Stalin’s Death

| 11 Ноя 2012

Stalin's death has mixed all the plans of the internate. On the Fifth of March 1953, Stalin died. The children were at that time in school when the radio announced "mourning news." Outside, a loudspeaker radio was saying about the "sad" event. All the people of the country fell into a deep mourning. Duped by Stalinist propaganda people do not realize what a great blessing fate sends them - getting rid of the bloody butcher of the people. People are used to their idol. Russia still could not live without the idol under any name, whether it is the tzar or chief Duce. Stalin wrote the bloody terrible atrocities page […]

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In the Hospital

| 11 Ноя 2012

They entered in the district village at dawn. Volodya saw a milky moonlight dawn with purple solar sphere when sleds stopped at large two-story log house. Here was the district hospital. They woke up a chief physician who was the only one surgeon there. Tall lean man with red stained mustache left on the porch. It was a surgeon Kaminsky, Pole, exiled here after the war for the reason that he was captured by Germans (Soviet power did not trust to the former captives), he looked at the skinny starved-looking little boy on the sleigh, wrapped in a sheepskin coat, like a cocoon of a butterfly, and saw his pale […]

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New Year’s Eve

| 11 Ноя 2012

It was the eve of the new 1953. The boys talked about how they cut down the fir tree and install in the barracks, and the girls will make glued paper-toys for decoration of the Christmas tree. They, usually, installed a tree in the barrack, where the girls lived. There in the morning, on the 1 of January they celebrated the New Year. This festival was organized by children themselves. They avoid to attend at the school Christmas tree, and the older guys just ignored it, especially when a riot took place, and the populace was divided into two warring camps: the children “of enemies of the people” and their […]

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Mowing

| 11 Ноя 2012

They got up early, before sunrise for mowing. The grass still bathed in dew ... Milk-white fog melted ... There was a smell of morning freshness. Meadow, much looked like a field, but uneven, passed into the tiny patch of forest. Red bramble like red drops was burning in the grass ... young boletus hiding around clumps. Vladimir sat on an old fallen tree and waited for the mowing start. Time passed since that memorable winter's arrival to the orphanage. Now, his subconscious fear of the unknown was gone. And now this unknown place - the orphanage for the children of “enemies of the people” which broke the usual family […]

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One Day in Children’s GULAG

| 11 Ноя 2012

Life in the internate went on schedule, like in a soldier's barracks in accordance with the habits and the level of martinet educators. They really did not know anything other than military drill. It was nothing to say about their spiritual level. Many children have written and read much better than their competent "teachers" and those children who was developed in education, well-read, with a talent for foreign languages, music, painting, of course, cause irritation and anger at the teachers. Narrow-minded people always hate the cultural and educated ones. There were especially gifted children, a boy Igor Moskalev perfectly painted. He studied for some time in the art studio in […]

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Children’s GULAG

| 11 Ноя 2012

Destroyed narrow railway winding led deep into the woods. Fir-trees lined up along the embankment and stretched its snowy branches, looked like the guards. Train, strained, gave a prolonged whistle, pulled wagons and drove them on, puffing on a pipe and blowing white steam. There was silence. The wind was blowing in the face of Vladimir, covering his face with snowy dust. High off-size felt boots rubbed his feet and prevented from going. Earflaps tied under his chin muffled hearing. Tears choked the boy and ... cold streams froze on his cheeks. He again saw very clearly his mother's eyes ... Her big suffering hands swollen with veins, soft, warm […]

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Death Of Mother

| 11 Ноя 2012

In Sclifosovsky Institute at that time the wounded soldiers were still treated, where was the hospital for officers and privates. Department, where the officers laid were known as "sausage" due to its form, looked like round sausage. The building was old, of pre-revolutionary time. Facade went out on the Garden Ring, in front of it was a small garden and a wide porch with columns. In the yard of the hospital, there was the park with centuries-old limes and benches underneath, recovering soldiers walking here. Further, close to the fence there was a laboratory for dogs’ experimentation. Quite in depth was no notable cottage. In it lived a famous scientist, […]

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A Long Return to Moscow

| 11 Ноя 2012

There was the hottest August 1944. The war was coming to an end. Rare newspapers which we could get in the village reported victories of the Red Army. Our German-occupied towns and villages had already been released. Military action removed from Russia to Eastern Europe, a short time left till fall of Berlin. Meanwhile, severe battles continued. In Proshkino, life has not changed. Only the elderly more often talked about victory, about Germans, which soon will be revenged by Lord! Zinochka, visiting the district town, heard that the flow of evacuated refugees started coming back to their homes. But it was allowed for them to leave only with special identification […]

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Early Childhood Of Volodya

| 11 Ноя 2012

From his early childhood, Volodya remembered only separated events. It is the village of Proshkino. It was a small village, twenty houses only. No men left in here, but the old men and the children. The neighbor village Serednyaki (middle-class peasants) was bigger, in the distance of three kilometers. Zinochka Obolensky found a shelter in the countryside not by chance, but in order to be far away from the authorities and KGB. She did not trust them, for understandable reasons, she felt disgust and fear to the murderer of her husband. She felt intuitively that her husband was killed, in a dream she often saw him bleeding, bear footed ... […]

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