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Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781462033201 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | iUniverse, Incorporated |
| Publication date: | 11/10/2011 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 308 |
| File size: | 5 MB |
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Barbed Circles
The Perfect ScoreBy Cornel Vena
iUniverse, Inc.
Copyright © 2011 Cornel VenaAll right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4620-3319-5
Chapter One
HOW IT ALL STARTEDAfter I finished High school in Turnu-Magurele, the boredom started to settle in. There I was, 18 years of age, full of ideas and energy, yet I was living in a small sleepy town in the southern part of Muntenia, a region of Romania. Back in those days young people did not have cars, TV, or much money. Even a push-bike was a rarity. Our main entertainment consisted of sport and a lots of outdoors activities. In the winter we did a lot of skiing and during summer we would walk from town through the vineyards and fields of maize, past the old Roman fort until we would suddenly come upon the banks of the river Danube.
It always gave me a real shock to walk through the ordinary fields and then suddenly to see appearing literally out of the ground, this immense body of water, slowly and majestically flowing between the banks of the two neighboring communist countries, Romania and Bulgaria. In those days, although both countries were dominated by the Russians and forced to embrace the communist regime, it was still considered to be a crime to attempt to cross the river to the other country without permission.
Myself, my cousin Cretu and few other members of our adventure-seeking group, took great pleasure in swimming across the Danube, some 800-l000m wide, and then allowing the current to carry us parallel to the Bulgarian river bank. Their border guards would start running trying to keep up with us, simultaneously taking their rifles and aiming at us, pretending that they were ready to shoot.
They did not shoot as long as we stayed at the regulation distance from their shore, about 50 meters away. In the meantime we would shout at the guards and taunt them ...
"You are too stupid to know where the trigger is" or
"Be careful you may shoot your smelly toe off and smell to death!" Occasionally the border guards would shoot a warning shot over our heads just to remind us that they meant business.
After we had had our fun and started to get tired, we would start the long swim back across the current, aiming to land on the Romanian soil just below the small port and loading ramp. Usually by the time we were back, it was already getting dark and we would walk in 3. Silence the dusty country road home. We weren't taught how to swim and my first lesson consisted of my brother Sandu, picking me up unceremoniously and throwing me in the water.
Although I felt as though I was fighting for my life and nearly lost consciousness it was to no avail as Sandu kept telling me calmly to move my arms and not to panic.
I survived swimming but there were many others who drowned whilst crossing the Danube or were hit by the boats which navigated the very busy river route, from Germany down to the Black Sea.
I was interested in flying and being a member of the local aero model club, I managed to construct few strange looking models which more than usual, after a short erratic flight ended nose first on the ground in a sad heap of match sticks and paper. I could not foresee at that stage how my life was going to be changed by this inoffensive hobby.
My aeromodelling activities came to fruition on the day our instructor told us that the Romanian Aero-Club was to start a flying course for those members who had demonstrated an interest in making models. There was to be a written examination and a medical examination and because of limited numbers available and the high cost (to be borne by the State), only 10 students would be selected from our town.
I studied pretty hard, and when the results were posted I was pleased to find that I had been selected to join the flying school. My parents did not show great emotion when I told them excitedly that I was going to fly.
My mother, who had always dreamed that one day I would be a practicing physician, was particularly distressed, and only bent a little when I told her that this was just something to do whilst waiting for the autumn university exams in Bucharest. Finally, loaded with food and clean underwear, and after promising to write at every opportunity, I took the rickety old train from Turnu-Magurele to Brasov, a beautiful locality in "Muntii Apuseni," in the northern part of Transylvanian region.
The flying school was a few kilometers from the township, surrounded by fields of wheat and corn and hills covered with fruit trees of all kinds.
It felt like an amphitheatre with the school's planes sitting in orderly formation in the middle of this natural stage, ready to commence the performance.
After the initial welcoming speech and introductions, we were divided in groups and allocated an instructor. Most of them were Ex-WW II pilots with many hours of flying over the Russian or German lines, and lots of good stories.
My instructor was Miss Veronica who had been a reconnaissance pilot during the war. She had to fly very low over the enemy lines, to avoid being hit by the ground fire or intercepted by air fighters to deliver messages from headquarters to the front line.
My initial fears about not having a male pilot (to make us work harder) were soon dispelled and she made me appreciate her experience in precision flying, teaching us to respect the machine and to be always one step ahead in a case of emergency.
Although the course only lasted three weeks, we had an excellent grounding in theory and practical flying, so that after 10-12 hours on double command, we were allowed to take off on our first "solo" flight.
I remember the day when Veronica said with a dry smile, "You're just about ready to be on your own"
"No," I heard myself saying, "I mean, do you think so?"
The smile disappeared and she sounded very calm and cool.
"Do you think we can afford to lose a plane worth thousands of lei? Beside you are doing fine and should have no problems ... these planes almost fly by themselves."
"So it's all set," she continued. "You will go in the normal circuit after Sorin (best flyer in our group), and please concentrate on what you're doing; Don't let me down particularly today when Chief Instructor C.O. is coming to have a look to see how we are progressing.
"In regula? (OK?) "Yes", I said, suddenly not feeling too good.
The fields were asleep and covered with a soft blanket of morning fog, when the mechanics started to tow the planes out of the huge hangar in preparation for daily lessons. They made the required detailed check whilst the refuellers made sure that each plane had enough fuel for the day's flying.
Our group was chattering quietly and occasionally a short burst of laughter would punctuate someone's attempt to brave the tension which we all felt.
Strangely enough I wasn't concerned so much about the complex procedure which involves flying a plane, but more concerned in putting on a good display for our Miss Veronica. She was smartly dressed in long pants and a leather jacket and was talking quietly to our Chief Instructor, a highly decorated ex-war fighter. A few minutes later Veronica walked towards our group and spoke in a quiet voice addressing the group, but seeming to focus on me and Sorin.
"Today I want you all to forget about anything else apart from flying. If you are concentrating hard enough, there's no room for anything else in your mind. Flying is only a matter of following a set routine. If you follow the correct sequence, then everything else works like a Swiss clock, but if you become distracted, then you will start to have problems."
"Today we are going to have Sorin doing his third solo flight, then I will fly double command with Cornel, then he will go on his first solo flight. After that we will go through our normal daily lessons for the rest of the group. Good luck and good flying" she ended.
Then she walked closer to me, smiled, and spoke quietly almost in a whisper:
"Don't be nervous Cornel, just concentrate and do exactly the same as in your double command lessons. I know that you are ready and you will do well."
"Thank you Miss. I will do my best."
So the most anticipated, discussed and analyzed moment had arrived. There was no turning back and there was nobody in the cockpit to swiftly correct a wrong movement. It was entirely up to me. As I was standing on the side of the concrete strip, watching Sorin doing an impeccable take off, I remembered the day my brother Sandu decided that I was ready to ski down the old "jghiab" (funnel) used years ago to send tree trunks down from the top of the mountain, to the old sawmill in the valley.
We were then living in the old medieval city of Bistrita-Nasaud where we went skiing in the winter almost everyday, especially on weekends when we had time to go further afield.
On that particular day, we climbed high through the dense pine forest until we came to a clearing leading nowhere except for a small opening big enough to squeeze through.
"Well Cornel, what do you think? Do you want to go back the same way, which will take us hours, or should we try this way?"
Sandu grinned wickedly as he, pointed to the small opening.
By now we have been skiing for hours, I was tired and very hungry, and the prospect of having to wait for another couple of hours before eating and getting some dry clothes on, did not appeal at all. Of course my brother, who was four years older than me and a much better skier, neglected to tell me that this particular run was a very difficult and dangerous passage and we could finish being plastered against a tree.
This was nothing new, as our relationship was based on a continuous challenge, and I would have rather died than admit to Sandu that I was scared stiff and could not see myself going down that hole, not knowing how steep it was, how fast I was going to go, and in particular, where I was going to finish.
"Come on, make up your mind or it will get too dark to see the run", Sandu called out impatiently, perhaps getting a little edgy himself.
"You go ahead and I will follow you", I said, trying not to stutter. By now I was feeling weak at the knees and found it difficult to stop my heart from jumping out of my chest. Once again we both adjusted our simple, home made leather and rope bindings, and tightened our grip on the rough stocks with a nail stuck at the end.
"See you down there pustiule, (young, inexperienced youth)" and almost immediately Sandu disappeared through the hole and into the narrow channel down the mountain.
I waited for few seconds to have some room in case of a fall, then reluctantly I pushed myself forward with my stocks into the channel. I was expecting a gradual increase in my speed.
The next second I felt my skis sliding ahead from me, leaving me slightly behind. Everything was happening very quickly and I was fighting to keep my balance whilst controlling the direction of my skis, and trying to avoid low branches growing across the pass. The hardest thing was trying to steer and negotiate the turns particularly as there was very little room to move.
There was no room for error in this small "guttering" which was no wider than 900 mm, not unlike those bobsleigh tracks, except that in this situation there were all kinds of branches and old trunks partially exposed. The slope became more acute, my skies were vibrating and my eyes were filled with snow collected from low branches and tears caused by the cold air.
I knew that there was no escape, not enough room to make a plough or to break the speed, there was nothing else to do except stay on the skis and follow the path without hitting the wall of trees on either side of the path. I could see myself in hospital wrapped up in bandages, unable to ski for the rest of the winter. That would have been the worst penalty, skiing being my favorite sport.
Suddenly the tunnel opened up, and next I was flying across this open space covered with fresh snow. Before I had time to slow down I came to the end of this natural platform and became airborne.
Below me I could see young apple trees in orderly rows. Strangely enough I wasn't scared, just curious to see where I was going to land. Although we never measured the distance we jumped, I would be tempted to say that it must have been around 30-35m, which even in those days was a good jump.
I landed with a thud on top of a young tree which cushioned somewhat the initial impact, to be dropped in the deep snow, on top of my brother.
For few seconds there was a complete silence, then we both started to move checking to see if we were still in one piece.
To my relief I found my skis were unbroken, the only damage being a snapped wooden stock.
"I think I am O.K." I heard Sandu saying
"Are you all right"?
I could not answer, as I started to laugh uncontrollably so much so that tears started to pour down my cheeks.
Sandu took a good look at me and then realizing that I hadn't suffered any permanent damage, he started to have a good laugh himself.
After we cleaned ourselves and did some small repairs to our skis, we picked few of the frozen apples left on the trees from last autumn, and started on our way back to the distant town in the valley, where already the evening lights started to flicker and shine on the snow covered streets. In the clear sky above us, we could see beautiful stars and the shining Milky Way.
It felt so good to be alive, to know that I managed to conquer my fears, to know that what I did was better than anything else I have done before, and above all not to be hurt.
I looked at Sandu who was quietly making a path in the deep snow in front of me, leading the way home. I felt for the first time what it felt to have someone that cares about you. He did not challenge me, he showed me the way and helped me to break through my lack of confidence.
"You know" I said, "you could have killed us both".
"Ye" he said, but I didn't did I?"
Years later I finally understood how that frightening descent into the unknown is sometimes forced upon us, how in real life there are moments when we have to take decisions which we do not really like to take. But when we do things we don't think we are capable of, in some strange way, we discover that part of us which otherwise we never have the chance to understand.
Or perhaps we can plan and do things we feel comfortable doing, but only when we have to act outside our set perimeters, do we reach another dimension.
"Cornel, it's your turn to fly. Are you asleep or just dreaming?" said MissVeronica shaking my shoulder. "Do you want to go on to your solo test today, because if you don't feel ready for it you could do it tomorrow"?
"Don't worry Miss." I said smiling and feeling ready to challenge the world.
"This is nothing, just don't ask me to put my skis on." I could see in her eyes a trace of doubt, perhaps I wasn't ready after all to go on my solo flight "It's alright Miss. just an old joke I use to make with my brother when I was ready to try something I don't fear anymore"
"Good luck Cornel. Don't let me down."
The 10 or so students were assigned to an instructor who then took us one by one in a tour of our school and the fields leading to the nearby village with the old gothic church at its centre. That morning I did the required circuit including the take-off and landing without any mistake, and passed my first solo flying test with top marks.
A few days went by after my solo flying test. Every day at the flying school was full of exciting events, everyone was telling incredible stories of the day's program, of experiencing advanced manoeuvres, of just being able to land without overshooting the landing strip or of a perfect landing when the plane slid over the concrete surface without as much as a bump.
I was enjoying flying so much that I had no time to think of anything else. I was the happiest I have ever been until then ... flying was in my blood and it felt like I'd always been doing just that. Miss Veronica was happy to sit comfortably in her instructor's seat whilst I was taking off, taking position in our designated practice zone, and going through the various movements as required by our training program. It was only when a new movement had to be learnt that she would take over the dual commands and show me what was to be done.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Barbed Circles by Cornel Vena Copyright © 2011 by Cornel Vena. Excerpted by permission of iUniverse, Inc.. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Contents
Prologue....................xiiiPart One....................1
How It All Started....................1
Not My Turn....................8
My Mother's Stage Performance....................12
Nowhere To Go....................21
Drinking Is Not The Solution....................25
My Father's Biology Book....................37
University Exams And Luck....................9
Try Again Or Go Home....................48
Hunger The Best Stimulant....................49
University Life In Bucharest....................51
Why Rowing?....................54
Wrestling With Tudor....................57
Summer Camp At Lake Snagov....................59
Our Coach Is A Madman....................61
Part Two....................68
Selection Trials....................70
New Sport....................71
Would Cornel Vena Stand Up....................73
Hang In There Or Starve....................78
Brotherly Love....................80
Only Traitors Want To Learn English....................83
First Training Camp At Sibiu....................84
No Time For Tears....................88
The Russians Are Coming....................91
Part Three....................96
My Father Is Watching....................96
The Russians Are Coming Again....................100
Woros Chilag, 1954 World Modern Pentathlon Championships....................104
How Do You Beat An Olympic Champion?....................105
I Was In Control....................112
Learning To Cope....................113
You Are With Us Or Against Us?....................115
A Friend From The Past....................119
Macolin, 1955 World Championship And Thin Bread....................121
Part Four....................135
Too Tired To Study....................135
A Wild Party And Muresanu's Revenge....................136
You Are Ready To Win....................141
First Romanian Modern Pentathlon Champion....................143
Is My Shoulder Broken?....................147
The Team Is Announced....................153
Dreams And Out Of Body Experiences....................154
Hungarian Students Are Rioting....................157
Time To Say Goodbye....................158
How Is Your Brother In Sydney?....................160
First Taste Of Freedom....................163
Part Five....................165
Flying Over A Free Country....................165
Bombay At Night....................167
1956 Melbourne—Olympic City....................169
I Think I Will Take The Romanian Team....................171
My Arm Is My Sword....................174
Life In The Olympic Village....................178
Norman And English Lessons....................179
Are You Ok?....................182
Training "Against" Vladimir Kouts....................186
Corrupt Leaders And Romanian Plum Whisky....................192
The Flying Priest....................196
Tomorrow's The Opening Day....................197
Part Six....................199
The Opening Ceremony....................199
Riding On A Green Horse....................202
A Record Is Set....................207
I Shot My Best Too Early....................224
My Worst Event....................227
Running With Courage....................231
Dream Completed....................234
Light For A Champion Pole-Vaulter....................237
Blood In The Pool And Burning My Bridges....................241
Victor Is Getting Married....................246
Would Rather Die Than Go Back....................248
Not Ready For The States....................249
Escape PLan And Torquay Beach....................252
Closing Ceremony And My Friend's Secret....................256
Take This To My Mother....................260
Last Party....................262
Where Am I?....................265
Delayed Departure And My New Country....................267
Epilogue....................269