Another banner, "Unser Wien bleibt das rote Herz von Österreich" (Our Vienna is still the red heart of Austria) was to let the Russians know that in spite of their occupation of part of Vienna, they could not usurp Austrian authority. The Russians did all they could, assassinating, infiltrating, indoctrinating, provoking unrest. The British, French, and Americans sturdily withstood this. There was never a wall, as around Berlin. There was free access to the city on all sides.

The Socialist-Communist banner was the largest one in the parade: "Hoch der 1. Mai, Tag der Arbeitereinheit" (Raise High the First of May, Day of Worker Unity), featuring large portraits of Marx, Engels, Lenin, and Stalin.

Pérez was observing the parade from the curb near the Naturhistorische Museum, Soviet Headquarters, with its machine-pistol toting guards posted at the monumental entrance. In a burst of rash, youthful enthusiasm, a show of solidarity with Austria, he dashed forward and joined the parade, clasping his hands with someone else around a staff holding up one of the banners. You know which one.... All of them almost wide enough to stretch across the Ring.

Soviet Headquarters was always under surveillance by the Western Allies, so this act of Pérez's may have been noted. Two of the hands supporting the banner, as you already know, were those of eine Studentin (student, feminine gender) who shared a class with him on Das Goldene Zeitalter des Spanischen Theater (Spanish Golden Age Theater). Cervantes, Calderón de la Barca, Lope de Vega, Tirso de Molina.... all in German. It seemed so strange. The professor didn't appear to know Spanish very well. Pérez couldn't judge. The professor never spoke it. The operas were all in German too. Yes, Rigoletto was in German.

Pérez took an excellent Italian course taught by a Dozent (university instructor) from the Tirol, the southwestern part of Austria that has passed back and forth between Italy and Austria a number of times. The professor had a German name but was equally fluent in both Italian and German. Language classes were conducted about the same as in the States at that time, employing the so-called grammar translation method. All instructions, explanations and translations from Italian were in German. An interesting experience. A certain Studentin was taking several other advanced Spanish classes in addition to the one on the Golden Age Theater of Spain.

Much later, Pérez discovered that his file at the Agency contained a song he had written when news appeared in all the Zeitungen (newspapers) of the execution of Lavrenti P. Beria, head of the dreaded Russian MVD (later, the NKVD, the KGB, etc.). Beria plotted to become Secretary General of the Communist Party (the maximum leader), but was thwarted by his rivals.

Ed thought his song was pretty good but it was in English and, besides, the Russian presence in Vienna would inhibit publication of any satire of Party leadership. To block Beria, his enemies had to paint him as a capitalist in sheep's clothing—a traitor, a spy. The tune that Ed composed was a take-off in tone on the song about Anne Boleyn, Henry VIII of England's beheaded wife. Instead of the small sample, originally intended ("She often catches cold, poor thing, it's draughty when it blows, And it's awfully, awfully awkward for the Queen to blow 'er nose With her head tucked underneath her arm!") this version by Stanley Holloway is so excellent, several more verses of the darkly comical song are given.

In the Tower of London, large as life, The ghost of Ann Boleyn walks, they declare. Poor Ann Boleyn was once King Henry's wife - Until he made the Headsman bob her hair! Ah yes! he did her wrong long years ago, And she comes up at night to tell him so. With her head tucked underneath her arm She walks the Bloody Tower! With her head tucked underneath her arm At the Midnight hour - She comes to haunt King Henry, she means giving him 'what for', Gad Zooks, she's going to tell him off for having spilt her gore. And just in case the Headsman wants to give her an encore She has her head tucked underneath her arm! With her head tucked underneath her arm She walks the Bloody Tower! With her head tucked underneath her arm At the Midnight hour. Along the draughty corridors for miles and miles she goes, She often catches cold, poor thing, it's cold there when it blows, And it's awfully awkward for the Queen to have to blow her nose With her head tucked underneath her arm! Sometimes gay King Henry gives a spread For all his pals and gals - a ghostly crew. The headsman carves the joint and cuts the bread, Then in comes Ann Boleyn to 'queer' the 'do'; She holds her head up with a wild war whoop, And Henry cries 'Don't drop it in the soup!' With her head tucked underneath her arm She walks the Bloody Tower! With her head tucked underneath her arm At the Midnight hour.

Lavrenti P. Beria the Spy!

Sing it in a mocking, lugubrious, basso profundo voice, quavering with dread. Hiss the words and syllables in red. Girls: Just laugh your way through the low basso notes.

Lavrenti P. Beria the spy....The Spy! (Hiss) An agent of capitalist warmongers. The dreaded chief of the MVD In the employ of Big Money as a Spy! Dreaded chief of the MVD Employee of the burgeoisie, Lavrenti P. Beria, the Spy! For thirty-four years Lavrenti spies.... He spies! A capitalist in communist red clothing. The super men of the super state Have relied four and thirty years on lies! Super men of the super state, Super dupers, dupes of the late Lavrenti P. Beria, the Spy! So perfect is Beria's disguise.... His guise! As communist—utterly convincing! He blackmails, murders and betrays— Not a blessèd thing his disguise belies! How falls then L. Beria, the Spy?.... The Spy! Afoul of The Monolithic Doctrine: No unit greater is than the whole. Since Stalin new rules of algebra apply! Unit greater is than the whole! To prove that theorem heads must roll, Lavrenti P. Beria, the Spy! The crime of L. Beria, the Spy.... The Spy! Is such, he must shudder to confess it. His guilt's established in record time— At great pains Soviet justice to satisfy! "Guilt established in record time"— Read the script and confess your crime, Lavrenti P. Beria, the Spy! Ex-comrade of Beria, the spy....The Spy! Beware of decadent deviations— Like living relaxed and trustingly— Or prepare to confess yourself a spy! Live relaxed and trustingly Just one second and follow me, Lavrenti P. Beria, the Spy!        — Words and music:  Eduardo Pérez Salazar                                               (Alias Wendell Hall)

Eduardo cautiously stayed away from the Soviet Sector, entering it briefly only to cross the bridge over the Donau (Danube) to visit his musician friend Kurt Weizinger, who quickly arranged and wrote a musical score to Lavrenti after Eduardo had sung the melody to him a time or two. The Blue Danube wasn't exactly blue. Not blue at all on typical cold, overcast, rainy or snowy days.

If you are ever in Santiago, Chile be sure to eat at least once at El Danubio Azul (The Blue Danube). Some of the most delicious dishes Anneliese and Eduardo have ever tasted. Chinese cuisine That's right. The murals on the walls depicted scenes along the Danube but there wasn't a trace of Danubian cuisine—neither Bulgarian, Romanian, Yugoslavian, Hungarian, Czech, Austrian, or southern German. Only Chinese.

Pérez performed only one small mission in Vienna. Posing as a Spaniard, he checked out the Soviet Exhibit at the Frühjahr Messe (Spring Fair) at der Messepalast ("fairgrounds") located in the former Imperial Stables, converted to the purpose. The other famous stables, still in use for the great Lippizaner horses, are at the rear of the Hofburg.

So how did the CAO—must have been him—get hold of the Lavrenti P. Beria song? Pérez recalls giving copies of it to Anneliese and Kurt, but so what?.... Unless the CAO did a background check on Eduardo with one or both of them. If Anneliese passed the song on as proof of Pérez's unquestioned patriotism, she would have intuited a potential anti-communist role for him with the Embassy from the start. In any event, the CAO must have considered Ed a prime recruit, given his military experience, his linguistic skills, and his unwavering disposition to combat tyranny. Any embassy official of any country may be suspected of clandestine activities, but most certainly the CAO and PAO (Public Affairs Officer/Press Officer) are never overlooked.

Pérez mentioned that his course on Spanish Golden Age Theater was conducted in the Hofburg.... In an exceedingly ornate room around an exceedingly large, ornate, highly polished rectangular table. It was somewhat like a graduate seminar, though the students were never engaged in discussion. Once Pérez looked up a professor in his downstairs office at die Universität and on seeing a mere student at the door, the Herr Doktor Professor was quite startled. Realizing that Eduardo was a foreigner, he treated him kindly but let him know that his research and writing were not to be interrupted. Other climes, other customs.

To be fair, when a professor himself, Pérez always had several projects going at a time and often wasn't too pleased to be interrupted by students. He didn't let it show, though, and gave them as much time as he reasonably could. Yes. Pérez is a very reasonable person.

Much of the Hofburg was given over to museums. Eduardo loved above all the one on Medieval armor and weapons. Only 5' 8" tall, he enjoyed standing before a full suit of armor—perhaps ceremonial and not necessarily typical—helmet tip to chain mail toes, with his legs spread wide so that his eyes were at eye-level with the visor for protecting a knight's eyes. Made him feel big. Sir Lancelot, larger than life in fable, possibly wasn't extra large in life. Diet must be a large part of size. Look at the Japanese. Modern Japanese teen-agers are far taller than their parents and grandparents.

Pérez is taller than his dad Simón was. He always liked to play around with Simón, arm-wrestling with him, for example. Simón, from a life of hard labor, had muscles as hard as steel. At age 70 Simón could still beat Eduardo. "Ya sabes cuánto respeto tus canas, papá," Eduardo would say, implying that it was only because of his deep respect for his dad's gray hair. Simón had scarcely one silver hair till the day of his death.

Eduardo is the shortest of the Pérez brothers. He claims that it is out of politeness, because of his impeccable manners. He was always saying, "Me permites?" "Te podría molestar?" "Serías tan amable?" "Con tu permiso..." May I? Could I bother you? Would you be so kind? By your leave, etc., etc.

In those Great Depression days, everyone was so starved that before Eduardo could get the polite words out of his mouth the food would be gobbled up. His brothers treat this as just a story. A shorty's tall tale. Chis! They had to have such long arms! Chis is a common exclamation in some Spanish-speaking countries. That's cheess. Not with a z.

Meanwhile, though Pérez's mind may have seemed to wander a bit from matters at hand, he had driven the motor home into the ravine and then began at once to disconnect the Jeep. A word to Anneliese had her changing the license plates on both vehicles with others she had already snatched out of the motor home. Then she busied herself putting stickers on the rear bumper. Being of sound mind and body, we spent it all. Born Free, Taxed Dead. Three kinds of people: Those who can count and those who can't. In the process an "I Love NuSpel" sticker was covered over.

Below the rear window, Eduardo affixed a large 8" x 5' custom-made decal: MISS UNIVERSE ALICE. Then he affixed an identical one in front, directly under the windshield. Anneliese went inside to the back window, past the far side of the queen-size bed—easily accessible from three sides—raised the venetian blinds, and extended some gay curtains in their place. Eduardo stubbornly continues to use the word in its normal, historical meaning at all possible times. How can a small minority, whatever their reasons or justifications, be allowed to usurp one of Mother Tongue's finest words for their exclusive use?

"O.K., Analisa, nada más por ahora" (O.K., Ahnahleessa, nothing more for now). "O.K." is employed by many speakers of Spanish. Pronounced "Oh Kay," not "O Ka," in case you are remembering Andresito's little joke about "Ka Ka." <K> is used in Spanish only for foreign words. In Chile, Communists liked to scrawl "Amerika" on walls to imply that our country is Nazi. That is the German spelling of the word.

Pérez always got a big kick out of a locutor (radio announcer) in Viña del Mar who would pepper his rapid-fire reporting with "Olrrraiii" (Ohlrrye; i.e. All right). The same announcer always opened his program with "Buenos días, raza morena." Good morning, "brunette" race. The majority of Chileans are of mixed Spanish-Indian origin, though with plenty of Europeans and Native Americans as well—some of the latter on reservations like their counterparts in the U.S. and many more assimilated to the general language and culture. The Araucanian Indians were never defeated by the Spaniards, a fact celebrated in the epic poem La Araucana by Alonso de Ercilla y Zúñiga (1534-94).

O.K. and olrai, two more English words added to Chilean Spanish, along with chipichandler (ships chandler), lugau (lookout) and other nautical terms borrowed from the British plus more modern colérico (British angry young man, U.S. hippy), etc. Many U.S. expressions like jazz are common, together with computer/internet terms like hardraiv, bug, e-mail, etc. English, in turn has adopted many Spanish words: corral, lasso, ranch, pinto, rodeo, remuda, bronco, palomino, chaps, tomato, avocado, taco, chili, patio, plaza, etc., etc.

"Do you know the expression, 'Dar caza a dos conejos, perder los dos,' Anneliese? Chase after two rabbits, catch neither. You get in the Jeep, mi querida conejita (my dear little bunny rabbit), and backtrack to that roadside turnoff we passed about a mile back. To the rear of it there are some trees and bushes, remember? You should be able to conceal the Jeep quite well behind them. As soon as the hostiles appear, follow them discreetly.

"Stay completely out of sight. You won't need to have them in sight because you'll know exactly where they're headed and there are no forks in the road. Use the hi-tech communication equipment in the Jeep to clue me in on how many there are, what they look like, how fast they're going. Get the license number. I have a tiny receiver concealed in my ear. Everything is already set to the right frequencies."

"And then what? Do I follow them all the way to the motor home?

"No. Follow carefully, always out of sight, taking advantage of twists in the road. Stop where the ravine comes in sight—at a point where you can turn off into the rough. I have one of the Agency's most advanced "sneaky peekies" in my shirt pocket here.... A minuscule minicam that looks like a pen. You'll be able to see as well as hear what's going on. The tiny hi-tech microphone in it will pick up sounds from yards away and transmit them to you along with the images.

"Here. Take this shooter. I'll put these cartridges in the jeep for you. There may be more than one pursuit vehicle. If things get too exciting, use this miniature launcher to fire a blue cartridge away to the opposite side of where you intend to go. It'll detonate with a tremendous loud roar and send up a plume of black smoke. Then take off faster than a bunny. With their attention diverted, or in case they try chasing two rabbits at once, both of us are going to escape. Get the Jeep off as far as possible behind high ground or in a draw. They no doubt will have low-slung vehicles without 4-wheel drive, so you should be able to lose them easily.

"The red cartridges are of the sting-ball type, with a big bang but not lethal except at close range. You know how to use this, but be careful. If there's no other alternative, aim well away from them but close enough to give them a scare and force them to keep their distance. As for me, I have a few tricks literally up my sleeve plus a few elsewhere. Olrai. We'd better hurry. No doubt they've held fairly far back, not wanting to betray their presence with a dust cloud from going too fast on this dirt road. But time's awastin'. On the count of three you're outa here. Ich     liebe     Dich" (I     love     thee).

A critical "Mayday! Mayday!" situation but with no concrete evidence of a threat, how explain and justify to the police or other would-be rescuers a desperate call for help?

To help you bear the suspense and calm the fears you are experiencing at this moment, an explanation of the origin of MayDay! is given here: It derives from French m'aider (a call for aid—pronounced, roughly, mayday).