Rodney Barker - Dancing with the Devil - Sex, Espionage and the U.S. Marines - The Clayton Lonetree Story

Silence filled Genrietta Khokha’s dimly lit loft-studio. In a whispered voice she said very few people were aware of what I had just heard. Even Violetta was unaware of this history.

She went on to say it was an awful feeling to know that you were responsible for inflicting an unforgivable injury on someone to whom you intended no harm, and how when that happened you damaged your own life. She was speaking for herself, but I somehow sensed she was letting me know that this was a feeling her daughter had come to know as well.

The opening line of Anna Karenina —“Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way”—kept coming to mind as the tale of Violetta’s teenage years unfolded. Her mother’s marriage to Vladimir was an emotional trauma that became a turning point with the birth of a baby girl, Svetlana. Not only did Violetta resent the attention bestowed on her new half sister, her grandmother, Zoya, emerged as a destructive force in family relations. The old woman was getting senile, and fearing that her own position in the household was being usurped, she did everything in her power to turn her granddaughter against Genrietta.

“Your mother has traded both of us for this man,” she whispered to Violetta. “Watch out now or she’ll turn you into a babysitter.”

Zoya even went so far as to confide to Violetta, “I am the person you have to thank for being on earth, because I’m the one who stopped your mother from having an abortion. She never wanted you.”

After that, the domestic atmosphere became very strained. Violetta felt betrayed—by her mother, and by the man she’d fallen in love with. Now that a younger sister had come along, she felt replaced and no longer part of the family. At home there were constant scenes and quarrels. She was rude with her stepfather and hostile toward her sister, and she treated her mother with cold-hearted contempt. Genrietta saw what was happening, knew she was losing her daughter, and did not know what to do about it.

As with all Soviet children, growing up Violetta had joined Communist youth organizations. She had attended the Octoberites club as a little girl, where she was taught to play games through which ran themes of Communist ideology. When she was nine she received the red kerchief of the Young Pioneers, which she wore proudly around her neck as a badge of honor. And at the age of fourteen she had become a member of Komsomol, a political organization that prepared Soviet youth to become party members, though by this time a lot of the idealism had been lost and joining was almost an automatic act.

But Violetta was not particularly interested in politics. She would sit without protest through relentless ideological indoctrinations that shaped virtually every class, but more often than not her mind would drift to more pleasant topics. In this regard she asserted her independence in the same way a lot of Soviet girls did—by escaping from the required readings about class struggle and social conflicts in the West into romance literature. Her fondness for Pushkin was extreme—she kept a special notebook in which she wrote his poems in her own handwriting, and she knew his biography by heart. She read everything that was translated of Alexandre Dumas—her favorites were the adventure stories The Three Musketeers and The Count of Monte Cristo, where the hero and heroine, after an exciting adventure, arrive at a happy ending. Margaret Mitchell’s Gone With the Wind topped the list of American titles she read and liked.

As she neared the end of her high school years, Violetta began to think seriously about her future. It was a logical choice for her to set her sights on entering the prestigious Maurice Thorez Institute of Foreign Languages. A degree from the institute would mean a better job than clerical or secretarial work, and it contained the exotic promise of nice clothes, good food, and even travel opportunities. But gaining admission was no easy task. There was a lot of competition to get in. Only the students with the top grades from the best schools were accepted. Unless your family had political clout, that was. Although the institute had a good academic reputation, the admissions process was known to be corrupt. If you did not make a passing grade on the entrance examination but your parents were well off or well connected, an exception was made.

Although her mother could be classified as part of the intelligentsia, Genrietta had no political connections, the schools Violetta had attended catered primarily to children of the working class, her teachers were average, and her language skills were mediocre. So she had very little chance of getting into the Institute of Foreign Languages by the normal route, but she was an ambitious girl, willing to do whatever it took to forge a career for herself.

There were two departments at the Institute of Foreign Languages: the Pedagogical Department, where teachers of foreign languages were trained, and the Interpreters Department. Women, who traditionally were involved in education, made up the bulk of the pedagogical student body, whereas the majority of those studying to become interpreters were males. There were also day classes and evening classes, the former for the full-time students, the latter for those looking to upgrade their skills. It was through a combination of personal charm and resolution that Violetta managed to land a laboratory-assistant position in the administrative offices of the Pedagogical Department, where she would also be permitted to attend evening classes.

That first year she made passing grades in all of her classes. But when she was given permission to become a day student at the Pedagogical Department and, not only that, allowed to audit interpreters’ classes in the evening, the arrangement had little to do with her performance in the classroom.

The term stukach is derived from the verb “to knock.” In Russian it refers to a person who knocks on the door of his boss and informs on fellow workers or students. It translates into English as “snitch.”

The way it usually worked, an assistant to the dean at the institute would call into the office a student whose grades were poor and would promise a passing grade on the next examination, or give an assurance that there would be no expulsion. There were a number of variants, but they all added up to the same offer: The student would be allowed to continue with his or her studies if he or she was willing to cooperate with the administration in addressing some of its security concerns.

“Our instructors are very concerned about the moral character of those whom we are training to interact with Westerners, or to serve overseas,” the school official would say. “Do they drink excessively? Do they have a weakness for women? Do they exchange rubles for hard currency? Are they critical of the Soviet system in private? Are they secret admirers of Western lifestyles? Do they have contacts with Westerners they do not report? These are things we need to know, because these are the things that will make them vulnerable to blackmail if they are given overseas assignments. So please understand, it is our intention to help our students, and by helping us identify problem areas, you will be helping them, too.”

In Violetta’s case, in trade for accelerated educational opportunities she agreed to play the role of the bright and attractive student who had been given permission to audit interpreters’ classes, and after ingratiating herself into the confidence of her fellow students who were preparing to work as interpreters in the West, she would report on their activities and conversations. Her responsibilities were not characterized as spying; it was more a matter of advising the instructors on their students’ politics, personal habits, tastes, and weaknesses.