also want to join the Red Army, but getting high marks in school will get me there faster than you.”
Before Vik could conjure up a snarky retort, shouts from outside were heard. Exchanging astounded glances, the brothers ran down the hall and jostled each other for a view of the scene in the hallway of the apartment complex. Viktor was able to get a glimpse of a man wearing an officer’s hat adorned with a red star and an olive-green jacket knocking on the door of the apartment adjacent to them while a few armed militants hung back. The young Red Army hopeful’s eyes grew wide as he realized who the men that looked like military police were and possibly why they were poised to storm their neighbors home.
“NKVD,” he breathed to his younger sibling who responded with his eyes growing to the size of samovars. What could the secret police want with the family down the hall? Hopefully, they weren’t Menshevik spies or saboteurs, were they?
“This is the Commissariat! Open up at once or we will be forced to resort to forced entry!” The commissar shouted. “We don’t want to harm you if we can avoid it, but if you leave us no choice, we will consider this exigent circumstances. Now please open up in the next 10 seconds or I will authorize my forces to break down your door. 10...”
Before the high-ranking NKVD official could saydevyat, the wooden door opened and a scared-looking woman, whom the boys recognized as Mrs. Lagina, peeked her bespectacled blonde head out the doorway.
“Apologies, sir! I did not mean to delay my response to your summons. My little ones were keeping me occupied and I had to attend to them first. How can I help you today?”
The Commissar only guffawed. “You will help a great deal today by answering my questions and complying with directives. Now, is your husband home?”
Mrs. Lagina gulped and took her time to answer as she shook her head worriedly. “N-no, he is still at the plant. He is working overtime this week.”
“Oh, is he?” The NKVD leader had the look of a cunning fox, one that the brothers knew would possibly prove disastrous to the Mrs. Lagina and her family. “Then why is it that the plant manager tells me he left earlier in the day, claiming he isn’t feeling well? If he is ill, my enforcers and I need to confirm it. You are aware that lying to the Commissariat is punishable by imprisonment or exile past the Urals?”
The apprehensive housewife only nodded. “Yes, sir. Err, would you like to come in?”
The secret police officer cackled. “Ah, I was going to come in regardless, but I am glad you had sense enough to permit entry to your home. I will keep it in my mind once there is time for a verdict on your husband’s seditious behavior. ”
Before their middle-aged neighbor could object, the NKVD agents shoved past her and stormed into her home. After a few moments, they came out, dragging out a man with unkempt shaggy salt and pepper hair and beard between them. Viktor bit back a gasp as he recognized the man as Mr. Lagin, the husband of the woman subject to the Commissar’s interrogation. The military police official chuckled mirthlessly as he stood before Mr.Lagin, who was pushed to his knees at rifle point by the operatives.
"GospodinLagin, you grace us with your presence at last. Your wife was indeed true to her word. You would show up, only you were hidden in that secret compartment inside your closet.” The Commissar smirked as he took in the captive’s look of bewilderment and anxiousness. “Yes, we know of it. The state has its eyes and ears everywhere. Prior to our visit to this decrepit dump, we paid your workplace a visit. Your supervisor told us you called in sick. Why is it that a diligent worker such as yourself, reported a healthy as a horse, would suddenly fall sick? From what we gathered from your boss, you’ve done this infrequently within the last month. Can you explain to me your erratic choices?”
The older gentleman had blanched like milk. “S-sir. I’m hiding nothing. It is as I reported. Ever since I was exposed to the gas during the war, my health hasn’t been the same. My age catching up to me is also playing a part.
The green-capped officer nudged Lagin’s side with his boot, a derisive smile plastered on his face. “Understood. Though you look able to me now. Besides, the fact that you were capable enough to hide from us doesn’t add up. You know the purpose of our visit?”
Mr. Lagin swallowed before speaking. “I-I can’t say I do. We have committed no crimes. We are loyal party members.”
“So you say.” The callous Commissar laughed mirthlessly before taking out what looked like a piece of paper. “We have written evidence of your letters addressed to an “Anastasia” giving out confidential information about your workplace. Is this recipient a close friend of yours?”
“I....I don’t know.“Mr. Lagin shook his head nervously as his wife stood there, her body trembling.
The cocky police captain raised a brow. “You don’t know if Anastasia is a friend or you don’t know them?”
“I don’t know who that is,” the bewildered worker insisted. “Please let us go. We are innocent of the charges of treason.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about. Anastasia was the name of the last Romanov princess and we made sure to eradicate the last vestiges of the monarchy. I can safely infer that your contact is a monarchist spy, possibly working for the the Black Baron himself if not General Denikin. That is not to say that the Greens or even the Western powers or Japan isn’t employing her and you. Boris Lagin, you and your wife will be coming to the station with us.”
“What are you boys looking at out there?”
Viktor and Ivan whirl around to see their mother standing behind them, her arms crossed. On her face was a frown, but in those green eyes, Vik saw something he wouldn’t expect from his mom. The look of anxiety in those normally warm and at times stern green eyes was enough to alarm young Viktor. Without saying a word, she scurried over to the door, took a peek through the keyhole. Once the screams and shouts that emanated from the apartment the NKVD were raiding, she pulled the boys within her arms.
“Nyet, Nyet, stay away when something like that is occurring. We don’t want to give the Commissariat any excuse to pay us a visit as well. ”
Right before Mrs. Dragunov steered the boys from the door, away from the disturbing scene before them, Viktor was able to see the neighbors, including the balding and bespectacled Mr. Lagin, prodded forward by the tip of the secret police bearing M1944 rifles. The last thing he would recall that would unsettle his stomach in the years to come would be the sound of their young boys Denis and Alexei wailing as the commissar tailed after the detainees with a smirk that would make a bear quiver under his fur . Little did he know he would never see the Lagins again.
The Lagins, who seemed like a cheery laid-back family whose daughter had married off a year ago and left for Rostov-On-Don with her new husband, being charged with espionage! Mr. Lagin, who would playfully tussle his hair each time or even give the neighborhood kids some chocolate, being a saboteur while his wife, who would bake bread and pastries for the women in the building complex, being complicit in it was tough for him to wrap his mind around. He would never forget the time Mr. Lagin had gone out of his way to help fix Fyodor’s bicycle when the chain had come loose. Was there more to people than met the eye?
“Go to your rooms until your papa gets home. Then we will have dinner. Until then, focus on your schoolwork, Vitya.”
He was beginning to nod off in his room when he heard the knob of the front door being turned, followed by the rusty screech of the springs. Recalling the NKVD incursion on the Lagins, Viktor jolted awake and tensed up, half-expecting the commissar, flanked by his troops, to enter, that mischievous grin on his face. His features slackened as he noticed his father, Igor Dragunov, shuffle inside the apartment. The elder Dragunov took a seat on the couch to rest his leg, damaged from his time fighting for the Red Army during the Bolshevik Revolution. It was his father’s service in the Krasnaya Armiya that was the main source of Viktor’s admiration for the man.
He had told the boys that it was from an injury during the Great War, but their mother had informed them that it was the result of a workplace accident at the factory. Viktor had preferred to believe the former as it gave him more bragging rights to his friends.
“Papa!”
Ivan ran into his father’s arms, engulfing him in a tight hug, nearly causing the man to stumble over.
“Careful, Ivan, you don’t want to break my back!” Igor Dragunov laughed as he let go of his son. He turned to Viktor and smiled. “Ah Viktor, next in line to smother me?”
The oldest Dragunov son just laughed . “I’ll pass on that. It’s good to see you, too, father. ”
“Papa, the police took away the Lagins!” Ivan told him in a rapid-fire speech pattern.
Mr. Dragunov raised an eyebrow. “Is that right?”
“Boys, take your seats at the table. ” Yelena entered the living room, eager to change the subject. “We will just talk about good things as we enjoy our meal. How was work, honey?”
Igor slipped into his chair at the front end of the table as the boys took the sides. “Taxing, like always, but we get the job done. We do what we can for the Motherland, don’t we boys?”
“Yes Father!” His sons shouted in unison.
Their mother sighed and rolled her eyes, the tips of her hair brushing her shoulders. “Oh boys. What am I going to do with you? ”
The moment the family, with the exception of Danil who was sleeping in their parent’s room, gathered around the dinner table and prepared to dine on Borsch beet soup , salted herring, cabbage rolls stuffed with meat, and Borodinsky bread, the elder Dragunov son decided to ask his pa to regale them with tales of his military service.
“Papa, can you tell us about the time you served in the Civil War?”
Yelena’s eyes grew wide and her jaw dropped at her son’s idea of a dinner table conversation.
“Vitya! We are about to eat. Your papa’s war stories are not appropriate for the dinner table.” Upon seeing the wistful look on Viktor’s face as soon as he saw the dark gray samovar that held tea, Yelena smirked. “Yes Victor, no vodka at the table tonight. Not in front of the kids at least.
Igor only chuckled and waved a hand. “That’s fine, Yelena. The boy has such zest for serving in the motherland’s army, which is admirable, though he is too young now. Wait at least 6 more years and you can enlist. All men at least 18 have to serve, but it would work in your favor when you willingly join. Anyhow, who wants to here about your papa’s exploits in the formation of our glorious Soviet Empire?”
Viktor’s hand shot up like the claws of a panther. Igor’s ocean blue eyes glanced around the small wooden rectangular table before they landed on the middle son.
“How about you, Ivan? Want to hear papa’s war story?”
Ivan glanced between his brother’s pleading look to his mother’s reproachful one. After taking a breath, he turned to his father and nodded his approval.
"Da, Papa.”
"Bozhe Moi,” Yelena muttered as she dipped her spoon in the cabbage soup and twirled it in a circle. Vik hugged his brother tightly while his father smiled and cleared his throat to speak before their mother rose. “I made separate food for Dani so I’ll be attending to his supper. In the meantime, you three feel free to start the meal. Just don’t let me catch you talking about inappropriate topics like the war.Ponimat?”
Igor Dragunov nodded.“Da. We won’t, I promise.”
“Good, now dig in until I return.”
Once Yelena had left the dining room, her husband leaned in and smiled. “You boys want to hear my tale of the Civil War while we chow down on your mother’s savory food?”
Ivan frowned and tilted his head to the side. “But mama said no war talk during dinnertime. ”
Igor chuckled as he reached for some rye bread before helping himself to the soup. “She said don’t let her catch me telling you guys war tales, but she didn’t say anything about me telling you about my time in the war when she is out of earshot.”
Viktor’s hand froze as he reaches for the veggies. Did his father find an escape clause in their mother’s rule? If so, this could the moment he needed. “You mean...?”
His father nodded. “That’s right. Now sit back and listen. Don’t forget to eat your veggies, too. It all started with the Great War in 1917.”
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