Written from my grandmother Iraida name:
It is autumn 1942.
We all are scared, even we do not admit it, we are sad, and brave at the same time.
I don't want to say it, but the war is very bad, beyond bad.
Some days we do not have classes, because our teachers husbands or other family members were killed in the war battles. And sometimes some of my classmates are missing from school, because their fathers were killed. Every day someone is missing in my school. And it was just little bit more than two months from the war had began.
My brother Sasha wants to go to the war.
Every day we are waiting to get a letter that he has to go to the war.
Every time a see the post man I am scared. My heart Just drops.
With my friends all we talk is the war.
My best friend father was killed, then my other friends uncles were killed. Everyone is quite in our village.
My mother Aleksandra Ivanovna works in the farm, I see her may be a few hours a week. She goes to the farm in 4 o'clock in the morning and returners home after 12 O'clock at night. All she asks me if we eat and if was a letter for Sasha.
My father Pavel Andreevich works in the forest. Sometimes I don't see him for entire week. All he says:"We will win Ira!" and he smiles.
Poems,stories and pictures by Irina Mouravleva.
