A multi-stamped envelope mailed from Belgium was delivered to my desk the other day. It contained a letter written by a priest, who explained that he had been studying sociology in Europe. He requested that his name not be used, but thought that I and perhaps other TIME readers might be interested in a recent experience he had with the magazine. This is his story:

The August 23 issue of TIME rescued me from the hands of the Communist police of the Russian zone of Germany. I feel, now that I am once again on free ground, that I owe it to you to let you know how your publication was responsible for this rather extraordinary feat. Rescue often comes to the "children of light" from very unexpected sources, and I must say TIME was a rather unlikely candidate for the job at the time.

The morning of the day that I was taken into custody by the Volkspolizei of the East zone, I had worked in the Ost-Europa Institut. My pockets were well filled with notes, including references from the Russian Encyclopedia.

It was my luck that day, upon leaving the institute, to board the wrong elevated train. When the train stopped, I found myself in the Russian zone with a People's Policeman asking for identification. I thought first of the scraps of notepaper in my pockets, including what the Russian Encyclopedia has to say about the cardinals in Vatican City, which had amused me greatly while copying it down.

Upon the discovery that my identification did not allow me to be in the Russian zone, my People's Policeman conducted me unceremoniously to the police station. There I was put through a minor third-degree. After about an hour, I was taken to a barracks on the edge of a park. There the questioning began in earnest. How many American soldiers are there in Italy? Did I come from a rich family? Who paid for my studies and travel in Europe? What about the Nazis in South America? What about Guatemala? What do the people in West Berlin think of the Volkspolizei?

Later that night, after answering questions until I was very tired and nervous, a Russian official came to me. The German Polizei had gradually vanished and it was the Russians I was dealing with now. They wanted to see what I had in my pockets. I was petrified. They had not searched me until now. I thought about the notes. I absolutely refused to show them anything from my pockets, and told them to release me immediately.

They refused, pointing out that I was in a People's Democracy. I replied that I would like to have them know that my name and address were registered with the West German police, who would soon have an order out to look for me. Then I pulled TIME out of my pocket and gave it to them.

I don't know why I did it. It worked! Along with my South American passport, I guess they weren't prepared psychologically to find TIME in my pocket. They bleated: "Po-anglee-sky," and then began to jabber among themselves that perhaps I had something to do with the Americans. TIME had done the trick.

Minutes later I was being taken to the station in the company of a policeman. I was put on a train for West Berlin without having to pay for the ticket, and was glad to be leaving without any further delay.

Whatever the reasoning that went on in the minds of the Russians that night, I am glad to hear that TIME helped serve as a passport to freedom.

Cordially yours,

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