Alik and Marina by Dave Reitzes


Rep. BOGGS. The Oswald trip to Russia was very interesting. Such
defection had not been arranged in advance because he arrived in France,
went over to London, flew from there to Helsinki, and, bang, he went
right over into Russia.

Mr. MC CLOY. Another thing, my wife is pretty suspicious, because she's
tried to get some American citizen, who is married to a Russian, get his
wife out. She couldn't get it. How in the world did she get it? That's
the most difficult thing in the world.

Sen. RUSSELL. That Marine guard who married that Russian girl, it took
six months.

Rep. FORD. There's some sailor staying over there. They want to throw him
out and he won't leave until he takes his wife with him. I think that's
right now.

Mr. DULLES. I would like to get that material into the hands of the CIA
as soon as possible to explain the Russian parts.

Sen. RUSSELL. I think you've got more faith in them than I have. I think
they'll doctor anything they hand to us.

Mr. DULLES. What Oswald said in his diary, about his relationship with
them, about his attempted suicide, about the payment he got, all that
business requires a very careful study.

Sen. RUSSELL. Well, all of that writing material that he brought out of
there with him.

CHAIRMAN. And our Government furnished him four hundred and some dollars
to bring that Russian wife over.

Sen. RUSSELL. The first time they brought home one of those defectors
from Korea I wired the President, I wired the Secretary of State, I
protested violently paying one dime to bring home those chaps who have
spit on the American flag, jumped up and down on it in the mud, and in
the presence of all of our people and soldiers renounce their
citizenship. Whether they can do that or not, we didn't have to pay their
way home. And this last one, I took that up with President Kennedy and
they would not pay his way home, and finally this broadcasting company
paid his way home.

-- Warren Commission Executive Session Transcript, December 16, 1963


According to the Warren Report, the Marion Lykes left New Orleans on
September 20 and arrived at Le Havre on October 9th. He shared a cabin
with Billy Joe Lord, a high school graduate on his way to college in
France. Oswald was amused that Lord had a Bible with him, and asked Lord
how he could believe such a book in light of modern science's many
discoveries. He and Lord argued the issue of religion versus atheism, but
Lord later remembered it as a reasonably friendly debate, and the two of
them chatted casually throughout the trip, although Oswald a bit
"standoffish." He seemed reluctant to talk about his background, but
mentioned that his mother worked in a drugstore in Fort Worth (she
didn't), that he intended to travel in Europe (he didn't) and to attend
college in Switzerland (he wouldn't) (WR 688; Epstein, 379-80) .

The other two passengers on the freighter, Lt. Col. and Mrs. George B.
Church, Jr., found him unfriendly, and he resisted Mrs. Church's attempts
to take his picture. When she asked for his address, he asked
suspiciously what she wanted it for. She said she wanted to send him a
Christmas card. He gave her his mother's Fort Worth address, but told her
his name was "Oswalt." On the few occasions he conversed with the couple,
he spoke with some bitterness about the burdens of his poor mother (whom
he was utterly deserting) and the Marine Corps. He mentioned he would be
furthering his education in Switzerland. (Ibid.).

On the afternoon of October 8, Oswald disembarked the Marion Lykes off
the coast of LeHavre and boarded the Liberte bound for Southampton. The
Liberte crossed the English Channel and arrived at "Cowes Road" near
Southampton Dock. A tugboat brought him to the British mainland where he
passed through customs, and probably took a British Railways train to
Waterloo Station, London, arriving late in the evening (Chris Mills, "A
Flight of Fancy," JFK/DPQ Quarterly).

He told the British authorities he intended to remain in the United
Kingdom for one week, then proceed to the university in Switzerland (WR
688). The Warren Report states that he departed England the same day
(Ibid.), however, his passport was stamped October 10. His arrival at
Helsinki Airport, Finland, is stamped with the same date: October 10,
1959. He registered at the Hotel Torni in downtown Helsinki on October 10
some time before midnight. Researchers have long charged that Oswald
could not have made it to the hotel in time by a commercial route, and
must have had military assistance. Researcher Chris Mills has
demonstrated that if Oswald embarked for Helsinki in the early morning
hours of October 10, there were several flights that would have brought
him to or near Helsinki that same day. The following day he moved to the
Klaus Kurki Hotel (Ibid.).

"Oswald probably applied for a visa at the Russian consulate on October
12, his first business day in Helsinki. The visa was issued October 14"
(WR 690). Of the different cities he could have applied for his visa, he
somehow ended up the one known in intelligence circles to have the
fastest turnaround time due to the consulate's location and excellent
relationship with the Finnish government. "It was valid until October 20
and permitted him to take one trip of not more than 6 days to the Soviet
Union. . . . He left Helsinki by train on the following day, crossed the
Finnish-Russian border at Vainikkala, and arrived in Moscow on October
16" (WR 690).

On Saturday, October 31, 1959, at a little after 11 am, Jean Hallett, a
receptionist at the American Embassy, walked into Consul Richard Snyder's
office, laid Lee Harvey Oswald's passport on Snyder's desk, and said,
"There's a man here and he wants to renounce his citizenship." Oswald
entered, striding past the other Consul, John McVickar. He was dressed in
a dark suit with a white tie. Snyder thought it was odd he wasn't wearing
an overcoat or hat, and noticed the "thin, dressy white gloves" he had on
-- possibly from his USMC uniform. Snyder was struck by the "humorless
and robotic" quality of Oswald's demeanor. "What can I do for you?"
Snyder asked (John Newman, Oswald and the CIA, 2; February 26, 1994,
interview with Snyder).

Firmly but without emotion, Oswald said, "I've come to give up my
American passport and renounce my citizenship," then handed Snyder an
undated note with his intentions stated in writing:


I, Lee Harey [sic] Oswald, do hereby request that my present citizenship
in the United States of America be revoked.

I have entered the Soviet Union for the express purpose of appling [sic]
for citizenship in the Soviet Union, through the means of naturalization.

My request for citizenship is now pending before the Supreme Soviet of
the USSR.

I take these steps for political reasons. My request for the revoking of
my American citizenship is made only after the longest and most serious
considerations. [signed] Lee H. Oswald


The note, cited in Newman, 529fn., is CE 908 (18 H 97). (Note that Lee
Harvey Oswald has misspelled his middle name at the beginning of the
letter - and done so in type; it is the only spelling mistake in the
entire letter.)

"I've thought this thing over very carefully and I know what I'm doing,"
Oswald continued. I was just discharged from the Marine Corps on
September 11th, and I have been planning to do this for two years."
Snyder later recalled that this remark especially caught his attention.
Across the room, John McVickar looked up from his work; Oswald would
later recall with some satisfaction that McVickar was visibly intrigued
(CE 94, 16 H 96). "I know what you're going to say," Oswald went on, "but
I don't want any lectures or advice. So let's save my time and yours, and
you just give me the papers to sign and I'll leave." He was referring to
the paperwork to formally renounce his American citizenship. Snyder was
struck by Oswald's "cocksure" and arrogant attitude, and concluded, "This
was part of a scene he had rehearsed before coming into the embassy. It
was a preplanned speech" (Newman, 3).

John Newman writes, "Indeed, Oswald had planned well -- exceptionally
well. 'Since he arrived in Moscow in mid-October 1959 and was discharged
from the Marine Corps in September 1959,' McVickar told the State
Department in 1964, 'he would have to have made a direct and completely
arranged trip' (CE 958, 18 H 332). In addition, Oswald had entered the
Soviet Union through Helsinki, not the customary route for Americans, but
an ideal place to apply for an exception to the rules and get a quick
entry visa. 'It [Helsinki as an entry point] is a well enough known fact
among people who are working in the Soviet Union and undoubtedly people
who are working in the Soviet Union and undoubtedly people who are
associated with Soviet matters,' McVickar later told the Warren
Commission, 'but I would say it was not a commonly known fact among the
ordinary run of people in the United States.' In fact, even in Helsinki,
the average turnaround time for a visa was still seven to fourteen days
at that time, something which the Warren Commission checked into
carefully after the Kennedy assassination. However, the point is that
exceptions were made -- perhaps more than anyplace else -- in Helsinki"
(Newman, 3, citing 5 H 303).

"Oswald told Snyder he had not applied for a Soviet tourist visa until he
reached Helsinki on October 14, and that in doing so he had purposely not
told the Soviet Embassy of his plan to remain in the Soviet Union. Oswald
then described how he had implemented the next phase of his game plan
upon reaching Moscow: On October 16 he had applied for Soviet citizenship
by letter to the Supreme Soviet" (Newman, 4).

It was the Consul's responsibility to explain to Oswald the consequences
of the act he was discussing. Renunciation of US citizenship is
permanent. Should Oswald acquire Soviet citizenship, it is unlikely he
would ever be permitted to leave the USSR; should the Soviets decline to
offer him citizenship, he would be a stateless individual, with nowhere
to turn for assistance. So far, Snyder was meeting only with stubborn
resistance.

Examining Oswald's passport, Snyder noticed that the Marine had scratched
out his address. Snyder said, "Well, I'm afraid that to complete the
papers for renunciation I will need some basic information, including an
address in the US and an address of your closest living relative." Oswald
protested, but finally gave Snyder Marguerite's address in Fort Worth
(Ibid., 4).

Snyder asked him why he wanted to defect, and Oswald said it was
primarily because he was a Marxist. "Life will be lonely as a Marxist,"
Snyder said knowingly. Indeed, as John Newman points out, Oswald would
have to be -- to put it kindly -- misinformed to think that the Soviet
Union circa 1959 had much sympathy for Marxism. Oswald only replied, "I
was warned you would try to talk me out of defecting." It was a remark
that would later cause Snyder to lose some rest, and not only him. The
statement was quickly eclipsed, however, by a more immediately pertinent
claim. Snyder said, "Oswald offered the information that he had been a
radar operator in the Marine Corps and that he had voluntarily stated to
unnamed Soviet officials that as a Soviet citizen he would make known to
them such information concerning the Marine Corps and his specialty as he
possessed. He intimated that he might know something of special interest"
(Ibid., 6).

Were the would-be defector the Lee Oswald who tracked the top-secret U-2
photoreconnaissance at Atsugi and elsewhere, he would certainly possess
something "of special interest" to the Soviets. In fact, many have
speculated that it was none other than Lee Harvey Oswald who was
responsible for the USSR's unexpectedly downing a U-2 flight the
following year and capturing its pilot, a CIA agent named Francis Gary
Powers, who failed to ingest the capsule of cyanide intended for such an
eventuality. With considerable cunning, Khrushchev announced the recovery
of the wreckage of a spy plane, but withheld the information that its
pilot had been taken alive. President Dwight D. Eisenhower publicly
assured the Soviets that the plane was unknown stateside, and certainly
had not been dispatched by the US to violate Soviet airspace. Khrushchev
then produced the pilot, who carried on his person a US Department of
Defense identification card which classified him as a civilian employee
of the military, i.e., a CIA agent, remarkably similar to the card Oswald
would later be arrested with. Eisenhower was caught in a very public lie,
the U-2 spy plane -- a CIA/military collaboration that was among the most
closely guarded secrets of both organizations -- was fatally compromised,
and an unprecedented peace summit between Khrushchev and Eisenhower was
tersely called off by the Soviets. Khrushchev would not so much as
consider another such summit until Eisenhower's successor, John F.
Kennedy, took office.

Did Oswald betray the US and supply the Soviets with data on the U-2,
data potent enough to neutralize the spy plane's threat? Consul Richard
Snyder, just to name one of many people, believed it was a distinct
possibility. It is unlikely that speculation will ever cease in the
matter. However, there simply is no evidence that Oswald did so,
particularly in light of the fact that -- to the best of our knowledge --
the USSR did not have the firepower to down a U-2 operating at its normal
altitude of 90,000 feet. In other words, there is much validity to the
theory developed by the Department of Defense and later embraced by pilot
Francis Gary Powers -- that the U-2 had been sabotaged from within. We
also know with reasonable certainty that Oswald was not treated any
better than any other foreigner -- particularly an American -- would have
been by the Soviet government during his stay. Lastly, for what it's
worth, the record as we have it shows absolutely no interest on the part
of the Navy or the Justice Department in filing charges against Oswald
upon his return.

Oswald was blowing smoke; he had not spoken to any Soviet official about
his past, much less made any offers or promises. Moreover, today the
Russian officials and KGB agents who dealt with Oswald's case state
flatly that any such offer would have been greeted with utmost suspicion
(cf. Mailer, Oswald's Tale) -- a claim that, in this author's opinion, is
perfectly credible. There were only two things Oswald could have hoped to
achieve by saying this. Either he intended the provocation to affect his
renunciation of citizenship -- presumably, although far from necessarily,
to expedite it -- or Richard Snyder's theory is correct: that Oswald
assumed -- with good reason -- that the KGB had the American Embassy
bugged, and that he was speaking specifically "for Russian ears in my
office" (Ibid., 6).

Snyder, however, was the apparent victor in the confrontation: He calmly
informed Oswald that it was now past noon, and the Embassy was closed for
business. If he wished, he could return on Monday and complete his
business. Oswald stormed out. If he was angered by this sudden
bureaucratic development, he did not choose to tell the world. His
"Historic Diary" reports: "I leave Embassy, elated at this showdown,
returning to my hotel. I feel now my enorgies [sic] are not spent in
vain." More significantly, he reports, "I'm sure Russians will except
[sic] me after this sign of my faith in them" (Ibid., 6-7; CE 24, 16 H
97).

What sign of faith? Richard Snyder knew: Oswald's performance that day
was not for his benefit, but for those who made it their business to
monitor the comings and goings at the Embassy: the KGB. If his goal, on
the other hand, had he actually been to renounce his US citizenship, then
he apparently changed his mind fairly quickly. He left his passport with
Snyder, perhaps a "sign of faith," but never returned to the Embassy to
complete the paperwork he'd expressed such eagerness to put behind him.
For some time he would be heard complaining about the red tape and
bureaucracy at the American Embassy which was preventing him from
renouncing his US citizenship -- which would thereby make him eligible
for Soviet citizenship. But he would never take the perfectly simple step
of returning to the Embassy during normal business hours.

On November 3, Oswald wrote to US Ambassador Llewellyn Thompson to ask
that his citizenship be revoked and to complain about Snyder. Snyder
himself replied, reminding Oswald he only had to return to the Embassy
and complete the paperwork. Oswald didn't go (Priscilla Johnson McMillan,
Marina and Lee, 69).

When interviewed by journalist Priscilla Johnson (not yet Johnson
McMillan) on November 16, Oswald was still complaining about Snyder. In
Marina and Lee, McMillan writes, "During our conversation Lee returned
again and again to what he called the embassy's 'illegal' treatment of
him . . . He spread out two letters on my desk: one his letter of protest
to . . . Llewellyn Thompson, and the other his letter from Snyder, which
said that he was free to come to the embassy at any time and take the
oath. Well, I said, all you have to do is go back one more time. He swore
he would never set foot there again. Once he became a Soviet citizen, he
said, he would allow 'my government' to handle it for him" (McMillan,
70).

McMillan's book Marina and Lee is dedicated to the thesis that the Warren
Commission was correct in its conclusions vis-a-vis the assassination,
the Tippit murder, the attempted murder of General Walker, and Oswald's
solitary guilt. She makes an interesting observation, however, regarding
Oswald's reaction towards the Consul: "Lee's tone was level, almost
expressionless, and while I realized that his words were bitter, somehow
I did not FEEL that he was angry [emphasis in original]" (Ibid.).

She continues, "Proudly, as a boy might, he told me about his only
expedition into Moscow alone. He had walked four blocks to Detsky Mir,
the children's department store, and bought himself an ice cream cone. I
could scarcely believe my ears. Here he was, coming to live in this
country forever, and he had so far dared venture into only four blocks of
it" (Ibid.). Oswald had been in Russia for a solid month.

On October 31, 1959, 7:59 am Washington time, a teletype at State
Department brought the first news stateside that an ex-Marine with
knowledge of a confidential and potentially compromising nature had
announced his intention to tell all the Soviets. By 10:19 am the FBI had
begun to circulate information on the incident. Sam Papich at the CIA
expressed vague interest. The FBI contacted the Office of Naval
Intelligence, where J. M. Barron stated the ONI had no knowledge of
Oswald, but reported some background information on Oswald from his
Marine file. Apprised of the situation, Barron wrote up a memorandum,
concluding, "No action contemplated by this office." Most surprisingly,
when the Warren Commission and later the HSCA inquired about when the CIA
first received information about Oswald's "defection," nobody had an
answer. Make no mistake, they received plenty of information. There were
two obstacles facing those who wanted to trace the possession of those
early documents. First, curiously, there was a conspicuous lack of
information on the standard routing sheets, which would normally should
exactly who examined each document and when they saw it. Second,
extremely curiously, no CIA file was opened on Oswald. At a time when the
CIA routinely opened security files on citizens known to receive
left-leaning periodicals, somehow an avowed traitor with confidential
military knowledge didn't create a ripple. John Newman spends a large
amount of time in Oswald and the CIA analyzing this mysterious paper
trail, particularly why a 201 file on Oswald was not opened -- as per
standard procedure -- until December 8, 1960, over a full year after he
had "defected" with his knowledge "of special interest" (16-59). As
Newman admits, no answers are forthcoming. There would seem to be only
two possible alternatives, however: Either Oswald's actions were met with
an utterly astonishing combination of disinterest, incompetence, and
negligence -- or someone in a high position had reason to believe that
the "defector" posed absolutely, positively no security threat
whatsoever. With the resources at our disposal, it is not possible to
definitively learn which of the above actually was the case.

The news of the "defection" spread quickly. Oswald expressed surprise
when UPI reporter Robert J. Korengold came knocking on his hotel door at
2 pm. He refused Korengold's request for an interview, but was more
forthcoming to Korengold's fellow UPI correspondent, Aline Mosby. (Those
such as Norman Mailer who theorize that Oswald was a homosexual and those
such as Priscilla Johnson McMillan who judge all of his actions based on
a Freudian model of resentment towards his mother should ask themselves
why it would be that the man so described would consistently be more
cooperative with young, attractive female journalists than with male
reporters. It is a question that one would expect to have occurred to
McMillan, as she herself was another such beneficiary in Moscow.)

Oswald refused to state why he was "defecting." Mosby's most memorable
quotation of the young turncoat would run all over the world: "I will
never return to the United States for any reason" (Ibid., 8-9).

Oswald's two-and-a-half year stay in Russia will always remain something
of a mystery, but if the information given Norman Mailer is reflective of
his activities, there may be little to speculate about. For his book,
Oswald's Tale, Mailer was the first Western writer given access to
eyewitnesses to Oswald's Russian years, facilitated by journalist
Lawrence Schiller and his long-standing, cordial relationship to the CIA.
While no Westerner has ever been granted access to the KGB's unsanitized
files on Oswald, by all eyewitness accounts from KGB sources and Oswald
acquaintances, Oswald's time in Russia was rather humdrum. The KGB should
know: they've admitted to placing Oswald under surveillance during
virtually all daylight hours, and even had infra-red closed circuit
cameras in his Minsk apartment. If the officials currently in charge of
the files can be believed, Oswald spent two and a half years working at a
Minsk electronics factory, attending the requisite Party meetings (which
he took particular umbrage at), socialized often, got married, and came
home. True or not, Mailer was given access to a number of uneventful,
monotonous surveillance reports on Oswald leaving his apartment, going
shopping, meeting friends, and doing absolutely nothing that raises any
suspicion in the minds of his KGB watchers nor in the reader today.

Upon his arrival in Moscow he was met by Intourist guide Rimma Shirakova,
who befriended him during his early days in the country. (Shirakova was
also a KGB informant, as were most Intourist guides.) Shirakova told
Mailer it was she who gave Oswald the nickname "Alik," a common Russian
name. Russians considered "Lee" a Chinese name. The KGB was suspicious of
the American arrival, and initially refused his requests to stay. On the
eve of his scheduled departure, Oswald staged a suicide attempt by
slashing one of his wrists. His Russian medical records, available for
the first time, show he had made only a superficial cut. The authorities,
nonetheless, were impressed by the display -- even though they knew it
not to be genuine -- and granted him permission to remain in the USSR on
a temporary basis. It has been suggested that the Soviets did so to avoid
the embarrassment the ex-Marine threatened to bring upon them, which is a
distinct possibility.

On January 4, 1960, Oswald was granted permission to remain in the USSR
as a "stateless person." He talked on many occasions of seeking Soviet
citizenship, but never attempted to do so.

Retired General Igor Ivanovich Guzman of the KGB's Counter-intelligence
directorate told Norman Mailer that Oswald was very carefully watched to
determine if he spoke Russian upon his arrival, or if he took to the
language unusually easily later on. Such a facility would be a clear sign
to the KGB of likely ties to American intelligence (Mailer, 71).

Although the KGB eventually concluded that Oswald was not an American
agent, Guzman's statement raises yet more speculation about the subject.
The Russians are now on record as essentially confirming Oswald's own
story in his "Historic Diary," that he knew no Russian (or virtually
none) upon his arrival, and learned all he later knew by studying "two
self-teaching Russian language books" eight hours a day in his Moscow
hotel room while he awaited news of his citizenship status (diary entry
of November 17 to December 30). This is absurd, and it is difficult to
imagine the Russians falling for it; yet apparently they did.

It is a fact that Lee Harvey Oswald spoke excellent conversational
Russian as of the summer of 1959, as evidenced by the statements of
Rosaleen Quinn, who had intensively studied Russian with a Berlitz tutor
for two years, and who found Oswald to speak Russian much more fluently
than she did (Epstein, 374-75). Even as far back as February 25, 1959,
when Oswald was tested on his Russian by the Marines, he scored just
under fifty percent -- not bad for a supposed beginner, and already
enough to speak at least the handful of phrases the average tourist
memorizes before a trip to a foreign country. But Shirakova's
recollection couldn't be more specific: "He didn't seem to know a single
word in Russian" (Mailer, 43). Oswald arrived in Moscow already speaking
fluent Russian -- and pretended that he did not.

Oswald DECEIVED both his acquaintances in the USSR and the KGB agents
assigned to monitor him -- who were SPECIFICALLY listening for signs that
he'd spoken Russian prior to his arrival in the Soviet Union. Why? If
Oswald was merely the pro-Communist, pro-Russian young man he claimed to
be, why would he not proudly display his proficiency with the language at
the earliest possible moment? Would he not be anxious to be accepted by
the Soviets -- both his acquaintances and the officials who would decide
whether or not he could remain in the USSR -- and would he not suspect
that familiarity with their language could potentially facilitate this
acceptance?

From October 1959 through a substantial part of the following year,
Oswald would deceive dozens, perhaps hundreds of Russians, some of whom
had been trained specifically to spot deception. Oswald possessed both
the ability to deceive and evidently possessed a motivation -- perhaps
several -- to do so.

Sent to Minsk, Oswald was granted a large and relatively luxurious
apartment, a low-status position at the Belorussian Radio and Television
Plant, and a comfortable salary on top of the funds he continued to
receive from the Red Cross. He made a number of friends, and being an
American, was of unusual interest to the young Russian women he met. His
"Historic Diary" records a few sexual conquests with a welcome sparseness
of detail. He applied to Russia's Patrice Lumumba University, and would
eventually be rejected.

He courted a co-worker, a Polish Jew named Ella German, through the
second half of 1960. According to "Historic Diary" (which was actually
written in only two or three sittings during Oswald's trip home, possibly
from earlier writings or notes) Oswald proposed to Ella on January 2,
1961. She refused him and, by his own account, he was heartbroken and
bitter for some time.

Oswald met his future wife, Marina Nikolaevna Prusakova, according to his
diary, on March 17, 1961, at a trade union dance. He introduced himself
as Alik, and he asked her to dance. "He was wearing a gray suit, a white
shirt, and a white tie of some funny foreign material. The tie and his
accent told her immediately that he was not a Russian. He must be from
Latvia or Estonia" (Priscilla Johnson McMillan, Marina and Lee, 60). Only
later that evening did she find out he was an American*.


(*Marina's first impression of Oswald is often misconstrued by
researchers who report that she believed Oswald to be a native-speaking
Russian. Not so; from his accent she inferred he was from the Baltic
region outside of Russia, where Russian would not be his native
language.)


One of the most striking things about Priscilla McMillan's account of
Marina and Lee in Russia is the near-total absence of the words "Lee" or
"Harvey." Oswald in Russia is "Alik," period: Alik is how he introduces
himself to Marina (McMillan, 60), and Alik is his name by which he is
known all through the Russian period. Researchers have heard this, of
course, but to see the name used time after time after time after time is
something quite different. In the USSR, there was no Lee and no Harvey --
just Alik.

(Note: Priscilla Johnson McMillan is widely disparaged by assassination
researchers as an unreliable source; she is routinely referred to as a
CIA agent and disinformation artist. Such accusations say more about the
research community's open hostility to proponents of the lone assassin
theory than to McMillan's personal credibility. The primary source for
her book, Marina and Lee, is Marina Oswald Porter, who swore under oath
to the HSCA that the book's portrayal of her marriage is a factual and
accurate. McMillan did a great deal of research, and one may fault
Priscilla Johnson McMillan for not being critical enough -- a judgment
not necessarily borne out by the text itself -- just as one may dismiss
her for not independently assessing the merits of the Warren Commission's
conclusions -- a subject arguably outside the scope of her book -- or
simply for promoting a version of the assassination that one disagrees
with. But make no mistake: her primary source is Marina Oswald. Whatever
faults one finds with McMillan's book -- this author was astonished at
the sophomoric psychoanalytic judgments presented -- nevertheless, if one
wishes to argue with the facts reported concerning Lee Harvey Oswald, one
must argue with Marina Oswald Porter, not her biographer.)

On the night Marina met her future husband, she got her first glimpse at
the contrariness -- or apparent contrariness -- that defines him to many
researchers. Oswald had supposedly traveled halfway around the world to
escape the "so-called democracy" of the United States, only to defend
that nation in the USSR.

Before the dance that night, Alik and Marina had separately attended a
lecture by the mother of a friend of a friend of Marina's, a young man
named Yury. She had spoken about America, where she had recently visited.
Alik and Marina were among a group of people who went to Yury's apartment
after the dance and spoke with his mother, asking her numerous questions
about The US. "They all sat together in the living room asking Yury's
mother questions," McMillan writes. "Alik listened carefully but did not
say anything. Finally, Yury's mother went to bed and the boys turned to
Alik. They wanted to know what was right and what was wrong in Yury's
mother's description of America. . . . He dismissed some of her remarks
as 'propaganda.' The rest, he said, was fair enough. Yury's mother had
been struck by the absence of lines in American stores. She attributed it
to those two vices of the capitalist system, unemployment and
overproduction, and concluded that Americans were too poor to buy. Alik
politely disagreed. The stores seem empty, he said, because there is
plenty for everyone at a price each can afford. 'Your mother is right,
though,' he said to Yury. 'Unemployment is a problem'" (McMillan, 61).

Alik asked Marina for her phone number, but she demurred, suggesting she
would see him at another of the trade union dances. The following
Saturday, March 25, 1961, they met again at the Palace of Culture. Alik
said he was happy to see her again, and they spent the rest of the
evening together. Marina agreed to meet him for a date the following
Thursday, and he asked for her phone number "just in case." On Tuesday he
called twice for Marina but she was not in; he called again on Wednesday.
He had to break their date; he was in the Fourth Clinical Hospital, as
the need had suddenly arisen for an adenoid operation. He asked her if
she would come visit him, and on Friday she did. Alik was overjoyed to
see her, and begged her to visit him again, and he seemed so lonely that
she agreed. They saw each other numerous times after Alik's release from
the hospital. On April 18, 1961, just a month and a day since they met,
Alik proposed to Marina, and she accepted. The two were married on April
30, 1961 (McMillan, 77-89). For thirty-five years, suspicious
assassination researchers -- not excluding the FBI, CIA, Warren
Commission, and HSCA -- have tried to uncover traces of sinister forces
directing this whirlwind courtship. No such traces have ever been
uncovered. The HSCA questioned Marina Oswald Porter bluntly about the
matter, and she insisted that nothing out of the ordinary had taken
place.

Marina did discover very quickly, however, that Alik had apparently told
her a number of lies. When they met he told her was 24; she found out
immediately prior to their marriage ceremony that he was only 21. He
explained that he thought she would take him more seriously were he older
(McMillan, 80, 89). When she'd asked him about his family in America, he
told her he had no mother, and when she asked if his mother was dead,
Alik only said, "I don't want to talk about it -- it's too painful."
Later he told her his mother was dead and that he had been raised by an
aunt. Marina told him that her parents, too, were dead, and she felt that
this was something of a bond between them (Ibid., 80). Later she would
discover that he had lied (apparently), and that his mother was still
alive (apparently). He had told her earlier that he had no desire to
return to the United States, when he had already -- before they met --
written to the American Embassy to request the return of his passport and
assistance in returning to the US (Ibid., 85). When Marina found out she
expressed her willingness to go with him.

The Oswalds would spend another year in Russia as they awaited permission
from the Soviets to leave the country, and assistance from the US to
return. Oswald, of course, had not expatriated himself, and was perfectly
within his rights to return; it was largely a matter of arranging
financial assistance and waiting out the reams of red tape. (The Warren
Commission -- and many others -- have pondered the question of why the
State Department would agree to assist Oswald in returning home the way
they did, which largely involved a loan for expenses and some assistance
in his travel plans. Again, the circumstances seem mysterious, but
nothing has ever been uncovered to suggest that Oswald received
preferential treatment at this time.)

Marina was pregnant with their daughter, June, who would be born in
February 1962. In June 1962, after many months after legal haggling,
Oswald and his wife and child were on their way to the United States.