Dare to Stand Alone by Bradley Booth

Chapter 1

     The December morning dawned cold and clear. A thin skiff of snow had dusted the surrounding woodlands during the night, covering the earth with a delicate blanket of white. Skeletons of bare trees stood mute against the rose-tinted sky, and only the gurgling sound of the Prut River broke the stillness of the forest. Chunks of river ice floated in the dark swirling waters, a sure sign that a warm spell had released the sheets of ice upriver. But that didn’t mean the water was any less frigid.
     Ivan pulled his sheepskin coat tighter around him and tilted his head of black hair to scan the bluff overlooking the river. His intense blue eyes missed nothing and his ears even less. If there were telltale signs of police patrols along the river bottom, he would spot them. The rumors going around said that they would be showing up any morning now.
   Ivan was taking a risk meeting here with his church friends, but there was something special about spending time like this out in the raw elements of the winter wilderness. There was a certain sense of exhilaration about it that always left him feeling like he was more of a man.
   Meeting secretly like this had become a tradition for the young people in Ivan’s church. Most of the ones who attended were boys in their late teens, but there were usually a few girls along too.
   Ivan scanned the group. Sergei and Dimitri, two of his best friends, were there, and so were Nicholai, Yuri, and Oleg—and this morning Natasha and Vera had also come along.
   There were 15 of them altogether, and a likely band they made. The youth group met for social reasons, of course, but they also met for exercise. Running the paths along the Prut River was a vigorous way to start the day, and it kept them all warm. Sit-ups in the snow and chin-ups on low overhanging branches were exactly what they needed to grow strong and healthy. And when they were too tired to run any farther, a warm crackling fire was always waiting to warm them as they discussed the Bible and what lay ahead for them and their country.
   World War II was over. It was 1946, and times were hard. Except for the food a family could grow, there wasn’t much to eat. Most of Ivan’s friends had fathers who had served in the Soviet army, and many of those fathers had not returned home. Some had been killed in action, and some had been captured by the German war machine and later died in labor camps. Some had come home crippled and despondent.
   Being a Christian wasn’t easy either. Although Christianity wasn’t forbidden in Moldova, it was illegal to have a church building in which members could come and worship. Good Russians were taught instead to follow the teachings of Marx and Lenin. They were to speak only of the Communist Party and do their part to contribute to Soviet prosperity. And of course they were to pay allegiance to Joseph Stalin, premier and feared dictator of the Soviet Union.
   Ivan winced at the thought. How could anyone be loyal to a dictator like Stalin? From time to time horrible stories of Stalin’s inhuman brutality reached Hitreshety, the small village where Ivan and his friends lived. And Stalin’s secret police were everywhere. Stories whispered about the KGB told of family members being threatened and children being confiscated because their parents wouldn’t cooperate with the local government officials. And whole villages were sometimes starved into submission.
   “The stories are no doubt true,” Ivan’s grandfather had often told him sadly. “And probably much worse than what is told. Most of what Stalin does is covered up.”
   It made Ivan sad just to think about it. He longed for better days—right now there was little to look forward to in life. Of course, he and his friends had their early-morning vigils, when they came out to the wooded hollows of the river bottom. It was here that they could step away from the real world for a while and forget their troubles. They could be children again and run and play and laugh. And they could talk openly of God’s goodness and His promises.
   This is where their beloved church entered the picture. Above and beyond everything that seemed fragile and perilous in life stood the strength of the beliefs that their church had instilled in them. Of course, there was always the chance that this could bring them trouble. The ways of the church seemed to be forever at odds with the teachings of the Soviet state. If Ivan and his friends would only be willing to support the Communist Party and its mottoes, they could be assured of a job and something to eat when it came time for them to take their place in the workforce.
   “A job for everyone, and everyone for a job.” The Soviet motto seemed appealing, but it always left Ivan with an empty feeling in his soul. Certainly a job could make a boy feel like a man, and those who had jobs could eat. But was that all that mattered?
   Ivan rubbed his belly as he thought of the hot drink his mother would have waiting for him when he got home. His mother, Lena, was so kind—always thinking of others. And she was a great cook too. She could make the most wonderful pirogues and borsch. They were the best in the village—everyone said so!
   But of course her delicious pirogues could not fix the problems that Ivan and his family faced in their little village of Hitreshety. Only a few hundred common folks lived there, but even in this remote corner of Moldova they knew that they could never escape the far-reaching tentacles of the Soviet government.
   Sometimes Ivan wondered if he would ever do anything remarkable outside the confines of his little village. Were there bigger things for him to do for God out there somewhere? He knew that he could serve God in Hitreshety, but he longed to be given the chance to step into a larger arena where he could reach more souls with the precious truths of the Bible. He didn’t desire fame and fortune—just that he might do great things for God.
   But for now Ivan came to the river every morning, alone or with friends. When it came to spiritual things, being out in nature with God was like a tonic for the soul. Not only was it a perfect way to begin the day—it gave Ivan and his friends a chance to discuss what was really in their hearts. Standing firm for the God of their fathers was what mattered most. It was what they had been taught by their parents, and it was what made the most sense in their cold, hard Soviet world.
   But coming to the river was indeed a risk and Ivan knew his parents were worried. All the young people’s parents were worried. “They know what you kids are doing down by the river,” Ivan’s father, Vladimir, had said to him one day. “The police patrols know that you’re studying the Word of God in secret, and they don’t like it. They know you go there to pray, and one day they will find you there. They will ride in on their horses and break up the meeting—and they will take note of who has come to the river.”
   Vladimir’s eyes grew moist. “And then they will come to take you away to serve in the army.” His voice wavered as he pulled out his handkerchief and blew his nose. “They steal away the best of our young people and force them to serve in a godless army! It’s their way of controlling Moldova! It’s their way of breaking the spirit and soul of our village!”
   Ivan recognized that his father was probably right. He was aware that he and his friends were being watched by the police, but at this point in his life, going to the river still seemed the right thing to do. The young people of his church needed to be active. They needed to draw strength and inspiration from one another and from the early morning prayer vigils.
   One of the favorite pastimes of the Bible study group was talking about the Bible heroes they admired. The prospects seemed limitless. Famous Bible greats filled their conversations—such characters as Enoch, Noah, Abraham, Gideon, David, Esther, and Peter. The young people never ran out of stories to discuss.
   Ivan put another log on the dwindling fire and watched the flames leap higher. The early-morning air had a bite to it, making him pull his fur cap down a little lower on his ears.
   “I’ve been thinking about Daniel a lot lately,” he said as he stared into the dancing flames. “I’ve always wished that I could be like him—he’s my hero. There he was with his three friends, living in a godless land where no one cared about his beliefs or his God. He and his people were captives, so they felt as if they didn’t matter to anyone anymore.”
   Ivan frowned at thought of the impossible odds facing the four Hebrew boys, but then he smiled again. He knew the story well, and it always inspired him. “I love it that Daniel and his friends stayed true to their families and their country. Nothing could make them be unfaithful to their God! Not the king’s food or wine. Not the fiery furnace that got heated seven times hotter. Not the den of hungry lions!” Ivan’s grin grew wider as conviction gripped his voice. “I think Daniel was one of the greatest men of all time. He stood for God no matter what! He never gave in!”
   Ivan turned his attention back to the crackling fire. He held his hands over its warmth and then glanced around the fire at his circle of friends. They each had their own Bible heroes and had shared their thoughts on the subject countless times before.
   He was proud to be friends with these fine young people. He and Sergei and Dimitri had recently conducted Bible studies together in a small town not far away. Five people had given their hearts to Jesus and been baptized.
   Andrei was already a youth elder in their church along with Ivan. He and Ivan were the youngest ever to be given that honor. Vlas was a deacon and could sing like a bird. Mikhail knew his Bible better than any of them. Natasha was the daughter of their local pastor—and a Sabbath school teacher for the younger children.
   And then there was Vera. Ivan smiled shyly as his eyes rested momentarily on her. Her sweet smile and golden hair always made Ivan’s heart skip a beat. She wasn’t tall, but she was a bright girl and had a light in her eyes that brought life and happiness to any room she entered.
   Ivan admired her more than any of the other girls in his church. She was a spiritual leader among the girls, and she was pretty besides. He had to admit she was one of the reasons he always found it so easy to attend the young people’s meetings down at the river.
   Ivan poked the fire with a long stick, sending sparks jumping into the air. The early-morning sky was turning orange and yellow now. Nothing stirred in the winter forest except a lone raven flying overhead. It cawed loudly at the young people, as if to tell them that their early-morning vigil was a foolish one.
   Suddenly Ivan glanced up at the sound of a snapping branch. There above them on the bluff overlooking the river were two local police riding along on horseback. It appeared as though they hadn’t spotted the young people yet, but any moment now they would.