I was born in Russia and heard the “Guns of August” in 1914. We had endured two years of a Communistic regime—starvation, trading our household goods on the Black Market, scrounging for firewood, Father being arrested and put in a concentration camp—and the fruitless hope of victory by the White Armies. These had become our way of life. Eventually, at age fourteen, my family escaped Russia.
In 1920, after my parents and I succeeded in getting out of Russia but stranded in Prague for four years. I say “stranded” because living in Czechoslovakia thwarted my boyhood dreams and aspirations.
This story is a story of a boy’s life, convictions, and aspirations. I hope the reader will consider it a mere narrative and not seek any plot, implications of hidden meaning, or moral.
The descriptions of historical personages and events are made by my protagonist [me!] with thoughts during my youth and not necessarily by me as an adult. All the opinions are mine, but the geographical and historical background is factual.
This book is not written for those who expect to see a whitewashed hero. I have attempted to sketch a boy’s portrait, with foibles and virtues blended, moving into a real, actual world through authentic events.
I translated the colloquialisms of foreign speech literally as long as they made sense, even if they sounded somewhat strange.
And now‑‑ with my story.
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