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"The most important factor is to find our families again," she said. "Anything else comes second."
I nodded.
We were talking outside in the dark. It was so dark that night that I could hardly see her standing next to me.
"Are you saying that our own personal lives no longer matter?" she added. "Is it right that we are duty bound to an endless slavery to our families?"
"It seems that way," I said. "This commitment makes us richer, Jennie! It is not slavery, is it?"
She agreed.
In the morning, the final decision was quickly made. Jennie had called for a secret vote. There was unanimity on the first ballot. Igor's plan was selected. Igor explained that our voyage would take us to the Philippines, across the South China Sea, around the tip of Malaysia and the tip of Sumatra, across the Indian Ocean, the Arabian Sea, the Gulf of Aden, and up the Red Sea to the Suez Canal. From there we would cross the Mediterranean, the Agean Sea, the Sea of Marmara, and via the Bosporus, the Black Sea. At the northern end of the Black Sea was our destination, the city of Odessa. Igor said, the voyage would take us across twelve time zones and would last no more than thirteen weeks, probably much less.
It was a crazy plan, but the only plan that made sense. How else would we get Igor home? And without his father's help, what chance did we have to see Melanie and the children again? And without all this, how could we stay together and maintain our friendship? Indeed, Igor had figured it right, right from the beginning. The only aspect I had problems with, was that we actually had to live in Russia.
Sure, we had talked about the eventuality on the beach. I had admitted to Igor that I might like the idea. But those were just words, empty phrases easily spoken. It was theoretical then. But going there to live, possibly for the rest of our life, was a different story. What also bothered me, was the feeling that our association would more likely be threatened there, than be kept alive. Russia was known as a country of stern conventions. It would be difficult enough to justify our association in the liberal sphere of the West, but in Russia...!
I talked to Jennie about it at great length. The gulf between what we felt for each other, and what a traditional communist society might expect, appeared to be more than twelve time zones apart, that we had all to cross. "The thing that I can't accept," I said to Jennie the next evening, "is stepping backwards in time."
"Maybe it doesn't have to be a step backwards," she replied, sitting next to me in the dark. "Communism, if it still exists in people's feelings, doesn't have to touch us if we don't let it. I like to see the twelve time zones we have to cross, as steps ahead, not steps backwards in time."
The thought made me smile.
"It maybe challenging, going to Russia," she added, "like climbing eroded mountains of loose rock with slippery footholds. That can be exciting. One needs to beware of every crevice, test every ledge before standing on it, nothing can be taken for granted; but that doesn't sound like stepping backwards. It will make us better climbers. It will open doors to places that few people have ever been at."
Seen in this way, Igor's plan was undoubtedly the best one. Also there was plenty of food and room in Russia. So it was decided.
Our first stop along the way was to be Manila. Igor already had the necessary charts on board. He had been planning ahead, collecting whatever charts he could locate in the Harbormaster's storeroom. Igor said that Manila would be an important stop, especially for us. He said he would try telephoning his parents from there.
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Stories about
War
from novels by Rolf A. F. Witzsche
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