sum (“Killed by a truck on Highway 51nnorth of Nesbitt”). Back in Memphis,nI swung by the Rendezvous for a messnof ribs, said howdy to the ducks at thenPeabody Hotel, returned my rentedncar, and checked into the airport motelnfor an early Sunday morning flight.nJust a routine trip to North Mississippi.nNothing untoward.n13ut the next morning, in the airportnmen’s room, I did run into somethingnstrange. I was minding my own businessn(believe me). A character with angray flattop haircut, a pallid beer-bellynvisible beneath the bottom of his tropi­nportions of Western Europe fromnthe fate of Russia, Poland, andnHungary—which were all overrunnby the steppe horsemen.nNeither more numerous norntechnologically superior to theirnopponents—certainly less civilizednthan most of them—the Mongols,nlike their predecessors the Huns,nthe Avars, the Bulgars, the Magyars,nthe Turks, as well as theirnsuccessors, the Ottomans and thenSoviets, came out of Asia disregardingnboth their own and others’ losses,nin mindless pursuit of power.nThe advantage they had over theirnadversaries was not even ideologicaln(as in the cas.e of the Arabs, or thenCommunists); the pagan Mongolsnwon and kept on winning becausenthey were hardier than any of theirnneighbors. For nomads who spentntheir lives on horseback and in yurt,ndrinking kumiss or the blood ofntheir mounts, dying meant littlenmore than a chance for transcendencenthrough heroic song.nWhen the Congress of the UnitednStates conducted its “Irangate”nhearings, the present-day heirs ofnthe Great Khans of Central Asianmust have chuckled. Despite all thenscholarly efforts of men like ThomasnT. Allsen, a constant thread ofnWestern indifference remains.nWhen the Bolsheviks took overnRussia, less than a division of Alliednsoldiery were thrown at them, asnopposed to the superhuman effortsnto defeat the Germans, a European,nkindred people. Allsen’s chroniclencal print shirt, was shaving at the sink.nHe spoke.n”Worst trip I ever had in my life.”nI was the only other person there, sonhe was obviously speaking to me, butnmy mama always told me not to talknwith strangers in public restrooms. SonI tried my best to look sympathetic,nwithout actually engaging him, younunderstand?n”Yeah, I could write a book.”nWell, I had no choice, so I askednwhere he’d been.n”Been down to Costa Rica. Goingnback to Anchorage — Alaska? Gotnof the “policies of Grand QannMongke in China, Russia, and thenIslamic lands (1251-1259),” evennwithout many of the insights offerednby less erudite authorities (Allsen,nfor example, fails to mention eithernthe origin of the Assassin namen[Hashishin] or the similarity of theirnactions to those of their descendants,nthe Ayatollah Khomeini’snShiites), we should be grateful tonAllsen for setting down the facts.nFor people who find our timesn”different from any in history,” allntalk and reading of Mongke or ofnanyone not alive in the USA is annexercise in futility. After all, technologynis supposed to safeguard usnfrom evil, even if our courage,nclearmindedness, and hardinessnshould fail. It is rare in history thatngerms are recognized for what theynare—for Europe (including its colony,nAmerica), Asia was always anseedbed of destruction, where ripplesnstarted, ending in tsunamisnthat wiped out millions. If Mohammed’snlocust-eating nomads couldnreach France in a century, and BatunKhan’s savages could pillage thenenvirons of Venice, we should notnbe surprised to see an Ayatollah (orna Mahdi, or whoever) threaten us innearnest, once again, in one of ournunguarded moments. Historicalnmemory reaches far, and, for thenChinese, Mongols, Arabs, Turks,nor Persians, that is often all theynhave. (MS)nnnrobbed down there. Whore took all mynmoney. Five-fifty in cash and anothern1,500 in travelers’ checks. Left men$27. Worst thing was, she took mynreturn ticket. Had to buy a new one—npay full fare. Costing me 500 morenfrom Memphis to Anchorage than thendeal on my old ticket. Had a greatndeal. . . . Weather was lousy, too.nHeat wave. Hottest weather this timenof year for 12 years. Some said 30, butnI think it’s 12. Sweat just running offnme. Couldn’t breathe. Come from thenNorth like me, you’re not used to thatnstuff.”n”Be glad to get back home, huh?”n(He was between me and the door.)n”Oh, yeah. But the trip was a success.nReal success.”nNow I was actually getting curious.n”How’s that?”n”Went down there to find a wife.nTook an ad—you know, in the newspaper.n’Seeks companionship. Possibilitynof permanent arrangement in thenU.S.’ Sort of thing. Forty-one replies!nInterviewed eight or nine of them.nMeant to do more, but just too hot,nyou know? Women are desperatendown there, get to the States. Beautifulnwomen, too. All ages. Had ’em 15 ton49. Had one gal, 25, spent three daysnwith me. Bathed me three times a day.nKissed me and everything. Walkednaround with me, you know, holdingnhands. Her 25! And me—” He shooknhis head. “That’s the kind of wife anman needs, you know.”nI asked if he’d found any keepers.n”Yeah. Gonna marry her. The oldest.nShe’s 49. I’m 65, you know—nwe’ll be more compatible.”nWhat was she going to make ofnAlaska weather?n”Oh, we talked about it. I had anpicture book, you know? Big colornpictures of Alaska. I told her, she getsncold, put on more clothes. Downnthere, I get hot, what’m I gonna do—ntake off my skin? No, she’ll be allnright.”nAnother patron came into the men’snroom, which inhibited me, if not mynnew friend. Besides, I saw my waynclear to the door. I told the man I wasnglad his trip hadn’t been a total loss.n”Oh, it was a winner. A real winner.nI just had a hard time.”nI thought about this episode most ofnthe way across Tennessee. And ofncourse I thought of all the questions InNOVEMBER 1987 I 51n