Tales From The Long Red Line

By Anthony Miller

In 1983 two twenty something year old Australians journeyed through the USSR on the famous Trans Siberian Express with fifty other Australasians, one Swiss and one American on what was supposed to be a smooth well organised trip but things do not always go to plan. Terry and Kellie very much in love with each other take on a trip of a lifetime and find others with a similar outlook of adventure and curiosity with different places and cultures. On the way they discover more about themselves, each other and their country and confirm the proverb that travel broadens the mind.
Edited with the assistance of Margaret Langdon.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anthony Miller
• Release date: Nov 8, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370226429

Anthony Miller

Anthony E Miller is a comedian and novelist. He was Managing Director of Pear Shaped in Fitzrovia for many years and has gigged all over the UK even though nobody wanted him to. He has written one other novella Seaweed (published by Whimsical Publications).

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Tales from the Long Red Line

Tony Miller

A true story of the journey of two young Australians on the Trans-Siberian Express through the USSR in 1983

Copyright 2016 Tony Miller

Published by Tony Miller at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition License Notes

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Contents

Chapter 1: The Sea of Japan

Chapter 2: The Courting of Terry and Kellie

Chapter 3: The Interrogation

Chapter 4: Siberia Bound

Chapter 5: Siberia’s Cold Paradise

Chapter 6: Towards Moscow USSR

Chapter 7: Moscow and Leningrad USSR

Chapter 8: Back in the West

Chapter 1 – The Sea of Japan

It says it here, Wes explained, pointing to the little booklet.

It says it here! he repeated, gradually getting louder, as if the increasing decibels would help the three young Japanese bellboys understand.

Look, we were to be picked up at the station. Look! It says so – here! One bellboy looked at where Wes was pointing, and then took the booklet off Wes to consult with the other two, but the confused bellboy had no luck in alleviating his own or his colleagues’ complete lack of understanding. Unfortunately, the little booklet provided by Lunar Rise Tours to be a travel guide for the mainly Australasian Group, who were travelling through Bangkok, Hong Kong, Taiwan and Japan then onto the main part of their tour through the USSR on the Trans-Siberian Express, did not help – it only increased their confusion.

Eventually, Wes gave up, throwing his arms in the air, shaking his head and walking away. Nobody, including Kellie, Terry or any of the others in the group, had the heart to tell him that there had been three versions of this guide book with three different scenarios of how they were to get to the Tokyo hotel from the ‘Bullet’ train station. Most of the ‘adventure’ travellers (a group of 55 Australians and New Zealanders, with one older American and one younger Swiss man) had been talking about the differences and wondering which version would be the true one.

Wes and his wife Marjorie, who were retired Queenslanders with a stereotypical but lovable country Australian style, were not the only retired people on the trip. There was also Harry, a Victorian, who – after 40-odd years working with the same bank and never leaving the state – decided to travel through the Soviet Union on what is arguably the world’s most famous railway trip, much to the surprise and delight of his kind and friendly wife of 35 years, Helen. Harry and Helen were the stable ‘Mum and Dad’ type that all the twenty-something late Baby Boomers and early Gen Xs could rely on. Terry personally appreciated Harry listening to him and understanding him during the trip, especially since Terry had lost his father less than four years previously.

George and Beth were two New Zealanders who had only been married for 35 weeks but seemed just as stable in their relationship as Harry and Helen. While Harry and Helen were like Fred and Wilma from The Flintstones, George and Beth were like Barney and Betty – you knew Harry and Helen just that little bit better. Other ‘older’ (and wiser) members of the group included two single women, presumably widowed, who throughout East Asia followed George and Harry for protection more than anything (Harry especially seemed to lap up his new role of guide and protector); and a couple (Karl and Heather) who seemed slightly out of place amongst the rag bag Australasian group members (being slightly more cultured but friendly just the same). There was also Hank, a single man in his seventies from the USA who was anything but a stereotypical American. He was as down to earth as any Aussie or Kiwi and was quite wealthy. Later, Terry and Kellie would discover (after a couple of American Backpackers who noticed the two Californian addresses Hank had provided for Terry’s address book) that he wasn't only wealthy, but stinking rich. Never judge a book by its cover.

However, the vast majority on the tour were Aussie and Kiwi Gen X and Baby Boomers, all with individual stories but sharing a sense of adventure. Besides Hank, the only other exception was Basil; a blue-eyed, bearded blonde man from Switzerland in his late twenties who, if it wasn’t for his accent, could be easily mistaken for an Australian. His sense of humour and sense of fun equalled any of those from down under.

Although they had been a group for three nights in Bangkok, four in Hong Kong, one in Taiwan, two in Kyoto and were just about to spend two nights together in Tokyo, it wouldn’t be until the journey across the Sea of Japan that they would all finally feel part of a ‘family’, and not just a bunch of tourists thrown together. Literally, they had to be ‘all on the same boat’ before the feeling of togetherness would became apparent.

Three days later, Kellie and Terry found themselves in a taxi making its way through the streets of Tokyo and Kawasaki and on to the port of Yokohama. The weather had turned much cooler and the sea air and stiff breeze on the grey Japanese spring morning increased their nerves and anticipation. Simon, a large Aussie male around his late-twenties, was in the front seat of the taxi, communicating with mainly sign language to the Japanese driver about where to drop them off. Eventually, they saw the port and the boat that was to take the group to the port of Nakhodka in the far South-East of the Union of Soviet Socialists Republics.

The actual Trans-Siberian Express started in Vladivostok, but this was 1983, with Reagan in the White House and Andropov in the Kremlin, nuclear weapons build up, evil empire talk, and Flight 007 from South Korea being shot down over Soviet territory. With Vladivostok the USSR’s main military port in the East, it was not a place (or so the Soviet Government thought) for a bunch of Westerners to be wandering around armed with cameras. The group had been told not to photograph women doing manual work (but, strangely, men were okay) or any bridge the Trans-Siberian crossed (presumably so they did not become a nuclear target).

The SS Khabarovsk (the ship they were to spend the next three days and two nights on) did not look big enough to take on even Port Phillip Bay or Sydney Harbour – let alone the Sea of Japan. Its name was written on its side in Russian Script, with no Roman Script translation (they were going to have to get used to English not necessarily being the second language). Terry and the others grabbed their luggage from the back of the taxi and made their way towards the main group that was forming to go through Japanese emigration and onto the boat. Taxis were coming in with the rest of the crowd (there were around 14 taxis taking the group to Yokohama Port just for the group, let alone for other passengers) and they all congregated