Date: Sun, 08 Mar 1998 17:29:26 +0000
From: stefan grass <email@example.com>
Subject: Angels v KGB (long)
Poland 1944. The Nazis have just retreated from my home town Lublin. In their place - a new occupant, Stalin's Red Army and with them a puppet Communist government. I was a member of the Resistance and my allegiance was to the Polish government-in-exile in London. Naturally, the KGB was out to get people like me and either shoot them or deport them to Siberia. I knew that I was already marked as the "enemy of the people" and that because of my underground activities I was on the KGB list of the most wanted "bandits" from the former Polish Home Army.
I had to move from one safe house to the next every couple of days, but as people were getting arrested all the time, the number of such places was rapidly getting smaller. Then one Sunday morning I decided to go to yet another safe house. As a precaution I went through the back entrance to the apartment which was on the third floor. I knocked on the door a couple of times and finally it opened. I saw only a terrified face of the woman who owned the flat and behind her a uniformed KGB man with an automatic pistol. As she slammed the door in my face, I vaulted over the stairs handrail and landed on the second floor. From there I made two more incredible jumps and found myself in the street. I could already hear the Russians shouting on the staircase. Later i learned that what gave me a head start was the door chain getting jammed so that couldn't open the door for a few precious minutes.
I knew that if I ran to the end of the street I would be shot dead. Again more by instinct then anything else I dived into a courtyard of the adjacent building. The wall at the end was much too high to climb. Then I saw a small door on my left - standing there was a little white dog, wagging his tail and cocking one ear. He was almost inviting me to run to that door which, as I discovered, led down many steps into the cellars. The little dog came with me. It was pitch dark but I could the see the white shape moving ahead of me and I followed him into what appeared to be an open cellar. I threw myself into the farthest corner behind some wooden chests. A while later I heard the dog barking fiercely upstairs, confused voices, receding footsteps...
I left my hiding place at night and found my way to another safe house. When I told my hosts the whole story they couldn't believe me that I wasn't injured by my crazy leap - but I wasn't. Some months later I escaped fromPoland and eventually came to London. In 1952 I met in London a clairvoyant and a psychic Mrs. Cook whose spirit control was a Red Indian Chief White Eagle. It was a kind of omen because white eagle is Poland's heraldic bird. Mrs. Cook could read my whole past life like an open book and as she spoke (with her yes closed) she clapped her hands in joy and said: "Oh, how lovely! " and after a moment's silence she said: "Your guardians saved your life once...you were in a mortal danger...one of them showed you where to hide... but you saw only a white dog...How lovely!"
Well, that's the story, dear friends. What could have been a more proper shape for a guardian to take then as a man's best friend?