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Life With Boris
| Article
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14426 |
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Section : |
MODERN THOUGHT
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| Issue
Date : |
6 / 1988 |
5,294 Words |
| Author
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Carol G. O'Neil
Carol G. O'Neil is a writer who has traveled widely throughout
the Soviet Union. |
When my husband, an officer in the U.S. Marine Corps, announced that he was going to be an assistant naval attaché to the Soviet Union, I thought he was kidding. He wasn't. That tour of duty, from mid-1984 to mid-1986, was to become the most memorable two years of my life. Of all the places we have lived, Moscow was the most difficult. It was also the most interesting. Normal life ceased at the border; as with prison, people talked of being "in" or "out."
In the past year, the news has often focused on the American Embassy in Moscow. With more than a little interest, we have followed each story as it unfolded--the people and places were all so familiar to us. It is obvious that most of the rhetoric about the embassy security, our past relations with Soviet employees (now all fired), or the bugging of the new embassy reflect little knowledge about an American's life in Moscow. As Alice found out in the rabbit hole, nothing was as it seemed.
We found two of the news reports particularly memorable. When congressional fact finders spent a few days in Moscow investigating security measures at the old and new embassies, they stated they felt sorry for anyone who had to live their. These congressmen didn't know the half of it. A few days later, the Soviets charged the United States with planting bugs in the new Soviet embassy in Washington. The news conference and tour to point out the (Canadian-made) microphones was a classic example of the best defense being a good offense. The Soviets' claim of being shocked at suddenly finding these microphones was not impressive.
Victims of Robbery
In Moscow, the phones, apartments, offices and cars of all foreigners were presumed to be bugged. It was taken for granted that our apartments would be entered and our personal property examined. And, of course, the movements of all of us were carefully monitored by the ever-present militia (police), with more than occasional help of KGB surveillants. We knew before we arrived in the Soviet Union that our apartment would be searched at times, and that sometimes things would be stolen. Even though I was prepared, somehow I didn't think it was really going to happen to us. But of course, it did. The first time we knew the apartment had been searched was when "they" left the balcony door open. I was upset for several days; like a robbery victim, I felt I had been violated. Of course, I didn't dare talk about my feelings, because part of the game is trying to outguess them. They might do it more often if they knew it upset me. Judging from the number
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