Metodi Spasov

Then I became very cautious. I was very careful not to get involved in some kind of affair. I did not participate in any political movement after the 9th of September. I was a boy. But now back in nowadays when I took a look at my personal militia files it appeared that I had been surveyed for a whole period of 30 years since the 50ies. They had explored every step of mine. One of my class-mates war reporting on me but I was smart. How did I find out? We were not so close as friends but at a certain moment he became very interested in me. I told my wife then. I was able to find in the files reports about every single meeting we had with him. Another class-mate of mine reported too...

My elder brother, Boris Spasov studied in the American College in Sofia. He was a great man in number of aspects - first in school, in sports, very nice boy. He got sick and the communists finished him up. My brother-in-law, the husband of my eldest sister - he got a death sentence. The communists killed him. I was sent for a short period of time to the Belene Labour Camp but, praise the Lord, a mere chance saved me. I had a friend - Kiril Nikiforov, God forgive him! We were class-mates at the Deutsche Schule but he was also involved in a communist conspiracy before the 9th of September and he became one of the anti-fascist heroes... He loved me a lot. He saved me and let me out of Belene.

How did I met her? It was in 1960... I was not this kind of Bohemian, fond of women, but I was having a joyful life. My mother was always repeating me: "Get a wife! Get a wife!" I am a big fan of piano music. I met her with another friend of mine in a gathering with music. She played me some pieces which I liked very much and this is how we got closer. After six months we got married.

Oh, then I had a very hard incident. I was studying at the Military School and was on leave. I was always wearing civil clothes back then. Just in front of the Postals a drunk Russian soldier stopped me. I was very blond. Looked like a German. He asked for my passport. I had forgotten it. He pointed at me with his gun, shut aside and escorted me to the Militia building near by. This was a horrible place. I am really sorry that nobody has described it yet. Every night there were tracks coming out full with dead bodies. We got inside and he introduced me to a group of female partisans. I said: "I am Bulgarian!" They were really aware that I was Bulgarian, I spoke Bulgarian perfectly but they were cheering at the Russian... On our way to the cell I met a friend of mine in the corridor and managed to explain him the story. He saved my life. I will not forget this guy - Milenkov. God was good then.