Boys dream of the sea. And when they enter the nautical school, many of them choose a faculty with insurance. They study to become mechanics, electricians. So that if something happens, they can get a job ashore, to tighten nuts in repair shop. That is, they are like seamen, but at the same time temporary workers at sea. Leha Chuguev was a navigator. And as a navigator, he took an oath to the sea. Agree, with all due respect to the mechanic, the professional orientation of a navigator has its own peculiarities. Well, let’s say, what can a navigator talk about with a mechanic over a bottle of vodka? About wandering shoals in the English Channel? Or maybe about a treacherous underwater current in the Bosporus? But with a colleague, even in a dispute about the politics of the African state of Burkina Faso, or about whether an Asian woman from Hong Kong is better than an Italian girl from Naples, after the second bottle there would be a complete agreement.
When Leha was seeing a mechanic demonstrating his uniform to a girl, he smiled. Because when a girl saw a seaman in a uniform with anchors on the buttons, the boundless ocean began to hum in her head and she imagined Cassiopeia in the starry sky. And she was ready for anything. And that was unfair, because the mechanic had a hatch cover over his head. And no Cassiopeia. A mechanic in a navigator’s jacket was committing plagiarism, he was stealing an image, something that did not belong to him. Leha thought it would be fair to make adjustments to the uniform. If a seaman wears a cap with a crab on it, shoulder straps with chevrons, and buttons with anchors, then it is clear who is he. And a mechanic? In general, Leha thought it would be more honest if the buttons on the mechanic’s jacket had crossed wrenches instead of anchors.
Seamen’s wives are a different matter. Leha never met a single navigator who was lucky enough to have a faithful wife. Of course, some might argue that they also have families. Well, maybe, but in any seaside town, everyone knows that a common wife and a faithful wife are two different women. When a man is in love, his feelings boil, but his mind sleeps. Or rather, it has been put to sleep. And what kind of boiling feelings can there be in everyday routine family life? The mechanic’s wife, for example, can give him an ultimatum: “Family or sea! And her husband will go ashore to tighten nuts in the factory. But it is impossible to give the navigator such an ultimatum. Because he is nobody on land. And his wife knows that if she gives him such an ultimatum, he will ask for a divorce. So, she plays with adultery, but in such a way that her husband will not find out.
There is an anecdote about a lady who complained to her doctor that husband did not satisfy her. The doctor advised her to have a lover. She said that she have two lovers, but they did not satisfy her either. To which the doctor spread his hands and said that she is a strange woman. The lady got happy and asked the doctor to give her a certificate that she is a ‘strange woman’. Because everyone calls her a different, insulting word for sleeping with numerous men. This offensive word is universal and can be used to refer to both women and men. It can even be used in an important meeting to ask: What the f.. are you all (word) doing here?’. It is also can be used to express both admiration and disappointment! Shortly, it’s a unique word, a relic!
In family life, it is the husband’s duty to satisfy his wife’s needs. Otherwise, she will always have headaches, and he will get nothing in bed. Such a man will either resign himself to life for the sake of the children or fear the division of property. This is how a wife tames her husband into obedience. And this is why Leha did not make friends with married couples. The henpecked husband consults his wife in all matters. That is, he thinks he is consulting, but he will do what his wife tells him to do. And a wise wife will also convince her husband that this is his decision. And he will puff out his cheeks with a sense of his own importance. It is even dangerous to drink vodka with such people. Because his wife will make a scandal, she will blame you, but not her husband.
One day a story happened to Leha. He was XO on a merchant ship sailing the Baltic Sea. The ship was set on a route – same cargo, same ports of call, a strict schedule. One day, the captain invited Leha into his cabin and, over a shot of vodka, offered a cooperation. They would work as captains on the same ship, but when one was at sea, the other would be on land, waiting for his turn. Leha asked what he should do with such a tempting offer. The captain smiled and offered Leha the third place in his family bed. He said it was his wife’s idea. The captain was a career maniac who dreamed of becoming the head of the shipping department at the head office. He explained to Leha that in such an alliance, his wife would not hang around in dubious dens and tarnish her husband’s moral image. And once he became head of the department, he would drag Leha along with him, perhaps even into the ministry. A scoundrel always judges others by his own moral standards. Leha never worked with that captain again.
Leha believed in feelings, and in each of his chosen ones he expected to find a friend, just as he tried to be to others – honest, faithful and generous. After the betrayals and infidelities of his three wives and several lovers, he concluded that seamen could not have faithful girlfriends. One of his exes, cynically told him that without regular sex she could develop a disease of the appendages and all that jazz. This, she said, was what her gynecologist had told her. Leha caught her with that gynecologist. Maybe it is different for some of the seamen with the village girls, but that is in the beginning. Because in a seaside town, all the seamen’ wives learn the bitch’s trade quickly. They all get used to the money, and luxury life. And in the freedom they have, when their husbands are away for months at a time, they all fornicate. That’s probably why there are more married mechanics than navigators.
FAREWELL TO ILLUSIONS.
After divorcing his second unfaithful wife, Chuguev’s visa was again blocked. As a person who had failed to preserve the primary cell of communist society and thus lost the trust of the party and the people. During an interrogation in the Special Department, when Leha asked how one could live with a whore and why she was an example of Soviet morality and the Party trusted her more than him, the officer with the major’s epaulets said that for such a question Leha could spend the next 10 years of his life in a lumber camp. Chuguev was made to understand that no matter how competent a seaman he was, the sea could be taken away from him at any moment.
Naive Leha knocked on the doors of fat-faced and pot-bellied party officials, showing them his diplomas, references from the captains he had worked with. Eventually, he was cooled down by a young security officer whom Leha had met at a drinking party. The KGB officer supervised the company’s floating personnel, and now, over a bottle of cognac, he reminded Leha that he had no hostage parents. And having divorced two wives, Leha had become to the Soviet power, if not an enemy, then a potential traitor who could escape in any foreign port.
After returning from another month-long voyage, Chuguev fell into depression within a few weeks. He again was in the Soviet ‘paradise’, where obedient slaves of the system lived without lifting their heads. Returning to his kennel from a hard day’s work, such a slave would drink vodka and eat a bowl of soup, then lie down on the sofa and watch television. Or in the bedroom with his wife, he was making new slaves for the regime. Burning all his life between the factory and the kennel, such a slave would drown his boredom in drinking with friends, and then take out his anger on his wife and children. Leha tried to treat his depression in pubs, but soon realized he was on the brink. So, without waiting for the end of his vacation, he was asking the personnel department for a new voyage. It was easier for him at sea. He tried to get rid of his depression by changing life. From Odessa he moved to Sevastopol, changed the fishing fleet for research ships, then there were tankers and refrigerators. He flew to Tallinn. But the system was breathing down his neck everywhere, and life in Tallinn was no different from life in Odessa.
On his return to Sevastopol, Leha realized that he was deluding himself. All his life he had tried to have a family, but now, after painful divorces and having lost contact with his son, he had come to the point where the sea and the women in his life did not go together. It was not in his principles to live with a lying wife. And at sea, on any Soviet ship, there were more spies than ship’s rats, and Leha understood that any such bastard could end his career. For some time, he was covered by a high-ranking official from the central apparatus of industry, the chairman of the state examination commission of the marine college, who had given Leha a diploma and knew his record. But now he could do nothing to help, because in the USSR the KGB decided everyone’s fate.
Leha found himself in a labyrinth. More and more he wondered what he was doing among strangers. Why should he prove his right to his favorite job and his private life? But nobody had a private life in the USSR, and observing this in the proletarian paradise, Chuguev understood that fate was still giving him a chance, but that one day this chance would simply be taken away from him. Knocking on the doors of offices, he was finally convinced that the structure that called itself state security in the USSR had nothing to do with state security and was designed to protect the authorities from the people, to spy on every citizen. This system ordered people to serve in the army, to work wherever they were sent, to wave red flags at demonstrations, to join the party, to inform on their comrades, and to hate the whole world. Most obeyed, many gladly. They were given bonuses and made superiors. This was called promotion.
Leha was already an XO, had studied at the Academy by correspondence, had passed the captain’s examination. But there simply could not be non-party captains in the USSR. A captain was considered the nomenclature of the party and was bound by party membership, like bounded accomplices in a gang. Leha understood that his patron from the main department could not change this system and that his patronage was over. He also understood that to become a captain he would have to accept the rules of the system, to become a party member. But it was not for him. Leha understood that his future in this country was over. He owed nothing to anyone. His parents were long gone. Each of his unfaithful wives had received enough money from him. His only son from his first marriage had grown up, married and was independent. When the party official asked him if he wanted to join the party, Leha replied to him cheekily. And his visa was nulled, this time for good. The illusions disappeared. Leha boarded a train and went far away. Forever!
DEUTSCHLAND ÜBER ALLES.
Leha was German on his father’s side and always had sincere feelings for his ancestral homeland. In a law-abiding country, he received everything a man could dream of. The Germans gave him a pension and decent free housing in Frankfurt am Main. At the job center, they looked at his diploma and said there was no ocean here, so his qualifications were not needed. The Germans have everything under control and Leha was told that although he was German, he had entered the country illegally. He was allowed to run his own business, but only within the district until he obtained citizenship. And until then he will not be allowed traveling. Leha was happy with everything, but he lost the sea. He could not imagine life on land. One day he called his last wife and found out that she had been summoned by the KGB authorities and they yelled at her for not reporting about ex-husband’s plans. They threatened her that Leha would be punished if he returned. Leha was listening her voice on the phone and laughed: “…I may be crazy, but I’m not an idiot to come back…!”
He saw how Germany welcomed legal immigrants. In Frankfurt, the “refugees” who had fled the USSR through Jewish channels were given a good hotel in the city center. With three free meals a day in the restaurant and full service in the rooms. Their parents had once escaped the Germans. Now their sons and grandsons are running back to the Germans. Because the Germans have offered them a free life. That is what they love wherever they go – to get a free life. After all, in Germany and in the USA, they got what they tried to build in the USSR, a communism for themselves! In addition to food in the restaurant and all the luxuries of everyday life, once a week a lorry from the social service center came to their hotel with goods. The Germans are a tidy and polite people: they give away very decent clothes that they could still use themselves. Washed and ironed, piles of neatly packed clothes they leave by the side of the road, with the writing “Please take it! Leha saw these piles of clothes and appliances on the side of the road every time he walked through the city. You won’t see anything like this anywhere else. There were bales of such good quality clothes in the Social Service truck delivered to refugees. A “kosher refugee” from Kharkov was sending these bales to Moscow. To the German immigration officials, he was saying that left soviets forever, but he rented out his apartment in Kharkov for money and opened two second-hand shops in Moscow selling goods he got from social service in Germany. Leha thought that such “refugees” should be hung on hangers in their shops.
Leha lived an idle life, and he saw the Germans, who looked at him with silent reproach. They probably saw him as the same parasite as those from the hotel. This weighed on his soul. It was impossible for him to find a job as a navigator with a Soviet diploma. Leha’s ambitions did not allow him to start all over again at forty, obeying the orders of the boys on the captain’s bridge, and having survived all the hurricanes and typhoons on his voyages. He could continue to live in Germany on a free pension, eating and drinking to his heart’s content. But Chuguev’s ambitions did not allow him to live as a parasite, like those “refugees” from the USSR. He was of a different nationality, religion and morality. He tried to start a business by buying used cars in the area and driving them to Hamburg, where they were eagerly bought by sailors from the Baltic States. Here he violated the authorities’ orders not to leave the areae, but when things started to take off and money started to come in, Leha legalized his business. The license he obtained gave him the ability to travel all over Germany and even visit towns in Belgium and Holland on business occasions. In other words, Leha was in good standing with the authorities in the West.
But trouble came from the east. When the Berlin Wall came down, all the criminal garbage from Eastern Europe poured into the country. Gangs from the Soviet Union stole cars from Germans. And soon it became an epidemic. The German police stepped up road checks and Leha’s business bogged down in red tape. The Russians were followed by Asians, Indians and Africans. The Turks, whom Germany had invited to rebuild demolished towns after the war and who had been quiet during the Cold War, became bolder and began demanding land from the Germans for their autonomy. Wasn’t there enough land in Turkey for them? Of course, German youths started burning down the settlements of the insolent ones, and the socialists immediately accused the patriots of neo-Nazism. Crime was out of control; life turned to be a mess.
Seeing all this, Leha understood that the same thing would happen in Germany, from what he fled the Soviet Union. He saw that the Kremlin infection was beginning to crap all over Europe. And he understood that even in the most successful scenario, he would either live as a parasite or work on a ship in the stinking northern seas. Leha loved the fragrant tropical ocean! America had beckoned him since childhood, he had grown up with the books of Fenimore Cooper, Mark Twain, Jack London, Stevenson… But America was so far away, and the dream seemed unrealistic. An immigrant who has received full social security in Germany no longer rushes anywhere, his sausage and beer dutifully paid for by the obedient German taxpayer. That was not enough for Leha. Not enough to be a free man.
At the American Embassy, his request was denied. The female consul said he was already in a free, democratic country and no one would persecute him in Germany. Desperate Leha replied that he is persistent and had always gotten his way in life. The woman smiled and wished him luck.
Leha decided to rely on his own experience and try to cross the Atlantic in the hold of a ship. He traveled to Hamburg, where chance brought him together with refugees living on a barge. The first attempt was unsuccessful, the ship sailed to Reykjavik, and after two weeks returned to Hamburg, where Leha had to flee from the port police. In nearby Holland, drugs were legal, and smugglers used the port of Hamburg on their routes. And in Iceland, where its winter begin in September, he saved his life from death with a piece of tarpaulin, in which Leha wrapped himself like a cocoon. After this failure, he realized that his own emotions were endangering his life, he had to use his brain and calculate everything.
In the cargo section of the port, he got a schedule of ships crossing the Atlantic and identified the terminal where the container ships bound for America were loaded. There was a car viaduct leading to the terminal and the pedestrian traffic on it was prohibited. CCTV cameras were installed in the port area, including the viaduct, and police cars patrolled the terminals 24 hours a day.
Leha returned to Frankfurt am Main, where he bought a battered BMW for a few hundred marks and spent a few days tinkering with it, covering the rust with paint so that its shabby appearance wouldn’t arouse suspicion at the port. He drove it back to Hamburg and on the appointed day drove it safely over the viaduct to the terminal. A container ship was being loaded and Leha left the car in the dock workers’ car park. He hid in a sewer shaft not far from the container ship. There he waited until the work slowed down with the onset of darkness, giving him a chance to get on board. But as night fell, the container ship’s ramp was raised!
Before dawn, Leha climbed out of the well and hid behind the containers, waiting for the moment when the ramp would be lowered. The containers at the terminal were lined up in tight rows, with narrow aisles between them. A patrol car drove along the rows from time to time, the police illuminating the corridors with flashlights. Leha hopped like a rabbit to avoid the spotlight. When the ramp was lowered, the decision came spontaneously. He took off his sweater and tied a tie. He wore decent khaki jeans, boots, and a leather jacket. He ditched his backpack and left a package of cookies, a bar of chocolate and a small carton of milk in his business case.
With a businesslike expression on his face, Leha walked to the gangway and introduced himself to the guard as a cargo agent who wanted to know the fate of two containers belonging to his company. The guard agreed to take him to the captain’s cabin. Once on deck, Leha politely dismissed the guard, saying he knew how to find the captain’s cabin. After circling the superstructure, he immediately dived into the nearest hatch and went down into the hold. There he found a niche and hid. His nerves were on edge. He could not remember how much time passed before he finally felt the familiar vibration of the hull, the ship’s engines coming on. More time passed, his wristwatch showed past midnight. Quietly, Leha crawled out of the niche and looked around the hold. He found a piece of cardboard and pulled it into his place. Now he had a mattress. He crawled out of the hold and up the ladder to the main deck. The hatch was open and Leha breathed in the sea air for a long time.
He had planned to go out on deck at night. But that proved impossible. During the day, the ship made short passages between ports, where container loading was going on all night. From his niche, Leha watched the workers setting up containers a few meters away from him. He was thirsty. There was condensation on the metal of the ship’s hull, and it was pure water. Leha was putting his handkerchief on the metal and sucked the moisture out of it. A small piece of chocolate and half a cookie made up his daily ration. One could survive for weeks without food, but without water, one would only have strength for a few days. His life was in that wet handkerchief!
During a week the container ship was entering ports, loading containers, and one night Leha finally felt the familiar rocking. He went up on deck. The Southampton lighthouse was shining on the starboard side, Leha new its characteristics. Overhead was the night sky; he recognized Polaris between the stars. The container ship was heading west, with the Atlantic ahead. Goodbye, Europe! Goodbye, fatherland, and thank you for everything! In the insole of his shoe was 200 dollars, his entire capital. His thirst for freedom drove him to America, he was not afraid of danger, his adrenaline was off the scale!
And his thoughts turned uneasy. As a seaman, Leha realized that during an ocean voyage the bosun would close all the hatches, he would not be able to get out of the hold, he would die there without food and water. With maximum precautions, Leha made his way to the superstructure. There he quickly found a small niche, an empty storeroom. It had a wooden floor, and after the cold of the iron deck it seemed luxurious to Leha. Never had the wooden grate been such a soft featherbed for his bones.
He watched the shift change by wristwatch: the crew lived by the English fleet schedule adopted worldwide. At night, between watch changes, when the risk of meeting any of the crew members was minimal, Leha would sneak into the galley. There was nothing in the refrigerator but a bowl of boiled rice and raw cabbage, and Leha realized that the crew were Chinese. You can’t joke with these guys: they smuggle contraband and can easily throw a stranger overboard. Leha nibbled rice crumbs, trying not to arouse suspicion. He stayed awake in his hiding place, dozing with a knife in his hand, ready for any surprises. Another week passed; he controlled the time until he was sure the ship had entered the New York time zone. That night he decided to surrender to the crew.
At night he waited in the galley for the watchman to come in for tea. Leha had never seen a Chinese with round eyes, but this one’s became round when he saw a stranger. The Chinese, stunned by what he saw, probably thought he saw an alien. He disappeared with a scream, and a few minutes later the entire crew was in the dining room, led by the captain. Leha knew from practical experience that the Chinese would throw such refugees overboard to avoid having their cargo inspected and fined by customs at the port of arrival. Leha was prepared for the fact that even if they threw him overboard, the ship was already in a busy traffic area and someone would pick him up. But everything worked out. He asked the captain to inform the coastal authorities that the refugee on board was seeking political asylum. And he gave the captain his seaman’s certificate. That changed everything. The captain showed the certificate to the crew.
He expressed his sympathy to Leha and regretted that he had suffered hardships and had not given in earlier. The sailors also relaxed. The captain invited Leha to the radio operator’s cabin, reporting to the shore authorities about the refugee on board. Then he allocated him to the second mate’s cabin and Leha finally took a hot shower. They treated him with meat, gave him hearty food, but he could not eat, the tension did not go away. The crew was Taiwanese. The captain was considerate, and Leha was grateful to him for such a display of seafaring brotherhood, he remembered those hours for the rest of his life.
AMERICA!
The container ship was entering New York harbor and the captain invited Leha up to the bridge. The panoramic view amazed Chuguev, he met the land of his dreams for the first time. He was greeted by the Statue of Liberty with a torch in her raised hand, the skyscrapers of Manhattan were glistening in the sunlight. Leha was overcome with emotion and tears of joy filled his eyes. In those moments, he realized that a man can do the craziest thing if he really wants his dream to come true.
He was interrogated by three uniformed officers, one of whom was a woman. They asked him to write an affidavit, and Leha had it ready. It contained a brief biography and the reasons for his escape from the USSR. The fact that Leha spoke almost fluent English at first made the officers suspect that he was a spy, and they questioned him. Leha replied that he was a seaman and needed to know the language of his profession. The female officer looked at the diploma, smiled at Leha and wished him good luck in a free country. At that moment, Leha was grateful for their support. They asked him to show them the places where he was hiding, then took a photograph of him with a piece of cardboard on his chest, on which they wrote his number and personal details. The officers left and Leha was told to wait in his cabin.
After a while there was a knock at the door. A policeman stood behind it: a clean-shaven face and immaculate haircut, a carefully pressed uniform, a cap, a cockade, badges and stripes, boots and kid gloves – everything reeked of law and glittered of Hollywood. “Welcome to America,” he smiled at Leha, “I am a United States policeman, my name is Robert Quickley, and I have some options for you…”.
There were two options. The first was that since Leha was on a ship flying the flag of a foreign country, he could ask the captain for permission to take him to any other country along the ship’s route. The second option was that if Leha expressed a desire to stay in America, he would be taken into immigration custody, then his request would be reviewed by the court and possibly denied. And he could be deported back to the country he fled. Leha did not hesitate. He held out his hands to the officer and said he had reached the country of his dreams and was ready for whatever awaited him here. The cuffs clicked on his wrists. They walked down the gangway, and the crew of the container ship smiled at Leha and applauded his bravery. The captain gave him a photo and a signed Taiwanese banknote for good luck. They were his seafaring brothers, and Leha kept the photo as a bright frame for the story of his adventure. Many years later, he tried to find out the fate of the container ship on the Internet. All he found was a photo with the following comment: “No service records found. Operational status – decommissioned or lost…”. We all disappear one day…
The policeman put him in the back seat of the car and secured the handcuffs to the floor with a chain. Law and order! He started the engine and turned to Leha: “Man, I’ve seen a lot of people. But you’re different, I really like your desperation. I don’t know how the court will decide your case, maybe you’ll be deported. But you risked your life, you wanted to come to this country! I want to show her to you…”.
He drove the car through New York, they crossed bridges, passed old buildings and monuments to American heroes, into the midst of Manhattan’s skyscrapers. It was obvious that the policeman was in love with his country, and Leha was shocked by what he saw and listened to the passionate stories.
The building looked more like a cheap hotel. It was a temporary place where illegal immigrants were held pending a decision by the immigration authorities. One room was occupied by a few guards. They were cheerful Italians, always drinking beer, watching TV and chattering loudly in their musical language. In the second, smaller room, Leha faced three refugees – two Romanians and a Russian, very withdrawn, seemingly depressed. There was a large bed in the middle of the room, and they took turns sleeping on it.
There was a toilet and shower in the room, and they were fed three times a day with meagre portions of cheap food. Chuguev had lost 30 kilos in weight and was physically exhausted after his ocean adventure; now he was coming round. His cellmates looked dejected, no one spoke to him. Leha settled down on the floor, used to sleeping on the hard since childhood, and only asked the Romanians to give him a pillow, he was happy with everything. The noisy Italians didn’t bother them much, but when they saw Leha doing push-ups on the floor, they nodded their heads and gave him a thumbs up, as if to say: ‘You’ll be all right, mate!’.
A few days later, they had visitors. The policeman, Robert, arrived with a Russian priest. The priest was a representative of the Russian Orthodox Church in exile who had fled Russia in 1917 and later moved overseas to America. The policeman told Leha to listen to everything the priest said in order to fill out the paperwork correctly for the interview. While doing the paperwork, Leha blurted out something of his own, but the policeman told him to shut up and write down only what the priest said. After that, Leha felt a brotherly warmth for Robert. So the days passed, maybe a few weeks. One morning they were all handcuffed and taken by bus to the immigration court for questioning.
The interview with the officer lasted at least an hour, and the officer had many questions. He was very polite but watched Leha carefully as he answered. Then they were taken back to the ‘sanatorium’. One day, a depressed young Russian man disappeared, and the guard whispered to Leha that he had been refused by the Immigration Department, and he cut his veins. He was taken to hospital and the same priest who had helped Leha with the papers had saved the young man from deportation. Then the Romanians were taken away somewhere, leaving Leha alone.
In the morning, he woke up from the silence and investigated the next room. The Italian guards were gone. The door to the corridor was open and there was a guard at the end. He gave Leha a piece of paper and said he was free to go.
Chuguev walked out into the yard. The sky was bright blue, seagulls were flying in it, he could smell the ocean, it was somewhere close. The words he had once read came to his mind: “The realization of freedom requires a shock. True freedom begins on the other side of despair…”. Leha did not remember the name of the author of these words. But it did not matter. Now those words were part of his life! The card had his name, his assigned number, and his status. It was a pass to America! Leha smiled and walked to the gate.
Robert was standing by the police car. His face was clean-shaven, his haircut immaculate, his uniform was carefully pressed, his cap, his cockade, his badges and stripes, his boots and gloves – everything smelled of the law and sparkled with Hollywood! He smiled and invited Leha for a ride, this time without handcuffs. They went to his house and Robert poured him a glass of vodka. He showed Leha family photos and talked about his mother. And he asked where Leha wanted to live in America. Leha said Los Angeles and explained that he loved the sunny ocean. The policeman immediately called the airport and ordered a ticket for the next flight. He added that the ticket and all expenses would be paid by the company whose ship had brought Leha to America and asked him not to be shy about ordering food and drinks on the plane. Robert took Leha to the airport and walked him through the gate. He asked the stewardess, at the transfer point in Arizona, to literally take Leha by the hand and transfer him to the plane flying to Los Angeles so that he wouldn’t get lost. She took care of Leha the entire flight.
In a few hours the plane landed in Los Angeles. His adventures continued…
End of part three.
Epiloque.
This is a true story of my life. I just used an ‘alter ego’ for myself in it.
I remembered policeman Robert Quickley as the first real American in my life. Later life in America proved that all real Americans are kind and sympathetic people.
© Copyright: Walter Maria, 2015 Publication Certificate No. 215121600320
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