Harry Kellogg III: The Red Sky: The Second Battle of Britain

These trucks were of a newer model and different make than the few he has seen in his life and they were full of soldiers; soldiers of the Red Army who looked to be on their way to a major battle and not just an excursion into the hinterlands of the USSR. This would be an unusual invasion route into the Turkish lands he mused. I guess if you want to catch an enemy unaware you do the unusual. Yet here they were and he was sure that they would try and catch his fish.

Lake Sevan was 78 km long and 58 wide and he had rowed every inch of it. He had heard that it was 95 meters deep as well placing it as one of the largest lakes in the world and it was located 1900 meters high surrounded by mountains. All in all it was one of the most beautiful places on earth but the Fisherman knew no other so to him it was just home. He fished to live and lived to fish, selling his catch to another who came to him in a powerboat and bought what he could not eat. Most of the time he was paid in kind and that is what he preferred. Salt, thread, cloth, line, hooks, all things he needed to survive and to keep his boat afloat and his small sail patched. He was being taken advantage of by the men in the power boat but he did not care of even knew this was the case.

He probably did not even own the land his shack was on but no one knew who did so by default he did. If you found an empty piece of land, you lived there and it was then it was yours until you died and someone else came along. Men like him did not have families. He did come from a family he recalled but was on his own since the age of 10. A fire or pillaging band of bandits had taken his family as far as he could remember which was not much about that time. A modern clinical diagnosis would be “repressed memory” and be concerned. He just never thought about it and lived to fish instead.

What was happening on shore became annoying as well as alarming. The trucks were disgorging hundreds of soldiers near the Monastery. I suppose it was a natural draw for someone not from the area. That was the annoying part. The alarming part was that other trucks were headed for his hut. Most of what he owned was in the boat with him including all he needed to survive but he remembered he left his good knife, extra fishing line, his winter store of fish and the painting in there. It would set him back a full moons worth of extra fish to replace them by trading with the men in the powerboat and who knew when he would be able to catch enough to replace his winter stores.

The book was where he found it wrapped in cloth and wedged very safely between two boulders. No one would find it and if they did it was not very appealing. That’s partially why he just kept it hidden. He could not read and the few illustrations were of the “Ascending Jesus” and were not very well done in his mind. He had seen a photograph once and was much impressed with that but not with this admittedly old book full of scribbles and squiggly lines and bad hand drawn pictures that didn’t even look as real as the photograph he had seen when the men in the powerboat had shown it to him.

He hated to fish on the ice. He has seen too many fall in when you were too hungry in the spring to take precautions on the thin ice. He had seen too many mistakes made by relatively smart men.

He could only assume that the soldiers were on their way to fight the Turks. There was certainly nothing else to fight here. He did not know who he pitied more, the soldiers who were about to die in a foreign land or himself who would go hungry this winter. Luckily he knew of another hut that he could claim. It’s occupant had died the last moon. He had already staked a claim on it using the tried and true methods of the area but it was on the other side and farther away from his favorite fishing spot. He would have to spend twice the amount of energy getting there and back and during the winter the lake did not always freeze all the way over so he might have to go to his other less fertile fishing spots.

He began to curse the soldiers. Maybe if he killed a couple over the next few nights they would leave. No… they would try and hunt him down. They would not succeed but that would make him use up much needed supplies and who knows they just might get in a lucky shot and wound him. He was not afraid of dying but he was afraid of being shot and waiting to die while in pain.

No he would have to bide his time and wait to see what they did or were going to do here. His hope was that they were just passing through on their way to fight the Turk.

The monastery was empty and had been for a long time. It gave him an odd feeling being there and left as soon as he was sure nothing of value or of potential threat was present. Yet he feel the possibility of a threat but is was only a feeling. It was probably only tied to these ancient walls and as soon as he left it would not bother him again. As he was checking out one of the towers he glimpsed a pile of wood that could be a crude hut about three kilometers away.

Normally he would have Yevgeni take a squad and explore the area but he decided he was going himself. He really didn’t want to stay near these buildings any longer than was necessary. He got back in the command car and headed towards where he spotted the pile of wood. He could not see it until he almost ran it over. It was very well hidden in a small crevasse. He sent in a private while he walked the area. When the private came out and stated that there was nothing of value in the hut he entered and lit his cigarette lighter to guide the way.

In the flickering light he saw possibly the most wretched hovel, he had ever seen. He was from Kursk and had seen many bombed out buildings that looked better than this space. Pieces of fish bones, fish skin drying by a fire pit, fish heads being mangled into some kind of tool and then there was the indoor toilet that was swarming with maggots and those were the things worth remembering.

As he turned to go the light from the lighter caught a glimmer of cloth or fabric. Normally he would not have looked closer given the circumstances and condition of the surroundings. But that is exactly why he did become curious. What was a relatively clean piece of cloth doing in here? On his way to ascertain what was there in that hiding place he kicked over a container of rotting fish bones and almost fell on top of the pooling slime.

Once he righted himself he carefully retrieved the wrapped bundle and quickly exited the hut. When he got outside he did not take the time to closely examine the package less the private see what he had and just put it in the inside pocket of his great coat and motioned the Private to get in and drive. [51] Leonardo Da Vinci was well familiar with Armenian art and architecture, but must have certainly gotten his idea of “The Last Supper” (painted in 1495-1498) from an illuminated Armenian Bible manuscript (dated 1038, of Vanian school). This Armenian manuscript is the first and probably the only painting that shows among the disciples a woman, Mary Magdalene, lovingly leaning her head on the shoulder of Jesus! Da Vinci may certainly have been influenced by this idea of Jesus at the table scene showing a feminine looking disciple sitting on his left.

Oct. 22nd, 1946

It was a beautiful day outside. The sun was shining yet wasn’t too hot. The birds were coming down from Europe and settling in by the thousands on the Nile Delta. There was not a cloud in the sky and most people were enjoying the cool temperatures mitigated by the warm sunlight. A young couple strolled by and things were very pleasant outside of SAC HQ.