Tang Yu-Lin (?-1989)

While the history of Clemente and the Pordenone Mafia might have been extraordinary, more extraordinary still was the story of Spaso House's other international employee, Tang Yu-Lin.  Tang arrived in the Soviet Union in the early 1930's, working as personal servant for an American correspondent who had transferred from Beijing to Moscow.  Tang and his co-worker, Chin Pao-fang, were hired in 1939, a few years after diplomatic relations were established between the United States and the Soviet Union.  From that point on, Tang and Chin worked loyally at the Residence for the rest of their lives.  They were even featured in a Life Magazine picture essay on Spaso House in 1947 , when they were working as “No. 1 boy” (Chin) and “No. 2 boy” (Tang) for Ambassador and Mrs. Walter Bedell Smith.  Chin passed away in 1972, during the time of my predecessor, Marty Wenick, but Tang, although increasingly infirm with age, continued to work as one of Spaso's butlers.  At some point in his long tenure, Tang married a Russian woman who lived in an apartment building on the Rublevskoye Shosse. 

Despite the fact that he was married, and sent most of his income to his wife and her children from a previous marriage, Tang himself chose to live almost full time in a very spare basement apartment in Spaso House.  One reason why he did this, I think, was because he was a little afraid of venturing out from Spaso, and the American Embassy's protection.  Following the Communist takeover of China in 1949, Tang found that he had become a stateless person, and he feared what might happen to him if he was picked up by the Soviet police.  In addition, Tang increasingly feared (irrationally) that if he left Spaso House for any length of time, the Americans might not let him back in.  He lived for his work.

Despite the fact that he had lived in the Soviet Union for nearly five decades, Tang had very few Soviet friends, and never learned to speak Russian properly.  When he did speak, it was in a kind of broken pidgin Russian, and in the feminine gender.  Always respectful, his signature statement was "Pazhala" (Пожалуйста).  It was an endearing quality, and despite Tang's fears, he was never in danger of being fired.  Everyone loved him.

In 1979, toward the end of my first tour in Moscow, Tang's health problems began to overwhelm him, and it was clear that he could not work full time.  Before I left, I worked out an arrangement with Budget and Fiscal to consider Tang as having retired, granting him a monthly stipend equivalent to his current pay.  I told Tang that he didn't have to work full time if he didn't feel up to it, but that he would always have a room at Spaso, and he would continue to collect his pay.  Tang was grateful beyond words. 



Visiting with Tang at Spaso, Codel O'Neill April 1985

 John Feeney once told me he had visited Tang in his basement apartment to make sure he was all right, and that Tang’s quarters were just as bare and spartan as before.  John noticed a single sheet of flypaper on the wall that had captured several roaches.  By moving his forefingers about his head like antennae, John gave a worthy impression of the bugs, as they moved their feelers about and unsuccessfully attempted to extricate themselves.  I reflected at the time that they were not unlike Tang himself, stuck in the basement and not really knowing how to leave.

In 1989, I returned to Moscow on my second tour.  By that time, Tang had finally decided to move to his wife's apartment, and was bedridden.  He had broken his leg in 1984, and had lain undiscovered in his Spaso basement apartment for two days.  Even Tang agreed it was time to retire permanently.  John Beyrle came out on an advance for the Secretary, and as he and I were old friends of Tang, we decided to go out and visit him.  Tang was overjoyed to see us both.  He sat up in his bed, and our picture was taken sitting with him (unfortunately, that picture is now lost in a storage box somewhere).  Tang said it was one of the happiest days of his life to know that people still remembered him.

A few months later, Tang passed away.  No one knows how old he was, as Tang himself could not recall the year of his birth.  It is almost certain, however, that he was nearly 90.  Tang was buried in a traditional Soviet wooden casket in the Vagankovskoye Cemetery, the same cemetery where Vladimir Vysotsky is buried.  I attended the funeral as the Embassy's representative, and Ambassador Matlock, also an old friend of Tang's, sent flowers.  It was a sad day for everyone, but bittersweet as well: America will never have a more loyal or devoted employee.

Life Magazine link: http://books.google.ru/books?id=ZEgEAAAAMBAJ&pg=PA144&hl=ru&source=gbs_toc_r&cad=2#v=onepage&q&f=false 

Surgeon-General C. Everett Koop 1916-2013

I got to know Dr. Koop fairly well while escorting him around Leningrad in 1986.  He was a man of principle and integrity, and quite the anti-smoking campaigner.  This led to some humorous moments with his Soviet counterparts, who were, shall we say, not quite so dedicated to the cause.  Koop got the last laugh.  He outlived them all, by several decades in some cases.

Surgeon General Koop. (excerpt from Chapter 11.8, Leningrad 1985-987)

One group that did arrive to do some work was led by C. Everett Koop, who at the time was the U.S. Surgeon General.  The Leningrad Medical Administration laid on a lengthy series of tours of its best hospitals, focusing on treatment of lung cancer, which was of special concern to Dr. Koop.  In briefing his hosts before the visit, I stressed that Dr. Koop was leading an anti-smoking campaign in the U.S., and if at all possible, it would be wise to refrain from smoking in his presence.   This was quite a tall order for the Leningrad doctors.  Nearly every one of them was a chain smoker, and there was no such thing as an anti-smoking campaign in the Soviet Union (although Gorbachev, of course, was pursuing a very active anti-alcohol campaign at the time).  Despite their best efforts, the doctors broke down at the very first meeting.  After about 20 minutes, the head of the Medical Administration lit up a cigarette, and was followed immediately by every other Soviet at the table.  The room soon reeked with the smell of poor quality Soviet tobacco.  Despite his obvious discomfort, Dr. Koop kept a straight face and bore up diplomatically.  A couple of days later, as we all saw Dr. Koop and his party off at the Moscow train station, the head of the Leningrad Medical Administration congratulated me on a successful visit, lit up yet another disgusting Pamir cigarette, and promised to stay in touch ("Созвонимся").  I never saw him again.



Mark Palmer 1941-2013

 

Mark Palmer was my second boss in the Foreign Service.  He was about as different from my first boss, Don Tice, as one could possibly be and I benefited from the experience.  Looking even younger than his 34 years, Mark was a high-flyer, an officer who was obviously on the fast track to an Ambassadorship.  Normally dressed in a bow tie and sport jacket and adopting a casual air, Mark was brilliant, unorthodox and politically very savvy.  He had a charismatic gaze, a mischievous smile and a distinctive sort of "Ummh" sounding laugh that was his trademark. 

Robie Marcus Hooker Palmer was born in Ann Arbor, Michigan in 1941.  His father was a submariner in World War II and Mark says that he considered the Navy as a career, but could not pass the physical due to colorblindness.  Mark graduated from Yale in 1963.  While there, he spent a great deal of time in Soviet studies and went to Kiev on a three-month University exchange program.  He was also very active in the civil rights movement as a member of SNCC and CORE.

Mark joined the Foreign Service right out of college and spent his first tour in New Delhi from 1964 to 1966.  There he met his wife Pushee (actual first name Sushma), the daughter of an aristocratic Indian family.  Pushee, who was Mark's age and quite beautiful, spoke very precise Indian-accented English.  She followed Mark throughout his career, but also made her own way as a PhD in nutrition, eventually winding up at the National Academy of Sciences next to the State Department.  Pushee was extremely bright and well-educated and sometimes people thought she had a condescending manner, but, speaking personally, we always got on well together.

Returning to the Department in 1966, Mark served a short stint in EUR/RPM and then was assigned to Moscow via language training in Garmisch.  Moscow was Mark's dream post: he spent his first year there as a Consular Officer and his final year as the Human Rights Officer in Political.  Mark really got into the spirit of the job, making a number of friends in the Soviet dissident community and involving himself in Moscow life as much as possible, even to the extent of purchasing a perfectly horrible Moskvich, a true product of the Soviet auto industry that broke down more than it ran.  Eventually, Mark came to the unwelcome attention of the KGB.  Once, in January 1971, he and Pushee were accosted by KGB thugs outside the Taganka Theater and physically threatened.  The incident made the New York Times and enhanced Mark's reputation as an uncompromising exponent of human rights.  In telling the story in later years, Mark noted with his trademark chuckle that at one point in the confrontation he actually found himself biting the ankle of one of his KGB minders.  Of such stuff, legends are made.

In 1972, Mark hit the big time: he returned to the Department to work as a speechwriter first for Secretary Rogers and then for Secretary Kissinger.  Mark was a brilliant writer and his career, which had once threatened to stall out in New Delhi, went into overdrive, with promotions and awards coming thick and fast.

In 1975, Mark was assigned to Belgrade as Political Counselor, succeeding Don Tice.  His appointment had originally been opposed by Ambassador Toon, who thought he was too young.  Toon also objected to the fact that Mark was stretching into the assignment as an O-4.  I remember once Toon showed me Mark's letter of introduction, an essential part of the protocol of new assignments in those days.  I was struck by the grace and style with which the letter was written and told Toon so.  Toon just harrumphed and moved on to the next issue. 

I am sure Toon would have gotten on well with Mark, but as it turned out, the Ambassador unexpectedly departed before Mark arrived and a new Ambassador, Laurence Silberman, had already presented his credentials.  The day Mark flew in, he had the entire Political Section out to a local restaurant for dinner.  He told us that he had heard that there were difficulties at the Embassy, but that this had to stop.  We all had to support the Ambassador.  Some, like me, took Mark's advice to heart.  Others did not.  In the end, Mark won the new Ambassador's respect and saved us all a lot of grief. 

Mark's arrival marked a new style of work for Political and a new substantive approach as well.  Mark wanted us all to get out of the office and travel around the country more, and this is what I did.  Some of my best reporting resulted from these trips.  Mark was a careful editor of my stuff, improving my own writing enormously.  Mark redecorated Don's old office, putting on a coat of yellow pastel paint (Spaso House Yellow) and replacing Don's desk with a rather spare and elegant table.  I can see him now in my mind's eye, sitting at his desk and perched over one of my cables, grunting in agreement or disagreement and making liberal use of his editing pen.

Mark would also take me on meetings he had with various diplomats around town, and he introduced me to our counterparts at the Soviet Embassy.  I can remember to this day the first meeting we had in the “foreigners” reception room at the Soviet Embassy.  We munched on the same petrified Sushki and drank the same vile coffee that I would encounter during my Moscow tours at the Soviet MFA.  The Soviets, knowing Mark spoke good Russian, would try to engage him in their native language, but Mark would fight back, saying, "You'll make me forget my Serbian if you keep this up," and then the Soviets would smile and continue on in Russian. 

As they did in Moscow, Mark and Pushee went to as many plays and other cultural events as they could and Pushee actually got a local academic degree while in Belgrade.  Mark and Pushee also were heavily into the social scene and frequently were seen at Belgrade's limited selection of restaurants.  This latter habit was almost Mark's undoing, as he came down with hepatitis after eating some bad fish at the Dva Ribara.  For several weeks, Mark was confined to his bed and Political's officers, including myself, would have to go out twice a day to bring him the cable take and fill him in on what was new at the Embassy.  Fortunately, Mark had a strong constitution and recovered relatively quickly.

I left Belgrade in 1976 for the Operations Center, but Mark continued on with Silberman and then Ambassador Larry Eagleburger, until 1978, when he was assigned as Office Director of PM/DCA (Disarmament and Arms Control).  He recruited me to come to work for him there and I was with him in PM/DCA for about 18 months.  Unfortunately for Mark, when the Reagan Administration came in, the new PM Assistant Secretary was Rick Burt, a New York Times reporter who was friendly with Zbigniew Brzezinski and on the opposite end of the arms control divide from Mark.  Burt summarily fired Mark and renamed PM/DCA as one his first official acts (it became RSA, or Regional Security Affairs).  Curiously, after spending a year in exile in P, Mark followed Burt down to the European Bureau to work as one of his Deputy Assistant Secretaries in 1982.  This was a piece of good luck for me, since I had since moved to the Soviet Desk, and Mark in effect became my front office supervisor.  It has always been a bit of a mystery how Mark rehabilitated himself with Burt, but, there is no denying that Mark was politically very adept, and he probably had Eagleburger’s support for the position as well. 

As far as I was concerned, Mark was a breath of fresh air for the Desk.  While he was interested in Eastern Europe, he was more focused on the Soviet Union, an appropriate attitude considering the depths to which our relations were plunging.  Mark had also remade himself a little bit and acquired a bit more of a conservative coloration.  He supported the Stoessel Missions, for instance, and he also promoted the activities of the Soviet Nationalities Committee, which I chaired.  While the results of both projects might be debatable, these and other activities cemented Mark’s status among Reagan conservatives, and helped him survive the intensely political atmosphere in the Reagan Administration.

On one occasion, Mark and I took a field trip to the Hoover Institute to attend a gathering of Soviet émigrés, dissidents, and academics involved in nationalities issues.  I recall little of the multi-day meeting, except for the fact that the lectures given by the various academics were incredibly boring, a price we had to pay for the outstanding lunches and dinners provided by Continental Catering.  It did, however, expose me to the thinking in émigré and academic circles about prospects for the breakup of the Soviet Union, and in particular for Ukrainian independence.  It seemed to me that most of the conference participants were wild-eyed dreamers and that prospects for Ukrainian independence, in particular, were bleak.  A few years later, however, these predictions came true, much to everyone’s surprise.  Whatever Mark may have thought about their opinions, he kept his own counsel.  It was fashionable at the time to humor anti-Soviet nationalists, and that is what we did, although some of the people we received at the State Department were of questionable character at best, in some cases having associated themselves a bit too closely with the Nazis during World War II.  I was somewhat relieved, therefore, when the NSC decided to deep-six the Nationalities Committee and take over the issue itself.

Mark and I also had a good deal of fun together during his tenure as DAS.  One day, we invited the dour Soviet DCM, Oleg Sokolov, in for a meeting in Mark’s office.  Sokolov, who was used to getting his head scrubbed by Mark, was amazed to find that we had prepared a surprise birthday party for him.  I’m not sure Sokolov was able to take it all in, but his more liberal deputies were certainly encouraged by the gesture.  On another occasion, Mark invited me over to his Georgetown townhouse for a black tie New Year’s Eve dinner with a glittering assemblage of Washington’s elite, including Foreign Policy editor Charles William Maynes.  We danced until dawn, and ended up in some Georgetown restaurant just as the sun came up.

In 1986, Mark was appointed as Ambassador to Hungary, a post he held until January 1990.  He was a remarkable Chief of Mission, in his element, promoting democracy, lending support to local human rights activists and helping introduce American businessmen to the "gold rush" in Eastern Europe, as he called it.  Most people praised Mark's work in Budapest and he seemed poised for even greater things in the Service, certainly at least one more Ambassadorship.  Mark was working hard and his chief ambition was to return to Moscow as Ambassador after his tour in Budapest.  Unfortunately, it was not to be.

Mark was one of those special types of career officers who seemed to have friends in every political camp.  Some people viewed him as a neocon, others as a liberal.  His political coloration seemed to adapt itself to each succeeding boss, but in a way that allowed him to retain his independence of thought and his unorthodox manner.  I knew few in the Service who were as politically sure-footed as Mark, but even he acquired enemies over a long career.  In particular, the new Secretary of State, James Baker, had had a few run-ins with Mark years before and there was bad blood between them.  In addition, Senator Jesse Helms had it in for Mark because he thought that his protégé, David Funderburk, had been undermined by Mark when Funderburk served as Ambassador to Romania 1981-85.  Mark had stayed under the radar during his confirmation hearings for Hungary, but Helms was still out there lying in the weeds, waiting for the right opportunity to do him some mischief.  With neither the Secretary nor the Chairman of the Foreign Relations Committee in his corner, Mark's chances of going to Moscow as Ambassador were nonexistent and he was told as much in 1989.

In late 1989, Mark was approached by Ron Lauder and five other billionaires ("gorillas," as Mark called them) and offered the position of CEO in a brand-new startup company, the Central Europe Development Corporation.  The position promised to be a real moneymaker and Mark, who knew that his Foreign Service career was facing significant roadblocks, agreed to sign on.  He consulted with the Department, but got bad advice from Legal and was given the impression that he could stay on as Ambassador until the March elections in Hungary, with no conflict of interest, provided he recused himself from economic and trade matters.  Unfortunately, a story in the Washington Post made it appear that there might be impropriety and Secretary Baker blew his top.  Acting on the uninformed advice of Press Spokesman Margaret Tutwiler, he forced Mark to resign immediately, under a cloud, in January 1990.  A subsequent investigation found that Mark had done nothing wrong, but neither the Department nor Baker ever apologized.

Mark was devastated, but picked himself up and began work for Lauder's outfit.  On reflection, the whole affair was not just a catastrophe for Mark, but for the Service in general.  If Mark had been given Moscow, he would have gone out in August 1991, succeeding Jack Matlock.  Indeed, what better person could have been there when the attempted coup against Gorbachev took place?  It makes one wonder how our policy toward Russia might have differed, had Mark been there in the early 1990s.  It might also have changed the trajectory of my own career.  Just before I was about to leave Moscow in July, 1991, Jim Collins, who was then the DCM, came to me and asked if I might consider staying on for a year or two as Political Counselor.  Had I known that Mark was going to be the Ambassador, I would have never turned down such an offer. 

As it was, Mark went to work for Lauder and I went to the War College.  The next time we met was in Kiev in 1996, when I was DCM and Mark was scouting for media acquisition opportunities for Central European Media (CME), one of the satellite companies of Lauder's operation.  CME eventually bought a few media properties in Ukraine, but got into legal trouble with rival American investors, who sued CME unsuccessfully in New York.  CME’s operations in Ukraine were also tainted by the fact that their chief media partner was Vadim Rabinovich, who had been denied a visa to the United States on the grounds that he had serious organized crime connections.  Eventually the difficulties of operating in Central Europe forced Lauder and Mark to pull up stakes and move the headquarters of their operation to Berlin, where Mark oversaw the building of the Checkpoint Charlie Office Complex.

Returning to Washington, Mark remained active and an activist.  He was President of the Capital Development Company in Washington, DC and a member of the board of Freedom House, among other things.  In 2003, he wrote a book entitled "Breaking the Real Axis of Evil: How to Oust the World's Last Dictators by 2025."  The book cemented his credentials among neocons, but generally got lost in the uproar over Iraq and probably didn't have the impact that he had hoped.  We reestablished e-mail contact in 2007 and Mark seems as chipper and young, as ever. 

I was terribly shocked to hear of Mark’s untimely death from cancer on January 28, 2013.  Mark was one of those people who always looked younger than his years.  I will always remember him as the precocious boy diplomat, whose energy and drive eventually won over many of his harshest critics.  He will be missed.

Mark’s reminiscences are contained in a voluminous interview given to the Oral History Project.

Note: excerpts are from chapters 11.3 Belgrade (1974-1976) and 11.7 Soviet Desk (1981-1985).

February 14 is the 34th anniversary of the assassination of Spike Dubs, our Ambassador in Kabul.  I was in Moscow at the time, serving as Ambassador's Aide to Malcolm Toon.  At the time, I had no idea that Dubs and Toon were close friends, but I was soon to find out.

Spike Dubs. 

On Valentine's Day, 1979, I was in the middle of preparations for the traditional Spaso House Valentine's Day reception for the Embassy staff when I got word from Press and Culture that some important news about Afghanistan had just come over the AP ticker.  I went down to the press room and discovered that our Ambassador in Kabul, Adolf "Spike" Dubs, had been kidnapped by Afghan militants.  As I stood there reading that news item, another one came over the ticker reporting that Dubs had just been killed in the course of a rescue attempt.  Without thinking, I ripped the story off the ticker and ran up to give the news to Ambassador Toon.  Toon looked at the wire stories, and, for the first time ever, I noted that he was in a considerable emotional state.  His face turned a bright red, as it did when he was agitated, and he could not speak.  Finally, he thanked me for getting him the news, and I left to continue reception preparations at Spaso House.

Only later did I learn that Ambassador and Mrs. Toon had served with Spike Dubs in Moscow, and that they had been the best of friends for many years, and that Spike himself had been Chargé in Moscow a few years before.  I felt terrible about having sprung the news on Toon with so little preparation, but there was nothing to be done.  That evening, as guests gathered for the Valentine's Day reception, Ambassador and Mrs. Toon did not appear.  Finally, I got word from the Ambassador to tell everyone that he and Betty would not be coming down for the reception.  They were just too broken up about Spike Dubs' death.  DCM Mark Garrison and his wife Betty filled in for them, and the reception continued on until late in the evening, with only a very few of the guests aware of why the Toons had not joined the reception.  It was a very sad night.  I told myself I would never go to Afghanistan -- it was just too unsafe and too unpredictable.  How little I knew.

Ten years ago, I accompanied Ambassador Sandy Vershbow down to Volgograd to participate in the 60th Anniversary celebration of the Soviet Victory at Stalingrad. As we approach the 70th Anniversary celebrations, I thought it would be appropriate to put up on the blog my E-Gram on the 60th Anniversary festivities. Most of the veterans I met with, including General Valentin Varennikov, are now gone, but one thing about the celebration has not changed: Vladimir Putin is still President.

 

Russia Update: Friday, February 14, 2003

 

Stalingrad's 60th Anniversary

Over the February 1-2 weekend, Russia held numerous commemorative ceremonies honoring the 60th anniversary of the Victory at Stalingrad.



Ambassador and Mrs. Vershbow (right) attend the foreign

delegation wreath-laying at the Heroes Monument in Volgograd














Wreaths and flowers were laid at the graves of military heroes buried near the Kremlin Wall, and cities and towns all across Russia marked the occasion in their own way.  The most significant observances, however, were held in Volgograd itself, the site of the 200-day battle that some say determined the outcome of World War Two. [1]  In the days leading up to the ceremonies, thousands of representatives from all over Russia, and a couple of dozen foreign delegations, converged on the "Hero City." [2]  Once there, they paid their respects to the 2.7 million soldiers and civilians killed in the campaign, [3] and suitably commemorated a victory that was both hard-won and emblematic of an era rapidly passing into history.
 
As delegations gathered for the sexagesimal celebration of the Soviet Union's victory over Nazi forces at Stalingrad, two questions remained uppermost in the minds of the organizers of festivities: first, would the weather cooperate, and second, would President Vladimir Putin?  In the end, the weather was good on Sunday, the one day that counted most, and Putin, despite many rumors to the contrary, flew into Volgograd on Sunday afternoon to spend six hours participating in most of the main events.   The Volgograd authorities and Governor Nikolay Kirillovich Maksyuta were much relieved.
 

 

 Ambassador and Mrs. Vershbow with two veterans of the Battle of Stalingrad
 
The 60th Anniversary celebrations of the victory at Stalingrad were of particular interest for two reasons.  First, this is probably the last time that a major contingent of veterans of the Stalingrad battle will be represented at a ten-year anniversary, as the older generation is rapidly passing from the scene.  The average age of surviving Stalingrad veterans is 83.  The few hundred that participated this year will be whittled down to only a few dozen by the time the 70th Anniversary celebration rolls around.  Second, in recent months the symbols of Stalingrad have been used by the Communists and various hard-liners as a political football, a ready tool in their early campaign efforts to make a good showing in the December 2003 Duma elections and the March 2004 Presidential contest.  Putin's quick dash to Volgograd on Sunday was part of his counterstrategy to claim the symbols of Stalingrad for his own campaign and his own supporters, and to shut the door on the Communists.  The President's efforts, however brief, appear to have been largely successful. [4]

The American delegation, led by Ambassador Alexander Vershbow, arrived in Volgograd on Friday January 31, a little earlier than most, in order to meet with local businessmen and exchange program alumni and to conduct other outreach activities. 
 
Even though the U.S. delegation's arrival was delayed for over nine hours due to bad weather, the decision to go early turned out to be a good one.  The weather was truly abysmal for most of the four days we were in town.  It snowed heavily in the mornings, shutting down airports for hundreds of miles around.  The snow then melted rapidly into slush, or "slyakot," and the evening skies around Volgograd were blanketed in a bone-chilling fog.  Overnight there was a hard freeze, and in the morning the process started all over again.  Although the special trains carrying Stalingrad veterans and representatives of Hero-Cities arrived in Volgograd on time, planes carrying the bulk of the delegations, including most of the foreigners, did not filter into town until Saturday evening or early Sunday morning, and the initial ceremonies were therefore sparsely attended.
 

Fortunately for the organizers, the weather cleared for a few hours on Sunday, bathing the military parade and numerous wreathlayings in bright sunshine, before reverting to dismal form on Monday.

The first major event of the victory celebration was the Saturday afternoon "Reception for delegations taking part in the anti-Hitler Coalition" at the New Experimental Theater. [5]  Despite its rather misleading title, the Germans were also invited to the proceedings. 

 

They might well have wished to have been snubbed, however, as the next three hours were consumed by round after round of self-congratulation and periodic German-bashing.  One delegation after another -- representing virtually all of Russia’s 89 regions --was invited onstage to hold forth on why Stalingrad was such a marvelous victory for the world (which it was) and to present the ever-accommodating Governor Maksyuta with paintings, vases, statues, clocks and other weighty gifts which were dutifully carted off to an unseen storage area.

 

None of the presentation speeches were met with significant applause, until, that is, speaker number 43 showed up: the American Ambassador.  Ambassador Vershbow spoke for only a few minutes, but the audience paid close attention.  The Ambassador told the assembled delegates that those veterans who had fought at the battle of Stalingrad held a particularly respected place in the hearts of all Russians, and all Americans as well.  “Our two countries were Allies during the Second World War, enemies during the Cold War, and are becoming allies once again.”  Our Presidents had joined in a “powerful partnership” to fight international terrorism and the proliferation of weapons of mass destruction, to develop new ties between NATO and Russia, and to promote trade and investment.  “May this new U.S. Russian partnership be lasting, warm and productive, based on our shared values and, to use President Putin’s phrase, on the ‘logic of common interests’ in this new century.  Returning to the theme of the Stalingrad battle, the Ambassador quoted Lincoln’s Gettysburg address, and then concluded that “we can never do justice to the memory of those who died here, or to the suffering and the bravery of those who survived.  Their sacrifices here turned the tide of the war and ensured victory for the Allies against Hitler.”  The Ambassador's remarks were met with a generous round of applause, particularly by the Stalingrad veterans down front, who were likely the only ones in the room who remembered a time before the Cold War when the U.S. and Russia actually were full-fledged allies.

 

The final speaker was the German Consul General in Saratov, Dr. Axel Weishaupt.  The German Ambassador, Hans-Friedrich von Ploetz, had been scheduled to speak, but his arrival had been delayed by bad weather.  The climate was a bit chilly for CG Weishaupt as well, and he received more than one cold stare from members of the audience, many of whom were still used to treating Germany as the enemy.  It must be said, however, that Weishaupt, reading von Ploetz’s prepared remarks through an interpreter, did his best to defuse the situation.  He gave a conciliatory speech, calling for increased cooperation between Germany and Russia to honor the memory of those who fell at Stalingrad.  His effort was met with polite applause, and even some veterans in front joined in.

 

After the forty-fourth speech, the organizers announced that time had run out, depriving the 30 remaining speakers from Siberia and the Far East of the opportunity to repeat the same themes.  Everyone trooped rapidly to the exits, relief evident on a number of foreign faces, and disappeared into the thick fog that enveloped Volgograd's Square of Fallen Fighters.  Those foreign delegations that had managed to arrive despite the bad weather returned to the safe haven of the Hotel Intourist, on the east side of the square, while Russian guests marched off to sample the marathon of cultural delights that awaited (see schedule  -- note five).

 

As day two of the Stalingrad victory celebration dawned, everyone was still guessing as to President Putin's schedule, but the local authorities were happily convinced that he would indeed show up for the main events. They were only half right, as the President did not arrive in time for the morning wreath laying at the Eternal Flame of the Monument to the Red Defenders of Tsaritsyn and Stalingrad. He was also nowhere to be seen for the military parade that took place shortly thereafter on the Square of Fallen Fighters. No one minded too much, however, for the weather had finally decided to cooperate and the parade itself was most entertaining. The parade's 10,000 onlookers were bathed in brilliant sunlight as the principal guests took their places on the "Tribuna" (reviewing stand) and stared directly into the rising sun (not very good planning, that).

 
Bigwigs lined up on the Tribuna.  Kazantsev is speaking.

 

Volgograd Mayor Yuriy Chekhov got the proceedings rolling with a fine martial speech.  He was followed in quick succession by Southern Region PolPred Viktor Kazantsev, Volgograd Oblast Governor Nikolay Maksyuta and State Duma Speaker Gennadiy Seleznev, each of whom seemed to be trying to outdo the other in military and patriotic spirit.  Notable for his absence was one national-level official who had recently been making a lot of political hay out of the Stalingrad anniversary: Communist Party leader Gennadiy Zyuganov.  Ever since Zyuganov decided to launch the Party's Duma and Presidential election campaign in Volgograd last December, the national media have treated him as a non-person.  These days, most of Zyuganov's press conferences and speeches are reported in the Moscow media, but not nationally.  Evidently, his presence was no longer welcome in Volgograd either, particularly on the eve of President Putin's arrival. [6]

20th Division Troops pay homage to the Stalingrad fallen.

To start off the parade, about 800 soldiers from the Volgograd 20th Guards Motorized Rifle Division marched by, dressed in the uniforms of Army units that had actually participated in the battle of Stalingrad 60 years before, including the 70th, the 56th, the 20th and Chuykov's 62nd Army.  As they paraded by in phalanx formation, they were followed by troops from the Volgograd MVD Academy and young cadets from academies in Novocherkassk and Rostov.  All 800 soldiers then advanced in a large square formation to the reviewing stand, singing "We Bow to the Great Ones of Those Years" (Поклонимься Великим Тем Годам). In a moving tribute, they kneeled for a minute of silence to honor those who had fallen at Stalingrad.  I couldn't help thinking at the time that those 800 soldiers represented only about three hours' worth of Russian casualties in the actual 200-day battle of Stalingrad.  The 10,000 onlookers, for their part, represented only about two days' worth of civilian casualties, about the same amount of time taken up by the weekend ceremonies.

 

The marchers were followed by a parade of 60 military vehicles that included a working "Tridtsatchetverka" (T-34 tank) and trucks towing M-30M artillery.  The rest of the vehicular column was made up of more modern equipment, including BRDM's, BMP-2's, several T-72 tanks decked out in rather impressive-looking reactive armor, Towed Mortars, D-30 Howitzers, MTLB's towing MT-12 anti-tank guns, 2S3 152mm self-propelled howitzers, 2S19 self-propelled howitzers, Grad multiple launch rocket systems and several 2S6, SA-8 and SA-11 anti-aircraft systems.  With the vehicular column safely out of sight, the assembled guests and onlookers hurriedly decamped for waiting fleets of buses and the trek up Mamayev Kurgan.

 

Mamayev Kurgan is one of the most impressive military monuments anywhere in the world.  In the original battle of Stalingrad, Mamayev Kurgan was known simply as "Hill 102," a prominent high point in the middle of the city that commanded the main approaches to the Volga.  Because of its strategic location, the German Army committed significant forces to its conquest in September and October of 1942.  The Germans succeeded in taking the summit, but were never able to dislodge the Soviets completely from the reverse slope of the hill.  The Soviet Army answered with massive attacks that continued through the last four months of the battle.  As a result, Mamayev Kurgan was the site of some of the most ferocious fighting of the entire war.  No one knows exactly how many people were killed in the battle for Hill 102, but the numbers are in the tens of thousands. 

 

Today, the summit of Mamayev Kurgan is crowned by a gigantic statue of Mother Russia.  Taller than the Statue of Liberty, Mother Russia brandishes a sword high in the air, and appears to call on Soviet troops to advance with her to the summit of the hill.  The effect is quite impressive.  At the base of the statue are graves of many of the thousands who defended Stalingrad, including Marshal Vasiliy Chuykov, the commander of the 62nd Army, and a mass grave for 35,000 soldiers and civilians.  Further down the hill there is an enormous Pantheon, which contains an Eternal Flame and a circular wall inscribed with the names of 7200 of those who fell at Mamayev Kurgan. 

 

• Mother Russia, as viewed from the Path of Glory

On the day that we visited Mamayev Kurgan, over 200,000 people paid their respects at the memorial. The official delegations all went at the same time, mingling with the enormous crowds of people that were already there by the early afternoon. The path to Mamayev Kurgan is not easy, as one must walk up a series of steps and esplanades nearly a mile long known as the "Path of Glory" (Аллея Славы).  After taking the initial steep flight of steps the delegations traversed the Pyramid Poplar Walk, then "Defense to the Death" Square, ruins from the Stalingrad battle, the Square of Heroes, and finally bas-relièfs depicting battle scenes.  Nearing the base of Mother Russia, everyone filed into a wide tunnel leading to the Hall of Military Glory and the Eternal Flame.  At the Eternal Flame itself the delegations laid wreaths and observed a minute of silence, and then took the spiral ramp up and out of the Hall, past headstones dedicated to those who fought at Stalingrad, and at last to the base of Mother Russia.  The walk down the hill is much the same, although most fortunately, the foreign delegations had buses pre-positioned for them at the summit.
 
Shortly after the other delegations were safely out of the way, President Putin arrived in Volgograd and made his own pilgrimage to Mamayev Kurgan.  He brought with him from Moscow three veterans of the battle of Stalingrad: mortar crew commander Ivan Slukhay, fighter pilot Sergey Kramerenko, and General Valentin Varennikov. [7]  At Mamayev Kurgan, Putin visited the Hall of Military Glory, laying a wreath and kneeling at the Eternal Flame.  At the insistence of a veteran of the 37th Division, he also paid his respects at the grave of Marshal Chuykov.  He then drove off to the Stalingrad Battle Panorama Museum, which contains a 360-degree view of the battle as seen from Mamayev Kurgan.  There he met with eleven Stalingrad veterans, the same ones he had met in Volgograd during his previous visit in February 2001.   Needless to say, they were full of praise for his performance as President, and presented the usual pleas (make medicine more affordable, make sure the young know about the sacrifices of Stalingrad, raise our pensions, etc.).  It was all very good TV and well staged, which is to say that there was no news whatsoever.

The evening brought the final large event of the victory celebration: the "Ceremonial Meeting and Concert dedicated to the 60th Anniversary of the defeat of the German-Fascists by Soviet forces at the Battle of Stalingrad."  This meeting, which was held at the Central Concert Hall on the banks of the Volga, was a virtual festival of hard-liners.  Conservative Governors rubbed shoulders with ancient veterans, local Communist Party leaders like Alevtina Aparina prowled about looking chuffed, and most foreigners felt a bit out of place.  There were also a number of people present at the gathering that we had not seen in awhile.  One such worthy was former Yeltsin Defense Minister Pavel Grachev, aka "Pasha Mercedes," who engaged the Ambassador in a spirited debate about U.S. Iraq policy, but shied away from questions about just what he had been up to lately. [8] 
 

General Ryan Meets a New Recruit

As the honored guests filed into the concert hall to take their places for the next round of speeches, President Putin was still nowhere to be seen (some said that he was still finishing up a courtesy meeting with Volgograd Governor Maksyuta).  In the front rows sat 250 Stalingrad veterans.  Occasionally, one would stand up, recognize a familiar face and run over to embrace an old comrade in arms.  One old veteran repeatedly stood up and addressed those entering the hall with the words:  "I am a veteran of the 92nd Regiment.  I don't see any of the boys here.  Is there anyone here from the 92nd Regiment?"  He never got a reply.
 
Putin made his grand entrance with Maksyuta to general applause, and spoke first.  His speech was a model of diplomacy and moderation.  He praised Stalingrad's veterans for their noble deeds and the contribution they made to winning the war against Fascism.  "Hitler wanted to enter Stalingrad in a parade march, but he never did.  Instead, Paulus' army was surrounded and defeated."  Putin then noted that today's Russia faced a new threat -- international terrorism -- and that in this struggle Russia had many allies, both old and new.  Perhaps mindful of his upcoming trip to Germany and France, Putin made sure to quote Chancellor Gerhard Schröder's message to the Russian people on Stalingrad, which had been delivered in Moscow the day before.  In particular, Putin drew attention to the German leader's statement that "Stalingrad is a symbol of the immeasurable suffering that the attack of Nazi Germany on the Soviet Union brought upon millions of people."  Putin also seconded the German Chancellor's call for closer cooperation between the two countries as a tribute to the fallen.  Putin was warmly applauded, although with less enthusiasm than might have been expected.  It may be that the audience was looking for a bit more flag-waving and a bit less diplomacy.
 
They were not to be disappointed.  After a somewhat lackluster speech by a clearly exhausted Governor Maksyuta, Valentin Varennikov was given the floor.  He gave the hard-liners in the audience just what they wanted, noting that the victory at Stalingrad was a triumph not just for the Soviet people but for "Stalin personally" (hearty cheers from the front rows at this remark).  Varennikov then decried the sorry state in which Russia found itself at the end of the twentieth century and praised President Putin for putting the country back on the right track (more applause).  Varennikov concluded by noting that "We are always ready to support you, Mr. President, in defending the true interests of the country.  We ask you, Mr. President, to make sure that 2003 is the year in which Russia changes fundamentally for the better.  We are confident this goal can be achieved."  These words pleased the crowd, of course, but it is highly unlikely that the fundamental changes envisaged by Varennikov are quite the same ones wanted by Putin.  On the other hand, they did fly down together on the same plane, didn't they? 

What followed was a most entertaining evening, with performances by legions of talented singers and dancers from all over the country.  The night was topped off by the appearance of a hard-liner favorite -- Iosif Kobzon, the Frank Sinatra of Russia.  The intermission saw the disappearance of most of the invited guests, including Putin, who sped out to the airport for a plane ride home.  The rest of us contented ourselves with fireworks on the embankment, and "separate but equal" receptions for foreigners and Russians at various hotels and restaurants around the city. 

The Volgograd ceremonies ended the next morning as they had begun, in sheets of fog and driving snow at the airport.  This time, however, despite the truly nasty weather, our flight took off only two hours late.  One might suspect that Volgograd officials, for all their hospitality, were nonetheless anxious to see that all foreign guests were sped on their way as quickly as possible.  It was a smooth ride back to Moscow -- back to the sun, and back to Putin, and away from Stalin, snow, and "slyakot."  We can hardly wait to see what the 70th anniversary will bring.

 

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Note 1.  For video coverage of the Stalingrad 60th story, go to the following links:

 

RTR Video:

 

Veterans parade in Volgograd

http://www.vesti.ru/comments.html?id=17934#

 

ORT Videos:

 

President Putin takes part in 60th anniversary celebrations

mms://www-download.1tv.ru/video/2003_02/0202031801.asf

 

Russia celebrates the 60th Anniversary of the Battle of Stalingrad

mms://www-download.1tv.ru/video/2003_02/0202031402.asf

 

Volgograd Celebrates the 60th Anniversary of the Battle of Stalingrad

mms://www-download.1tv.ru/video/2003_02/0202031401.asf     back to text

 

Note 2.  There were representatives from 77 of Russia's 89 Federation Subjects, including some 35 Governors (most of whom were delayed by the winter weather).  There were also 23 foreign delegations, including the United States, Germany, the United Kingdom, Belgium, France, Italy, Austria, the Czech Republic, Serbia, Poland, Israel, Belarus, Ukraine, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, China and Israel.  About 250 veterans of the Battle of Stalingrad also came to the ceremonies.  back to text

 

Note 3.  No one really knows how many people were killed in the 200-day battle.  Most historians estimate that about 1.1 million Soviet soldiers, 1.1 million civilians and 500,000 Axis troops were killed during the entire course of the campaign, which lasted from July 17, 1942 until the surrender of the German Sixth Army in the Stalingrad pocket on February 2, 1943.  Some Soviet estimates put the number of killed for Germany and her allies much higher, at around 800,000 to one million.  Estimates for those killed just around Stalingrad itself also vary, but generally are in the half million range for Soviet soldiers, with an equal number of civilian deaths.  German and other Axis losses in and around Stalingrad are estimated to be at least 150,000 killed, not counting the 100,000 or so who were captured and never returned from the POW camps.  back to text

Note 4.  For background on the politics of Volgograd and the debate over returning the city to its former name of Stalingrad, see E-Gram No. 021 Russia Update: Election Politics Cloud Preparations for Stalingrad 60th Anniversary Celebrations  -- Friday, January 17, 2003.  back to text

 

Note 5.  The following was the schedule of events for the 60th Anniversary celebrations.

 

Saturday, February 1

 

1315 - 1600     Reception for delegations taking part in the anti-Hitler Coalition, including CIS countries, Hero Cities and Subjects of the Russian Federation at the New Experimental Theater (Note: Despite its rather misleading title, foreign delegations -- including the Germans -- were also invited to the proceedings).

 

1500                Musical and Poetry Concert "Наш Сталинград" (Our Stalingrad), at the City Musical Theater.  Holiday Concert at the "Дом Офицеров" (Officers Club).

 

1600                The Third All-Russian Festival of National Culture "Salute to Victory" dedicated to the 60th Anniversary of Victory in the Great Fatherland War at the Central Concert Hall.

 

1700                Holiday Concert at the Volgograd Oblast Philharmonic.

 

1800                Film Festival on the Battle of Stalingrad at the Volgograd Movie Theater.

 

Sunday, February 2

 

0930 -1030      Wreathlaying at the Eternal Flame of the Monument to the Red Defenders of Tsaritsyn and Stalingrad (also known as "Heroes Monument").

 

1000 - 1100     Military Parade of the Forces of the Volgograd Garrison at Fallen Fighters Square.

 

1130 - 1210     Wreathlaying in the Hall of Military Glory at Mamayev Kurgan. 

 

1400 - 1600     Minute of Silence, followed by a tour of the Stalingrad Battle Panorama.

 

1630 - 1900     Ceremonial Meeting and Concert dedicated to the 60th Anniversary of the defeat of the German-Fascists by Soviet forces at the Battle of Stalingrad.  Location: Central Concert Hall.

 

1900                Fireworks.  Location: Volga embankment.

 

2000 - 2200     Receptions for participants in the Battle of Stalingrad at the Intourist, Volgograd, Tourist and other restaurants.  back to text   back to text (second time)

 

Note 6.  For background on Zyuganov's election campaigning, see E-Gram No. 021 Russia Update: Election Politics Cloud Preparations for Stalingrad 60th Anniversary Celebrations  -- Friday, January 17, 2003.  For the story on Zyuganov's exclusion from regional media, see an article in Nezavisimaya Gazeta of February 2, 2003 entitled "Zyuganov is Permitted Only for Muscovites" (Зюганов Разрешен Только Для Моосквичей).  back to text

 

Note 7.  President Putin has very discerning taste when picking seatmates for the trip to Volgograd.  Valentin Ivanovich Varennikov is a case in point.  It is true that Varennikov is a distinguished veteran of the battle of Stalingrad, where he commanded a mortar battery.  He also took part in some of the bloodiest fighting of the war, and was made a Hero of the Soviet Union for his bravery.  It is, however, Varennikov's more recent history that is of greater interest.  Twelve years ago, as Deputy Minister of Defense, Varennikov was one of the founding members of the GKChP, or State Committee for a State of Emergency, the organization that attempted to overthrow Mikhail Gorbachev in August 1991.  After the failure of the coup attempt, Varennikov was detained by the authorities.  Varennikov was the only coup plotter who refused to accept amnesty, and thereby to acknowledge any guilt, and he was formally acquitted by the Supreme Court in 1994.  A dedicated Communist, Varennikov was elected to the State Duma in 1995, serving until 1999.  Currently, he serves as President of the Association of Heroes of Russia.  A more detailed biography can be found at: http://www.peoples.ru/military/general/varennikov/.  back to text

 

Note 8.  Pavel Sergeyevich Grachev, aka "Pasha Mercedes," was President Yeltsin's Defense Minister from 1992 until 1996.  During the 1991 coup attempt against Mikhail Gorbachev, Grachev rose to fame as the commander of a paratroop unit that refused the orders of the Emergency Committee to arrest Yeltsin.  In October 1993, Grachev gave the order to bombard the Russian White House, then the headquarters of the rebellious anti-Yeltsin Duma, once again saving the day.  Also in the early 1990's, Grachev was accused repeatedly of massive corruption, including involvement in the wholesale theft of equipment from the Western Group of Forces in Germany.  In 1994 the corruption scandal grew even more serious when Grachev and several cronies were implicated in the murder of Moskovskiy Komsomolets investigative reporter Dmitriy Kholodov.  Moskovskiy Komsomolets continued its crusade against Grachev, culminating in an article entitled: "Pasha Mercedes, a Thief Who Should Be in Prison, Not Defense Minister."  Grachev sued the paper and won, but the moniker "Pasha Mercedes" stuck.  Grachev's downfall came with the First Chechen War.  Initially suspected of selling heavy weapons and armored vehicles to the breakaway Chechen Republic, Grachev was one of the most dedicated supporters of the war against Chechnya, which began in late 1994.  Cynics say that he wanted to destroy the evidence of his illegal arms deals by destroying the Chechen military and government; others say Grachev simply had no idea of how incapable his own forces really were when faced with a determined guerilla foe.  Grachev was dismissed in June 1996, and two months later Security Council Secretary Aleksandr Lebed signed the Khasavyurt Accords, ending the First Chechen War.  "Pasha Mercedes" was out government and out of a job, but apparently not lacking in financial resources.  He continued to live up to his nickname with a very lavish Mercedes-filled lifestyle.  In 1997, Grachev was appointed chief military adviser to the General Director of "Rosvooruzheniye," a major arms exporter.  On June 27, 2002, six associates of Grachev were acquitted in the Kholodov murder case.  Grachev himself, who was under investigation for the murder but never charged, continues to maintain that while he often expressed displeasure with Kholodov's articles, he never gave anyone orders to kill him. A standard biography of Grachev is available at: http://www.nns.ru/Person/grachev.   back to text