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Page 5 · column 2 of 6 · from the scan, no model involved
Unly this could not be America. Live war as a popular form of entertainment fell out of favor after the first battle of Manassas, when the expected jolly Union victory turned into a messy rout.
Stuggling to join the foolhardiest of the foolhardy, I sensed a tremor of alarm suddenly sweep through the bodies pressed against the railing closest to the firing. For a micro second, dozens of feet started to make one hundred eighty degree turns. A bullet, a ricochet, a sound or draft of air too close, something caused a tiny fleeting moment of fright and flight in the body language of the people in front of me. Fortunately, the moment subsided as quickly as it arose. At that instant, being trampled to death by a panicked herd seemed to be a greater danger than a stray projectile.
One man with a video camera was having a playful argument with his wife. She thought maybe they should get further away and tugged at his sleeve. He laughed confidently, saying, “No, they will not shoot at the people.” Up on a first floor window ledge facing directly towards the White House, several men stood together and jokingly held one in front of the other as a prospective shield, just in case.
Late for my 11:00 meeting across town, I reluctantly broke away from this tantalizing narcotic of danger. “What do you think?” I asked Anatoly as we headed for the Bardin Metallurgical Institute on the other side of town. “Rutskio and his followers should all be shot quietly in the night,” he replied. “I do not like Yeltsin so much, but he is. the only leader we have. We must support him.”
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