Stationed For Good ... In Moscow: A Tale of Love and Peril In the Cold War

By Vladimir McMillin

Based on a true story, Stationed in Moscow...For Good -- A Tale of Love and Peril in the Cold War depicts the dramatic defection of Sgt. James McMillin, a young man who gave up his family, country, career, and identity to be forever branded a traitor in 1948. It begins with the passionate and totally committed love of his life, Galina Dunaeva.

This amazing spy story, filled with compassion, romance, and suspense set during a most tense and sinister period of the "Cold War" illustrates the trappings of the dreaded NKVD/KGB and how it affected life in Moscowâ and the USSRâ for everyone. The aftermath of U.S. Sgt. McMillin's defection as told in this book will complete the story of what became of James McMillin after slipping behind the Iron Curtain, never to return.

• Language: English
• Publisher: eBookIt.com
• Release date: Apr 26, 2016
• ISBN: 9781936688456

Book preview

Dad.

Prologue

The news published in almost all American newspapers and major magazines in May of 1948 including Life and Newsweek shocked the entire American establishment. The Cold War between the USA and the USSR was gaining momentum and the Iron Curtain was built to divide the relationship between former War World II allies. James McMillin, 21-year-old U.S. Army sergeant serving with the Embassy in Moscow, deserted his post in exchange for the love of Russian woman, Galina Dunaeva. Russian authorities released propaganda stating that it was a political act—McMillin’s protest against the anti-Soviet policies of the capitalists. But back in the United States some Americans held their own view on this incident; one of them former roommate of McMillin in Moscow’s American House, the first landing place for most American servicemen, Sgt. Paul Beatley. He told journalists what was really happening in Moscow when McMillin decided to defect.

According to Beatley, nearly every newly arrived American soldier in Moscow was showered with the attention of Russian girls. Everyday life for Russians was so boring that the beautiful young local girls were willing to do almost anything to date Americans. The young men were great entertainment for them. Of course, we suspected that they were connected with the KGB, but who cared? We were young, and the sexy Russian girls were so enchanting we couldn’t resist them.

American House was a two-story, red-brick building facing the Moscow River, close to Park Kulturi Bridge. It was only about a mile from the Kremlin, Moscow’s historic downtown where Soviet government offices were located. The U.S. Embassy was also close by. On the right side was the KGB office building, at that time it was called the NKVD—the secret police department.

The American Embassy officials were relatively sure that hidden microphones were planted in the walls of American House, placed there by the NKVD, so soldiers were instructed to be very careful of their conversations while in their rooms. About thirty-five men lived in American House in very poor conditions. The atmosphere was depressing; the cracked walls were dirty yellow, floors were rotting away in places, so the pretty Russians girls were a good diversion for the soldiers during their isolated existence at American House. Beatley was really surprised by the fact that these young women, who were willing to give up everything to have fun, were personable, and once taken on as a steady girlfriend, were faithful to one man—at least while he was around.

Beatley told journalists that he remembered well meeting Galina Dunaeva for the first time. She had married Sgt. John Biconish two weeks before I arrived in Moscow. When word got to his authorities, he was sent back to the United States and Galina was left behind. She was so sad. One thing I have to say is that she was unquestionably the most beautiful of all the girls who came to American House. According to Beatley, he could still picture Galina. She was five feet seven inches tall and weighed around 115 pounds with a lovely fair complexion and lush blonde hair. Her appealing blue eyes were framed in a sweetly oblong face—accentuated by a scar under the chin. She had a perfect figure and a flirtatious and gregarious personality.

Jimmy fell in love with Galina right before my eyes at a routine dancing party at American House. Knowing her situation, he was very gentle with her and helped her out after Biconish had been transferred back to the states. Jimmy was about my age. He was six feet tall and weighed about 150 pounds. He was well liked and respected for his intelligence. He didn’t drink and he didn’t take up with the girls—that is, until he fell for Galina.

Beatley told reporters that he and Jimmy liked each other from the start, and Jimmy never minded his presence when Galina was around.

For nine months I roomed with Jimmy. Then we parted ways. It was not my fault, but Jimmy started to suspect that I was looking differently at Galina. He was a jealous guy. I understood him. He was deeply in love with her.

After Beatley had been back in the States for a couple months, he read about Jimmy’s desertion. He said one thing he knew for sure was that Jimmy was never a Communist or party sympathizer.

There were no pro-Communists at the Embassy, that’s for sure. The drab Moscow life, the heavy atmosphere of fear and suspicion smothered any tendencies in that direction. Jimmy had often said there was nothing in Russia that could compare with the American way of life.

Beatley told interviewers that he never thought of Galina as a clever, experienced KGB agent. He remembers her as a vain, possessive woman. She never argued a point—she insisted. After breaking away from Beatley, Jimmy started to become very strange. He stopped coming to mess and rarely spoke to anyone. Galina was with him all the time.

Beatley, when confronted by journalists simply said, Maybe we should not blame the guy too much.

Chapter 1

I grew up in Moscow, but not in a typical Russian family, and for sure not with typical Russian parents. My last name, McMillin, was not a common name in Russia. Actually there were no other McMillins in Russia at all. There were only three of us. My half sister’s last name was Dunaeva, our mom’s maiden name. I am seven years younger than she.

I figured out that my family was unusual when I was three years old. One of my earliest memories was my third birthday. I remember being fascinated when my dad unwrapped and began putting together all the pieces of my birthday gift, a shiny white American Ford pedal car!

No kid in Russia at that time—the beginning of the 1950s—had a pedal machine. It wasn’t even in anybody’s dreams. Nobody had ever heard of such a thing. I was very proud to have such a pedal machine. I didn’t care where it came from. When I drove that beauty on the sidewalks, dozens of people followed with amazement on their faces.

Another thing that was unusual about my early life was that when I went outside to play at the little playground near our apartment, there were always two big guys near me. I didn’t know they were security men. They didn’t bother me and they didn’t let anybody laugh at me. Some kids tried to make fun of me, calling me stinky American guy, but these two men immediately shut them up. I knew that my dad spoke Russian with an unfamiliar heavy accent but again, I didn’t care. I loved my dad and mom and I knew they loved me very much.

When I went to school, my mom explained to me that my dad was an American and if somebody started to poke fun, don’t pay attention. That was easy for her to say, but in reality I sometimes felt very hurt by the jokes of my classmates.

At geography lesson, when my class found out that the highest mountain in Alaska was called McKinley it made everybody look at me and laugh because it was similar to McMillin. One time, unintentionally, the teacher laughed even louder. She looked at me with a kind smile on her face and called me to her desk. I was surprised and confused when she called me McKinley instead of McMillin. It was a slip—she didn’t mean to do it, but it was too late. My destiny was decided. From that moment everybody began to use the incident to tease me… they stopped using my first name and nicknamed me Kinley after that mountain. But my classmates noticed that I was becoming tougher.

The first time in my life I was confronted with prejudice connected with my American Dad and my family was when I was seven years old. I was playing in the street near our house with other kids my age. My usual security men were not around. One teenager from the neighborhood noticed I was without protection and he smacked me right in the face. I felt the pain, my eyes started watering and I was ready to cry. I could not figure out why this guy whom I had met before so many times would do such a thing. Suddenly I heard him yelling You American son of a bitch, get out of here, go home and stay there with your stinking American Daddy. Ha, ha, ha. I ran home in tears of embarrassment and pain. Once I got there and saw my Mom, I ran to her and held on to her tighter than ever before and asked her the questions, Why they are calling me ‘American son of a bitch’? Why they are calling my dad ‘Stinking American’? And what is it ‘Son of a bitch?’ My mom was really puzzled. She kissed me on the forehead and hugged me. We were silent for a moment.

After a while she told me to go outside and continue to play like nothing happened. Don’t be scared. Just know that I will watch and if something happens I will be there, near you. By the way, a bitch is a female dog, and what he said was pretty offensive. But try not to pay attention to it. If this guy approaches you again, just tell him that you know that a bitch is a dog and you are the son of a woman.

And that was exactly what I did. When I showed up in the street, again the same guy came to me and his eyes were full of hatred. I looked at him and said I checked with my mom and it seems that you made a mistake. She is not a female dog, and your mom is not a dog too. They are all human beings and they are our moms and we love them.

I looked straight in the eyes of my offender. Suddenly I noticed a change in his eyes. They started to be softer. And then to my relief I heard laughter. This guy was laughing.

He put his hand on my shoulders and said, You know, you are funny. I like it. From that moment I was under protection of this toughest guy in the neighborhood. Nobody even thought of touching this American ‘son of a human being.’

I learned how to fight, worked out at home, and fell in love with sports. Soon I started to be respected for my athletic abilities. At the age of fourteen I was the captain of school’s basketball, soccer, and hockey teams. Suddenly I found that I didn’t have any enemies—everybody wanted to be my friend. By this time my old nickname Kinley was forgotten and everybody just called me Mac. This I loved because a lot of people called my dad Mac.

I started to be a real hero in my class after one very important basketball game. On my team there were actually only two good basketball players—my friend Anatoly and I. We were very close and Anatoly was a constant guest at my home. We both simultaneously fell in love with basketball and as my dad received the American magazine Sports Illustrated from his father, we were all into reading articles about our favorite game. We knew all the College and NBA stars, checked their techniques and the way they threw the ball. That helped a lot in improving our game. The two of us were ready to take five opponents like nothing. Then, just before our most important game, Anatoly got sick and was unable to play. I was alone on the field against five players who were much taller than me, and they were smelling victory. Anatoly was watching the game from the stands. I concentrated like never before. The game started and some kind of inspiration hit my body. Every throw that I made was perfect. I was irrepressible. I made my weaker teammates play better than they ever had. I myself had twenty-one points in the first half and nineteen in the second. Our team won the game and I was the hero in my class until the end of my high school years. Nobody even dared to say anything bad about their half-American classmate.

By that age I became interested in everything about my life and I wanted to know more about my family. I spent a lot of time with my mom at our country home when school was out for the summer break, which lasted almost three months. We had a small one-bedroom cabin not far from Moscow—about thirty miles. One evening during a heavy rainstorm, before going to bed I asked Mom to tell me the story about what really happened fifteen years ago, in 1948. I already knew that my dad, a U.S. Army Sergeant, had decided to stay in the Soviet Union instead of going back to the USA after serving two years in the service.

Why, after you married him, I asked my mom, didn’t you go back to the USA with him? Instead, both of you stayed here.

It’s a long story, Volodya, Mom lovingly began. Do you really want to know the truth?

I said, I’m ready to listen to you until you’re finished.

Chapter 2

Galina Dunaeva didn’t grow up in an ordinary Russian family either. At home she was called Galya. Her father, Vasilii, worked in the Soviet secret service organization, which was called at that time the NKVD and would later become famously known as the KGB. He was rarely at home, going on business trips all over Russia. Exactly what he did, nobody knew. He never talked about his work at home even to his wife, who stayed at home taking care of the kids.

Galya had a brother, Vladimir who was two years younger. At a time when almost seventy percent of the Russian population lived in communal flats with kitchen and toilet facilities shared by a number of tenants, Galina’s family lived in a three-bedroom apartment. They weren’t far from downtown Moscow near a beautiful park and very close to a notorious Moscow prison Motroskay Tishina, which means quiet navy area in Russian. Nobody knew where the name came from but it wasn’t a very quiet area, especially in the 1930s when hundreds of political prisoners disappeared inside its walls. But Galina and her brother Vladimir didn’t pay much attention to the prison; the big park attracted all their attention. Both of them liked sports. In the winter Galya spent all her free time skating on the ice rink while Vladimir played soccer. Every day he and his buddies got together and played for several hours. They didn’t care if it was raining or snowing—after school they were on the field.

Galina’s dad, as a high-ranking officer, had an opportunity to rent a little cabin not far from Moscow where he and his family stayed during the summer break from school. Both Galina and Vladimir were very energetic, couldn’t sit in one place longer than one minute. They often hiked in the nearby areas and enjoyed the extended stays during summer break from school each year. One day when she was twelve years old, Galina, her brother and several of their friends were hiking in the forest near their cabin and found an abandoned house. Galina went up to a window to look inside. Suddenly she slipped, her head hit the window, and the glass broke. One shard of broken glass pierced deep into her neck. A fountain of blood gushed forth like a geyser and she fainted. Vladimir was nearly scared to death and ran as quickly as he could back to the cabin. Thank God their father was there, and he rushed Galina to a hospital. Doctors thought it was a miracle that she was still alive. She spent several weeks in the hospital, and went home with a dark scar on the right side of her neck that would be a visible reminder of the incident the rest of her life.

As was usual in the wintertime she spent a lot of time in the park on the skating rink. Despite the scar on her neck, Galya was a very attractive girl who was always surrounded by a group of boys. She didn’t escape the notice of a handsome young man, Nikolai, and they skated together often. She fell in love with him and they became sweethearts.

As she was only sixteen and still a little girl at heart, she still believed in fairy tales. She was sure she had met her prince charming. On one date he invited her to his home. My parents won’t be back for three hours, he said to Galina. We can have so much fun together alone.

With excitement and yet with some fear, Galina agreed. Alone and free to explore, they began with kissing, but with three hours and no intervention, they did not stop there. Sex was awkward but it did happen, for the first time in their lives. Two months later Galina realized that she was pregnant.

What do you think we should do? Galina asked Nikolai when she broke the news to him.

For Nikolai, this was an unexpected turn of events—and not welcome news. We must do something about it, he told