Photo: Odessa Daily
8 or 9 – no difference. Let two day. But just to make sure – ever.
Remember the post-war persons with disabilities in our yard on Lenin street. Who hands, who with a cane, who’s in the truck…
Remember on the 9th of may they were drinking in a gazebo. On the table in addition to snacks were stacks, covered with pieces of black bread.
Remember the poor legless, on wooden platform with wheels-bearings. They were these things that looked like a paperweight, which they pushed from the asphalt.
There were many of them armless, legless, maimed, suvannah war. They rarely wore order. And briefly talked about the war.
One of my grandfather, the last of the war, did not like to talk about it – words do not pull. Second, the one who built the plant in the Lower Tagil, as silent about the mud huts, the Ural frosts and evacuation. One of my grandfather Moskvich, the second of Mariupol. It’s hard to imagine that at least one of them said – “can you repeat that”.
I heard three toast: “For peace! For The Win! For those who did not live!” Often drank for peace, probably knew his value.
I still remember the time when the monument of Glory meet the real veterans. How many are left today? Several hundred of the city? Few thousand in the country? When I see pictures of baby strollers in the form of tanks and armored vehicles, children costumed in a soldier’s uniform, crazy moms in unbuttoned tunics, SUVs “Mercedes” with the words “to Berlin!” on the rear window, I have no Association with those who lived through those terrible years and defeated the Nazis in World war II. All these “thank you grandpa for the victory” and not lying with patriotism, sincerity and memory. This pageant, Orgy, wild dances dedicated to the God of war. This is blasphemy in the background of the still unquiet dead, which are still dug up in the trenches in Ukraine, Belarus, Russia…
Those who died from wounds and injuries all the post-war years, who had been sold to the huckster of the order in the 90s to buy bread and vodka, the ones who the rest of your life woke up with a cry of “Burning!” – what would they say, seeing fool’s column? Even a great idea “Immortal regiment” was turned into a farce with the other “grandparents on the stick.”
The feast Day of Victory? Yes. Holiday with tears on eyes. That’s what he was while he was alive, those who fought, captured, rotting in the trenches, dying in the grey waves of the Dnieper, took the Reichstag.
But the war is long over. Back in ‘ 74. And not this day. And still the winners live worse than the losers. Day of remembrance and reconciliation? No doubt! The reconciliation of the descendants of those who fought on the side of the Nazis with the descendants of those who were on the side of the allies. To remember that you’ve done ancestors. To remember what was committed by their ancestors.
To never more. Under any circumstances. 8 or 9 – I do not care. Let two day. But just to make sure – ever.
Ian Jack, liga.net