Author’s Note:

The following is an excerpt from Jinnik: The Asset, a Cold War Memory, by Gideon D. Asche.  Just recently cleard by Defense Dept. for security review and public release. Jinnik is available on Amazon, or free on Kindle unlimited.

Jinnik is heavily based on the real-life exploits of an 8-person (3 were women) human intelligence team operating behind the Iron Curtain between 1977 and 1988.  Of the eight original team members, 3 made it to retirement age, 5 gave their lives in the line of duty – somehow, this author is one of the three.

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Kal’s Last Stand
Gideon D. Asche

Information coming out of Romania was disturbing. Ceausescu’s Securitate units (Secret Police) were making a hard push to ferret out any anti-Ceausescu resistance and were putting several of our contacts in jeopardy.

We held a meeting at our facility in West Germany to discuss how to help an asset in Romania.  One of the Roma Clans (Gypsy) was my main ally in Romania, they gave us information that one of their people was on Ceausescu’s radar. He was targeted for elimination. The man lived in an industrial city called Ploiesti, not far from Bucharest. The Ploiesti Oil Fields are still a center of mainland oil production, making it a key asset in any European war.

A master machinist, he was also active in the labor unions and the underground movement to oust Nicolai Ceausescu. The Gypsies believed he was on a target list of people Ceausescu’s Secret Police had orders to neutralize –  This was something we needed to prevent.

I made arrangements to meet with the machinist at a collective farm near the Ukrainian border.  Andrea, who was my travel partner,  and I made a quick run into Romania to assess the situation and figure out what assistance we could render. We went directly to the Roma camp near Sibiu, where we met with a Romani chieftain, a very powerful man I was instructed to address as “Purodad” – Grandfather.

We would get a good night’s rest; then  travel as far as a village 24 KM from where we were to meet with our new contact. Púrodad arranged for us to meet with an associate of his, a man he called Kal.

Kal was “blood,” and the Old Man said he trusted Kal with his life…  and his wife.  They both laughed out loud. It was the first time I heard Purodad make a joke.

We would be hiding our car in a smaller Roma camp closer to the border then making our way to the meeting place by rural farm roads in a donkey-drawn wagon. The police were too lazy and stretched too thin to cover these routes, so as long as you looked like a farmer or a shepherd, you could move with relative freedom.

Our guy looked like one and smelled like one. The wagon ride required a little over 9 hours, and we would need to make an equally long and unpleasant return trip in the morning. Once in the village, we had to steal down an alley and into a courtyard where we encountered another man pointing, what I think was one of our pistols in my face.

Kal made the introductions, the sentry stood down, and we went inside.  The machinist was a large man who commanded immediate respect. Kal assured him that Andrea and I were longtime friends with the patriarch of his clan.

Kal introduced me by my Roma name “Jinnik,” and added that he also knew me personally and trusted me.  The machinist imediatly recognized my name, greeting me as family.  My life had become so much easier since Purodad officially adopted me into the Clan.

The rest of the meeting was mostly me making various offers of assistance, from money to equipment, until we got to the real point. I told the machinist we believed his days were short. We believed that Ceausescu was going to either arrest or kill him.

I offered to help he and his wife out of Romania, 

I could set up an exfill if he wanted. I conveyed the promise that we would make the arrangements and NATO would accept him as a defector, put him up in a house and a job.

He and his wife said they needed to sleep on it. I heard the wife refer to Kal as “uncle.”  Ahh, so that was the connection. Kal was a blood relative of hers.  The Roma people consider “blood” connections to be sacred. She was to be protected.

Andrea and I were taken to a basement area under the central part of the house to turn in for the night, while Kal and two others stood guard.

I could tell Kal didn’t like the idea of spending the night there.  I wished I could see inside his head and knew what he was thinking.  I was just about as asleep as one man could get when I heard shouts….   “Securitate…  Securitate.” Next, I was rudely tossed out of my bed by Kal, who was yelling, get everyone out, out!  “We are raided, everyone out.”

Andrea was already in action; she had the machinist, and his wife corralled together and was looking for a back way out.   Gunfire could be heard in the courtyard.   I went to where Kal and one of the other men had taken up a firing position and were holding a squad of 8 to 10 of Ceausescu’s thugs at bay in the front of the courtyard.  It would not take long for them to flank us and come in from the fields.

Kal told the other man to fall back, and I took up a position with him.  I had exactly eight rounds in my Makarov, all soft charges, so they had a minimal accuracy and range, Kal was toting his AK-47 with a 75-round drum.

We punched off a few rounds with the “Pray & Spray” method of target acquisition then pulled back to the edge of the property where Andrea and the others had rallied.   There was a trail that went to the forest.   The problem is we would never make it across the 75 meters of open field to the trees.    Once the “Securitate” made it to the open, we would be cut down; we could never make it to the trees in time.

Kal moved forward again, he was engaging the Securitate when we made a reluctant decision to make a run for the trees.  It was the only chance we had, and it was not much of one.   If we made it to the tree line, it would be near impossible to follow us.

I went back to Kal’s position to let him know we needed to exfill right then!

Several rounds hissed passed us. We began to pull back, then Kal grabbed my shoulder.  He looked hard into my eyes and spoke to me in German…    “Jinnik…They are your responsibility: GO NOW!”

He turned back and engaged the Securitate on full auto.  I just stared as he moved forward as he fired.  Kal looked back at me and made a gesture as if he was tipping his hat.  He moved swiftly back into position and returned fire.

I knew it was the last thing he would ever do.   I saw love in his eyes.

Kal was making a last stand for his family, for his Clan, for our Clan. I didn’t have to explain what happened to Kal.  We all heard him fire his last rounds as we made it to the forest and safety.

I hope when my time comes, I have even a small measure of the same honor and integrity I saw in my brother’s eyes that morning in Romania. I have no interest in dying of old age.

… and I miss my brother Kal.

– Gid