The Late Escape!

Long shadows began to stretch themselves across the dusty roads of Ashkabad, as the afternoon past into evening. Children ran in play, dogs barked and teams of horses jangled along the dusty ways, returning back from the long days work in the surrounding fields.

In and through the mixed evening and late afternoon shadows there hung an uneasy quiet that every villager knew to be the "governments" watchful eye of oppression. Little by little, it was slowly sealing every village, town and border into a fateful subjection. Gradually, day by day the news and events of the bloody Russian revolution found their way unto this distant southern border village and each day brought further repressions.

Whoever thought, that the great Mother Russia would fall out of the hands of a 1000 year old Czarist dynasty and into the deadly grip of the Bolsheviks and then be taken by the Communists terror? The over whelming uneasiness of these dangerous times were increasing day by day and there was nothing to stop it, absolutely nothing!

For the Petrovonov family the uneasy feeling was nothing new, for they had already been separated from relatives and had been driven from one area to another by the harsh scattering fist of Stalin. They had finally fled to this southern village along the border of Persia and had hidden themselves along with many other scattered refugees who were now fleeing the breath of death across the face of their beloved homeland.

They along with others they knew that soon the terrifying wrath of cruelty would soon descend upon the furthest outreaches of the smallest villages in the south. Already, the borders had been sealed off for many months and the iron walls were growing stronger and taller each day. The near by forest was deep and dark but still home to patrols and guards that kept the desperate thousands from fleeing and crossing the swift river of Atrek which flowed between Persia and Russia.

Many villagers remembered past words from their old wise elders, "That on every border there exists a gate, you just have to know where to look!" Now there, in the village they waited, biding their time searching in secret and in silence. Waiting for the gate that might appear for them, granting them an unknown future but at the same time, one that might offer them safety, from pending doom.

Rumors and stories came everyday carried by new sojourners, and more government soldiers were making their presence known among the villagers each day. Food and labor was being demanded and young girls were no longer safe from abuse and abduction. A slow terror like never before was beginning to grip every humble soul!

Vascili Petrovonov the young father of four had taken extremely harsh work in the forests to possibly discover a route across the border unto refuge. The forest ran to the edge of the river where soldiers camped and stood guard there continuously. But as the swift river narrowed into rushing rapids, eventually disappearing into the canyons the soldiers rarely walked that area knowing that it was impossible for anyone to cross the river there. Yet, in this impossibility a plan of escape began to form in Vascili's desperate mind.

As worse news brought further hopelessness with it, the plan of escape took root in the young fathers heart. One early summer evening after the lower snows had passed and when fields and forest stood with abundant cover, Vascili announced quietly to his entire family, "This would be the very night we shall leave this village and make our escape into Iran." He then instructed his wife Masha to make ready only necessities, set the table for meals just as usual and to make ready the beds and lanterns, as if they were to be found at home.

The dreaded night fell black upon the sleeping village while Vascili led his father and mother and family through the paths of least encounter. Through the early summer wheat fields and on into the lush fresh foliage of the orchards and then into the woods, the family crept silently. The security of home faded into the distance and tension began its rule over this family of eight, including grandfather and grandmother.

The creeping family carefully came to the old log-pulling mule, which had been previously hidden in the dark forest, and there, everything had been readied for a dawn escape over the river. The path to the forest was patrolled nightly, but the family found itself in the shelter of the woods under a cloud-covered night. There in the darkest night, they lay hiding in utter fear of death, begging all powers to watch over them.

The baby Mesha lay snuggled in his mothers garments and the three other children, Ivan 10, Paulvil 8, and Katsya 6, lay comforted with their grandfather and grandmother, as Vascili wondered off into the early morning darkness.

Now and then forest noises and voices sounded near but the family lay undiscovered by unsuspecting eyes. Then when the faintest gray of morning appeared Vascili returned for his family in waiting. They moved cautiously through the underbrush and walked in silent anxiety. Soon they began to hear the roar of the river through the forest and the light of gray began to silhouette the trees in a gray wet mist. Vascili led his family up to the edge of the forest and told them to stay back and remain quiet, "No matter what," as he would make final preparations for the escape.

Masha gathered her family around her and opened the bundle of food that she had brought and grandfather and grandmother comforted the children. As they ate in silence the children shivered and watched through the shadowed trees as their father emerged out of the mists leading the mule harnessed with ropes unto a single yoke.

He then stood the large animal at the edge of the forest, nearest to the rushing waters and motioned to his aged father to come and hold the beast still. When his father had reached the mule, Vascili took a great-coiled rope off the beasts back and secured it through the pulling harness and then walked down towards the rocks near the river. He slowly entered into the water where it was shallowest and directly above large boulders that created somewhat of a calm pool but then the current swiftly ran over rocks and turned white with fury.

The children's eyes watched their father intently, as he waded deeper into the current with the large rope hanging over his shoulder. They could see the current tugging at him but he went slowly, fighting and searching his way through the thick foaming waters. In gasping horror, they saw their father suddenly disappear into the swift currents. Vascili, even with all his hardy strength and precaution, still couldn't hold his stance in the river and near to the middle, he was suddenly swept off his feet and sucked under and carried down river.

Everything seemed lost, there was no way he was going to be able to gain a foothold, but like a miracle, the rope snagged something and his body was jerked tight but still he was held under water. With strength he never knew was his, he pushed himself to one side and there he found a submerged log jammed into large boulders. The water tore at him but with great effort he worked his way onto the rocks and pulled himself into a crevice that seemed to hold him secure. There he choked out the waters and refilled his lungs with the morning mists and then looked back at the forest to see the desperate faces of his entire family. There he sat wondering if this escape would even be possible.

The water was near freezing and it was way stronger than he had anticipated and there was still a long ways to go. The rope bounced in the current but was held tight around his shoulders. If the current did manage to defeat his attempt to cross the river, the rope would be there to pull him back to his desperate family, but also at the same time, return them back to a sure death.

Time was wasting and dawn was well into its final stages of light and if there was to be an escape, it had to be accomplished now. Vascili moved once again along the edge of the bolder and sought footing in the rush of water but none was to be found. The only hope was to push off from the rock and hope that the current would take him into a shallower place, where he could grab hold of something. With all his might he pushed off and began to kick and stroke through the power of the on rushing water. Then when all seemed lost the rushing current drove him into the submerged rocks near shore and he was caught there until he found his footing.

Without hesitation he dragged himself over the rocks until he finally came to the steep rocky banks. There he began Pulling the long reaching rope over the rocks and worked his sopping body along the rushing waters of the new land. His eye darted back across the river to see if there were any soldiers coming along the forests edge, but for now the path was still safe. He knew that time was working against them and much more of it had been lost than he had expected.

Drenched in ice water, beaten to a pulp, worn out and already exhausted, with a raging river flowing between him and his family, Vascili somehow began to taste the faint sweetness of victory. Now in a great hurry he scrambled back up the shore until he had the rope pulled tight across the slower waters and it was now secured to a solid tree root. It now dangled over the surface of the foamy white waters and became the tiny bridge over impossibility.

The seriousness of the scene framed itself with all the doubts known to men and they were all dangling from this tiny rope swaying in the cold early dawn between two countries. While Vascili hunched exhausted he began motioning to his family to begin their crossing by holding onto the rope and pulling themselves across. Grandfather had already tied the rope onto several trees and had taken the boys to the edge of the river. Vascili looked across the river to see his father hugging his grand sons goodbye, before he encouraged them to take hold of the rope. Vascili waved frantically for the children to hurry up their journey across the river. His first son Ivan waded into the icy waters and in terrifying fright of the roaring river began to back step, but was soon met by his on coming younger brother Paulvil. He then remembered his fathers' prayers and words of courage that had been quietly spoken the night before. He then looked to his fathers waving hands and again slowly moved one hand over the other, pulling himself through the swift river. The river pulled at his body, burning icy, his hands ached but he held on and drew closer to the far shore. His feet would touch bottom now and then as the rope stretched and dipped down, but there was no holding his place in the river, for the waters gushed against him and his body was nearly dragged into the rushing currents.

Vascili in pure fright waded out into the water and grabbed his first son and helped him to shore. Then came Paulvil along the line of life, crying with fright and finally arriving into his fathers' dearest arms. He placed him on shore with Ivan and told them to go into the forest out of sight, try to keep warm and wait for them.

Grandfather was now helping Masha into the water. She had the baby Mesha strapped around her chest and waist with several smaller blankets. As the rope bowed under pressure the river washed around her body. She struggled to keep herself as high as possible out of the freezing water and still manage to somehow keep her footing on the stones but it was near impossible in the middle. Vascili could hear his little son crying over the rush of water as the blankets soaked through.

Suddenly, and without warning the blanket tore loose from Masha and baby Mesha went hurtling into the rushing waters, disappearing down into the white and green of this heartless river. A high-pitched scream went out from Masha who frantically searched with her terrified eyes for her precious child as she now dangled by one hand from the rope in stricken horror. Vascili fell in the river with dread, knowing in his heart that the river had just claimed their beautiful little son and was now near to taking his wife also unless he did something fast!

The only thing he could do was to cry out to her to continue, and for a moment she just stared at the rushing waters, as if in decision to possibly follow her beloved child who was swallowed alive by the freezing waters! Vascili was paralyzed with fear, held in a helpless grip of terror and watched as time stood still. Then by some unseen force, like unto a rushing breeze Masha chose life and turned away and with bitter sobs she made her way to her husbands calls of encouragement. She fell crying hysterically into his arms and they together stood in the new land frozen in time weeping bitter tears!

Death was nothing new to them, for they had lived a harsh life in a harsh new Russia and for the last five years had seen many deaths. Some from the bullets of rifles, some from the bayonets of ruthless soldiers and many from disease. An older brother to Vascili had perished in a village purge and Masha's own parents had been killed before the families own eyes, but why such tragedy, when they were so close to long awaited escape? A deep anguish flowed like the swift river itself into Vascili"s heart, as he realized and accepted the blame for this terrible loss.

As they stood there in that moment of grief, a shout from across the river came to their ears. They looked to see even a greater tragedy greet their eyes, for soldiers were swarming out of the thickets, only a short distance up river from grandfather and grandmother and beloved 6-year-old Katsya! Soon, the soldiers realized what they had come upon and within moments the soldiers rushed upon grandfather, who was trying to get little Katsya onto the rope. One soldier lifted his rifle and shouted commands. Grandfather stood motionless for an instant and then the old weary man lifted Katsya down off the rope which stretched to life beyond.

Frantic Vascili shoved his young wife up the bank into the safety of the forest, just as the soldiers noticed their movements on the far side of the river. Shots rang out and immediately bullets were ricocheting off the rocks and whizzing through the trees, nearly counting a greater toll. Vascili shouted to his family to run deeper into the woods and that he would soon catch them.

He then darted from tree to tree until he came to where the rope was tied and there he watched. The soldiers held their guns to the head of his father and mother and one soldier lifted up his most precious daughter to the edge of the bayonet, as if in a bargaining jester. The enraged soldiers wanted Vascili to return, for the life of his child!

Vascili could see his mother laying upon the ground weeping in a heap, he knew not if she had been wounded and he then saw his father with his long gray beard looking across to Vascili with his dark sad eyes and slowly and imperceptibly shook his head back and forth in a simple…NO! This single gesture sealed the fate of Vascili's family forever and nothing could have been harder for the grandfather than to have told his son to go!

Knowing there was nothing he could do, Vascili undid the rope from the tree and let it slide into the swift current. Then and there, he knew that he would never see all his family together again and crawled away in search of the rest of his family.

More shots rang out and bark flew in pieces, but Vascili ran without looking back and soon the roar of the river was swallowed up by the silence of the new land and the thick forest. Vascili called out desperately for Masha, and in the distance he heard her cries. He came upon them huddled together in a lighted opening and fell among them and joined them in hot bitter tears. Their sweetest Mesha had perished in an instant, grandfather and grandmother were now captive and their loveliest daughter Katsya was in the grips of the Russian army. O, what a bitter flight, O what had they done? The family lay shivering cold in the gray morning of an Iranian forest, and Vascili's family was nearly destroyed.

Was there anything worth this cost? What disaster had befallen them and what were they going to do, Vascili thought through the vale of anguish. Distant shots awakened them from their dreadful despair and they collected themselves and began to stumble further into the unknown forest. The young weeping father drenched his son with hot tears as he carried his crying Paulvil, and the moans and cries of this weary train of crying refugees soon attracted the attention of Iranian border guards, who quickly fell upon them. When they saw this frantic family of weary sojourners, dirty and ragged, soaked to the bone, their stern hearts were altered with some compassion and questioned them without the threat and barrel of their guns.

After hearing about the daring escape the Iranian guards kindly offered food and warmth to the family. The border guards brought them to a small village where they were released and given rest and when they felt up to it, they were sent onto a distant village where many other Russian refugees had been collected and so the Petrovonov family, or at least what was left of it, began their new life!

EPILOGUE: By the interviews of this author, this story was collected into a combination of events, arranged into one story. These events took place with many Russian families in the 1920's, while escaping the reign of terror in Russia and fleeing into Persia. These families along with many others lived in Persia for many years and eventually migrated to America. The daughter Katsya in this story was eventually discovered to be alive and living with a Russian family, which took her in after her grandparents perished. She was brought to America for a visit some fifty years later and introduced to her family and surviving community. Even though they had corresponded by letter, this author cannot write of her response, except that she was a quiet Russian communist citizen.

Contact Author at:

michael@ticktalk.net