During this period Mareika had a half remembered, hazy dream. A black-haired man became attracted to her and she married him as Cinderella married her black-haired prince. She could not remember his face or their words to each other. She did clearly remember the euphoria and the exhilarating emotions of the romantic dream. At this same time, there were several black-haired young men buzzing around Mareika and sometimes asking her for a date, but neither they nor anyone else could ignite the affections of the blond beauty and she declined their invitations.
On March 24 of 1940, she would turn eighteen and the door would be open for her to enlist in the Red Army and rejoin her nurse friends in Mongolia. However, she grew tried of waiting. The war raged on and Mareika, still underage, followed her instinct.
Mother never told me how she did it, but somehow she hitched a ride with a lean, dusty, Red Army truck convoy which carried her off to her desert destiny—and the fairytale continued.
25. First Dance
Mareika worked in an underground Russian Military Hospital in Mongolia as a nurse for wounded soldiers. It must have been that they hired her as a civilian nurse. She had her diploma and course grades with her so they knew she was qualified even though she was young. She was surprised and disappointed to find that only a few of her nursing school friends were there. Most of them had assignments elsewhere.
There were a few female medical doctors in addition to the army nurses. There were also many locally hired civilian women at this location working for the Red Army. They served in areas like the laundry and the kitchen. Enlisted men could not bring their wives from Russia and only a few of the officer’s childless wives actually came.
Mareika liked her challenging work with patients even though it was exhausting. However, after a few months she grew distressed by the unrelenting attentions from a group of suitors that flew around her like she was a drop of honey. To escape this, she requested a transfer to the dangerous position of patient escort for the truck evacuations of the seriously wounded to larger and better-equipped hospitals back in Russia. These truck trips to the Trans-Siberian Railroad line were not popular with nurses and thus her supervisor was quick to approve her request.
It was on one of these conveys that she first came under attack. The Japanese planes carried small cluster bombs that left a trail of shrapnel, smoke, and craters in the soft desert soil. The sight, sound, and smell terrified the 17-year-old. After the attack, an older officer noticed her almost shell-shocked reaction. He was a kindly gentleman and he held her and stroked her arm and back as he comforted her with soothing words. They could not hang back long and what remained of the truck convoy continued down the crude dirt road. Her commander, the head doctor of the hospital, knew some of her early history and he immediately called in the older officer and chastised him for holding and touching the girl. He then passed the word to the men that they were to be respectful and courteous always around the young nurse.
The doctor’s admonishment to her harassing suitors was working and she now could get some peace and quiet in her hectic life. Except, that is, for one young doctor named Anton who had worked with her and was unbelievably persistent. He was a kind and patient man and slowly they became trusted friends. Occasionally, they would go the clubhouse to dance. Mareika came to like Anton but he was light complexioned with blond hair, just as Mareika was. So, without the black hair and dark complexion, he could not be her Prince Charming.
One Saturday Mareika returned late from a difficult truck convoy and she lay down on her bed to rest. It was the fourth day of January 1941 and she had been working here for almost a year. She lived in a large underground room with double bunks for some 20 nurses. Only a few girls were still there when Anton came to invite her to the clubhouse for the Saturday evening dance. She begged off due to fatigue and they just talked. He pulled out a letter from his parents in Kiev and read parts of it to her. It came out that Anton had told his parents of his love for Mareika and that he was worried about her safety in this war zone. The parents, who were both medical doctors, had offered to take her in for the duration of the war, when the young couple could reunite after the fighting. Little did they know that Kiev was destined to be one of the first cities to fall under the power of the Germans. Anton was sure that he could get Mareika discharged from her nurse duties. Women did not have the ironclad commitment that men had to endure. What surprised Mareika was that Anton expressed a desire to commit to her and eventually to propose marriage. He informed her that by living with his parents, he did not wish to restrict her emotions in any way and that if she, by chance, met another who took her heart, then Anton was okay with her decision.
Mareika did not answer. Every girl enjoys listening to a handsome man discuss marriage but she was not emotionally ready to get married. She did not want to even think about marriage. At that moment, she felt that some unknown power forced her to change her earlier decision and to attend the dance. She got up quickly and ran behind the privacy screens to dress up. It was easy as she had only her dark blue silk dress and one pair of fashionable dancing shoes. Her obedient light hair only required a few strokes of a large comb. Those days she used no makeup, just a dab of perfume. She added a fashionable coquettish hat with a black veil, which covered her eyes. She took a last glance in the mirror and blushed pink as she saw, for perhaps the first time, that she really was quite attractive, even alluring.
Mareika and her happy friend ran joyfully to the clubhouse. The dancing would stop at eleven o’clock and it was already after ten. They grinned at each other as they moved onto the dance floor and prepared to dance. She took a quick look up at the balcony and her eyes met the hot, burning, black eyes of a handsome young man who gazed at Mareika with admiration. The girl’s eyes dropped and she touched her blond hair with embarrassment. Her cheeks were blushing furiously, her knees were weak, and she felt perspiration break out on her forehead. A moment later, the young officer was standing in front of her. Anton stood watching silently as the stranger extended his hand and said softly to Mareika, “May I have this dance with you?”
At this moment, Mareika forget all about the blond doctor and became speechless. As if in a trance, the two appraised each other. They felt their hearts beating together in synchronous rhythm. Wordlessly, they blended as one into a graceful waltz. They ignored everything and everybody—their universe was just two people in a new and unknown dimension. They had fallen instantly and irrevocably in love.
At the end of their first dance, Mikhail spoke again, “Would you like to take a walk outside?” Mareika had never gone for a walk with any man or kissed any man. She had never had a man in her life. She was the complete, perfect virgin!
“Yes, I’d like that!” she replied with a hesitant smile. As they passed the clubhouse entrance, Mareika pointed at the cloakroom. Mikhail held out his hand so she could give him her numbered metal token to retrieve her coat. “Oh!” she murmured. “My friend has it.”
Mikhail walked back to the dance floor where Anton still stood in a daze. He saw Mikhail approaching him and he felt in his pocket for the metal disk. He fished it out and without a word the disk changed hands.
Their Saturday evening promenade included a marriage proposal and on the following Tuesday they were married. My parents enjoyed 57 years together, until death did they part!
Mama and Papa
Literal translation:
If you’re afraid of wolves, don’t go in the forest.
Meaning:
If you can’t stand the heat, stay out of the kitchen.
26. A Strange Wedding
MY PARENTS WERE MARRIED ON JANUARY 7, 1941, WHICH WAS Christmas Day in the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. It was a military wedding in a society which did not officially recognize Christ, so their wedding was unique.
The first step for Mareika and Mikhail had been to obtain official permission from both of their military superiors. Monday morning they met with the administrative head of the hospital. He wanted to
support Mareika but he also did not want to lose an excellent nurse when he was already shorthanded. A conversation with the cheerful, friendly couple finally convinced him to sign a paper releasing her from her existing duties. He then made a notation in her military record, transferring her to Mikhail’s duty station.
Mareika joyfully packed with the help of her fellow nurses, although at first they tried to talk her out of it. They thought that Mikhail was too old for her but Mareika explained that the difference was only four years. The nurses solved Mareika’s problem of not having a traditional wedding dowry. They gave her a variety of presents including books, cooking utensils, recipes, hand-written cards, and much advice mixed with giggling. The nurses also presented the bride-to-be with sheets, pillows, and a bright red comforter for the bed. The warm comforter brought pleasure to Mareika for many years.
The winter cold had little effect on the ecstatic couple as they drove 200 kilometers (124 miles) to the front lines and Mikhail’s duty station. He had no problem obtaining permission to marry. One just had to observe this happy couple to know that it was a wonderful match.
Because religion was officially frowned upon by the communist state, military chaplains and chapels were not only unavailable, they did not even exist. Wartime Mongolia did have a USSR Civil Service Registry Office for weddings but it was in the USSR Embassy in the Mongolian capital, about a thousand kilometers west (620 miles). The outside temperature was minus 50 degrees centigrade and there were no vehicles available for private use. So, it was not possible for my parents to officially register their marriage.
All members of the Soviet military carry a small red military booklet. Both of my parents had one and I received one when I earned my nurse’s degree. It contains various records such as the person’s name, a black and white picture, date of birth, and the names of his or her spouse and their children. It also included their military rank, assignments with duty stations and military units, medals, awards, and disciplinary action. Typically, the administration at regimental headquarters made these types of entries.
The regimental headquarters of Mikhail’s unit, the 149th Motorized Infantry Regiment, simply added my mother’s name to my father’s military booklet and stamped it. They duplicated this information in the regimental record and that was it, everything was official. They were married.
A newly married officer automatically received a 60 percent salary increase and another increase on his food allotment. He would receive additional salary increases with each child born into his family. If my father died, my mother would automatically receive the widow’s pay. However, my father’s name was not added to my mother’s military record, as the authorities found it expedient to allow females the option of leaving the marriage if they so desired. It was a good benefit for the woman but not for the man. Some women left their husbands because they were unable to adapt to the harsh reality of frontline military life, particularly if they became pregnant. The Soviet Union respected women as human beings and aggressively protected their rights.
This then was their official wedding, an entry by a Red Army administrator into my father’s military booklet. Therefore, my father was now officially married—but my mother was not.
This incident was not unique to my parents; many war brides at that time had the same experience. Many Soviets were not familiar with this and it brought pain to more than a few of these brides when their marriages came into question after years of being married and raising their children. When my brother Slahva was born, the entry went into my father’s military booklet, but not my mother’s documents. I kidded my parents about this for years. I would laugh and call my father a single parent.
As a sign of respect, people used both the first and middle name when addressing married people in those days. The middle name was the person’s father’s name. This is how they were addressed throughout their marriage. Some time after World War II, this ancient tradition was broken and now it exists only in special cases to show respect for older people or for a person held in high regard. It was a beautiful tradition but young people don’t like it as the names are too long. And maybe now it is more important who you are, not who your father was.
My late mother was religious, while my father is more of a freethinker. The fact that my parents married on Christmas Day was more happenstance than planned, but it was romantic and in the Gobi Desert one enjoys whatever one has at hand.
There was a wedding party in Mikhail’s very small underground room. This lone room was the living room, dining room, kitchen, and bathroom and was maybe 3 x 4 meters (10 x 13 feet) and basically just a hole in the ground. The walls, floor, and ceiling were bare unfinished plywood. Dirt was used as insulation on top of the ceiling. Entry was through a hole cut into a corner of the ceiling, approximately a square meter, with a homemade wooden ladder to climb down. The front door was simply a loose piece of plywood. The furniture was constructed from wooden packing crates that once held military supplies. Most of the beds in this camp were mounds of dirt covered by boards and cotton or hay-filled cloth mattresses. Some rooms in the camp had newspapers or cardboard covering the plywood walls.
The water supply, sink, garbage disposal, dishwasher, and clothes washing systems were somewhat consolidated. The water allotment was one bucket a day per person, the equivalent of approximately ten liters (about 2.5 gallons). Mareika and Mikhail’s two covered galvanized metal buckets sat next to the wall and they carried them out to the water tanker truck and refilled them each day. The rest of the water system varied from person-to-person with some parts available to purchase at the camp military store. Mikhail had a three-liter bucket with a lid that he mounted on the wall at about head height. The bottom of the container had a small tube that released water when it was pushed up. Below this on a shelf was an enameled-metal tub to catch the water. This tub was used to wash one’s self, the dishes, or clothes. Mareika recycled water used for washing hands and laundry to hand-mop the floor. The last part of this system was a small galvanized bucket to carry out the waste water which was tossed into a special sanitary dump. This oval tub survived many years and I can remember that its enameled metal had an intricate white flower design worked into the inside bottom and sides. Upon reflection, it was likely a Chinese product.
At Mareika and Mikhail’s wedding party, the guests brought their own tin cups and eating utensils. There were no plates and only one chair. Some blankets spread on the floor provided comfort while sitting. They consumed one bottle of alcohol, hardtack meat, vegetable preserves, some garlic, and other preserved food. All the food was from cans. Nothing was fresh. There were toasts, speeches, and singing, but no dancing as the room was too small. It was here that Mareika surprised everyone with her guitar playing and her beautiful voice which she inherited from her mother. She was the only woman in this entire forward echelon camp and her beauty and shy feminine demeanor won the hearts of everyone.
This merry party had a great spirit which lasted through the years. My parents had reunions with some of these friends and their wives decades later. Of course, some of the officers at that original party did not survive the war.
A serious problem for the young couple that required some time to sort out arose from Mareika’s background. She had lived in numerous places that provided little or no privacy where she slept. Sometimes she just slept in a corner on the floor and, if she was lucky, there would be a blanket or perhaps some rags for a bed. She acquired a habit of sleeping with her clothes on for safety and protection and it proved difficult to break. This was a society that frowned on immorality, masturbation, and homosexuality. Pornography was simply unknown. Young children went to bed at night with the covers up to their chin and their hands carefully placed outside the covers. Mareika’s years with the lady Olga in St. Petersburg converted her to sleeping in a nightgown and she had kept that habit, but after her marriage, her shyness compelled her to again wear clothes to bed.
Mikhail understood the problem and even consider
ed sleeping in another officer’s room for a while. But in the end they stayed together in the one small bed available to them. After about a week, the situation was satisfactorily resolved and the shy Mareika was back to wearing nightgowns. Their first truly romantic hug and kiss came with the trust and confidence built up after some six weeks of marriage.
Eventually two other Soviet women came to live in this camp: a nurse and a doctor. In later years father loved to loudly remark, “Yes, yes, your mother was the best looking woman in that entire camp!”
My brother and I would grin at each other and mother would get a flustered look on her face as if dealing with an errant child. She would say, “There were only three of us in the whole camp. That is not saying much!”
Father would ignore all of us, raise his head and voice as if talking to God, and continue praising mother’s beauty. My brother and I would listen silently as mother acted indignant but soaked in the praise like a sun-dried sponge.
The young couple loved each other very much and their mutual respect and admiration grew every day.
27. A Mole’s Life
There is always a period of adjustment when any two people start living together. It does not matter whether they are in a palatial villa or a mud hut.
One potential problem was the simple fact that my mother had never learned to cook in spite of all of her years cleaning and working in various kitchens. No one allowed children to play or experiment with food or cooking, as food was too precious. It was quite common to padlock the cabinets where the food was stored. Some mothers even locked the food away from their own children.
Granny Varvara and others in the Sariechev family would later teach various culinary skills and techniques to Mareika, but that was of little help at present. Mother decided to take the “bit in her teeth” and so on her first day of marriage she told my father, “You said that you like chicken soup and a nurse gave me a good recipe. Tomorrow morning, I will buy a chicken and make some for you.”
My Russian Family Page 17