“How Would You Like To Be Attached To The Red Army?”


“I mean you can’t go. Think about it. If you were attached to the Russian Army, they’d never let you near the front. Even if you got to the front, they wouldn’t let you take pictures. And if you were clever enough to take pictures, they’d never let them out of the country. You go into Berlin with the American Army.”

There was no persuading him. He was adamant, and I had to admit to myself that he knew the Russians better than I.

“What will I tell Marshall? What will I tell Stalin?”

“That’s your problem,” he said.

Deflated, I visited General Marshall in his room and told him what my father had said and withdrew my request for temporary duty with the Russians.

Then I went to Stalin and told him I could not go but thanked him for his offer.

Stalin merely shrugged.

Not long after, we got aboard a luxurious old train—Dad slept in the Tsar’s bedroom on it—and when I awoke the next morning we were on a siding next to the Saki airfield.