Clayton Longtree was lonely in Moscow. The weather was dreary, the Marine barracks were dirty, old, and cold, and he didn't get much mail. Though guard duty at the U.S. embassy was a trusted position of honor, his work was often dull and exhausting; it was a ceremonial job with little action. In letters home he doodled U.S. planes dropping bombs on Red Square; he tried writing to an old girlfriend, only to learn she had married someone else.

It was when Clayton met Violetta in the fall of 1985 that life in Moscow began to brighten. Tall, fair-skinned, and beautiful, she was a translator at the embassy. Though Clayton had been warned about fraternizing with Soviets, he had seen enough friends and superiors date Russian women to feel comfortable doing the same. He and Violetta took long wal…