The Aeroflot flight from Helsinki landed at Moscow's Sheremetyevo International at just about 1:00 PM on December 31, 1989. Passport Control was slow as everyone was scrutinized for several minutes by security officers. Staring back I remember that the officer studying my passport had fuzzy hair on his cheeks. I wondered if he shaved yet. Custom's Control was a breeze - "Nothing to declare." The Russians at this point would let just about anything that wouldn't explode into the country. I was collected by a representative of my host, the Pereslavl-Zalessky School District and a driver. We climbed into a minivan and were off - traveling north up the Yaroslavl highway. The drive to P-Z was over two hours of bouncing and swerving on a pot holed, two/three land road packed with roaring trucks belching clouds of exhaust. But kilometers of the ride were as always Russian beautiful - snow covered landscape, stands of white birch trees and church cupolas rising above villages in the frosty distance.
By the time I arrived at Yulia and Yuri's apartment I was starting to fade. The "rush" from arriving in Moscow was giving way to fatigue. Tea and snacks revived me and Yuri and I were then off to the "banya". This military banya had its own building and was restricted to officers. New Year's Eve - it was packed with men and their sons. After shedding our clothes we (there were now four of us) approached the door of the steam bath and it sprang open - out poured thirty or forty laughing, yelling men and boys. We rushed in and the bath filled rapidly. Defensively I sat on the bottom of four long benches . The door slammed shut - someone opened the furnace door and threw in a thick three foot log. I was impressed he could lift it. This was followed by a bucket of water. The ensuing shock wave of heat nearly flattened me. Ten minutes later we were out of the bath standing under cold showers. A vodka bottle appeared and we began toasting the New Year and everything else. Now I was getting "severely" tired. We returned to the steam room.
Back at Yulia and Yuri's we had a light supper - a table was covered with delicious dishes accompanied by vodka and wine. Then it was off to a New Year's Eve party at a friend's apartment - more meats, salads, caviar and of course vodka, wine and brandy. Exhausted but realizing that I was the only one in attendance who was not an officer or a wife I was careful to - as the vulgar expression goes "keep my shit together". Russians drink a lot - the only defense against alcohol annihilation is to either stop drinking which many hosts find exceedingly rude or to keep eating. I cotinued consuming food and measured drink.
New Year's Eve 1989 became 1990, the year before the extinction of the USSR. Five men, all slightly inebriated (the truly wasted had disappeared) sat around a table in a dimly lit room
having a dark conversation. Assume you are a fire control officer at an ICBM installation. And assume that a thermonuclear war erupts and amid a nightmare of firestorms and lethal radiation the earth is being destroyed, its population annihilated. Deterrence has failed. At this point you receive the order to "FIRE" your missile. Would you? A US Air Force study was cited that indicated in this situation perhaps 25% of US fire control officers would refuse to launch their weapons. I remember being surprised and impressed by the sympathy for the 25% that seemed to roll around the table. Then the only American present noted that 75% would fire - the agony of a dying planet be damned. There was some nodding, a depressed moment of silence and we moved on to another grim subject.
Sometime after 5:00 AM I remember staring down at a single bed - a combination of jet lag, a great banya, vodka, wine, brandy and the lateness of the hour had taken their toll. I aimed and then collapsed face down deciding along the way to skip the disrobing function. At 9:05 AM I was capable of lifting my head briefly - to check the time - then back to sleep.
Bruno
