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

ough all the material. Then he got up and with trembling hands drew out his pistol and placed it against my head. “You rogue, I'll force you to make a confession.” I stood silently. By now I had developed a unique characteristic. Whenever the situation became most dangerous for me person¬ ally I became outwardly calm, though my inner tension was very high. My thoughts were clear and logical — only the pressure of the pistol caused me pain. It was time for my last chess move. I opened my briefcase and took out the report of the two guards. “Please read this and then do with me what you like,” I said calmly. He looked puzzled, put the revolver down and still standing began to read the report. His cheek muscles were notably tense. He sat down and read the pa¬ per again and again. He was baffled. “Scoundrels and rogues,” he muttered to himself. Then he laughed, tore the report and ex¬ claimed, “Nonsense!” “If I’m not back tomorrow morning,” I explained, “Hanyukov will send this report to the authorities in Dolinka. He has kept the first copy.” A long silence ensued. His thoughts were obviously in tur¬ moil. He stared out of the window. Dawn was approaching. It was possibly the first time in his life that he encountered opposi- ISLAND IN THE STEPPE 127 tion — and it came from a prisoner whom he could destroy at any time. He had to admit he was beaten. Finally he hissed through his teeth, “Get back to Manshin, but not a word to anyone or you’ll regret it. I’ll dig you up from under the earth. Now go, I will re-examine everything.” I stood up and left. I walked through the first, then the sec¬ ond door. Pilenko and the two informers stared at me in amaze¬ ment. Somov’s voice echoed from behind: “Pilenko! Berg can go. Bring in the other two!” I said goodbye to Pilenko and walked past the other two. Korneva grabbed me by the arm and yelled hysterically: “No! No! No! He can’t be released.” I removed her hand and walked away. It was a beautiful morning. A crisp wind was blowing. My entire body was shaking. I felt like I was in a trance. My head spun and I felt ill. Slowly I walked to the barn. Here another surprise awaited me — my horse had vanished. The stable boy explained that he was told I was arrested and no longer needed the horse. The matter would be rectified when the horse returned. I walked over to the veterinarians. . . they were all my friends. They were visibly relieved but did not question me. “Thank God you are alive” were their only words. We celebrated my rebirth — a glass of spirits with water, a piece of brown bread and an onion. Later, a cup of hot tea. All knew my destiny hung in the balance this night and they waited for me all night. I walked over to Hanyukov and quietly pressed his hand. He understood and was happy to see me again. He was one of those persons who, in a kingdom of evil, preserved a sense of righteous¬ ness. Where possible and to the best of his abilities he