Editor’s Draft for “Blue Jasper.”
Babyn Yar
Бабин Яр
Kyiv - 1972 - Babyn Yar
While living in Moscow, Mick Garrett, acting under the guise of his corporate position with American Express International Bank, had opportunities to travel extensively across the CCCP.
When he approached the Foreign Ministry for permission to travel somewhere, he always wrapped his request with forecasts of how foreign currency collections would increase due to increased tourism and business opportunities if he recommended a region, city, or attraction to be promoted worldwide.
Mick wanted to visit Kyiv as, in less than two years, Kyiv would host the equestrian European Championship, of which Princess Anne was the current champion. That Prince Phillip would attend with her underscored that this was the first Royal visit since the Russian Revolution.
Jack, at the Australian Embassy, had requested from the Foreign Ministry to accompany Mick as the Aussies had interests in the area and the Royal's visit to Ukraine.
Mick requested that Chris Bennet, wire service correspondent, accompany him so he could write a story promoting Kyiv and its environs. The Soviets saw the benefits and approved Bennet travelling to Kyiv. Chris had travelled with Mick to other destinations where he wrote stories that promoted areas. Since they had adventured together before and the Russians liked his articles, it was quickly approved.
Mick asked Slava, his driver, to drop him at the Australian Embassy.
Everyone who had Russians working for them knew they reported where we all went, so Mick stuck to visits that would look normal to the overlords.
On Friday nights, the Embassy hosted foreign diplomats and business people who needed a few drinks at the end of the week.
Mick and Jack took advantage of the time to duck into a secure room, if needed, to discuss what they might be scheming against the Soviets.
Jack was sitting at a table with three other “dips” that Mick knew well. Mick was a regular and a member of the Embassies “broom ball” team. A crazy, violent version of hockey played on ice with Russian brooms wrapped in tape.
After grabbing a Carlton Draught, he joined Jack’s table.
“Hiya, Mick. Sit down and drink your troubles away,” said Lawrence, a military attache.
“How’s everyone doing?” Mick asked the group.
A few beers later, Jack asked Mick to join him in his office. This was not suspicious to the other Aussies as they knew Jack relied on Mick for help with banking, travel, and some valuable introductions to the Australians.
Jack led the way to his office, flipping on sound masking to avoid their conversations being picked up from outside the embassy. It wasn't as secure as a "secure" room, of which three were in the embassy, but it allowed a fair amount of privacy.
Jack took a seat on the couch, waving Mick towards a comfy chair, begging to be sat in.
"So, Mick, have you got us all sorted for Kyiv?"
"Indeed. With Chris, we will take the overnight train leaving Kyiv Station at 8:28 PM, arriving at 9:12 AM."
Jack interrupted, "I love how the stations are named after the destinations. No chance of getting on the wrong train."
"Clever indeed. Anyway, we arrive and will be met by an Intourist escort. Yea, I know, but there's no way to do it without them."
“No worries. Where are we staying?"
"The Hotel Ukrayina on Instytutska. She's an old grey mare but is the best of our choices. She's central, so that we can get around easily. What are your plans?"
"Do a bit of tourist stuff with you two. Bennet has no idea what we really do, so we have to be a bit guarded at times."
"Got it. He'll be knocking around with us, seeing the sights so he can write a glowing travel log on the city. I know he'll want to get into the history, which may cause some waves with our minders, but we'll make it happen. He's a pro and knows what he's doing. Did I tell you he was in Intelligence in Nam?"
"No. Interesting. The few times I've met him, I was impressed." He paused for a moment before continuing, "I want to take a look at construction sights to get a feel for the raw materials, the workers and the quality of construction. As long as the Russians run the show there, I think the overall quality might be sketchy. I'll also pay attention to the military presence; as you know, there is no love lost between Ukrainians and Russians. No spooky stuff, just looking for whatever can give me some insights.”
When they boarded the train, the party had already begun.
Food and drink was offered to them as they worked their way to their “first class” berths; in the Soviet paradise, there were no class distinctions even though there were-
Many Soviets brought food and drinks onboard, knowing there would be no services on the train.
Mick, Jack, and Chris took swigs of Vodka and chomped down black bread with sausage handed to them, always toasting “Mira Mir,” meaning peace to the world. In reality, the term referred more to “order” than the peace westerners like to believe.
Soviets in the hierarchy lived in dachas, rode in chauffeured driven cars, took long vacations to the Black Sea, imported food and liquor through the “dollar stores,” and lived well as they promoted their view of Socialism.
All a lie, but it held the place together.
The party rocked on until most were drunk enough to sleep.
Mick retreated to his berth and called it a night.
When the train arrived in Kyiv, and the crowds poured off the train, they met Sofia, their Intourist guide, and their driver who would escort them to the hotel and arrange their itinerary.
As they waited to check in, Sofia presented the day's schedule, including stops at St. Andrew's Church, St. Sophia Cathedral, the Golden Gate, Kyiv - Pechersk Lava, and finally, the site where the Motherland Monument was in construction.
Chris asked her, "what about Babyn Yar?"
She waited a brief moment, "there is nothing to see, but we could drive into that area if we have time.
Chris looked at Jack and Mick, rolling his eyes.
After checking in, we headed to the car.
On the way out, Jack leaned closer to me, saying, "Godless Commies always put the churches on the tours. Interesting, aye, mate."
I laughed at his spot-on insight.
We fought off hunger by a short stop in a tea shop that Sofia recommended after overly lengthy visits to the churches.
After hitting some other churches and a museum, we returned to the hotel mid-afternoon.
Chris had an appointment with an Intourist manager to discuss the growing tourism from within and outside the country. It would be a puff piece, but Chris needed to do it.
We knew he would push for visits to some manufacturing and engineering industries close to Kyiv.
Sofia took him to his appointments.
"So, Jack, here we are. What do you want to do?"
"I've got a tentative appointment at five with a mid-level apparatchik to discuss how we, Australia, can lend our expertise on some of their manufacturing, raw materials, inventory, distribution, etc. Nothing will come of it, but it will filter back to Moscow."
Mick said, "let's find where this Babyn Yar site is. We can take Chris tomorrow. Are you free tomorrow?"
"Mostly. You?"
"Like you, I've got a couple of waste of time meetings with the Bank and Intourist. As you said, these guys have no authority and must run it all up to Moscow."
"Mick, you're correct; Chris would prefer we waited on Babyn Yar. We can find out where it is and walk or taxi there in the morning."
Let's take a walk and see how fast we can spot minders trailing us."
Jack laughed as we headed out the door and into the crowds.
They weren't far into the neighborhood when Mick begged off, saying he was heading back to take a nap.
"Wake me when it's time for dinner," He said to Jack as they parted.
It seemed like seconds later when he heard a knock on the door. He groggily got up and walked to the door opening it to see Chris.
“Time for some dinner, Mr. Garrett. Jack is down arranging a table.”
On the way down the stairs, I told him about our plans to visit Babyn Yar in the morning.
He was pleased.
We spotted Jack as we entered the restaurant.
As we sat, he said, “looks like chicken Kyiv for all.”
We laughed, acknowledging that only items with a price tag were available from the impressive list of offerings.
After our waiter supplied us with water and black bread, Jack turned to Chris, asking how his day went.
“It was very productive.” He added an exaggerated wink conveying to us that he got the old rope a dope general response to his questions. “It’ll be okay, as he did give me enough of a skeleton to build a story around. The guy I see tomorrow at the local administrative office will give me more ideas. So what have you two been up to?”
"Ole Mick here took a snooze while I walked around. I went into one bookstore that had several history books in English. You'd never see that in Moscow! I sat and read a bit, thinking about the tragedy that has returned to Ukraine repeatedly. Jesus, during the big show, they lost millions to Stalin's policies, not to mention what the Germans did. Amazing history. Sad!"
Chris responded, "I'd like to write about it, but I'll have to tap it down a bit to get the approvals. If I told the real story, I'd never get another trip, making my life more difficult. You're right, Jack. We are surrounded by tragic history under the Soviets and the Germans. One of these days, the Ukrainians may throw off their chains. That might be a pipe dream, but…"
Mick added, “Before I took a nap, I got instructions on getting to Babyn Yar. It’s way too far to walk. I have the metro schedule in my room. I’ll bring it to breakfast. It seems like it’ll take us about forty minutes to get there. Sound good?”
They both nodded.
The waiter returned with cucumber salads and notified us our chicken Kyiv dishes would be out momentarily.
"So, gentleman, I'm thinking that if both of you attended the meeting I'm having tomorrow with the bureaucrat that will oversee the horse championship. Both of you will benefit from that meeting. Mick can speak to financing, promotion, travel arrangements, and visa hurdles, and Chris can talk about how he is writing about that event and promoting Ukraine. What do you think? Want to join me?"
Chris and Mick both saw the value of accompanying Jack.
"Do we just show up with you?" Mick asked.
I'll call his office in the morning. Shouldn't be a problem."
"I've got a meeting with the local newspaper editor around noon. What time is your meeting?" Chris asked.
"Not until two PM.”
Our dinner arrived.
“Put your fork into the chicken breast slowly, or the butter will hit you in the face,” Chris teased.
“Not our first time,” Mick replied.
Jack laughed as he turned his plate, aiming at Chris as if he was going to plunge his fork into his dish, covering Chris in butter.
“You know, as I read some of the history today, I was thinking about all the things and people who have come in gone in our lives,” Jack offered.
“Such as?” Mick asked.
Chris jumped in, “In my lifetime, I’ve seen John Kennedy get assassinated, Martin Luther King, and then Robert Kennedy. If that wasn’t enough, the riots and escalation in Vietnam cracked the country wide open. It’s incredible that America may stagger out of that but won’t seem to have learned its lessons.”
Jack took a moment, “Australia getting involved in Viet Nam is tragic. We didn’t have the assassinations, but we had many weak governments hesitating on what to do about China, Indonesia, and its horrors in Timor.”
Mick added, “The Troubles plague Ireland. The violence is mind-bending, with little hope of common sense prevailing. Maybe, maybe someday, we’ll get it worked out.”
“On top of all the awfulness, we’ve had great entertainers, music, films, and plenty of average people trying to make changes,” Jack said.
They nodded in agreement.
The three spoke about their various country histories and the challenges that remained that looked at times as unsurmountable.
It was gratifying for each that knew a lot of history and had some excellent ideas for solving the significant challenges.
The waiter arrived to clear the table and take their order for dessert. Each ordered ice cream with strawberry jam.
“Funny. The only ice cream is vanilla, vanilla, or vanilla,” Jack teased.
After dinner they headed to the bar.
The bar was chucker full of foreign guests, so it didn’t take long before they were involved in various discussions. When a table opened up, they drifted to it, followed by a German couple and two Swedes.
Mick knew Jack was thinking, the same as he was, that who knows who these people are, so keep it all on the surface.
Jack was the only diplomat, so many questions and comments were directed at him.
The Swede, Per, asked Jack what he thought about Brezhnev and any chances of liberalism across the CCCP.
Mick knew Jack wasn’t going down that road, so he, followed by Chris jumped in to keep whoever this guy was from quoting an Australian Diplomat.
Chris gave an excellent description of how the Soviet hierarchy operated, with Brezhnev being “one among equals,” marshaling his power from being the Secretary General of the Communist Party.
The discussion finally drifted from the apparent flaws in the Soviet system to what they had seen and done while in Ukraine.
After many drinks and toasts, we said goodnight and headed to our rooms.
The three agreed to meet for breakfast at seven AM.
Mick nursed his headache as he walked down the staircase to the restaurant.
He was the first to arrive, so he ordered coffee and a bottle of mineral water, hoping to get over last night's excesses.
Jack was next in, "Hey, Mick. How are you doing this morning?"
"All good. You?"
"No dramas. Interesting mob in the bar last night. It was fun, and, oh, by the way, thanks for steering the conversation away from me."
“No worries. I’m looking forward to this morning's visit to Babyn Yar. When we finish breakfast, I'll reconfirm at the desk the best way to get there."
"Here comes Chris," Jack said, nodding towards the entryway.
"Morning. Sorry if I delayed your ordering breakfast. I was at the desk getting directions to Babyn Yar and picking up a reply from my office on last night's request."
Mick and Jack smiled at the redundancy of planning the day's outing.
Chris continued, "When I got to my room, I wrote a memo for the desk to telex to my office asking to forward me info on Babyn Yar. I was powerfully altered when I sent it, but they had no problem understanding me.
"There are people in your office late at night?" Jack asked.
"Yeah, we have two employees monitoring all the incoming traffic and responding, as well as getting ahold of one of us if it's a breaking story."
"So, what did they tell you?" I asked.
The water interrupted Chris. We ordered, and he continued.
"I'll get to that in a sec. Well, according to the desk, we should take a bus. They are working on the Kontraktova Ploscha underground, but he said it isn't opening until 1976 or later."
"Jack asked, "So what's the best way to get to Babyn Yar?"
"Taxi would be the fastest, but then we don't mingle at all."
"Let's take the metro and a bus. Is there a metro running anywhere near Babyn Yar?" Mick asked, reaching for the stack of papers Chris brought to the table.
"Ah, we could walk to the metro and head north. We've got to get to near Lisnytstvo if I have this figured out correctly. It seems its a twenty or so minute walk from there. Goddamit, I wish the Russians would quit messing with their maps, as it's hard to know what's accurate and what's not!"
"Makes it hard. That's for sure. I heard one of the guys at the AP writes a story every year showing how various cities have moved on the map of the Soviet Union. Is that true?" Mick looked at Chris for a reply.
"Yep. He keeps track of one city near Novosibirsk that moves a certain amount of clicks a year."
They laughed at the insanity of it.
Their breakfast arrived with coffee, so they dug in silently.
While eating, Mick read what Chris had brought to the table while Chris and Jack spoke about the chances of an International Horse Show going over well. He could hear them talking about Princess Anne and Prince Phillip as well.
Mick put his fork down, saying, "Jesus. I thought I knew about what happened here but listen to this. In September of '41, the Germans rolled into Kyiv. If this report is correct, Hitler ordered the SS to follow the army into the CCCP earlier in the year and exterminate all Jews."
"Bastards," muttered Jack.
Mick continued, "a few days after the Germans took Kyiv, a major explosion hit the German command killing a bunch of them. Of course, the Nazis blamed the Jews, and the SS marked them for total destruction. On 29 and 30 September, 34,000 Jews were marched to the city's outskirts."
Chris asked, "I haven't looked at those yet," pointing to the stack Mick was flipping through. "Are there citations, footnotes, or references in that report?"
He looked at the stack of papers and told them it was footnoted, and references were given to Nazi documents discovered years later.
“Go on,” Jack said as our waiter topped up our coffees.
“When they got people to where they wanted, they ordered them to stop. They then machine-gunned them.They pushed them into the ravine and immediately covered them over with dirt. Over the next two years, thousands more were killed and buried. If this is correct, they killed Russian prisoners, Roma, and anyone else they hated.”
Mick took a deep breath. “As the Russians started reclaiming the land, the Germans used bulldozers to dig up the dead, so they could burn the bodies and deny it ever happened. A few escaped in ’43 and told the story. The Russians ignored all this for about 25 years. In 1961 the Soviets wanted to build a sports center over the site.”
“Typical. No wonder so many are ignorant of this history. Mick, take a look at who signed what was sent to me,” Chis said.
“Jim Powers signed the telex.”
“He’s a good reporter. What else does it say?”
“Hm, let me fan through this. Oh, in ’61, Yevgeny Yevtushenko wrote a poem. You want to hear it?”
They both nodded.
No gravestone stands on Baby Yar;
Only coarse earth heaped roughly on the gash:
Such dread comes over me.
“Apparently, later, in ’62, Dmitry Shostakovich set the poem to music in his 13th Symphony. The two of them got in trouble, but it did move enough people that the sports facility was dropped, and a small obelisk was erected in ’66.”
“What will we see today?” Chris asked.
“I guess we’ll see the obelisk,” Mick replied.
They sat for a while, talking about the horrors of history and how people react to it. They took turns talking about their histories and wondered if people would ever get it right and treat people with honor.
Mick paid for the meal, and they headed to the lobby. Chris went to the desk to double-check the instructions for getting to Babi Yar.
They exited the hotel and walked a couple of blocks to catch bus #12, which would take them north, where they’d have to transfer and then walk to the “memorial.”
Chris, the most fluent of the three, chatted with people at the bus stand, on the bus, and the streets. He was interested in knowing how people would react to him asking about Bai Yar.
He got very few replies.
Under the Russians, everyone was suspicious of everyone. When people looked at us, or other foreigners, they had no idea who we were, though they knew in their hearts that we were “connected” and should be treated accordingly.
If we pressed the issue, they would usually think we were East German, Poles, or from another border country. They would never guess American, Australian, or Irish.
The two busses were packed, and we rode mostly in silence though Chris did ask people jammed up against him if we were on the right bus. He would get a nod.
At our final stop, one man told us to walk that way; he pointed north.
We walked for about twenty-five minutes before spotting the obelisk.
A half dozen people were milling around. One old lady was standing, staring into the past, a few feet from the roped-off area.
Two blue and gold militia vehicles were sitting across the street.
We walked up and stood next to the woman.
We said good morning, but she ignored us. She was holding flowers in her trembling hands.
After a moment Jack asked if she would let him lay the flowers closer to the obelisk.
Without a word, she handed them to him and then backed away before walking away.
Jack laid the flowers, and we stood silent, lost in our thoughts.
Note:
A small obelisk was placed at Babi Yar in 1966.
In 1974 a 50-foot (15-meter) memorial statue was finally erected. Identification of the victims was vague; the word Jew was not used.
In 1991, on the 50th anniversary of the Babi Yar massacres, the identity of the victims was recorded on the monument by the newly independent Ukrainian government.
1 March 2022
“Just now, a powerful barrage is underway. A missile hit the place where Babyn Yar memorial complex is located! Once again, these barbarians are murdering the victims of (the) Holocaust,”
Andriy Yermak, Zelenskyy’s chief of staff.
****
20 February 2023.
President Joe Biden visits Kyiv to assure continued support for the Ukrainian people.
Ukraines future is uncertain.
****
M. Barrett Miller – “Blue Jasper – Life in the Shadows.”
© 2023 M. Barrett Miller
All rights Reserved.
All rights Reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.
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