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children were giving memorized re–
citations in honor of the dead -
many of whom were undoubtedly
their grandmothers and grand–
fathers.
At the opposite end of the age
spectrum, clusters of elderly widows,
babushkas,
sat on stone benches
throughout the park, sorne weeping,
others again silently contemplating
the calamity that struck down be–
loved husbands, sons, brothers and
other loved ones.
As I walked around the Piska-
cauunt
in
ARussian
Bear
HUU
lt
has often been said that , in our
age of technology, the people of the
world are becoming more alike. A
visitor to the Soviet Union. how–
ever, appreciates the fact that there
still are differences.
At the end of our first day in Len–
ingrad, our National Press Club
tour group was enjoying a typical
Russian mea! which consisted of
meat, cooked vegetables, black
bread; and the ever present potato.
The dining room in the Hotel
Leningrad consisted of a main floor
and a balcony . Our meals were
served on the balcony. Over Russian tea,
Gene Hogberg and I were discussing
the events of the day when a group of
local Russians on the main floor be–
gan to chant a word very foreign to
our ears,
gorka.
Our guide told us a
wedding reception was taking place
and the guests were shouting the
word which means " bitter." They
would continue to do so until the
brideand groom kissed and made the
wine sweet.
I
told my traveling companion
revsky grounds, my mind condi–
tioned by the somber Russian music
playirig over loudspeakers spaced
throughout the area, 1 tried to com–
prehend that enormity of the events
that had produced such a monu–
ment to man's inhumanity. But I
found I could no more grasp the
totality of Piskarevsky than I could
the rernains of the Dachau concen–
tration camp just outside Munich,
West Germany, which
J
had seen on
a blustery auturnn day two and one
half years earlier.
Both scenes are equally mind-
that it would be a terrific opportu–
nity for us to take sorne pictures of
the wedding reception.
After locating someone from the
hotel staff who could translate for
me. l proceeded down to the wed–
ding reception and presented the
gift , an American record album,
which is a highly prized Western
commodity, to the bride and groom
with the request that I be able to
take a few pictures. They were more
than receptive, and to rny surprise
the bridegroom asked both of us to
remain as their guests. After in–
troductions all around, Gene and I
enjoyed the company of two young
friends of the bridegrooin who
spoke very good English. They were
overjoyed - in fact, almost ecstatic
- to have the opportunity to discuss
a wide range of subjects with Amer–
icans face to face. One of the young
men, a 21-year-old soldier, could
hardly believe we were from the
United States - which to him was
virtually the sarne as if we had come
from a far-off planet. We were the
boggling. Perhaps George Kennan,
former U. S. ambassador to the So–
viet Union, expressed my own feel–
ings best when he wrote, after
visiting Piskarevsky just shortly be–
fore we did:
"Here in these mounds is a silent
reproach that goes beyond the pas–
sions of the war itself and applies to
the weakness and follies of mankind
as a whole, so that attempts to relate
it to the wickedness of one política!
regime or the virtues of another ap–
pear only as trivial manifestations of
poor taste."
first Americans he
had ever met.
Amidst the small
talk there was an
abundance of food ,
vodka , dancing
and laughter all
around.
As the evening
proceeded. a very
distinguis hed , el–
derly Russian gen–
tleman carne over to my chair
and introduced himself in Russian.
He wore a giant cluster ofmedals on
the left side of his chest and one
very distinct meda! below his right
lapel which indicated he was a hero
of the Soviet Union. One of our
young translators informed us that
this was 74-year-old retired Lieuten–
ant-General Nickolai Multan, one
of the most honored defenders of
Leningrad during World War Il,
and father of the bridegroom. He
wished to make a toast. In dynamic
style enunciating and emphasizing
every word (in Russian, of course)
the general saluted our native coun–
try and praised the joint American–
Soviet struggle against Fascism.
When he was finished , he
grabbed my hand and shook it
heartily, then put his arms around
my sboulders and gave me a real
Russian bear hug and a kiss on the
cheek. In response, I did tbe same.
Despite the language barrier. 1 knew
we were friends.
- Dexter H. Faulkner