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Richard White Veteran of Vietnam (Part 1)

Posted: admin on Jul 05 | Anti-Scam

Just yesterday, when I looked through my old files of Russian women profiles on a book shelf, Ludmila Moeva’s picture somehow fell out into my hands, and today I received an email with the news that a man, let’s call him Richard White, was badly ill and doctors were afraid of the worst. Life itself often builds subjects and creates endings, so I will just let the following story dictate itself.

Richard White was one of the first clients of ours. After his unlucky trip to Russia to find a Russian bride he appealed to us with the request to translate and forward his letter to a woman the correspondence with whom for some reason had been previously interrupted. This woman lived in a town, in the centre of Russia, which has traditionally been considered the city of beautiful Russian women because of a weaving factory situated there. The woman’s name was Ludmila Moeva.

I have not kept their letters, since then my computer has crashed several times, but maybe it does not matter as the most important is still kept in memory. Richard White was about 50, he lived in a house in a dense forest in the state of North Carolina, he was an invalid out on pension as a veteran of the Vietnamese war. He had a small business, restored and sold antique cars, sometimes, as a professional-sapper he was invited to a military camp to train recruits there. Richard White planted vegetables in his kitchen-garden, fed deer, his only guests, coming to him from the forest, he also had a computer switched on to Internet and, consequently, a wide circle of email pen-friends, both American and Russian women. In his picture Richard White resembled either a famous portrait of Ernest Hemingway, or Cooper’s hunter-pathfinder — he had a beard, wore a heavy amulet on a leather lace on his broad chest, a sporting gun on his shoulder. Richard White’s life was rather lonely though activities of different kinds and Internet friends relieved it. Being fifty Richard White decided to marry and as there was no appropriate bride in North Carolina so Richard fastened his gaze upon Russian women.

I don’t know why his first trip to our country had not worked out, I remember only that he shared his impressions of cockroaches in small Moscow apartments. Ludmila Moeva, an attractive brunette with an unfriendly face whom Richard started to write to, was about thirty, previously she had worked at a weaving factory, but when the factory closed Ludmila started to sell bread in a kiosk near her home. She had a son at school and she did not speak English at all. Richard White was mostly worried by the latter. He was especially perplexed because the deceased Ludmila’s grandmother had taught English in the university. Ludmila’s personality was unclear from her letters to me too: very often a person is completely open in their letters and it is easy to imagine their individuality, but sometimes, as in Ludmila’s case, everything is hid in a fog of uncertainty. On the one hand Ludmila had intelligent parents, she wrote without mistakes, often made digressions into Russian history and literature, true, that not deepening too much, maybe copying generally known passages about great Russian poets and tsars from her son’s school textbooks. On the other hand, she had no education except higher school, in spite of her grandmother who had taught English Ludmila did not know even elementary English Grammar, her opinions were often harsh and categorical as a person with a narrow range of interests might have.

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