A Definition of Freedom

Jeanne Dorr is a member of the Board of Directors of Lithuanian Orphan Care, a branch of the Human Services Council of the Lithuanian American Community, Inc. She is also a Social Studies teacher in New Jersey.

Free Ö dom n. state of being free; independence. That's what I found for the meaning of this powerful word when I looked in Webster's dictionary and thesaurus. Freedom was sandwiched between freebie and freeze. It doesn't sound too impressive or exciting; that is, unless you've lost it or never had it.

To those of us who worked for Lithuanian independence or traveled to Lithuania during the dark days of Soviet occupation, freedom has a more personal meaning. For the people who lived under the terrible oppression of the Soviet Union, freedom has other definitions Ö definitions which for most of us would be impossible to comprehend. If you spoke to twenty people who were directly involved with Lithuania, you probably would hear twenty different meanings for the word. What definition of freedom was going through Jonas Pleð«¹s' mind when he defected from a Soviet nuclear submarine in 1961?

Over the years many articles have been written about Jonas Pleð«¹s. Among the most famous was the novel The Hunt for Red October by Tom Clancy. After the novel reached the best seller list, a movie was made based on it starring Sean Connery.

It is not my intention to write anymore about this famous man, except to give a little background of his life. My intent is to introduce you to one of his sisters and her family. What happened to the family left behind when someone defected? What, if any, were the consequences they faced? What were their emotions?

I've read interviews which were done with Mr. Pleð«¹s' sister, Eugenija Pleð«¹t鬠an actress. Instead, I would like to introduce you to another sister, Emilija Pleð«¹té® She isn't prominent or well known. She is simply a woman who loved her brother and tried to make the best of a complex situation.

It was my pleasure to spend an afternoon with Emilija Pleð«¹té ©n her lovely apartment in the heart of Klaipé¤. Within minutes of our meeting, I thought this woman had the charm of royalty. She made me so comfortable that I felt I knew her all my life. I still can't determine what it was about her that put me so at ease. Perhaps it was her soft voice or her genuine friendliness or maybe it was just her need to talk at that particular moment. Again, maybe she just needed someone to listen. I went away feeling that we both benefited greatly by the pleasant afternoon we spent together.

I asked Emilija about her childhood. She spoke lovingly about her family, especially her brother. She told me that Jonas was born in 1935 in Tvé²i, western Lithuania. As in the case of so many Lithuanian families, their parents were deported to Siberia in the late 1940s on suspicion of being anti-Soviet. Over the years that term would cover a multitude of sins depending on the mood of the investigators.

As was typical, the deportees were exiled from Lithuania by train. Their father, Juozas, and their stepmother actually pushed the children off the train. The children were separated for several years. Over the years, Jonas worked hard in school but, was still expelled for anti-Soviet activities. With some influence from the instructors, the "accused" were given another chance to reform by the authorities. Eventually Jonas rose to the rank of captain on a Soviet submarine.

Emilija Pleð«¹té ·ith JonasÒ letters. Photo by Jeanne Dorr

Pretending there was a serious defect with the submarine's navigating system, Jonas insisted he would have to go ashore in Sweden to find their exact location. After much haggling with the ever present "plants" on the ship, he wielded his authority and insisted that he was the captain and had the final say. When he left the ship, he bolted. The year was 1961, and the captain was 26 years old. He eventually found his way to the United States.

Before you get excited and say that's not what was written in the book, or it's not the way the movie portrayed it; please, remember, this occurred during the Cold War. Jonas was alive, and it was suicidal for him to have the facts printed as they really had happened. Therefore, all parties involved agreed to alter the truth.

Most of our conversation that afternoon centered around Emilija's own family. She married and had one son. The marriage was not a happy one and ended in divorce. Her husband not only divorced Emilija, he also divorced his son. He would pass the young man on the street and not even nod to him. Not even a hello would leave his lips. I wonder what that young boy felt when he saw his father. In my wildest imagination, I can't comprehend my father ignoring me. Certainly, this would have an emotional effect on the young man.

This situation was compounded by the local communist party secretary's wife, who was the principal of the school the boy attended. There seemed to be constant problems between the young man whose uncle defected from the Soviet Union and the woman who believed that communism was the perfect way of life. She accused the boy of "hooliganism", a favorite word during the days of occupation. She said she was afraid of him. Matters came to a peak, and Emilija took her son out of school in 1980. How ironic that she withdrew him very near to the date of Lithuania's Independence Ö February 16th. Coincidence?

After her son's formal education ended, his quality of life definitely began to deteriorate. There was a period when he didn't want to leave the house. While he was at home, he wouldn't read a book or watch television. He just sat, stared, and did nothing. In retrospect, Emilija told me she should have gone to the principal's husband and tried to have interceded on his behalf. Maybe he would have been readmitted to the school to complete his education.

Emilija also felt part of the problem was that he never had male influence. The young man is now in his 30s and is still unable to hold a job. He depends on his mother for everything. I knew this was a very painful subject for Emilija, and I didn't want to pry. I didn't meet her son because he had gone to town. I did meet her charming nephew from Vilnius and his family. His aunt told me how happy she is when he comes to visit with his young children.

After the usual Lithuanian hospitality of a table set with all kinds of pastries and a break for general "small talk", we got back to our interview. She showed me all her precious family photographs. They were taken in happier days, when they were all together.

I asked Emilija what her reaction was to the situation when her brother defected. She told me the defection was kept quiet but, that the family received a letter from him when he was in Sweden. After that, there were long gaps between letters, sometimes several years would go by without a word. She had her usual "visits" from the K.G.B. She said they were always very polite. Initially, I couldn't understand why they would be so friendly toward her. At this point, she smiled and reminded me that you can always get more from people by being nice. Her "visitors" tried to charm her with flattery. In the beginning, the house was watched from a short distance but, later they would drop by to pay their periodic visits.

I asked her if these were Russians. She smiled and told me, "Of course, not." They were Lithuanians and some of them are now good, upstanding Lithuanian citizens who have government jobs. That's something that anyone living in Lithuania could tell you. There is that rather large group who took off their hammer and sickle pins, and replaced them with lapel pins bearing a cross. Now they are good Lithuanian citizens. Yet the people whose lives they destroyed know the truth. Through all this, her personal life was also falling apart. Finally, she was able to ascertain that her brother was living in California. At least she had one less problem to worry about Ö her brother was safe.

In 1992, Jonas returned to the land he loved so much. He was finally able to sit with Emilija and tell her so many things that happened. She told me that he never truly left Lithuania in his mind or heart. According to her, when he reached Sweden, the West was very skeptical of him. Frankly, they weren't sure if he was a legitimate defector or a Soviet "plant".

The entire episode of a 26 year-old captain in charge of a then state-of-the-art nuclear submarine seemed too much like a setup. Could it be that the incident was planned and carried out by the Soviet Union to actually gain information about other nations? Could Jonas have actually had the blessing of the Soviet Union when he defected? After all, this was the height of the Cold War and nothing was impossible. It seemed spies were turning up in every closet.

After finally convincing the authorities that he was legitimate, his life did not become easier. In fact, he was always in danger. A Soviet Military Tribunal condemned Jonas to death. The death sentence was never lifted. Can you imagine living with a death sentence hanging over your head?

At one point, he spent years hiding in the jungles of Central and South America. Emilija learned that Jonas had fathered a daughter during this time, and that the young woman still lived in Central America. The United States government moved him from place to place. Eventually Jonas settled on the west coast. He told his sister that he felt Lithuanian-Americans did not fully trust him or accept him in the beginning. Given the times and the circumstances, this was understandable.

As the story unfolded, Emilija was better able to comprehend what the past was like for her brother. She told me they had a pleasant visit but, he always seemed to be in a hurry. He wanted to visit friends left behind many years ago. He wanted to walk in his beloved woods. In fact, it was hurry, hurry, hurry. In retrospect, it appeared to her that he wanted to see and do everything during this one visit. He promised her he would return to Lithuania and bring his daughter who was his pride and joy. That was a promise that Jonas was unable to keep.

Life continued for brother and sister, and communication resumed through their letters. In 1993, Emilija's letters to her brother began to return to her marked, "Not Reclaimed". She worried but, was unable to gain any news of him. All she had of Jonas was silence. There were no more letters or postcards of the "big California bridge" which Emilija was always so proud to receive. Silence and more silence. The waiting and the uncertainty were maddening.

Then, one night, Emilija had a dream. To her, the dream was foreboding. She dreamed of black blood. She immediately telephoned a friend who she said understood dreams. The friend told her the black blood meant the death of someone very close to her. She spent the next two weeks filled with anxiety. It was then that her sister notified her of Jonas's death.

It seemed isolation would also be with Jonas in death as well as in life. He died alone in California of a brain tumor. The fact that he had been ill for a period of time tore Emilija apart. She kept insisting to me that he could not have been so ill. After all, why wouldn't her beloved brother tell her of his illness when he visited her. He looked so healthy; he could not have been so gravely ill. I tried to reason with her that perhaps her brother just wanted to spare her the pain of knowing he was so sick. Yet, Emilija will never concede that he died of natural causes. In her mind, her brother paid the price for his freedom with his life. It was a question we could not resolve that afternoon.

As I left Emilija, she was sitting at the table with tears welling in her eyes, deep in her own thoughts, holding the letters her cherished brother sent to her. In her lap were the letters marked, "Not Reclaimed".