The Charm School

flight to a Soviet air base not far from here. I had no idea where we were going. There were ten of us. We had the idea that the Russians might be acting as brokers between the Americans and the North Vietnamese—that we were going to be exchanged for North Vietnamese POWs or Russian spies or something. Even after we were transported here in sealed trucks, we couldn’t comprehend that we were going to train Red Air Force pilots. But as soon as we realized that, we also knew we would never get out of here with that secret.”
    Hollis nodded. The secret was out, but the men remained. He wondered if Poole and the others sensed that.
    They began walking again, shoulder to shoulder on the road, speaking in whispers. Lisa asked, “Is there a church here? Do you have services?”
    “No. That’s one thing they won’t allow, which is very telling. We
can
hold Bible study groups now, because we demanded that. But the students are not allowed to participate even as a training exercise. In America, they can become capitalists or right wing politicians if they wish, but I’ve heard that they’re not allowed to join a church unless it’s necessary for their cover.”
    Lisa remarked, “That’s not consistent with the idea that you should enjoy American freedoms here.”
    Poole replied, “I don’t quite understand that either. They make such a big deal over atheism and bad-mouthing religion, you’d almost think they believed in God.”
    They continued their walk along the main road, then turned left into a narrow log-stepped path that climbed a rise in the heavily treed forest. This section of the camp, Hollis noted, seemed uninhabited.
    At the end of the log path was a rundown
izba
with a weak light in its single window and smoke coming from its stone chimney. Poole explained, “One of the last of the original structures. General Austin prefers it to the so-called American houses, though Colonel Burov would prefer it if the general would sell out like the rest of us.”
    They approached the door of the log cabin, and Poole continued, “The general has not taken a Russian wife, as he says he is still married to Mrs. Austin. I believe he has remained faithful.” He added, “He has more willpower than I do. Also, you should know that the general refuses to teach classes.”
    Hollis asked, “Why hasn’t the KGB gotten rid of him?”
    “We made it clear that we would strike or rebel if they did. We have value as a commodity here, like any slaves when the slave trade is cut off. Also, I suspect they don’t mind giving us a small victory to let us think we’re still men.” Poole knocked on the door.
    The door opened, revealing a man close to seventy, very fit looking with a grey crew cut and steel-grey eyes. His skin was too pale, but it seemed more a result of too little sun than any unhealthiness. Hollis thought he looked like a man who had borne too much, too long, and had borne it alone.
    General Austin regarded them a moment, then showed them in without speaking. He went to a stereo system strewn out on a wobbly bench and placed a record on the turntable. The strings and woodwinds of Vivaldi’s “The Four Seasons” came through the speakers and filled the small room. Austin indicated two facing wooden chairs near the crumbling stone fireplace. Hollis and Lisa sat.
    Poole took a similar pine chair facing the fire. Austin lowered himself into a birch rocker.
    Hollis looked around the log-walled room. It was about as large as Pavel and Ida’s kitchen, but if anything, more sparse. Aside from the rocker and stereo, there was not a bit of comfort, no easy chair, no rag rug on the floor, and no kitchen facilities. There were, however, shaded reading lamps around the room, their cords all snaking toward a single electrical outlet. A half wall of rough planking separated the sleeping area, where an electric heater glowed on the floor beside an army cot. Beside the cot were stacks of books, magazines, and newspapers.
    General Austin spoke in a very soft voice, barely audible above Vivaldi. “It was good of you to come, Colonel.” He looked at Lisa, “And you, Ms. Rhodes.”
    She asked, “Would you have preferred that I wasn’t here?”
    “If I did, I would have said so.”
    She found herself replying, “Yes, sir.”
    Commander Poole said to Austin, “Colonel Hollis wishes you to know that he is here voluntarily.”
    Austin nodded but made no comment. He addressed both Hollis and Lisa. “You have knowledge