Anika Scott - The Soviet Sisters

Dedication

To my husband, Jrgen, who keeps my feet on the ground when my head is in the sky

Epigraph

The past is so long ago, it never happened.

POPULAR SAYING OF PRISONERS IN THE GULAG

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Dedication

Epigraph

Marya

1. Vera

2. Marya

3. Vera

4. Marya

5. Vera

6. Marya

7. Vera

8. Marya

9. Vera

10. Marya

11. Vera

12. Marya

13. Vera

14. Marya

15. Marya

16. Vera

17. Marya

18. Vera

19. Marya

20. Vera

21. Marya

22. Vera

23. Marya

24. Marya

25. Vera

26. Marya

27. Vera

28. Marya

29. Marya

30. Vera

31. Marya

32. Marya

33. Vera

34. Marya

Acknowledgments

P.S. Insights, Interviews & More . . .*

About the Author

About the Book

Also by Anika Scott

Copyright

About the Publisher

Marya

Siberia, 1956

Shoulder to shoulder, were marching down the packed snow road. There are five of us in the row, me on one end, the coldest place in the line, my arm dragging against the snowbank. Were like marionettes joined by the sleeves, women made of wood. We lurch forward at the same pace, careful where we put our shabby boots. If one of us falls, the guard might get angry. When I move, the ice cracks in the fibers of my coat. I want to march faster to stay warm, but I cant.

Halt! the guard calls behind us.

We dont turn our heads to see how far away we are from the rest of the work brigade. Out the corner of my eye is the snowbank and behind that, the white trees all around. In front of us, the road goes on and on, long and empty, vanishing in the fog at the foot of the mountains. Thats the edge of the world. Theres nothing on the other side of the mountains, nothing at the end of the road. Not for me. Not yet. I have six more years here. Ive lost track of how long a year is, so I concentrate on today. Now. If I get through enough days, enough nows, Ill be free.

Behind us, the guard is pacing. I hear his gusting breaths and the crunch of his boots. Were far enough away from the work brigade that I cant hear their shovels as they clear the road of hard snow. The guard has us to himself, and Im glad the five of us prisoners are here together. We all are. Instinctively, we press closer, arm to arm, mitten to mitten, like a wall.

Anyone have to go behind a tree? the guard asks.

We dont move.

You havent had a break all morning. Go on. If you need to relieve yourselves, go ahead. Something in his tone reminds me of my sister. Even when Vera was nice, she was always something else underneath, something I couldnt trust.

Down the line, I feel a shift. One of the women really does have to go, but she cant; she cant break the line. Ive been in the Gulag more than a quarter of my life; I know all the games the guards play. He might let her relieve herself in peace and rejoin the line, or he might shoot her for trying to escape. He gets 50 rubles for that, I think. Thats what our lives are worth. Fifty little rubles.

None of us break the line. The guard paces behind us, his tone suddenly different. What are you anyway? Traitors. Spies and traitors. You think you can afford to be ungrateful?

Were standing with our backs to him, but I know, we all know, that hes raised his rifle. Its pointing at her, and then her, her, her. Me. We might be spies and traitors, but we arent stupid. We dont move. Dont say a word.

Lets warm you up, then. Sit, he cries.

We drop to the snow. My bones feel like theyll snap in the cold like twigs.

Stand.

Were slower on the way up. I press my mittens on the knees of my trousers, straightening my back.

Sit.

Down we go. The minute Im down, I hardly know how Ill get up.

Stand.

I dont know how much longer I can do this. As I struggle to stand, I dream of being rescued, Henry appearing in the road, pointing his Browning at the guard, a car idling behind him, ready to take me away.

Sit.

Nine years. For almost nine years, Ive been a prisoner in this or that camp. Nobody is going to save me. Nobody is going to take away the pain and the cold place on my spine where I feel the guards rifle pointing at me.

Stand.

Get through today. Thats all I have to do. Get through my now. One day nobody will shout at me anymore. I wont hear the guards in my head. Thats when Ill know Im free.

Were standing shoulder to shoulder, five women, the wall unbroken, but the guard is determined. You! The woman beside me stiffens. The guard is right behind us, his rifle at her back, touching her coat. I can feel it too. I might be next. Walk.

Im dreaming again, but instead of Henry in the road, its Felix beside me where the snowbank is. Hes enduring this too. His arm presses into mine, holding me up. He understands the lesson this place teaches me every day: Im never going home, not as the woman I used to be. Im worth nothing now. Im not even human.

But I am.

I turn to the snowbank and the white trees. Deep in the thickening forest, I see Vera as a wraith peering at me from the shadows.

I am.

MILITARY COLLEGIUM OF THE SUPREME COURT OF THE USSR

25 JUNE 1956

MOSCOW

To Comrade Rudenko

Enclosed are a series of recordings made by your former colleague, Vera Ilyanovna Koshkina, regarding the case of her sister, who was convicted of treason in 1947. These recordings are remarkable for their vivid detail and confessional tone.

However, there appear to be some inconsistencies with the known facts of the case. The contradictions in her account may only be a fault of her memory, since the events took place nine years ago. Regardless, I believe an external review of these recordings is in order before we make a decision about her sisters case.

Chairman, Military Collegium

Cheptsov

1Vera

Testimony for Chairman A. Cheptsov

Military Collegium of the Supreme Court of the USSR

Moscow, 28 February3 June 1956

[BEGIN RECORDING]

Comrade, we live in a new age. Stalin is dead, three years dead, and with him the fear of speaking the truth. At last we can speak free from the threat of a bullet or of men knocking on the door at night. This is what I believe, and why Im trusting you with this account of my investigation into the case of my sister, Marya.

The preliminaries for the record: My name is Vera Ilyanovna Koshkina. Im a lawyer by training and serve as an aide to our highest government officials in the Presidium, my specialty in legal and security matters and topics related to Germany. Years ago, I served as an officer of state security, assisting the prosecution in the war crimes trials at the International Military Tribunal in Nuremberg.

My work at the Kremlin focuses on government policy, but at heart, Im a lawyer concerned with justice above all else. The guilty should be punished, the innocent freed. It goes without saying that this work should never be done at the expense of the truth. But there are the more difficult cases, where innocence and guilt, truth and lies, are harder to untangle.

On 13 August 1947, the court found my younger sister, Marya Ilyanovna Nikonova, guilty of espionage, counterrevolutionary activities, and treason to the Fatherland under Paragraph 58. There were many unanswered questions about her true activities in Berlin, where she was arrested, but after a quick investigation, she was sentenced to fifteen years in the Gulag. At the time I wasnt permitted access to her case, for reasons Ill be laying out for you here in these recordings.