This is a story about a man with a singular quest: Freedom. It's one of the primary reasons people leave their homelands, often at great personal sacrifice.
INTRODUCTION
I met Ralph in the early 1990s on the beach at Park Point in Duluth, Minnesota. I was lying on a blanket reading while my children played in the sand near the water. At some point I glanced behind me and noticed an elderly man making his way across the beach.
He walked with considerable difficulty. One leg was badly withered; the other was strong and muscular from years of compensating for it. He was somewhat stooped and wore shorts and a button-down shirt. When he reached the water, he removed his shirt and slowly made his way into Lake Superior.
He stayed in the cold water for nearly twenty minutes. When he came out, he gathered his belongings and began the slow walk back toward his car. As he passed me, he stopped.
“You like to read,” he said. He had a strong Eastern European accent.
I told him I did, and we began talking. He told me he had loved libraries while growing up. When I mentioned that I was a writer, Ralph said people had told him many times that someone should write the story of his life.
He had grown up in Estonia, outside Tallinn on the Baltic Sea, and was now in his seventies. Before leaving, he offered me a glimpse of the story he wanted to tell.
“Would you like to hear how learning new languages saved my life?” he asked. “Come to my apartment and I will tell you more.”
Chapter 1
Ralph Kand was born on August 7, 1919, during Estonia's War of Independence. He grew up with his parents and brother on the outskirts of Tallinn, the capital of Estonia. When Ralph was three, he fell from a fence post and broke his hip. The injury left his left leg permanently damaged. It remained thin and crooked, and Ralph walked with a limp for the rest of his life. He would never run again.
The disability did not keep him from doing the things he wanted to do. When he learned to type, he practiced until he became the second-fastest typist in Estonia.
As a teenager, Ralph wanted to ski. Nearly everyone in Estonia skied, but his damaged leg made it difficult. He devised a way to strap his left leg and foot securely to a ski and taught himself. Eventually he became a fast skier.
Ralph also read a great deal. He spent many hours in the library and particularly liked Thomas Mann. The Magic Mountain made a lasting impression on him. Ralph remembered Hans Castorp looking at the night sky and wondering about the size and meaning of the universe. More than sixty years later, Ralph was still talking about the book.
Within a week of meeting Ralph on the beach, I went to his apartment in Duluth to hear the story he had mentioned. That visit began a friendship that lasted for years.
Ralph had moved to Duluth because his wife needed nursing-home care. He wanted to live near Lake Superior because the lake reminded him of the Baltic Sea and Estonia.
Here is the first story he told me.
After the Soviets arrived, authorities ordered windows facing the harbor to be whitewashed. Ralph assumed they didn't want Estonians watching Soviet naval activity. The brewery windows were painted as well. The next day Ralph scratched a small hole in the whitewash with his thumbnail so he could see the Russian ships in the harbor. He wasn't the only one. People all over Tallinn did the same thing.
Living under Soviet rule meant living with the possibility of arrest. Ralph's friends told him he probably had little to worry about because of his crippled leg. They were wrong.
One day two vehicles pulled up behind the brewery. Men wearing greatcoats entered through the rear door. They were members of the NKVD, the Soviet secret police. One of the men carried a list containing six names. The NKVD officers asked where each man worked. One by one, the men were located and brought into a small dining area. Ralph was among the first because his workstation was nearby.
As another man was being escorted down the hallway, he saw the others being held and tried to run. He was shot in the hallway. Ralph stayed where he was.
Meanwhile, two NKVD officers went to the far end of the brewery to find the last man on their list. While they were gone, a Russian soldier entered to pick up an order. No one was at the counter, so he began shouting for someone to help him. Finally, one of the NKVD men told Ralph to go take care of the order.
The soldier was there to pick up a load of vodka. Ralph went outside with him to help carry the cases to his truck. Once they were outside, Ralph spoke to the soldier in Russian. He explained that the man inside wearing the greatcoat was NKVD and that Ralph was under arrest. Then Ralph proposed a plan. As they loaded the truck, they would stack the cases in a way that left a space where Ralph could hide. When they brought out the last case, Ralph would climb into the truck behind the vodka. The soldier was to drive through the gate without stopping.
The Russian soldier agreed. When the last case was loaded, Ralph climbed into the hiding place. The soldier got behind the wheel and drove for the gate.
The NKVD officer realized what was happening and ran outside. He fired several shots after the truck, but it was already too far away and Ralph escaped.
More than fifty years later, sitting in his apartment in Duluth, he told me why that story mattered. “If I hadn't learned Russian, I wouldn't be here today.”
TO BE CONTINUED
