“… She screamed about Victory”

“THE MARKET IS BURNED…”

Vyacheslav Ishchenko: “On the night of May 8-9, 1945, I was awakened by a heart-rending scream. I slept in a “dark” room – we had one where there were no windows at all. She, this room, I must say, was well isolated from the rest of the apartment, but the scream was so sharp and strong that even I heard it. What can we say about other households and neighbors in the yard. Then I found out that Tasya Yezhova, a friend of my sisters, a cheerful and kind girl, was screaming. She was shouting something completely unintelligible to me, but for some reason I heard in her words that … the bazaar had burned down. Yes, yes, our Guryev city bazaar, without which it is impossible to imagine the life of that time. Literally everything was bought there – from bread to sweet red cockerels on a stick. Perhaps that is why, in my childish mind, I could not imagine a worse disaster than the loss of the market. But she was screaming for victory.

Then the adults began to fuss, and I fell asleep. I woke up in the morning, looked out the window from a large room and saw that some uncle was nailing a flag to our gates. And again a delusion: it seemed to me that the red cloth was trimmed with a wide black stripe. Where did all this come from in my feelings – a burned-out bazaar, a mourning flag? Do not know. Then I came to the kitchen and saw that my mother was kneading dough on the table. It was a clear sign of a big holiday. I asked: what, is it a holiday? And the mother answered, smiling and crying:

– Victory, son! The war is over…

Immediately, she pointed to a tear-off numeral nailed to the wall and said that now this black nine on it will be red. It is strange that May 9 became a non-working day, it seems, only in 1965.

A little later I saw sobbing and embracing people in the streets, a crowd at the store, where, despite my infancy, I was sometimes sent to buy. Front-line soldiers were surrounded by people, something passionately told them, hugged, kissed. It was fun and joyful in our yard. Victory has come to Guryev.”

Read more:

• Soviet childhood: between care and punishment. Emergency Reserve, No. 2 (58)

“DRY WINE”

Vyacheslav Kabanov: “It was May, the forty-fifth year. And here came the commotion.

I do not remember what I was doing when this noise arose. Everyone ran into the yard. There the commanders fired their pistols upwards. The women cried and laughed. And then I heard the word:

“Victory!”

And Baba Dunya said that now my mother will soon return to me. But my mother did not return soon.

Nine months have passed. It was a dark winter morning. I woke up from the noise outside the door and somehow immediately understood everything. The door opened slightly, and… I won’t write about it.

Recently, everyone assured me that I would not recognize my mother, that I was too small, that I could not remember her, almost five years had passed since May XNUMX, and I was only four then, which means that I lived less with my mother than without mother, and did not see her photographs … I did not argue. Why argue? And I didn’t need pictures. I remembered my mother and saw her as clearly as the next morning after she read “Aibolit” to me before going to bed …

The military began to visit the house. Cheerful, noisy. Commanders. Military guests brought wine, treated. Ours refused, and one commander said:

— It’s dry wine!

I was surprised, asked, and then the commander explained that dry wine is such that you can dip your finger into a glass, and take it out, and your finger is dry. I was satisfied with this knowledge for several years.

Read more:

• How winning the war changed our minds

“HORSESHOE”

Yuri Belakovsky: “… To be honest, I don’t remember what the weather was like that day. But all my life I am sure that on this day the sun shone especially brightly and kindly and that the whole city poured into the streets and filled the city boulevard. And we walked all together that day: my mother, aunt Tina, me and my cousins ​​​​- the already almost adult eight-year-old Zhenya, whom I tried to equal in everything, and the three-year-old silly Tolik. Tolik, who always confused his right and left shoes and did not even know how to tie their laces … Aunt Tina usually tried not to let go of Tolik on the street, who in every military man “recognized” his father, whom he had never seen before and rushed to him with a cry “ My dad!”. Which, of course, brought considerable embarrassment to both his mother and the man who did not expect such an onslaught. And this stupid, clumsy and crybaby, who on the occasion of the holiday received his freedom and ran along the boulevard in front of our entire “team”, maneuvering between oncoming people, suddenly stopped, leaned over and picked something up from the ground. “Tolya, drop it right now and don’t pick up anything!” followed the usual parental call in such cases. But after a moment, when it became clear what exactly Tolik was holding in his hand, the tone changed: “Wait a minute! Show me what you found Yes, it’s a horseshoe! Well done! On such a day I found a horseshoe! They say that a horseshoe brings happiness! So dad will be here soon!

When I heard this, I felt offended and annoyed. Well why didn’t I go ahead? Why didn’t I find a horseshoe? After all, I also really want my dad to come as soon as possible! And I began to stubbornly look at my feet, hoping for a miracle. And a miracle happened! I saw her from a distance – a rusty, curved piece of iron, as if waiting just for me! After all, many, obviously, passed by this horseshoe that day without paying any attention to it! No one noticed her, no one noticed her! And she became noticeable only for me. And, grabbing the horseshoe, I raised it high above my head and shouted so that everyone around paid attention to me: “Mommy, I also found a horseshoe! Soon dad will come from the war! People around laughed, and someone said: “Well, since you found a horseshoe on such a day, then now it will definitely come!” Someone added: “If he lived to win, of course!” And some woman said to me very seriously: “You, baby, do not throw away this horseshoe. Keep it all your life, and it will always bring you happiness!” And my mother and I brought the horseshoe home, wrapped it in “silver paper” and hung it on a nail over the front door. And the horseshoe did not deceive – dad really arrived!