We were by the river. I put my hands in the water. The water was shining on the sun. The sparkles of the sunshine were in every splash. I smiled looking at all that sun in my hands, many tiny lights in the water drop. My girlfriends were running and playing in the water trying to wet each other's clothes as much as possible.
A boy on a big bicycle looked as he flew right near us screening: “War, war, war!”
We stood still not understanding anything.
The boy was far on the road, above the river. We tried to run to him, but he was very fast. Riding his big bicycle and screaming “War, war, war".
Few people were on the land above the river too cutting grass. The boy flew by near them too. He slowed down and said something, sweating and trying to catch his breath. After almost a few seconds, I saw those people dropping everything and running to the village.
We ran to the village too.
It was the first time when I saw so many people in our village.
We were the closest village to the farm and people from further villages came to our village too. Men, women and older children.
It was June 22, 1941, about ten o'clock in the morning.
We had a radio in the middle of the village on the wooden pole. The mitting was around it, few men stood on the little stand. They were talking about the military attack on the Soviet Union.
I looked around, the men were quiet, and some women had tears in their eyes.
“We will go to the city and find what is next. For now, everyone has to go back to work!” one of the men said. No one really knew at that time if it was true or false. It was an order not to panic.
At 12 o'clock afternoon, the radio started to work and was turned very loud. One of the Soviet Union leaders made an announcement that the Soviet Union was attacked by the German army and it is war now.
Everyone stood quiet. No one said a word, only listen. I remember the faces of the people, many young people, and children. It was the first war we would face. The older people were worrying, asking: "What is it now."
My mother wasn't at the meeting, she ran shortly after to our house.
“War", - she whispered trying to open the top button on her shirt and trying to breathe slowly. She was running home, from far away, and her face and hair were sweating and wet. She damped a cup with cold water from a small pot we had in the kitchen, on herself.
“War", – she said again in started to cry.
“I will go to the farm, and you stay home", - in a few minutes, she said again, got dressed and left.
Poems,stories and pictures by Irina Mouravleva.
