JOURNEYS Mennonite Stories of Faith and Survival in Stalins Russia, John B. Toews, 1998

ever spy on Fortunatov and that all the accusations against him were lies and slander. We had a hefty argument and even Somov's assistant looked through the window. He finally pushed me out of his office with the order that I would have an evaluation of the work and the estimated costs ready in five days, but not a word to anyone. I got on my horse and rode back, deeply depressed. When I got back I found Fortunatov had just arrived and was in the sheep barn .... I told Fortunatov everything. What could I do? He was silent for a while then observed that Somov would not back off. He advised me to report all his activities, there was nothing to hide. Then, after a pause, he added: “Somov is not really inter¬ ested in our activities. He will press you and that becomes a mat¬ ter of your conscience. I cant help you but I’ll think about it and 122 JOURNEYS maybe something will come to me.” Now the heat was turned up. Somov called me frequently. Even the camp leader of our Polanski district asked who had given me permission to leave my post. “Why don’t you ask Somov?” I responded. He immediately understood what I meant and said no more. Matters quieted down for a time but Fortunatov thought it was the calm before the storm. “You must find out who is gath¬ ering information on you, then follow the motto, ‘offense is the best defense/” Easier said than done. Who was my secret enemy? The veterinary surgeon? Yet there were no indications it was he. One day I was riding towards the Nura river. Our summer camp was close by. I rode slowly, lost in thought. Suddenly I saw something white on the roadside. I stopped and picked it up. It was an envelope devoid of contents. The address was exact: Zvyagin Arsenty Pavlovitsch. It was marked “personal” and the word was underlined. The handwriting was Kornevas. Now all was clear .... This became apparent during my last meeting with Somov. It was no longer about Fortunatov. Somov threatened me and accused me of falsifying accounts, that the cream was being skimmed from the milk, that we drank milk and cream but claimed it was consumed by the calves. Some calves died as a result. Fur¬ thermore we had been drinking whisky. At that meeting I had no idea that Zvyagin was the informer. He was an ordinary teacher by profession, bright, intelligent and industrious. We often went fishing together and frequently met during work days. I was even instrumental in having his girl¬ friend transferred to our camp. Yet, when I thought about it later, he had spent a lot of time with me and asked some rather strange questions. When I returned to the camp I looked up the man who deliv¬ ered our mail and food provisions from the central camp. I re¬ called that Zvyagin often met this man, took the mail, and after examining it, brought it to me. It was clear what had happened. I instructed the driver to bring all mail directly to me. Next day I told Zvyagin I would be spending the d