Getting History Back Into Focus : World War II: Soviet cameramen are trying to dispel more than 40 years of propaganda by piecing together the real picture as they meet their former U.S. allies.

History completed a cycle Wednesday--a tiny loop in the big picture.

Fifty years ago, American Harold Weinberger, now 92, and Russian Naum Marovich Bitman, now 82, were combat photographers shooting World War II on the same side. Ten years later--and for the next four decades--they were enemies.

The two met for the first time Wednesday in Woodland Hills, as a delegation of Russian filmmakers and historians traveled through Los Angeles and Washington, working on a documentary to correct historical distortions the Soviet government promulgated about America’s involvement in the war.

And in a scene reminiscent of American and Soviet troops hugging triumphantly when the two armies met at the Elbe River in 1945, pinching out Nazi Germany, Bitman threw his arms around Weinberger in an embrace that seemed intended to melt 40 years of Cold War. As the two men exchanged kisses, Bitman urged Weinberger to forget the years of enmity.

“I already have,” Weinberger said.

But the pages of history books are not so easily changed.

The scholars and artists involved in the project are fighting decades of distortion. During their trip, they have met with American archivists to discuss opening both countries’ records and toured Hollywood studios to inspect film technology not yet available in the Commonwealth of Independent States, as their former nation is now called.

“We should and we can and we must tell the truth,” said Konstantin Zemchenkov, head of foreign relations for the Union of Cinematographers, and one of the coordinators of the two-week trip. “We were like friends in close cooperation in fighting the fascists. But we were separated, unfortunately.”

Specifically, Zemchenkov said, they want to show that American involvement helped to turn the tide of the war against Germany, a departure from past Soviet histories that minimized the U.S. role as peripheral.

Aleksandr Semenovich Orlov, a senior scientific associate at the Institute of Military History, said Soviet history books do not mention the importance of U.S. lend-lease aid to Great Britain and the Soviet Union or the strategic importance of British and American forces driving Rommel’s Afrika Korps out of North Africa.

“It was a great help, Zemchenkov conceded. “It could have been a little earlier, but that’s OK.”

But for Bitman, one of the highlights of his trip was meeting other combat photographers who, like him, watched the war unfold through a camera lens and acted as the eyes of millions who saw their images of battle in theaters around the world.

Soviet cameramen, like their American counterparts, used hand-cranked Eymo cameras with 100-foot rolls of 35-millimeter film. Once a roll was shot, it was sent back to the lab and the photographer could only hope that he had captured some good footage.

Earlier this week, the Russian photographers met over pizza and beer with members of the International Combat Cameraman’s Assn. to swap war stories.

“Our experiences were very similar,” said Bill Rogister Jr., who was assigned to the South Pacific after completing Army Photography School and a stint at Hal Roach Studios in Culver City, called Fort Roach by the men who trained there.

“They got scared just like we did,” cameraman’s association President Bob Longo said.

Earlier Wednesday, the touring Russians said, they met another veteran of Fort Roach--former President Ronald Reagan.

What they saw on the field of battle was not always the way it was eventually written up in history books.

Tinkering with history for propaganda purposes was not unique to the Soviet Union, both groups said. American films produced during the war years portrayed Soviet soldiers fighting for Mother Russia and depicted “Uncle Joe” Stalin as something less than a dictator--but were an embarrassment to their makers in the Cold War 1950s.

The film “The North Star” was intended to drum up sympathy for the Russian cause, but at the end of the war 23 minutes were cut to delete depictions of noble communists. It was renamed “Armored Attack.”

Such stories amuse Zemchenkov.

“Let me have some drinks first,” Zemchenkov said before discussing the politics of propaganda.

But when he reached the bar, the only alcohol available was Stolichnaya, a Russian vodka. “Do you have some Scotch?” Zemchenkov asked.

“Only vodka.”

“On the rocks,” he said with resignation.