like that; they did not exercise their head to think that way.
One day, finally, late in December of 1959, just before New Year’s, they called Rimma into Intourist’s main office and told her they were sending Oswald to Minsk. When she informed him, he was so disappointed he even cried at first, with tears, yes, he wanted Moscow not Minsk, but he was also happy he was allowed to stay, relieved and happy. Of course he was happy. He was shining. He did not hide it. But he was still upset he had to go to Minsk.
He had no idea where it was. Had never heard of it. Rimma told him it was a good city, which was true. She often took foreigners to Minsk in a railroad coach on trips. She liked its newest hotel, their Hotel Minsk. People in Minsk, she told him, are much better than in many other places. But he was depressed. He wanted her to accompany him on his all-night railroad trip from Moscow to Minsk, but by now he understood that everything was not so simple as he had thought before—everything was more serious than he had thought. In America, when he took this decision to go to Russia, he must have been like a child, but then in these days he grew up, you see. So now, he understood that even if Rimma wanted, she couldn’t leave her job and go with him. He understood it was impossible. He knew it was a very serious place here.
December 31
New Year’s Eve, I spend in the company of Rosa Agafonova at the Hotel Berlin. She has the duty. I sit with her until past midnight. She gave me a small Boratin clown.
January 5
I go to Red Cross in Moscow for money [and] receive 5,000 rubles, a huge sum!! Later in Minsk, I am to earn 700 rubles a month at the factory. 4
January 7
I leave Moscow by train for Minsk, Byelorussia. My hotel bill was 2,200 rubles and the train ticket to Minsk 150 rubles, so I have a lot of money and hope. I wrote my mother and brother letters in which I said, “I do not wish to ever contact you again. I am beginning a new life and I don’t want
any part
of the old.”
Rimma remembered that on this day he left for Minsk, it was snowing when she said goodbye to him. He was crying and she was crying.
But she did not write to him. It was understood that an Intourist girl was not to write letters to tourists she had guided, and Rimma could not violate such a principle.
REPRESENTATIVE FORD. If you had known that Oswald was in Minsk, what would your reaction have been?
MR. SNYDER. Serves him right.
REPRESENTATIVE FORD. Why do you say that?
MR. SNYDER. You have never been in Minsk . . . Provincial towns in the Soviet Union are a very large step below the capital and the capital, believe me, is a fairly good-sized step down from any American populated place.
But the difference between large cities and minor cities, and between minor cities and villages, is a tremendous step backward in time. And to live in Minsk, or in any other provincial city in the Soviet Union, is a pretty grim experience to someone who has lived in our society . . .
REPRESENTATIVE FORD. Have you ever been in Minsk?
MR. SNYDER. I spent about an hour walking around Minsk, between trains, one time. 5
PART III
OSWALD’S WORK, OSWALD’S SWEETHEART
1
Igor
How Igor Ivanovich Guzmin looked when young would be hard to decide in 1993, because his presence spoke of what he was now—a retired general from KGB Counterintelligence, a big man and old, with a red complexion and a large face that could have belonged to an Irish police chief in New York, impressive from his sharp nose up, with pale blue eyes ready to blaze with rectitude, but he looked corrupt from the mouth down—he kept a spare tire around his chin, a bloated police chief’s neck.
Guzmin, Igor Ivanovich, born in 1922, had worked in Minsk for the KGB from 1946 to 1977, and had first been dispatched there by Moscow Center to undertake a “strengthening of cadres,” and in Minsk he had remained for more than half of his fifty years in service. Having walked in as
One day, finally, late in December of 1959, just before New Year’s, they called Rimma into Intourist’s main office and told her they were sending Oswald to Minsk. When she informed him, he was so disappointed he even cried at first, with tears, yes, he wanted Moscow not Minsk, but he was also happy he was allowed to stay, relieved and happy. Of course he was happy. He was shining. He did not hide it. But he was still upset he had to go to Minsk.
He had no idea where it was. Had never heard of it. Rimma told him it was a good city, which was true. She often took foreigners to Minsk in a railroad coach on trips. She liked its newest hotel, their Hotel Minsk. People in Minsk, she told him, are much better than in many other places. But he was depressed. He wanted her to accompany him on his all-night railroad trip from Moscow to Minsk, but by now he understood that everything was not so simple as he had thought before—everything was more serious than he had thought. In America, when he took this decision to go to Russia, he must have been like a child, but then in these days he grew up, you see. So now, he understood that even if Rimma wanted, she couldn’t leave her job and go with him. He understood it was impossible. He knew it was a very serious place here.
December 31
New Year’s Eve, I spend in the company of Rosa Agafonova at the Hotel Berlin. She has the duty. I sit with her until past midnight. She gave me a small Boratin clown.
January 5
I go to Red Cross in Moscow for money [and] receive 5,000 rubles, a huge sum!! Later in Minsk, I am to earn 700 rubles a month at the factory. 4
January 7
I leave Moscow by train for Minsk, Byelorussia. My hotel bill was 2,200 rubles and the train ticket to Minsk 150 rubles, so I have a lot of money and hope. I wrote my mother and brother letters in which I said, “I do not wish to ever contact you again. I am beginning a new life and I don’t want
any part
of the old.”
Rimma remembered that on this day he left for Minsk, it was snowing when she said goodbye to him. He was crying and she was crying.
But she did not write to him. It was understood that an Intourist girl was not to write letters to tourists she had guided, and Rimma could not violate such a principle.
REPRESENTATIVE FORD. If you had known that Oswald was in Minsk, what would your reaction have been?
MR. SNYDER. Serves him right.
REPRESENTATIVE FORD. Why do you say that?
MR. SNYDER. You have never been in Minsk . . . Provincial towns in the Soviet Union are a very large step below the capital and the capital, believe me, is a fairly good-sized step down from any American populated place.
But the difference between large cities and minor cities, and between minor cities and villages, is a tremendous step backward in time. And to live in Minsk, or in any other provincial city in the Soviet Union, is a pretty grim experience to someone who has lived in our society . . .
REPRESENTATIVE FORD. Have you ever been in Minsk?
MR. SNYDER. I spent about an hour walking around Minsk, between trains, one time. 5
PART III
OSWALD’S WORK, OSWALD’S SWEETHEART
1
Igor
How Igor Ivanovich Guzmin looked when young would be hard to decide in 1993, because his presence spoke of what he was now—a retired general from KGB Counterintelligence, a big man and old, with a red complexion and a large face that could have belonged to an Irish police chief in New York, impressive from his sharp nose up, with pale blue eyes ready to blaze with rectitude, but he looked corrupt from the mouth down—he kept a spare tire around his chin, a bloated police chief’s neck.
Guzmin, Igor Ivanovich, born in 1922, had worked in Minsk for the KGB from 1946 to 1977, and had first been dispatched there by Moscow Center to undertake a “strengthening of cadres,” and in Minsk he had remained for more than half of his fifty years in service. Having walked in as
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