You can t forget that! Part 3

Once, long ago read the article of the memoir of one author about the expectation father after the war and the joy of meeting him: “Urra! He came from the war "Alive!"
And she burned me with the bitterness of my former memories. There was a war, but we They did not know anything about the fate of his father, as they did not receive letters from the front. But for for several months until the end of the war received from his father from the front two or three Letters. I don't know exactly, because they were later destroyed by either his mother or his stepfather. But we did not rejoice for long: the funeral came. It was scary, happened Some kind of cliff in life. My father died on March 18, 45. Until the end There are only a few days left. I was nine years old then. In letters his father wrote that he was in a concentration camp in Poland. Before the arrival of Red The army he, along with his comrade, escaped and hid in the cellar at the local residents. At the arrival of our troops, he continued to fight as a soldier. Now I I think that if he had returned from the war alive, it would be bad for him, because all who visited the concentration camps Stalin sent after Return from the front to the Soviet Gulag concentration camp. And from there, as I understood Reading Solzhenitsyn, there was no way out.

After the funeral, when there was only one, it was difficult to worry all sorts of grievances and troubles from the daily life of the time when only The street mostly filled my life. My mother wasn't up to me. Loneliness without communicating with people close to me had crushed me. Boys without Father's life is bad. My sister was closer to her mother than I was. In the summer often dragged all days along the river with a homemade fishing rod, so it was It's easier, somehow everything was forgotten. In winter tied skates with a rope to Valenka. At the same time, a short stick twisted the rope and skates well held, so it was possible to ride on the road. The Guys was fashioned then: made a piece of wire hooks and clinging to them thundering, roadways on the rolled snow road street. But it was danger when the places of the open cobblestone were caught without snow. Beginnings smoking with the guys, but my grandmother smelled me when in front of The departure kissed me. Didn't smoke for a long time.

I bought some old boots out of size and I was rubbed all the time feet. It hurt to go to school to tears. But one of my comrade in the school was not held during slush, as his shoes were unsuitable for dampness. It was mainly potato, and this was an “advantage” of compared to the present time, since it was not necessary to cook a few dishes and wash a lot of dishes, and also have a refrigerator and a lot dishes, and we could not dream of it then. There was a prime in the corridor, but at the end of the war there was a kerogaz - a miracle of the technology of that time. It was Everything is good for us, because others did not have it. I remember after school Together with a comrade came to his house. At home on the table in the vase lay alone a piece of black bread. It was his lunch, which his mother left.

My mother, my sister and I occupied a small room of about 15 square meters. meters. There were two beds in the room. I slept on a little girl, and on the bed Mom and sister slept more. There was also a small table and stools, and on the wall hung a reproducer with news with the news of the front. More We didn't have any furniture. Pickles, pans and fry were with the primus in the corridor. The corridor was shared with a woman single. She was holding a room next to her. Her husband was at the front, and therefore she was with Mom's evenings sometimes talked, but most of the war and its hardships for us then. People were different, as well as children. All the time I dreamed of growing rather because it seemed that I was for All the burdens. May 9, the day of the end of the war was the Great DAY A day of joy and incurable grief.