I sit in one of the cruise ship’s dining rooms, gazing through its floor-to-ceiling windows.

The sea is calm; I’m famished.

My gut yells, “I’m hungry! Where is that filet mignon you promised me?”

My brain asks, “When is this one-of-a-kind dining experience going to begin?”

But all that rests in front of my eyes for my stomach and brain to see is an empty white porcelain plate, resting on a shiny satin tablecloth, next to a folded red cloth napkin and some ornate silverware.

“Relax boys, the little chef is coming.

Remember, we’re in this fancy-schmancy restaurant.

Cooking gourmet food takes time.

 Le Petit Chef promises you one hell of a dining experience.”

Then the little one-inch chef appears on my plate. “Ladies and gentleman, tonight you are about to see a spectacular 3d film presentation performed on this table and this plate by my family and myself. It’s a fusion of entertainment and cuisine. It’s an immersion of theater & dining combined.”

I watch in amazement as this tiny animated French chef and his family gather the greens from their garden and the ingredients from the kitchen, prep the food and cook the meal in front of my eyes.

And then my waiters appears and serves the actual meal I just watched Le Petit Chef prepare on my porcelain plate.

Wow, I am moved.

What a wonderful world we live in.

What an amazing experience.

I close my eyes, as if in prayer and when I reopen them a new figure appears on my plate.

I immediately recognize the face that covers the surface of the plate.

It’s Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin.

And written under his chin—appearing as if he wears a gold necklace—are the words: “Le Petit Dictateur.”

A little one-inch Putin appears on my plate. He speaks with a  heavy Russian accent and says, “Ladies and gentleman, today you are about to see what my military is doing to Ukraine.”

My eyes are transfixed on Putin.

I dare not blink, fearing that these images will disappear.

Vlad continues, “I’m in the city of Bucha.”

He points and says, “See these civilians lying on the ground with their hands tied behind their backs and with bullet holes in their heads, they are casualties of war. They obviously were trying to escape, so my soldiers had to shoot them. And look at these blown up Ukraine babies, lying next to their dead mothers and grandparents. They were in the wrong place at the wrong time. In the military, we call them collateral damage. They knew we were in state of war. They should have fled their country.”

As Putin walks past some mass graves filled with Ukrainian bodies, I feel like vomiting but hear him say, “These neo-Nazi Ukrainian hoodlums should have never antagonized the Russia empire.”

“Always remember that I’m such a benevolent leader, because I have instructed my army and navy and my air force to never aim our bombs or our missiles or our mortars on innocent people.”

As Vlad talks, I study the borders of my plate.

Next to bombed out hospitals, daycare center and nursing homes, I see hundreds of rotting and bloated bodies.

I notice hundreds of “Big Brother” like posters glued to Bucha’s brick walls. On each poster appears Putin’s stern face. And beneath his chin in blood red ink the words,

“You are now our slaves. Any resistance to our presence shall lead to your death.”

I cringe, tear up and realize I am listening to a demented, little sadistic dictator.

I shut my wet eyes, put my hand on my head and pray for Ukraine.

“G-d, may this war end quickly and may Russia pay the price for the evil that Vladimir Putin has wrought on the Ukrainian people.”

I open my eyes and see an empty white plate.

Putin has disappeared.

I look out the window at the calm sea.

And wonder, “Will my prayer be answered.”

“Congresswomen Taylor, it’s good to see you again. Last time I interviewed you was after your Jewish laser beam fiasco. I recall you made that trip to New York City to tour Brooklyn with a bunch of Orthodox Jews. Those Black Hats taught you the lay of the land—taking you to a kosher restaurant, a yeshiva and a matzah bakery. They koshered you. You even learned a little Yiddish.”

“Honey, bless your heart. Ya’ll got a great memory. I’ll never forget how those yiddsha yeshiva boychicks stared at my tuches. It was like they never saw a shiksa’s backside. But now I’m in hot water again. You gotta help me pull my cute little ass out of this fire. I need your help to convince those Yosemites that I ain’t stupid because that Brooklyn yeshiva is getting ready to award me an honorary degree in the Humanities.”

“Well Marjorie, what did you say this time?”Top articles on The Times of IsraelRead More

Assailant in deadly Beersheba attack identified as terror convict who backed IS

“Well, I was ranting and railing against that alter cocker, Nancy Pelosi, and her “gazpacho police” when one of my aides whispered into my ear that it was the “Gestapo police” not gazpacho police. But by then it was too late to correct my silly mistake. I hoped it wouldn’t find its way to FaceBook, TikTok, YouTube or Twitter. But you know my luck. It went viral. I reckon I shoulda kept my flap shut. It’s not fair for the public to expect a congresswoman to know the difference between Hitler’s brutal secret police force and a chilled red Spanish tomato soup. They’re always picking on me.”

“Marjorie, didn’t I tell and warn you to stop making references to the Nazis and the Jews. It’s not in your field of expertise.”

“Yup, you did. But I just couldn’t help myself. When I start talking about that so-called January 6th Insurrection and those good-for-nothing Democrats, my little ol’ mouth gallops a lot faster than my brain trots. So I want you tell the media my story. You tell them, I was hungry because that morning, I missed my bacon and eggs breakfast. So while I was talking, my head yelled and  my stomach roared, ‘I want a chilled bowl of rich and creamy tomato soup.’ I craved a soup bursting with fresh-from-the-garden-summer flavors. Now ya’ll understand how my slip of the tongue occurred. That itsy-bitsy mistake made me look like an ignoramus. Now the whole country is laughing at little ol’ me because of my innocent slip up. And it ain’t funny. I’m looking for a final solution to have the press give me a bissel of a break and quit riding my ass.

“Well Marjorie, we could visit the Holocaust Museum in DC and learn about the Shoah.”

“You mean you would showah little ol’ me what those nasty Gestapo folks did to the Jews”

“Yup.”ADVERTISEMENT

“Well, we’ve got a date.. See you tomorrow at the museum at nine. I hope your plan gets me out of this hot soup. No pun intended. I want that honorary degree from that yeshiva. It will help me get reelected in Georgia and maybe even get me a shot at being nominated as the GOP’s vice-presidential candidate.

“Great, after the museum, I’ll treat you to a bowl of gazpacho or is it Gestapo soup.”

“Bill, ya know what documentary I watched last night?”

“No Mort, what show did you watch?”

“Well, when I took breaks from the Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, I watched WWII in Color: Road to Victory on Netflix, Season One, Episode # 9. That episode is entitled, ‘The Race for Berlin.’Top articles on The Times of IsraelRead More

Assailant in deadly Beersheba attack identified as terror convict who backed IS

It’s the one where the Soviet Army slogged, marched and killed Nazis on their way to Berlin. The Russian soldiers sought revenge for what the Germans did to their people. So on its way toward the Nazi capital, Hitler’s bunker and his atomic-bomb laboratories, they killed lots of Nazis. Near the end of the program, a female historian says, ‘On May 2, 1945 a Soviet war photographer, Yevgeny Khaldei, took the photo of the USSR flag being hoisted by a Red Army soldier on the top of the Reichstag and that Yevgeny Khaldei was Jewish.’

That historian sadly added, ‘Most of Yevgeny’s family (his father and three of his four sisters) were murdered by the Nazis when Germany invaded Russia.”

“Mort, ya mean that iconic image, representing ‘total victory’ over Nazi Germany was shot by a Jew. Now that’s poetic justice.”

“Yup Bill, but here’s the rest of the Yevgeny’s incredible story.

And that the red flag flying over Berlin’s Reichstag building was made of three large red tablecloths with its yellow star and hammer and sickle sewn on it by Yevgeny’s Moscow friend, Israel Kishitser, who was a tailor.”

“Mort, ya mean Yevgeny flew from Berlin back to Moscow to get a large Soviet flag. But when he could not find one, he ‘borrowed’ some red tablecloths and had them made into a flag. And then he flew back to Berlin to shoot the photo of that flag being raised on top of the Reichstag.”ADVERTISEMENT

“Yup.”

“Mort, unbelievable that the photo declaring victory over Hitler and the Nazis was taken by a Jew and the flag used in that picture made by a Jew. ”

“But Bill, have you ever heard of Yevgeny?”

“Nope.”ADVERTISEMENT

“Me neither. I never heard of him in Hebrew school or anywhere else. So I googled him. Here’s what I learned.

He was born in Russian Empire, in what is now Donetsk, Ukraine, on March 10, 1917. During a pogrom on March 13, 1918, his mother was murdered by an anti-Semite, when a bullet passed through his mother and into Yevgeny’s side. Miraculously, Yevgeny survived.

As a child, Yevgeny became obsessed about photography. At twelve, he built his first camera using his dead grandmother’s eyeglass lenses and a cardboard box.”

“So, Yevgeny was a self-taught photographer?”

“Yup.”

“But Bill, here’s another Khaldei story you may find interesting. Do you remember seeing that famous photo of Herman Göring, the commander-in-chief of the Luftwaffe (air force), in the Nuremberg trials with his face buried in his hand?”

“Yup.”

“Well, let me read you what Yevgeny said about that photograph.

‘When we received orders to leave Nuremberg, I asked an American colleague to photograph me with Göring. Göring remembered that, because of me, he had been hit with a club, and hence he always turned his head aside when I came into the courtroom. When he noticed I wanted to get into the picture with him, he put down his hand in front of his face.’”

“Wow. I would never have guessed that was the reason for that photo.”

After the war, Yevgeny worked for Tass news agency as photojournalist. Tass let him go alleging his ‘lack of formal education’ and staff downsizing.

But you guessed it, Yevgeny believed the real reason he lost his job was because he was a Jew.

For years after his discharge, Yevgeny made a modest living by as a freelance photographer and by working in a photo lab.

Yevgeny died in Moscow in 1997.

But here’s one last irony in Yevgeny’s story.

In 2014, The Leica camera, the one he worn around his neck at official gatherings, sold for around $155,000.

And in 1997, one of his iconic Reichstag flag hoisting photographs sold for $13,500.”

—————

Readers: For a sampling of  Khaldei’s photographs go to Photographer Yevgeny Khaldei at http://encyclopedia.ushmm.org—RadioFreeEurope RadioLiberty and/or Pinterest.ABOUT THE AUTHORFlorida’s Jewish short-story writer, speaker, film producer and retired attorney. He has authored, “A Hebraic Obsession”, “The Hanukkah Bunny” and “The Greatest Gift.” He produced an award-winning short film entitled, “The Stairs”. Movie can be viewed on my TOI blog. Mort is a correspondent for the Fort Lauderdale Sun Sentinel Jewish Journal.RELATED TOPICS