Author: TonyGosling
Posted: Sun Jul 12, 2015 12:39 pm (GMT 0)
Russian/Ukrainian Trip To Find Out For Myself What Was Going On
by Louis Beam
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1l-4Bh979WdU2G4aQPo9Y4XeyxLTIuo1l2wzpoPW5XlY/pub
These are the young men senator John McCain and crazy warmongering generals like General Robert H. Scales1, a former United States Army major general, want American soldiers to help start sending home in body bags. Why? Because the lying senator from the state of Arizona said they had invaded the Ukraine. Is this true? Did Russians invade the Ukraine?
I went on a thirty day fact finding tour to find out for myself. I wanted to know for myself if the call for American young men to kill once again and yet another war was justified or not.
Once, long ago in my youth, having believed the propaganda of the federal government and its spokesmen, I rushed off to Viet Nam as a volunteer to fight "a war for freedom" for the Vietnamese people. After two tours of heavy combat, which included the Tet offensive of 1968, I came home, having proudly served my country, only to watch on television a few years later as North Vietnamese tanks rolled into Saigon May 1, 1975. While these tanks rolled into Saigon the President of the United States, Gerald Ford, played golf with no concern for the 58,000 American soldiers who had died, the over 300,000 thousand more wounded, and the 2,338 POW/MIA missing in combat. These may sound like numbers to you, but to me they are the young men I fought with, and I see faces, families, hopes, dreams, blood, sweat and tearful screams when I read them.
From that bloody moment on I knew forevermore that the American political system was absolutely corrupt and would never have my obedience and faith again. (To my readers in Europe and Russia: do not confuse the military-industrial-police state complex that has become the government of this country through violation of our constitution, with the freedom loving, generous, God-fearing, hard working, sometimes homeschooling, lovers of liberty who are the bedrock people of this country.) The corrupt, evil, war mongering, greedy monopoly capitalist, CIA led, Federal Reserve banking government of the United States does not represent the people of this country—only themselves. We are not the same people. Do not make the mistake of thinking so. For we who are ruled here are not of a similar creed, faith and hope for the future of this country and the world as the corrupt, lying, stealing, low-life politicians who now run this country with near impunity for their crimes against its citizens and the people of other nations.
This essay will be about what I found out about the Russians and the Ukrainian people who are much the same in so many ways. It will not be written in one sitting, but rather as the words and thoughts come to me over time. So, if you should come back to this page over the next month (June 2015), you might gather more insight.
Arriving in Moscow May 1, 2015, I went first to the Kremlin and the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, for it was my desire to view the heart of the “evil empire” so many American political leaders and their accomplices, spokespeople in the “news” media, have accused of invading the Ukraine with no less than “10,000 soldiers.” If indeed that claim were true, it would be “the pot calling the kettle black,” as the U.S. military is currently directly involved in at least three wars – in Pakistan, Yemen and Somalia – in addition to Iraq and Afghanistan for a total of five countries in case you are not counting. I could name more but that is enough to prove the point.
From the longtime American “news media” descriptions of the Kremlin I had always thought it to be some dark, dirty, dungeon, where evil men plotted to take over the world. Nothing could be further from the truth. It is one of the most beautiful places one could view, and everybody from the tourists to guards are most friendly and welcoming. What a cultural shock that was. Try walking up to the walls of the American White House like I did the Kremlin and touching them! If you live long enough to reach the White House walls expect no less than five years imprisonment.
At the gates of the Kremlin:
It is quite true that when the theories of Karl Marx held sway over Russia, coupled with the bloody hands of Lenin, Trotsky, Felix Dzerzhinsky2, Stalin and Lavrentiy Pavlovich Beria, orders for mass murder and repression came from this place. However, this was not the Russian people giving the orders, but insanely mad, evil men who were repressing the Russian people, not representing them. Millions of Russians died at their hands and millions more were sent to gulags (concentration camps). One only need read The Gulag Archipelago by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn to know the terrible tragedy the Russian people endured under the hands of such men and ideology. Since the early 1990’s the Russian people have been liberating themselves from this evil that ruled over them so painfully. Little by little they are building a state where freedom is as real as it was in America in the 1950s.
Many of the young people there whom I came to know want the same things American youth would like to have and experience, i.e., a better future for themselves, good jobs, sufficient wealth to live comfortably on, and a future without war— especially a future without war. For the Russians have suffered in the last seventy-five years like few other countries from the barbarity that is war. So, freedom of speech, religion and belief has come to Russia, and it has been welcomed joyously by the people.
There are wrinkles in this, that is true. Like any large country there are differences in opinion and methods to go about achieving a free state. But, by and large, I was astounded at how loyal the people are in general to their country and government in comparison to the United States, where the social fabric of our nation hangs by a thread, as competing interest groups, movements, racial/ethnic groups seek to obliterate the social harmony that was once America, while an evermore repressive government grows more distant from the Constitution, liberty and the Republic our forefathers gave us at the price of so much blood.
At the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, with the children of the men John McCain and General Scales want Americans to start killing, I realized that these people, these precious little children, are no different than my own. I was cognizant of how I had, for so very many years of my life, been deceived and lied to about other people whom I had never met. Why did I believe them? Why do my fellow countrymen often believe the lies our government tells us?
It can be explained in part by the simple fact that because we are just normal everyday people we mostly go about our lives in hopes of bettering ourselves, providing for our loved ones, and always hoping all the while to never harm anyone else in the process. That is who we are. That is not the government of this country where there are tens of thousands of men who spend each day of their lives plotting for “U.S. interests” which are code words for banking/military/industrial/police state interests. They are the elite manipulators of public will and opinion for the hidden interests they represent and work for each day. There could not be a stronger contrast: We are the people who love our families and friends, hoping to make the world a better place by the contributions we make in our lives to others, ourselves and prosperity. You already know what the government of the United States is doing, so just don’t confuse the two entities. Remember us, and pray for our success in restoring liberty to our nation.
It has become my great hope that the people of the world will judge us accordingly and not condemn the people along with our government. That would be a grave mistake for all of mankind. For there are still millions of Americans the people of the world would much like to invite to their table, be it a “humble one” or a richly adorned one. It is only through understanding this, by knowing that good people are often represented by bad governments, that we can avoid future conflict and hatred between “We the People.”
As I gazed upon the Kremlin and memorial at the Tomb of that unknown man who has become the symbol of so much sacrifice by the people of Russia, I came to fully understand that we have much more in common with each other than differences: 1) that most of our differences nowadays are made up by conniving men who foster ill will and division among the people of the world for their own nefarious secret agenda of control, domination and riches for themselves, 2) that we can by friendship and open minds, overcome any ill will
created between us.
In the future, we must each refuse to be led by the nose like hogs to the slaughter. We must know the truth and the truth will set us free. How does this work? As a long time scholar of world affairs once told me, “Knowing the truth will make you angry and that anger will set you free.” There is no doubt that such is the case.
End of first writing, more to follow
In Moscow Max French, (one of the sponsors of my trip) who was on his own Canadian fact finding mission, set up a meeting with the Russian Military Historical Society at their headquarters. Our intent was to ask questions and get answers. When the subject of a “Russian Invasion” of the Ukraine was broached to our host at their headquarter laughter could be heard around the room by the Russians in attendance. This was a private meeting granted as a courtesy to North American visitors. Here is a link to the meeting with a woman translator present. Not all in attendance are shown. Military Historical Society Meeting
As occurred often on the trip, comments were made that such claims were nothing more than U.S. propaganda promoted by the Federal government in the U.S. with support from the American “news media” ( I always use the term in quotes, as the controlled establishment media in the U.S. is nothing more than an arm of the military/industrial/police state elite ruling in the U.S.). Their reasoning for the claim was that the U.S. military wanted another country in which to extend power and influence, and that the Ukraine had been chosen because it borders the Russian State.
On the left in this picture is a representative from the Russian Military Historical Society, in the middle the author, and on the right Max French from Canada
It is quite true that Russian nationals are in the Ukraine fighting as individuals.
They are there because they have family, or once lived in Ukraine, or because they want to defend the borders of Russia from U.S. meddling and from corrupt oligarchs like Petro Poroshenko and Igor Kolomoisky who are now ruling in Kiev and elsewhere in the Ukraine. The men who have gone to Ukraine from Russia are all considered as volunteers and are warmly welcomed by the people there who view them as protection from a corrupt illegal government installed after the elected president was replaced in a 2014 revolution. These volunteers go of their own accord, provide their own equipment, and travel as individuals across the Russian border to places where they have chosen to assist the breakaway regions of Eastern Ukraine of Donbass and Luhansk.
The author met and interviewed some of these men, including a young Russian sniper twenty-four years of age, who claims fifty-eight kills to his name, and allowed me to speak with him about his role there. More of this information and interviews will be discussed later in this essay.
It is important to realize that the people in Eastern Ukraine do not recognize the new government in Kiev, or any power by that government over them. Nor do they give any allegiance to it. They seek independence from the central government, and have taken up arms only after being invaded by the newly installed oligarchical government in Kiev.
That invasion is well documented and need be only briefly discussed here. Let it be said, that without a doubt, the government of Kiev has acted with murderous intent, killing and displacing many thousands in Eastern Ukraine. With each new artillery round landing upon the heads and homes of the civilian population there3, an ever greater determination to be free of Kiev is created, solidified and cemented in the hearts and minds of the people suffering from the terror of war, invasion, hunger and attempted oppression of rights and liberties.
Other Russian/Ukrainian men and women like this young man I met in Moscow have
volunteered to render humanitarian aid to the breakaway republics of Ukraine. They do their best to provide food, clothing and supplies to the one million or more people there in need. That is where my efforts coincided with many of those people I met on the trip. This author, together with the help of fellow supporters from Texas and Canada, brought money to distribute to refugees.
An Adventure into the Unknown:
After seeing pictures and videos on the internet of old people without food, children hiding in basements from Ukrainian government artillery barrages, the elderly with no place to run from the conflict, it was decided by good men of the states of Texas, Idaho and the nation of Canada to actually do more than talk about the situation. While at my present age, I did not relish the thought of a month long “adventure” in countries where I do not speak a word of the language, it was evident to me that more needed to be done than keyboard talking about the problems of the world. When Major General Robert H. Scales called for American men to start putting Russians and Ukrainians in “body bags,” ( https://youtu.be/3EJLi23fTPg) it became clear to me that I must go and render any aid and assistance to the victims of war there, and know the truth for myself. It aided my thinking by having the long-held belief that if the U.S. government/media was calling for war, death, destruction and body bags, the government had to be supporting the wrong side, and there would be more to the story than the American people were being told. It turned out that I was quite right in that last assumption.
Once, a long time ago now, as a U.S. soldier I had brought war to VietNam. Now, much wiser and knowledgeable about the world around me, I wanted to bring peace. A small effort in the big picture of things, but a very large effort on the individual level. As it turned out I was welcomed and treated like royalty by the people whom I met and came into contact with in Russia and by the Ukrainians I encountered. My desire to help people that I did not know and to learn the truth about events there astounded many people I met. Some people found it difficult to believe that not all Americans wanted war, death, drones and military intervention into the affairs of yet another foreign nation.
The American people are admired by the Russian people while the government is despised by most of them. In this we had a great laugh, for I told them that most American citizens also despise the government and its abuse of American citizens. I explained that we love our country like few others do their nation, but we are quick to criticize the “Federals” when they are wrong (which seems like the majority of the time nowadays). When I spoke of Federal government spying, abuse, corruption, etc. here at home, they asked me why such a great people would endure such acts of abuse. I explained that most Americans maintained hope and faith that they could change things through the electoral system of voting, and unfortunately, were quick to believe drivel they were fed via the “news media.”
Russians are very proud of their federation and believe it to be a protector of their rights in the world. I was present at the 70th anniversary of the end of World War II and the victory parade held in Moscow on May 9th. It was an astounding sight to see a small part of the over 500,000 Russians who gathered in Moscow to celebrate the end of that most terrible war.
Few people have suffered war and invasion like the Russians, and they are quite quick to proclaim that no one occupies their land with impunity. Invasions in the past by the Huns, Golden Horde,Tatars, Tamerlane, the French under Napoleon, the Germans and many others, never went well for those who invaded. They are a hardy people who intend on surviving whatever fate may bring their way, and to live their lives without interference from abroad.
Woe unto the nation that enters their land with malice in their heart! I came to understand this quite well during the victory parade in a most remarkable incident that should be mentioned here.
70th Anniversary Victory Parade, Moscow, May9th 2015
The parade was long with lots of soldiers, equipment, missiles and large numbers of troops marching. From time to time the people would clap and shout as troops and equipment went by. But, there was only one time loud cheering broke out from the crowd. That was when the Russian mobile nukes went by in front of the crowd. And then all at once a huge cheer erupted from the crowd, everyone around me begin to clap and shout at the sight of these terrible weapons. It was a strange surreal moment.
People made it clear to me that they saw those terrible weapons as protection from countries who meant them harm. They were viewed as a sort of “safety net” to protect them from any and all who would wish to injure them. It was only then that I came to understand the Russian people in a way that I had not before.
End of Post 2
Nukes For Peace?
At first this Russian popular idea of nukes for peace did not resonate with me. As I pondered this attitude, I thought back to my own experiences with such issues in my country.
The Russian People cheer as mobile nuclear weapons go past
Then, such thinking rang home as I remembered that my whole life the government in the U.S. had explained the reason they had to have so many nuclear weapons in the military arsenal was to insure the “peace and safety” of America. Yeah, I had heard this before many times, as it was explained why billions upon billions of dollars had to be spent by the military/industrial complex in the development and research of nukes. So, in retrospect the concept was not that foreign. If America needed them for peace, then why could not the Russian citizens need them to insure their borders and safety?
Really, once I thought about it, the only difference was the cheerleaders for the nukes: in Russia the people, in the U.S. the government. In both cases “peace” was really Orwellian speak for total annihilation of the world and everyone in it. This is not good. But, nukes are not my purpose for the trip, so I move on, retaining the thought that this whole business is more a comment on mankind in general and mankind’s propensity to destroy others of his own species.
A Visit to the Meat Grinder
I knew from the moment the trip was on to Moscow that I would have to see where the Cheka (later NKVD) installed their human meat grinder in Lubyanka prison near the Kremlin. The grinder was connected to the sewer below, and was used by the guards to easily obtain confessions from completely innocent people who then were often, after signing the confession, fed into it. Lubyanka was run by Communist secret police, and created such fear and absolute terror in the minds and hearts of people that resistance to the communists became almost always an act of suicide. Such was the fear generated that resistance ceased for the most part and acceptance became the norm. Many years previous I had read a book by a Russian who lived to tell the story (the name escapes me now), about what it was like to be a prisoner there and to be sent through the system. It was such a horrible story that I could not forget or erase the images from my mind, and only time would allow them to recede into the recesses of my thinking, but not to forget them. Only after reading this book did I come to full realization of how cruel mankind can be to one another.
In front of Lubyanka are decorative stars where the communist statue to the founder of the Cheka and terror that used to be at that place once stood. Felix Dzerzhinsky no longer stands there, and beautiful flowers are planted in his place. Nonetheless, as was my habit and intent the entire duration of the trip, I cursed the spot where it had stood to symbolize mankind's rejection of such cruelty to each other. I was told that when the statue was torn down by the Russians after their liberation from communism many had urinated on the statue. I would have loved to have done the same, but was twenty-five years or so too late, and accepted the fact that the Russian people had already dealt with the spot in the appropriate manner.
I walked the entire circumference of the building, stopping at the side door of bare steel and iron where so many hapless victims of torture had been brought through to their death. I paused and listened quietly, wondering if I may yet hear the screams of those long ago forced to endure such inhuman treatment. The building is silent now, but mankind must never ever forget what transpired at that place, for the screams of the murdered and tortured must not go unanswered by the good people of this world.
It is unclear to me if the youth of Russia are being taught this black history in schools today. It was my impression that much like American young people they care little for the events of the past that do not affect them directly today. A word of advice to Russian educators: if you do not want events like this to ever occur again in your country, teach the history of Lubyanka prison to your youth.
I thought of the flowers I had placed at the Tomb of the Unknown soldier, and was sure that that person, whoever he may have been, had certainly not given his life so events like Lubyanka could occur in his country. To forget that prison is not just to forget the many thousands tortured and murdered there by insane state officials but is in addition to forget the deaths of all those many millions who died believing they were doing so in the defense of their people.
War is, I think, the most prime example of mankind's cruelty and stupidity towards himself and his fellow man. Six thousands years of folk legends and recorded history show that mankind has not changed in any measure whatsoever, in his primal urge to destroy others and himself by the use of combat of arms. Mankind has learned nothing from his history but to place a rosy veneer of images and words over his lust to kill. All words justifying war and destruction are little more than containers to hold the blood of innocents destined to die in conflict.
When I think of the 70th anniversary of World War II held in Moscow, my thoughts are for the millions of German youth who died before this day could be possible, and for the millions of Russians who died to make the day a “celebration” of victory. War is such a dirty horrible thing. I learned that day, from discussions with many Muscovites, that many of them greatly fear that the United States will attack them and once again bring them the destruction they already know so well. I wanted to proclaim loudly to them that “America would never do such a thing.” But I could not. For under the current rule in Washington, and for many years going back to at least Hiroshima, that is in fact a real possibility, and I could not make a fool of myself by saying otherwise.
Not lying to them about the good intentions of the U.S. Military/Industrial complex helped me to understand their cheering the nukes as they passed by.
Can we just be friends…
My soul burdened with these thoughts I left Moscow.
End of Post 3
Biting the Bullet:
The trip to Saint Petersburg was accomplished on a high speed “bullet” train.
Before the trip to Saint Petersburg the last time I had ridden a train had been in Mexico in the 1980s. I left Mexico City on the way to Mérida in the Yucatán Peninsula to study the archaeology wonders located not far from that city. I would not advise anyone to go backpacking through Mexico now, as under the current “drugocracy” ruling that country you will be risking your life. That train, barely functional, moved along at fifteen to twenty miles per hour, smoking and heaving as it tried to make its way down the track and through the jungle the eight hundred or so miles to its destination. Along with various animals, assorted natives, a light bulb swinging from two exposed electrical wires, and no functional bathroom services for the several day trip, and having heard “¿café con canela?” over a hundred times from large women marching through the car at every stop (one or two stops an hour, as the wheels needed oiling often and appeared to be seizing up). Suffice it to say, my description of this ordeal by rail became known to my friends as the “Train Ride from Hell.”
I abandoned that train after three days of torture, having not the faintest idea where I was, and with my backpack walked into the darkness toward lights in the distance. The Mexican government has since discontinued that train service which, I must add, did the world a great service. Honestly, I had rather trade three nights in Viet Nam during the Tet Offensive than spend another three days in that iron train from hell.
Russia, on the other hand, is a first world country with bullet trains that travels at times near two hundred miles per hour. My trip sponsor, Max French, who is a retired railroad engineer, convinced me to try another train ride. It was with some mental trepidation as to the wisdom of his decision that I went to the railroad station in Moscow.
I should not have worried in the least. The train ride to Saint Petersburg turned out to be linear opposite of my train ride from hell. It was wonderful, a high-speed trip without a single incident of someone shouting “¿café con canela?” a single time, nor did the Russians ever find it necessary to stop and oil the wheels to keep them from falling off.
Helicopter Gunner Meets Helicopter Pilot:
As was his custom, Max French spoke with almost everyone he met with no need for a formal introduction to start the process. Sitting across the table from us on the train was a handsome man in his late fifties. While I dozed Max began the process of trying to communicate with the distinguished looking man. Because the stranger spoke some of the English language, information was exchanged between the two of them. Soon I was told that this man just across from me had been a combat pilot of a helicopter (MU- 8 or MI 
in Afghanistan, which the Russians had invaded under communist rule in the late 1980s.
As it was my first encounter with a former Soviet military man, I was uncertain how to view him and how he would view me. How strange it felt to be sitting across a small table from a commie pilot. In times past I would have relished turning my M-60 machine gun on his aircraft, were that possible. Now he smiled at me and handed me a piece of chocolate as Max made the introductions between the two of us. We looked intently at each other with what I can only describe as ”knowing eyes.” In heavy combat he had seen it all, it was written on his face. I felt empathy towards him immediately. A different army, a different time, a different place but a shared experience.
As a Soviet warrant officer in combat, as he looked at me I pondered, perhaps he was thinking of the over two thousands Stinger surface to air missiles that the U.S. government had supplied the mujahideen there, and which had been used to shoot down helicopters like the one he flew, killing his comrades at arms.
“So, this is the face of the enemy” I thought. I had hated and opposed men like him most of my life. Now, sitting next to him, he looked like one of my neighbors in Texas, just someone who had served in a different army. His smiling face was friendly and we quickly shook hands and traded information.
The uncertainty of how to react to him had not lasted long. As we shared experiences, we quickly became friends. It was his hope and mine that our respective nations would never be in conflict. We expressed our mutual desire for no more wars, and our hope for Russians and Americans to work together for the future. It was clear to the both of us that if it were left up to people like him and me, that desire for peace between us would be most certainly assured. Unfortunately, the very purpose of my trip and being in his country was to help end suffering caused by war in the Ukraine.
Former Soviet warrant officer (later promoted captain) Aznabaev Damir took a pencil and wrote on the back of a receipt his years of service in Afghanistan. Max made a stab at writing my years of service which I quickly corrected at the very top of the small note. I can truthfully say that this small piece of paper has become a treasured document for me, and I cherish it.
So passed the time to Saint Petersburg. It could not have been spent in a better way. I gained much insight into myself, as well as others on that ride. “When Enemies Become Friends” would make a great title for that pleasant train ride.
End of Post 4
Russia Has Two Capitals
Beautiful Saint Petersburg, the cultural heart of Russia
While Moscow is the governmental capital of the Russian Federation, Saint Petersburg is the cultural capital. It lies to the north and west of Moscow, and is only a short distance south of the border of Finland. To say that it is a majestic city is to make an understatement. The beauty and cultural treasures of this wonderful place are difficult to describe. Few places on earth can boast both a city and cultural background as that of Saint Petersburg. Walking the streets, the city itself seems to the onlooker to be an open air museum with each city block presenting new works of magnificent buildings and art treasures.
The Czar of Russia’s Winter Palace is in Saint Petersburg, and in it the art and treasure of the Hermitage Museum. To understand the history and cultural of the Russian people, as well as to know who they were in the past, it is necessary for any foreign visitor to the Russian state to go to that city. It can be there that one begins to have a full appreciation for the background events and cultural mélange that is modern Russia.
This process of understanding begins there with a visit to the Czar's Winter Palace and the Hermitage, which opened in the Czar’s place in 1852 as an Imperial Museum. This magnificent complex of buildings, which was once the home of Russian nobility, is today home to 16,000 paintings, 12,000 sculptures and 700,000 archaeological exhibits among many other beautiful artifacts displayed in nine buildings.
As I toured the palace of the Czars of Russia, and looked at the historical context which formed Russia, it became clear that Russia is a much more complex nation than what most of us believe. The preconceptions of the Russian people that we had before arrival to that country fade into nothingness, as we discovered the reality that is both modern and historical Russia.
In touring the Winter Palace, like anyone else would be, I was greatly impressed with the wealth and magnificence of that place. After two days of taking it in, I kept returning to the throne room of the Czars to stare at it intently.
Looking at that chair in which men and women of great power and wealth had sat, I kept thinking of the people, the common men, women and children of Russia whose lives and existence would make all this possible for the nobility to have. Call it my simple, common background if you wish, but my mind always goes to the people, not to the rulers of a country when considering the life, breath and duration of any great nation.
Standing there by the throne chair of the Czar, I could not help but wonder what kind of lives and existence the typical person would have lived in those days that would make it possible for the few to accumulate so very much wealth, for so much in the hands of the few makes for a hard life for the many. It was clear to me that the average person in Russia when the Czar ruled would have never trod where my feet were.
My attitude towards people, people everywhere in my country, is that of the Founding Fathers of the American state, which was, that each man held his rights, liberties, freedom and property by unalienable right, and “that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness,” and that all of the above cannot, will not and shall not be abused by any government whatsoever.
Clearly, to me, this was not the case in a Russia ruled by Czars, or certainly not by a communist totalitarian police state. For that matter, neither was it true from the times of the ancient Sumerian Empire to the founding of the American state, which to my great pride as a decedent, changed everything, not only for those of my own country, but indeed for the world at large. For the world would come to know and seek the freedom that was the United States’ political background that produced the Declaration of Independence and rebellion to the King of England.
I realized that while Russia had its Czars, Europe had had its kings and nobility, and from time to time its strong men ruling the people under them with an iron fist, as had China its divine Emperors, Egypt its god-Pharaohs, Pre-Columbian America with Inca, Mayan, Aztec etc. dynastic god kings and every other known civilization with one sort or another of potentate determined to crush any of the common people who opposed them throughout history. So, really, the Czarist period of Russian is much more a comment on mankind in general than of Russia in specific.
Even now in my own country, the United States, a political elite of wealth far exceeding any Czar or king of Europe has come to power and is seeking, through their banking/military/ industrial/police state combines, to create a ruling oligarchical “nobility” of Bushes, Clintons and others closely related to them by money, power, connection and statist belief.
It occurred to me that I was in modern Russia, the Russia of 2015, and as I was learning that the people there today consider themselves quite free to live their lives and pursue their dreams as they deem fit. The idea of personal liberties and personal responsibility for their lives has taken root, and will never be turned back there again. For once a people have tasted freedom, they will accept nothing else in the future.
With a far greater understanding of Russia and its history we left for a very long journey by train for a special meeting to be held in the city of Vladikavkaz, North Ossetia, Russia, and to meet for the very first time, what I consider to be one of the truly great minds of modern Russia produced by the common folk of that country: Alexander Mezentsev, a descendant of the Cossacks. He will most surely object to my thoughts about his great intellectual abilities, for he, like myself, considers himself nothing more than a common man of the people and is happy to be so.
Another long journey begins from the tip of the north to one of the most southern parts of Russia
End of Post 5
The trip to Vladikavkaz would require a sixty-hour train ride from the north of Russia to the far south, then east into North Ossetia. We could have flown there in three or so hours by jet. Yet, it was our intention from the start of the trip to get to know the Russian people and their country. This could be better done by crossing their nation on rail than by plane. Still, it was with some foreboding that I boarded the train for that trip of over two days, as I still suffer from Mexican Train Ride post-traumatic-stress: MTRPTS.
We shared a private cabin with a Russian couple who soon became our friends, as did most of the other people in our car before the trip ended. Once you get past the doubt and fear the Russian people have about Americans being part of the “putting-them-in-body-bags” crowd, the people are almost always friendly and curious about what it is like to be an American, and endless gestures of hospitality from them then ensue.
By the time we reached the first stop at a small rail station in the countryside, Max and I were friends with many of the people, and they were buying us food, ice cream, and giving Max cigarettes, which is a Russian sign of friendliness to those whom they like. (Was there anyone in Russia besides me who did not smoke?)
Even the children who seem to be quite shy in general were coming up to me on the rail car and wanting to try their hand at communicating with the “American.” In hopes of creating better international relations, I made it a point to always explain that I was a Texan first, and an American second. Texas is known all over the world by people in general, and my experience from Thailand to Costa Rica is that Texans are greeted with a smile and friendliness. No doubt this is in part more a result of cowboy movies and Texas culture in general than any real knowledge of the people there.
There were seven or eight soldiers on the car with us who were on the way to their homes on leave from military service. When they first heard there were Americans on board they were less than friendly toward us. Max French in his usual manner would not bode them thinking poorly of us, and went to them explaining our reason for being in the country they were sworn to defend. Soon, Max was smoking with them at stops along the way and one of them who heard I was in search of a bottle of water brought me a soft drink and placed it in my hand with a big smile of friendlessness. They had been convinced by Max, and by the other passengers who had already met us, that we were there for good intentions, and they too desired to welcome us. From then on these young soldiers were smiling at us as they passed in the car, requiring me to refuse their endless offers of smokes.
The sixty hour trip to Vladikavkaz was a long ride, yet I would not trade that ride instead for a jet plane. For it was on this lengthy trip, living closely next to the Russians in our cabin, and sharing a train car with people from all walks of life, that I came to have a better comprehension of their character and mannerisms. When our new found friends, who were traveling a shorter distance than we were, began to exit at their final destinations, they would come to us and say goodbye, often throwing in a hug to boot.
Such are the Russian people.
As we approached our final destination in North Ossetia it was with great interest that I looked forward to meeting Alexander Mezentsev for the first time in person. For over ten years I had corresponded with him by email about the political affairs of his country and mine, history, archaeology, anthropology, great writers and books and most other subjects that students of mankind and his existence on this place we call earth want to know and understand. Now, I was to meet the person behind the phenomenal knowledge he so often displayed. He is an enigma to me in many ways. A man placed by nature in that faraway place in Ossetia, in what appears to me as a foreigner to that land, to be a remote outpost of civilization and culture. I had often wondered why such a man was not teaching in a major university in Moscow or Saint Petersburg where he would no doubt be a delight to his students in their quest for an understanding of the world around them.
Yet, there Alex was, just north of the Caucasus Mountains of both fame and lore, happily living his life, doing research, working for a major cultural institution and studying the people of the world. At the very least this man should be on a consulting contract for the Russian government for his great knowledge of mankind and their predisposition to misunderstand each other. He demonstrates an innate ability to clear up such matters quickly.
Our meeting was that of long lost friends with repeated handshakes and embraces of friendship. Gazing upon him I could not help but think of someone out of 1950’s America. Something about him made me think of those whom I had known in earlier years of my life. We were all comfortable with each other from the beginning, and that only increased as time went by. We were to meet for friendship, understanding and hopes of creating a better understanding between his people and mine. Many discussions followed about American history, political matters and the cultural of both countries, and the great need to avoid conflict between our respective nations.
Socializing with him, and soon his friends, was to leave me with the firm belief that there could never be a reasonable reason for hostilities between the Russian people and American citizens. If the politicians want to fight, then, let them. To the senators, presidents and members of governing bodies of both countries who want war, let us issue Rambo machine guns, grenades, knives and a canteen full of water, and let them have at it.
For the rest of us--- Russian vodka and American apple pie, together as one.
End of Post 6
A Gathering to be Remembered
At the state library we met with Alexander Mezentsev and other men from North Ossetia. As was the Russian custom there was food and vodka along with the discussion. Perhaps it was just me, but it seems that after several toasts to lasting friendship there was more friendship and less discussion. Nonetheless, these good-hearted men did their utmost to insure both Max and me that they desired nothing but good relations with us and America in general. This meeting was not one that can be forgotten. I found these Russians to be not only kind, but extending to us every hospitality at their disposal.
Once again, there was only laughter at the American “news media” claim of 12,000 Russians soldiers invading the Ukraine.
A great time was had by all and the meeting ended far too soon for some of us.
Many Americans are so far behind in their Fox “news” that they think the communists (who are no longer in power) still somehow outlaw guns in Russia! I would urge such people as that to watch the “news media” more. But then, that would only make matters worse for them. Max and I wanted to know if Russians could own guns or were they still not free men as they had once been under their communist rulers? My request to see a gun store in which Russians could buy a gun was met by our host in Vladikavkaz, Alexander Mezentsev.
As almost always the Russian people go out of their way to be friendly. The picture below is taken in front of a gun store located on a street in Vladikavkaz. When the owner saw me outside he invited Max French and me to come in and view his store. Mr. Putin obviously does not fear guns in the hands of the Russian people, for there were plenty of them to be had. In fact any Texas gun store would have found the supply quite adequate to meet the needs of Texans on a normal day… To my surprise switchblade knives were legal and many different kinds could be bought there and elsewhere in department stores, or from small outlets.
A gun store in Vladikavkaz
So yes, this time around, any would-be communist mass murders, like “Iron Felix” and Joseph Stalin, will not have their way with the Russian people. Nor, may I add, will anyone else.
One of the things that stood out to me was how well the Greek Orthodox Christians of the north Caucasus region of Russia get along with those who are of Muslim faith. While it has not always been that way, today there is peace and accord between them.
In times past there had been bitter warfare between Christian Russia and Muslim invaders. Islamic armies invaded starting in the ninth century, and continued to occupy much of the north Caucasus region until the 16th century. They even managed to burn parts of Moscow. Well over two million Russian people were exported to the Ottoman Empire as slaves. The Muslim defeats and suppression in the 16th century put an end to such things. Today there is little conflict in the region north of the Caucasus mountains.
Mosque in Vladikavkaz
“Defender of the Pass”
The statue of the “Defender of the Pass” has so much history behind it that I can only mention it here. Off in the distance from this monument is the great pass of legend and folklore known as Daryal Pass. From this pass through the Caucasus Mountains ancient Aryan tribes migrated north into what we know today as Russian and surrounding areas. Flowing down from this pass is the river Terek which runs through modern day Vladikavkaz. If rivers could but talk, such great stories could they whisper into our ears, of tens of thousands, following their banks, in treks over many thousands of years.
Rostov-on-Don
Soon we began our journey west from North Ossetia to the Russian city of Rostov-on-Don, which is about 100 miles from the border with Ukraine and the largest city in the area.
It was from Rostov that we would go to the Ukrainian border area. Arriving in Rostov, we found it to be a beautiful place full of life, culture, people and young students seeking to get a degree in their chosen field or endeavor.
Rostov Theatre
We were met at the train station by two young Russian men, both of whom spoke English. It turned out they were college students and quite bright. They led us by foot and bus to our hostel.
Soon we had made friends with these two strangers, who quickly introduced us to more of their young crowd. A large gathering ensued at the hostel where we were spending the night, with many questions about our purpose for being there. As usual— in these get-togethers of friendship making— vodka flowed freely. The discussions turned to NSA spying, not on Russians as one would have thought, but Edward Snowden’s revelations had convinced our hosts that the NSA was a threat to American citizens, and they demanded our passports so they could “nuke” them.
While at the time I thought “nuking my passport” was a bad idea, and stated so, it would have been unwise to reject the request of six or more vodka infused Russians, and further, in the interest of maintaining good international relations, I somewhat reluctantly met their demand. Into the microwave one at a time the passports went for “exactly 3 seconds,” at the end of which a very large flash from the microwave lit up the room. Then, still smoking, my passport was handed back to me. (Note to federals reading this---I felt that I had no choice in the matter.)
A Brief Background to Understanding the Conflict
The current situation in the Ukraine can quickly get confusing to those Americans who have not studied the events in Ukraine over the past two years, and who use only the “news media” as a source of information. In a nutshell, with no attempt here to do anything but provide a simple understanding of the current situation in Ukraine, the following information will help:
There was a revolution in Kiev against the duly elected (many agree corrupt) leader of that country. After the elected president Viktor Yanukovych fled the country for Russia, new corrupt leaders appointed themselves head of the state in 2014. Conflict then broke out between those who supported the new leaders and those who did not.
At first, the Ukrainian armed forces refused to militarily suppress the people in Eastern Ukraine (Donbass/Luhansk) who opposed the new government. Then, a new election was held in Kiev in an attempt to legitimize their power, with little to no voting by the people in Eastern Ukraine. Neither did they recognize the revolutionary junta in Kiev as having the power to call for an election, nor could find a safe place to vote, and so boycotted the election.
Before the new election ever took place many oligarchs were working behind the scenes and in public to make conflict inevitable. One example will suffice: Yulia Tymoshenko. She, under President Yanukovych, had been charged and convicted in court with embezzlement of $188 million and ordered to repay the Ukrainian people.
After the revolution the law was rewritten and her crime became no longer a crime. She is now free of charges, conviction and the threat of imprisonment. After meeting with European, American and Nato representatives, she suggested the formation of a “special headquarter” to suppress resistance to the new government which she disguised verbally as protecting Ukraine from Russia. This act, and many more like it by other “elites” like her, along with manipulations by secret factions— some financed by the U.S. government— insured war would come to the land.
(Though all this corruption in the Ukraine may sound much like political/banker corruption in the U.S., there is a big difference— in the amounts stolen. Wall Street financiers steal money in the U.S. by billions via the privately owned Federal Reserve System, making Ukrainian oligarchs look like small town thieves.)
Our hopes regarding what could be done:
Max and I hoped to immediately meet with representatives of the people of Donbass and Luhansk, and through them provide aid to the refugees driven from their homes or who remained behind, because they had nowhere else to go. We further wished to confirm one way or the other (insomuch as we could) as to whether or not Russian army soldiers were involved in the conflict, as the U.S. “news media” and generals/politicians claimed they were.
Our first day in Rostov we met with a volunteer soldier who had just returned to the Russian side of the border from Donbass, in the Ukraine, where he had grown up and still had family. This soldier was of South Korean descent, for his security and that of his family he will remain unnamed. His parents after immigrating to the Ukraine reared him in Donbass, and though married and living in the Rostov area, he firmly believed it his duty to return and protect his friends and family there, as well as to oppose the invasion by the newly created “punitive” forces of the now in-power government in Kiev.
We were to spend the next two days in conversation and in questioning him about his role and without their knowledge without their knowledge any supposed involvement of Russian soldiers in the fighting in his homeland. Then, we would go to the border area ourselves.
A soldiers pay...
As a former soldier myself, I knew the questions to be asked and the answers one would expect from someone engaged in combat, so there would be little chance for deception. It soon became clear that there was no need for deception of any kind by those doing the fighting.
In these meetings with this first soldier we learned that those on the separatist side (Donbass/Luhansk) were paid five dollars a week to fight, to risk their lives, and to suffer the usual privations of most soldiers, which would be in part bad food, no sleep, unknowing fear of what the future may bring, thoughts of death, missing your family, shellshock, no bath for days or weeks, bad hygiene and friends killed or missing in combat— to name a few. This, for five bucks a week in pay. Obviously this was but a token of thanks to them for their service.
It quickly became evident to us that this is a war being fought by many for their homeland and families. My admiration for this man, and the others like him in the army of which he was a part, grew immeasurably at this point. We would soon talk to others at the border of Ukraine who had similar stories. I wish to make it clear, that as a private citizen I can only report what we were able to hear and see for ourselves. Thus, I have no way of knowing personally if the Russians are “sneaking” soldiers and equipment across the border without the knowledge of Russian citizens (very unlikely). Of all the people with whom we spoke, to the man, they did not believe that without their knowledge Russian armed forces were in Donbass fighting.
We Leave for the Russian Border
We got on the bus for the city of Donetsk in the Ukraine not knowing how far we would be allowed to go into the war torn area. Donetsk would be the new capital of “Novorossiya” as some call it---if they win their war for independence. On the Russian side of the border we passed through beautiful fields well planted in rich soil.
The crops were up and the farmers were busy at work. It all looked like an agrarian paradise as far as the eye could see.
In my mind I, thought of this area in 1941, when German Panzers and huge numbers of young infantrymen were advancing on Rostov so sure of victory. They underestimated the Russian people and their will to fight for their homeland even at a terrible loss of life that most nations could not or would not endure. 25,000,000 Russians would die but their land would still belong to them when it was over in 1945. Beneath my breath I cursed all of those leaders on every side of the war who sought conflict over reason; German, Russian, American, British, French, Polish, all who would sacrifice their young men as governments have always done in history rather than choose life for their people. Mankind seems to never learn from the suffering of past generations. That war, WW II, some sixty millions of our species would die. I wondered how many would die the next time such “leaders” bring war? As the miles rolled by, I mused about “What ancient black curse, what genetic malformation of humans so consumes us that anointed leaders from most ancient times to the present day deal with disputes in ways that involve other people dying besides them?”
We shared the bus with young men of combat age in addition to what can be described as the usual mix of women and children found on any public transportation. I noticed some men in military dress but none wore Russian military uniforms with insignia. They were dressed in different types of military clothing reflecting personal taste or the different self-defense militia units they served with in the Ukraine. Max began questioning them about where they were from and why they were fighting in the war for independence from the Kiev government. All but one stated that they were either a citizen of Donbass or had relatives living there who they were protecting from Ukrainian government terrorism.
The bus stopped near the border. Absorbed in thought, I walked off alone from groups of talking people, to view the beautiful flat fields that went as far as the eye could see. Suddenly, an 82 MM mortar round, landed somewhere across that wide expanse. I immediately recognized what it was. Everyone turned and looked in that direction while I stood there in a time warp encapsulated in a flashback to the last time I had heard that sound. The distinctive impact of that round had not changed one bit since I had last heard it in 1968. Later that night, I would once again have dreams of Vietnam as my mind sorted through the day’s experience, making for an unrestful night. War so changes us as human beings that we are never the person we were belore it.
As people gathered in groups casually talking, Max joined them. As always in encounters with random people on the trip, Max quickly became an icebreaker of conversation, rapidly making friends with those around him. The Russians/Ukrainians traded war stories among themselves and with Max. After Max having explained our purpose for being there as a humanitarian mission, the young men all became quite friendly to him offering him smokes (universal sign of goodwill in Russia). Several were able to speak English and our interpreter stood with them filling in any blanks for Max as needed.
The Sniper
As I watched them talking from a distance of a few yards, one very tall, muscular fit young man caught my attention from the beginning. Observing him I noticed that he was dressed impeccably in his uniform of dark green camo with a camo pack he carried carefully. His bearing was that of one who is confident of himself and his abilities. Max had told the group of young men gathered around him that I had been a door gunner on a helicopter and this led the confident young man to my side offering his hand to me in a display of soldierly friendship. With a grip of iron in his hand, a broad smile, and while speaking English fluently we talked as he looked at me with curiosity in his eyes. His curiosity was matched by mine about him.
After briefly confirming that I was once a soldier like him, I asked questions about his involvement in the war. Was he a Russian or Ukrainian? He said he was Russian. Was he in the Russian military? No. He had been discharged three years ago. What was his training? He had been trained as a sniper during his service. Why was he in the Ukraine fighting? To kill Nazis. Who are the Nazis? Special units sent by the Kiev government to kill the people.4 What do you do there? “I kill them.” He then stated that as a sniper he had killed 58 enemy soldiers. Pulling an American-made zippo cigarette lighter from his pocket, he showed it to me. “I took this from the body of a Blackwater mercenary from America.” He further explained that he knew this because he examined the body for documents and found ID that showed the man was from Texarkana, Arkansas. I wondered silently to myself, what great quantity of money or stupidity had led the man from Texarkana to fight in a war not his, while invading the homeland of other people so distant from his own.
The sniper then said there were many paid mercenaries from U.S. companies fighting for the Kiev government, and he was proud to have killed this one particularly, because he had been accused of rape by a young women. The young man then told me he would fight till they were all dead or went back to where they came from. I do not doubt his words in the least. For as we stared into each others eyes, I saw deep down in him a firm resolve. I am glad that our meeting was at three feet rather than three thousand.
We are turned back by Russian Border Guards
At the border Russian guards refused us entry to the Ukraine area of conflict
We had hoped to be allowed by the Russians to enter into Ukraine so that we could deliver money and goodwill to the refugees so badly treated by the Kiev government, and then to return to Rostov and fly back to the States. The Russian border guard officials were extremely nice to us and showed us every courtesy, but would not allow our entry into Donbass. We were in fact invited into the office of the chief of the border guards and given seats while we talked about our intent to aid the people in Donbass who were suffering. This official quickly shook our hands and complimented us on our “wonderful” efforts. But, he then stated, after a phone call to Moscow by him, that if we entered into Ukraine, we would have to leave by way of Kiev, and could not reenter Russia. We could not accept that proposition, as we were sure that we would not be treated kindly by Kiev’s oligarchs and officials after having helped the refugees that they were driving from their homes and killing almost every day in artillery shelling.5
No military equipment from Russia at the main crossing into Donbass, Ukraine
Max and I were, to say the least, terribly disappointed at not being able to go on to the city of Donetsk where we had hoped to work in assisting refugees and gain more firsthand information about the conflict. Nonetheless, we had done all that we could, so we returned to Rostov with our soldier-guide who had served us so well. Since our guide was to return to his militia unit in two more days, and he knew personally many civilians in distress, the decision was made to give him the money for the refugees that we had collected before our trip. We also gave him Texas and Canadian flags for him to distribute to people along with the money. We wanted the people there in Donbass to know that not everyone in the United States and Canada was a complete fool, believing “news media” reports and warmongering ex-generals’ calls for bodybags.
As I watched, the young men with whom we had traveled, who had been cleared by customs, loaded their bags back on the bus to enter Donbass. I wondered about their future, and that of their families for whom they were fighting. No doubt, if the war continues, some of them will die. It is all so unnecessary, if man were but a better creature than he is.
Our guide and interpreter in the middle, a member of the self-defense forces of Donbass
On our return to Rostov we were greeted once again by our many new friends and invited before our departure for home to go to the Don River for a day of rest. What follows are my final thought on that day and the Russian people.
A Midsummer Night’s Dream on the Banks of the Don River
It all seems like a dream now. We were that day on the banks of a river so far away now, the Don River. The friends, music, food, the couples holding hands and the laughter of little children surrounding us— all sights and sounds familiar to most Americans. But, I was on the other side of the world, in a land I had only heard about in frightful terms as I grew up in the United States during the “Cold War.” Indeed, the word “Russians” for many years always made me think of hiding under my wooden desk during grade school drills for nuclear war. Later in life the thought would occur to me as to why children got ½ inch of wood over their heads, while politicians who would start the war got mountains under which to hide. Clearly, I would conclude, misplaced priorities, it should be the other way around. Mankind would greatly benefit were it so.
The people around me who had brought me to that beautiful spot were foreigners. Or was I perhaps the foreigner? After all I was in their country at the southern tip of Russia, not far from the Sea of Azov. Yet, they treated me as one of them, and I could not have felt more at home than if I had been on Canyon Lake in Texas. I was made to feel welcome— no, so much more than that! I was made to feel wanted. Our new friends had made every effort to make that day both a pleasant and memorable one for the Canadian and the Texan— efforts that were not in vain.
Listening to the music playing in the distance, I suddenly realized the songs drifting my way were in English, and the music was a country music tune. I found myself singing along with the Russians to a Willie Nelson song. The thought occurred to me that many Russians listen to our music, read our classic authors, and just like many Americans nowadays, hate the politicians and government in Washington, D.C. (District of Corruption). Perhaps that is why they like me so much— we hold much in common.
During our visit, we had tried at every opportunity to foster understanding of America and the good people who live there. To help Russians differentiate between the people of the United States and the corrupt government of the United States, I tried to make it clear to them that most Americans are, in fact, good people. I wanted to ensure that they did not hold the decent people of my country responsible for the words of the military general on Fox “news” calling for their husbands, fathers and brothers to be put in bodybags, any more than I held them responsible for the crimes of Stalin.
“We did not say that— the mad General did,” was often my message in one form or another. To my great regret, almost every