A Changed Person

One of the reasons I decided to write a book about Sergei Kourdakov was to show that Sergei was a different person from the one he was in the Soviet Union.  He made a complete turn-around in his life.

A few weeks ago I met with my former boss, Mr. Kirk Logie, Sr., and we talked about Sergei.  I commented that “the Sergei” I knew was nothing like the hardened individual portrayed in his book, The Persecutor.  Without any hesitation whatsoever, Mr. Logie blurted out . . . “Well, that’s because he was a completely changed person.”  He did not know my reasons for writing A Rose for Sergei, and I was quite surprised by his comment.  Mr. Logie had a knack for saying the right thing at the right time.  At ninety-three years old, Mr. Logie still knew me—even though we had not seen or talked to each other for thirty-six years.

In Sergei’s book, The Persecutor, you sometimes get a glimpse of the person he would later become.  Sergei’s real character was there all along, waiting just beneath the surface of the hard shell he had created in order to survive.  Below is an excerpt from Sergei’s book.  Sergei was on a train headed to Moscow when he heard a commotion in another train car.

There I saw three big, tough, young guys shaking the life out of a small, studious-looking boy with big glasses and pale, white skin.  “Give us your money,” they told him, “or we’ll break your arm!”  The kid was trembling like a leaf in a windstorm.  One big guy stood facing the other passengers to make sure no one interfered while they worked over the boy.  I’ve never liked bullies and what I saw instantly made me mad.  I whipped off my military belt and wrapped it around my fist, so that the big heavy buckle would be like brass knuckles, and moved toward the boy.  When the guard made a move to stop me, I rushed him and grabbed him around the neck with a judo hold, then threw him against the wall and smashed him in the face with my improvised brass knuckles.  He went out cold.

The two others were pulling the money out of the boy’s wallet.  “Drop that money,” I said, “or you’ll get the same treatment!”  They saw their comrade sprawled unconscious on the floor.  I moved to take them both, and they backed off, saying, “Okay, okay.  We’re going, we’re going.”  They got off at the next station, taking their friend with them.

The young boy, of course, was completely shaken.  I helped him gather up his money, then took him by the arm, comforted him, and suggested we sit down.

-Sergei Kourdakov, The Persecutor (Chapter 9, pg. 95)