The Year that I was Born

The war began in the USSR the year I was born. My father and my uncle enlisted at once and went to the front. Shortly afterwards my uncle was killed. The official paper said that he was lost in action. Father returned as a hero of the Red Army with the Medal for Bravery. He had been wounded in Stalingrad. He stayed in the Hospital and recovered. While Father was recovering, my mother knew nothing of him and she feared the worst.

Father returned home in military uniform with the medal for Bravery on it. Shiny black boots were a part of his military uniform.. Father brought the outside world to us – the world full of unusual presents and personal stories. It might have been very tempting - not to come back to Tashkent after being so far away. The world Father brought to us was not only big, not only larger than life, it was huge. And so unknown. Among presents, which Father brought to us were “Trophies of War”: a small radio, a watch and two dolls for me and my sister Laura.

During war time Father was homesick, so… he had joined the Communist Party, because he did not have his family with him. So the Communist Party would be kind of a family for him. I was telling to myself. Later I found out that before going into battle every soldier had to write an application “ Please consider me a Communist in case I do not come back alive” The logic of this was if you survived during the battle - you are automatically became a member of the Communist Party.

Father told us many stories about war time. All of them were bright, positive and how lucky he was to see us again. His favourite story was about us, his family and how much he had missed us. Among the stories there was one he told my sister Laura and I about the photograph of Mother. We knew that Father carried it with him all the time. Later we called this photograph of Mother “Military portrait” of Mother as Father did not part with it during all his military campaigns. To some of the battles he was not allowed to carry his ID, but the photo was O.K.

Every time Father told us this story he changed it slightly. We knew it was an old story but every time it was renovated so to say, it was dressed up in new words. The photo was the reason he stayed alive, the photo was the reason he was lucky, the photo was the reason we had won the war and so forth.

Father was not so healthy after the war. I knew that Mother worried about him a great deal. His will to live and his love for Mother made him stronger every day.

One thing I want to share with you: Father was now an atheist and God was too unreal to mention. There was no place for God in his real world. He just never said anything about God. It was a big secret that Mother took my sister Laura and I to Church. Life was full of secrets in the USSR.