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Michael Zimmermann
How I Survived the Wars and
Peace:
My Life in the Gulag
Postscript
The year was 1971. I was working for the Canadian National Railways in the capacity of electrical engineer. I was with the company for over 19 years and only one year away from mandatory retirement. The immediate future bothered me immensely; I was not ready, mentally or physically, to go to pasture. I was also not willing to undertake any demeaning position (draughtsman, or other similar one) the way some of my colleagues did.
And then the Monster (you know whom I mean!) came to the rescue. The Soviet Union and Canada signed an agreement on Mutual Cooperation in Science and Technology in such fields as: nuclear science, oil and gas exploration, transportation (air, rail and internal waters), development of arctic regions, and others. The program called for mutual visits of scientists and engineers, exchange of information, periodical symposia and planning conferences.
I have to mention here that, apart of my regular engineering duties at CNR, as a side job I was translating for their Research and Development Department articles from Russian publications on railroading. My translations were accepted with great interest and were distributed among major railroads of the world.
Naturally, when the first group of experts on railroad transportation travelled to the Soviet Union, I was invited to join them in the capacity of interpreter. In our group of six people one was a man from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in Ottawa. The visit was a tremendous success. Upon his return to Ottawa, the official I mentioned, who learned that in few months I will be retired from CNR, apparently reported to the proper authorities my brilliant (not my word!) role in establishing mutual understanding among the hosts and the visitors. As a result, I received a letter from the Ministry offering me a position as an interpreter for future visits of various groups, both in Canada and in the USSR. Due to my age they cannot offer me a permanent position, thus, I will be occupied as a free-lancer with payment by contract.
For the next ten years, I was busy escorting groups of experts in various fields of science and technology. With the Canadian delegations all over the USSR, from Archangelsk in the North to the Black Sea in the South, from Leningrad in the West to Novosibirsk in the heart of Siberia. Likewise, escorting the Soviet experts on their visit in Canada, from Newfoundland to British Columbia, including the Far Arctics. Private companies, both Canadian and American with business in the Soviet Union were availing themselves of my interpreting services as well. This period of time was the most interesting in my life apart from the substantial remuneration associated with my work. I could state that my income from the described activity put me financially on a much higher level than that of a CNR pensioner.
Why did I bring this period of my life into the narrative titled "My Encounters with the Monster"? Each of our trips to Soviet Union started with the visit to Moscow. Here, we met first the high official of the pertinent Ministry, mostly the Minister himself or his Deputy. I was sitting across the table from the top officials of the country - the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, with its NKVD (now called KGB) and GULAG still an important part of their entity - I, who only a few decades ago was at the bottom of a pit dug by them, I who was designated as an "element dangerous to society", condemned to be worked and starved to death in their "corrective labour camps". All the polite, polished speeches were uttered when looking at me in expectation of subsequent translation to my group. Apart of the official visits, the Russians hosted us with red (no pun intended) carpet treatment. Every evening a banquet, visit to the ballet, opera or the famous Soviet circus (theatre was out due to the language problem). The fact of my fluent use of the Russian language created a special camaraderie with some individuals whom I repeatedly met during subsequent visits, with some personal favours. I would like to stress that, in my opinion, Russians are the nicest, gentlest, most cordial people as individuals. Their governments are rotten and the population suffers the dire consequences philosophically and submissively. I deplored immensely the fact that Canada, following the United States of America cancelled all cooperation with the Soviet Union after the latter invaded Afghanistan in 1981.
I reported the events the way they took place. I myself am puzzled by the turn of things. Let us take the case when the NKVD official informed me that he holds proof about my being active as a foreign spy, an offence that calls for the firing squad at the time when the country is at war. Naturally, he knew it is not true, he just used the statement in order to intimidate me enough to agree to his demand of becoming an informer. Please, understand that he could easily convert the empty threat into a serious case. Of the millions of inmates lingering in GULAG camps almost all were sent there on fictitious accusations, sentenced by the infamous faceless "troika", without the benefit of legal procedure and a chance for defence. After I had refused to serve as his informer he could mercilessly apply the diabolic might of the only law in the country. Why did he spare me? I don't find an answer to this question.
In
the period of time that I was visiting the Soviet Union (and I made
some twenty sorties) each trip required getting a one-time visa from
the Soviet Embassy and I am positive they knew about my past in their
country in the 1940s. Some of my friends here were surprised at my courage
of going repeatedly to the Soviet Union and risking of getting sucked
into the system without a trace. Occasionally, before the Canadian group
travelled to the USSR on the official visit, we were consulted by an
officer of the RCMP as to our behaviour there. One of them, after he
heard about my past history with Soviet Union, advised me not to venture
outdoors on my own, stick with our group. No, I did not follow his suggestion,
I moved around freely, and each time returned home to Canada. Moreover,
safe at home, I jotted down my observations of the peculiarities of
life in the "paradise of the working class." I kept this fact
secret lest the Soviet embassy refused me the entry visa. My articles
provide hilarious reading. Now, that the Monster is dead, and I survived,
the compilation of the articles is presented under the title
U.S.S.R
- R.I.P. *
*
The Latin version - "Requiescat In Pace"
The English version - "Rest In Peace"
My version (here) - "Rust In Piss"
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