I had given Nikolai endless messages to give to Alexander. I wanted Alexander to know how grateful I was and how close I felt toward him, for saving my life. It was hard to say good-bye to Nikolai since he was the last link with my beloved Russia. I wanted to throw my arms around him and say a prayer of thankfulness for all the sacrifices he and Alexander had made for me. I felt sure in my heart that the separation was to come soon. He warned me not to cry in case his escape should fail, but to walk away as if I were following my husband. As we continued through the muddy fields, we found some tiny potatoes, which the rains had washed to the surface. We rubbed off the soil and ate them raw. At dusk we were practically at the border. The Ukraine was still occupied by Germany. It was our luck; one month later the uprising was in full swing in Germany. My face was swollen and covered with small red pimples. The Serbian had just returned from a scouting search when suddenly we heard the command, “Halt. Where are you going?” “We are going to a doctor,” answered Nikolai. “All of you? And for what?” said the guard. “Look at the lady for our answer,” said Nikolai. “It looks like cholera. Who are you?” asked the guard. “Her brother,” said Nikolai, and the Croatian assured the guard that he was my husband. Three of them, the Serbian, the Croatian, and the Austrian soldier produced their papers. Facing Nikolai, the guard persisted, “Where are you from?” “The village over there,” answered Nikolai, pointing back. “There are whole families ill, all needing medical care. When we obtain some drugs we will return to the village. We must locate a doctor soon.” “What doctor?” asked the guard. “There used to be a doctor over the bridge,” said the Serbian, pointing straight ahead. “But you cannot go that way. It is under German occupation. Do you really know a doctor?” “We’ll surely find one.” Nikolai retorted. “But you absolutely cannot cross here,” said the guard pointing to Nikolai. “How far are you going?” the guard turned to the Croatian. “How soon will you be back?” he inquired. “You are all right, but where are your wife’s papers?” “Does she need papers to see a doctor?” The questions were answered, but no one heard or cared what they were--we were all but drowned in the terrific rain. “All right, go on.” said the guard at last with a gesture of hopelessness, “but be back in one hour.” He turned to Nikolai saying, “Not you!” So only four of us crossed the bridge. The flimsy, temporary structure shook as we did so. We glanced into the waters below but saw nothing in the darkness. All nature was angry. I had made a cross in the air as Nikolai and we others parted in the dark. Only his shadow was running away, in order to escape the guard. I prayed to God that He might spare him and that Alexander, Nikolai, and I would meet again.