We are crushed and lowered the meaning of the word «hero.» Who is it now? A comic character who saves the planet from a malevolent psychopath, or the man, in his heart he accomplished the feat? Already the devil himself will not understand, who is such a hero. We love to praise the beautiful words of all those who endured the horrors and privations of war. But we do so only in anticipation of the holiday. Other days we dig in history, lustfully finding traitors, deserters and all those who took the wrong side.
Here on the horizon, the sky turned black. What’s that? It’s a tsunami of discontent and blatant facts about the War. Now distinguished audience, the evidence will show that the Soviet soldiers dirty, with cruelty in droves raped German women, and in the occupied territories fascists were welcomed with joyful cries, with bright flags in their hands and in a barely audible whisper: «One thing baleen was replaced by another. And deservedly!» So just need it all?
It turns out that heroes are brave, savesurge chest orders and steel due to the active promotion of the cult heroes. Gastello died as a warrior, and deserves a memory. But he? And the people? How many of these come from people, like him, fought bravely in the rain and in the winter, exhausted from hunger and longing in the cold, damp, rat-infested mud huts? With only one thought: «want to Live». When to retreat, when, during the next German attack destroyed almost the entire platoon, for some reason, so I want to live! To live simply. About winning not think. Somewhere in his native town, waiting for mother, who from childhood accustomed to not upset next to her – the bride. And here everything. But so many plans have. And then machine gun fire. And you’re lying in a pool of his own blood, realizing that the damn bullet didn’t kill you, and stuck in the intestines, causing unbearable pain. Stony not stony, no one will help, and will slowly fade away like a candle wick in hellish agony. And how many soldiers are unaccounted for, honestly fought, but did not receive orders? Guys thrown into the Inferno, vimosewa their corpses the road to a long-awaited victory? Millions! Dare they be called heroes? Of course.
Was cowardly, where the same without them. When I see only my own face on the front is your friend – after the explosion, writhing in pain, trying to keep fall out the bloody tape guts – and you did not want to fight. Do you want to live! Well, you can’t see it every day as you become close, people fall unconscious. And I think, you would survive all this horror? And the more you think the worse, because you can’t give a definite answer: «not afraid of Death. For the Motherland will die!» And then? The Nazis were very elegantly done with prisoners of war and hospital patients in the occupied territories. The soldiers did not stand on ceremony, they found a nightmarish practical application, from which normal human head will spin. Here in Krasnodar, for example, did a terrible tank crossing trench: layer of the earth, dead, Board. Shot and dumped in a stinking ditch, causing rot under the open sky surrounded by former neighbors. And how can you do? The human factor? Heroism? Many veterans remember that there was not a bright idea to save the Motherland and «revenge» only the most desperate. They just saved my life. So this is the generation – proud, proper, solid, binding, and knew that now forgotten the word as «duty.» «And live any way you want, guys.» Why? Where? How? Who cares. But you need to fight, to fight. For all this, God?
And prayed to God, prayed. There are no atheists in the trenches under fire. And what to believe? Comrade Stalin? So they are not shouting: «For Motherland, for Stalin!» is only a beautiful myth, regular curls and curly without the history of the leader. Told me very familiar words. And intellectuals and simple rural folks. What at all times was used for a bunch of words. Mat is always better conveyed emotion. Matt as something bigger and better gives the meaning in such a critical situation. Matershinu, faith and despair forged in the heroism of those who are stuck in the Rzhev meat knee-deep in blood, choking smoke.
And this generation, young and miserable, which is accustomed to the world and not know how to fight, lived several lives during those dreadful 4 years. And marriages were recorded. Feelings flashed faster, because no one knew how many more left to live. Only instead of workers of the registry office was platoon commander had such authority. And instead of wedding Palace – crude dugout, smelling of sweat, blood, soil and frontline gruel. The same girls, fragile Komsomol, has not yet formed, carried on his shoulders the wounded men. Take him by the hand to raise, and it is easily separated from the body. And she carries him, soaked with his own blood to his underpants, a little girl dying boy, was crying in pain and frustration.
And what is a human tragedy of those unfortunate who have their eyes perished newfound men, and young people, and even wives. Death is not always beautiful like in the movies when you go out of the last forces in the open field with one shot to the chest and fall in a heroic pose. «What a beautiful death,» said Napoleon, seeing Bolkonsky, who was lying unconscious under a grey Austerlitz. But everything in life is bloodier and grittier. And posture not as elegant, and dying screams, has caused those who heard them, the feeling of shame and fear. All as in the Remark, only really. And all this – on the head of people who did not want war, who were forced to fight, on the heads of those soldiers who were thrown on trained German troops to slow down their advance. Thrown like a bone to angry dog. Homeland said: «it is Necessary», and there were no other options, no children, no country.
And here there are millions who fought for real in good faith, buried in the remote meadows, whose bones are still excavators dig, dig the hole for the Foundation of a greatly expanded cities. And are those bones that had plans, dreams, hopes, and notorious belief in communism that they built. Sergei, the Ivans, now it’s just dust. The ashes of those who are missing, whose families came a sinister piece of yellowish paper with purple ink, popularly referred to as «funerals». Remember their names, except that in their families, where the albums are stored a pair of worn-out time, photos. And that the current generation does not remember. Although they are less fortunate than hundreds of thousands of armless and legless disabled people flooding the streets after the war, and suddenly began to cause irritation. The state, they were not needed. Some people were sent to «nursing Home» to Balaam and other outlying areas. Some chose to commit suicide. After all, the whole society after the war became land, not everyone mourned their dead, and roaring in a homemade car accidents do not care even more.
Here those who went mad from the things happening around, climbed with a grenade on the tank, can be called heroes? And may they, without orders. Not lucky to die in 5 minutes after the first fight in their life. Probably, you have the right. Therefore, contrary to tradition, not in our category of specific individuals. No. Only martyrdom and the heroic generation, very wanted to live. To live simply.