“No, I’m not mistaken,” I told the young officer, “the Soviet soldiers hoisted our flag on Reichstag. The Soviet Army liberated Berlin, the capital of Germany. We won the Great Patriotic War,” I strongly repeated.
Two women passed by our bench and sat down on the next one. Rubbing his hands, as if enjoying the discussion, the officer put one leg over the other and turned his torso toward me with his back to the women. He smiled, and his black leather high boots gleamed in the sun. Then he put his hand on my book and said, lowering his voice, “I’m not arguing with you, Simona; I just want to tell you something you perhaps don’t know. We’re talking about a war where the entire world has been involved. Have you heard about the Axis, Rome, Tokyo, Berlin, whose forces were fighting the Allies? What do you know about the program of Lend-Lease, which helped the Allies?”
I had not heard a lot about the Axis, Rome, Tokyo, Berlin. But . . . oh, boy . . . I did know about Lend-Lease! “Of course I do. My father brought home four cans of ‘tushonka’ from Lend-Lease. We’ve already eaten all of them.”
“It’s good you know about Lend-Lease, but ‘tushonka’ and other food are only the tip of the iceberg. You probably know that World War II started long before Germany attacked the Soviet Union. It was Lend-Lease that helped the Allied troops in the fight against the Axis.”
“So what?” I retorted.
He looked at me, surprised by my remark.
“That means that thousands of men and women perished before the Soviet Union even entered the war. Have you heard about the battle for the Atlantic Ocean, where hundreds of Allied ships were sunk? Lend-Lease provided the Allies with new ships.”
“No, I’ve never heard about that.”
“Thousands of sailors from America, Britain, and Canada gave their lives for victory in World War II. Believe me, their mothers, wives, and children dearly loved those who perished, the same way the Russians loved theirs. Have you ever thought about the reason why the war was called World War II?” He had a point. His deepset blue eyes were no longer kind. Instead, they were sparkling and indignant. His information surprised me.
Despite my obvious embarrassment, he continued questioning me.
“Maybe you’ve heard about the Lend-Lease convoys to Russia, to the ports of Murmansk and Arhangelsk? Some convoys’ routes reached to the Arctic Circle bringing trucks and food, military equipment, and ammunition to the Eastern Front. Do you know how many people gave their lives to feed the Red Army with ‘tushonka’? Do you know the cost of bringing help to Russia?” I didn’t know. I had no words to raise an objection, and he had no intention of stopping his barrage of words.
“The Allies helped us in the war, and they’ll help us to restore the cities like Minsk. Let’s take a walk; I’ll show you the city.”
He stood up and adjusted his soldier’s shirt. Then he took my book in one of his hands and took my hand with the other. I stood up too.
The moment he stood, I could see not only his handsome tanned face, but also a slender and very tall man. The military uniform increased his charm. We started moving toward a nearby street, which turned out to be the main street of Minsk. He stopped in front of a big dark building with small windows on the other side of the street. Under the blue sky and shining sun, the building resembled a huge brown coffin.
“This is the House of the Government, the only building in the area that had survived. The Germans retreated so fast that they didn’t have time to blow it up. Let’s go a little bit farther.” I obediently followed, walking beside him. After several minutes he stopped again, touched my shoulder, and lifted his hand with my book of Dostoyevsky.
“You ought to remember this view to understand the tremendous tragedy and grief any war brings to all people. Look at this street.”
I did. He was right. Under an unbound dome of clear blue sky, we stood on the high point of an absolutely empty wide and quiet street. There were no people or cars. As far as the eye could see, one side of the street presented a long solid wasteland, cleaned out of ruins. Along the other side stood skeletons of what had been houses. Some had all four walls and roofs but looked like wounded and blind human beings, with windows reminiscent to empty eye sockets. Others were half-destroyed, their stoves’ metal towering over the ruins like frozen sentinels. Only a roaring truck, moving in our direction, animated the dead landscape. Maybe my father didn’t want me to see that devastating picture; the thought flew through my mind, and I stopped. I was shocked and frightened.
“Please, give me my book; I don’t want to go any farther. I’m going home.” My voice trembled a bit. The officer immediately returned my book as if he shared my feeling of sorrow and grief. We walked back toward my park.
“Don’t be saddened by what you saw, Simona. This is the reality of our lives, and we should face it with courage and open eyes. Don’t be afraid of the difficulties ahead of us. Our allies will help us restore the destroyed cities and villages, build new roads, and feed our people.” He talked like a teacher, with a spirit of compassion and confidence. At that time, his blue eyes comforted me, and his strong voice calmed me. His conduct revealed great intelligence and knowledge. Like my father, he had an excellent command of the real Russian language, a rare occurrence among Soviet officers. Suddenly, he asked me, “Do you believe in God?”
“God?” I was puzzled. Why would a Soviet officer ask such a question? We still walked slowly when he looked at his watch. “Sorry, I’m late to an important meeting. Hope to see you again, Simona. You’re a wonderful girl. Read your book of Dostoyevsky. Have a nice day.” Perhaps he really was late, because he almost ran in the direction of the House of the Government.
No one was in the park. I went home. My entire being was shaken by the conversation with the young officer. It wasn’t only the outpouring information that impressed me. The image of the man, his eyes, the conviction in his voice, and his empathy for people alive and dead overwhelmed me. Moreover, like my father, he spoke the language of Chekhov and Tolstoy, the language of Russian intellectuals.
Mother met me with worry in her voice. “Simona, where have you been? We’ve already had our dinner. I put yours under a pillow on our mattress to keep it warm. Take it. While you’re eating, I’ll tell you the news.”
I didn’t feel hungry, but I took my portion of potato with onion. The food stuck in my throat, but I made believe eating it was a pleasure. I didn’t tell Mother about the young man I met. Had I told my parents that I spent several hours with a stranger, I would never again see my little park.
Sitting and eating, I listened to my mother.
“We have news, Simona. Father got two coupons this afternoon. Tomorrow we’re going to the Lend-Lease place to choose a dress and shoes for you. I’m glad you’ll finally have both. Father already told me how to find the place. It’s pretty far, and we have to walk there. But I know you’re ready to fly there for a new dress.”
Mother was right. My dreams about the new dress haunted me ever since Father first informed us about the coupons. Cloth was scarce, and my dress was altered from an old dress of my mother’s. Of course, I was dreaming about a new one, but something unexpected had happened that day. I was turned from my purpose by my conversation with the young man in the park. His face stood before my eyes. I couldn’t escape it.
Rena was sitting on her cot with no smile on her face. She knew that I was the darling of our father, but it was Mother who decided to give me both a dress and shoes because I was the older sister. It was fair.
Sitting and eating, I could not get the conversation with the young officer out of my mind. His face was imprinted in my memory, especially his deep-set blue eyes. The sweet sense of something unfamiliar pulled at my heart and stayed there. That feeling didn’t leave me the whole day. That night, for the first time, I didn’t listen to the foreign radio broadcast.