Cold.
Darkness.
Snow.
Sergej wiped his tearing eyes on the sleeves of his run-down cotton coat while he walked in the middle of his brigade. The winter was lasting for five months now and would for at least another two. After Stalin's dead last spring many political prisoners had been released and rehabilitated, but not him. The ten years for his attempt of stealing bread which had been added to his original sentence of five years had put him off the lists of intelligenzia who got pardoned and he had remained in prison. He had taken it with equanimity, and as he had expected, a new flow of prisoners had closed the ranks pretty soon.
In silence, only disturbed by the loud counting of the guards, he and his fellow convicts entered the Gulag …show more content…
"No, comrade commandant. My wife sends me one every three months, and the next should arrive in March."
Shaking off his paralyzing dread, his eyes followed the movements of the mail guard, who lifted a parcel from the floor onto the commandant's desk. Of small size, sewn in coarse cloth it looked inconspicuous enough.
"With the latest mail a parcel has arrived for you, that is not conform to the usual gifts the prisoners are allowed to receive."
Sergej kept a neutral face while his thoughts were racing. He noted the smug face of the guard who was responsible for the mail delivery and who always received a share of Sergej's parcels. It wasn't hard to guess why he went to the commandant: If his parcel was illicit, it would entirely be divided between the …show more content…
"You have the list of irregular items with you?"
"Yes, comrade commandant."
And you know it by heart, you bastard.
Sergej remembered with bitterness the confiscation of tins full of meat, jam made by loving hands that never reached their desperate recipients as they were send in glass. Since the new commandant had taken over, the men at least got the ingredients, but the guards were infamous for leaving a lot of the food in the offending containers before they confiscated them.
At first the commandant pulled out a lot of straw but then he developed to Grandfather Frost, the Russian Santa Claus, and Sergej could only swallow his emotions. With ever higher rising eyebrows the commandant put several cloth bags on the table labeled chamomile, marigold and sage. The herbs spread their distinctive smell through the smoke-filled room when the strings were pulled open. But upon unwrapping the waxed paper of a larger parcel an unbelievable water-inducing odor tickled the taste buds of everyone in the office. Reverently the commandant revealed a pound of smoked ham covered in herbs, and laid it carefully on the straw. This was followed by paper bags filled with rolled oats, powdered milk, black tea and a tiny bag of real, roasted coffee beans. Sniffing at the content of the last pouch, the commandant forgot himself and closed his eyes in rapture. In the middle of the small crate two beautiful, with bright
Darkness.
Snow.
Sergej wiped his tearing eyes on the sleeves of his run-down cotton coat while he walked in the middle of his brigade. The winter was lasting for five months now and would for at least another two. After Stalin's dead last spring many political prisoners had been released and rehabilitated, but not him. The ten years for his attempt of stealing bread which had been added to his original sentence of five years had put him off the lists of intelligenzia who got pardoned and he had remained in prison. He had taken it with equanimity, and as he had expected, a new flow of prisoners had closed the ranks pretty soon.
In silence, only disturbed by the loud counting of the guards, he and his fellow convicts entered the Gulag …show more content…
"No, comrade commandant. My wife sends me one every three months, and the next should arrive in March."
Shaking off his paralyzing dread, his eyes followed the movements of the mail guard, who lifted a parcel from the floor onto the commandant's desk. Of small size, sewn in coarse cloth it looked inconspicuous enough.
"With the latest mail a parcel has arrived for you, that is not conform to the usual gifts the prisoners are allowed to receive."
Sergej kept a neutral face while his thoughts were racing. He noted the smug face of the guard who was responsible for the mail delivery and who always received a share of Sergej's parcels. It wasn't hard to guess why he went to the commandant: If his parcel was illicit, it would entirely be divided between the …show more content…
"You have the list of irregular items with you?"
"Yes, comrade commandant."
And you know it by heart, you bastard.
Sergej remembered with bitterness the confiscation of tins full of meat, jam made by loving hands that never reached their desperate recipients as they were send in glass. Since the new commandant had taken over, the men at least got the ingredients, but the guards were infamous for leaving a lot of the food in the offending containers before they confiscated them.
At first the commandant pulled out a lot of straw but then he developed to Grandfather Frost, the Russian Santa Claus, and Sergej could only swallow his emotions. With ever higher rising eyebrows the commandant put several cloth bags on the table labeled chamomile, marigold and sage. The herbs spread their distinctive smell through the smoke-filled room when the strings were pulled open. But upon unwrapping the waxed paper of a larger parcel an unbelievable water-inducing odor tickled the taste buds of everyone in the office. Reverently the commandant revealed a pound of smoked ham covered in herbs, and laid it carefully on the straw. This was followed by paper bags filled with rolled oats, powdered milk, black tea and a tiny bag of real, roasted coffee beans. Sniffing at the content of the last pouch, the commandant forgot himself and closed his eyes in rapture. In the middle of the small crate two beautiful, with bright