my wife, i, my son, we participate in all our national holidays, we are a nation, a nation of winners, and we must always know this, remember this, we remember, we are proud, such a concert program at the sports palace, may 9 is a central location with interactive activities for children and a generous fair, what you are treating us to today, pearl barley, with stew, we tried it ourselves, of course i tried it, and how very tasty it was, sodan porridge, a partisan camp and of course, front-line melodies. the green area along the avenue of winners greeted the guests today on such a victorious wave. i want, so that you can hear my voice yearning, we came from kusbas, we were already here in the morning, then we were there, danced at the concert, now we’re back here again, i really like it, my family and i went out to celebrate may 9, well, it’s like a holiday for the whole country , i have a child.

here is an entourage apartment with everyday sketches, nearby retro equipment, favorite soviet board games and a dance floor, everyone is waltzing. in the past, a military childhood, today is an example of positivity and love of life. polina katsuba has two children, four in...

not just a clear sky and a head of corn, bread, we value life, we build the present 92 years i need to enjoy everything, appreciate worries about the future, these are the qualities that lead to a great holiday, this is not just a reason to relax, give thanks, did you win the great patriotic war?

this is a holiday, this is joy with tears in our eyes, belarusians, victory day, victory day, victory day, tv news agency. divided

into the katyusha bank, the high bank, the steep one! the festive broadcast on may 9 at exactly 21:30 will continue with a live broadcast from oktyabrskaya square of a large holoconcert called 9:00 pm after the war, in which the familiar victorious melodies of may will sound. and right now we bring you the final episode. once again, happy holidays to everyone, happy victory day! the religious policy of the third reich is not occupied.

and then they opened the gun from the gun, and here is my wife, iago, which means she’s killed, she would be paralyzed. and the survivors were shot. as they knew what the astanks meant, mary’s wife, 35 years old, and her son , mikhasik godzika, i... yana gave birth to her son and herself, the cotton boy would have knitted a little mermaid, this part of the mother’s and sons’ memory not pragarela, on the church holiday of the presentation of the lord on february 15, 1943 ,

the killers of the vanger and the police came to the homeland of the partisan commander vasily korzh. 300 people together with the rector john loika. let's say, for the people, he remained devoted to his service, remained devoted to the faith, instead of running away or hiding, let's say, from the enemy, he performed a divine service, it was a punitive operation hornung, people were forgiven for the activities of the partisans, the sons of father john fought in the korzh partisan unit, he he himself blessed them, the priest’s wife, three daughters-in-law and a daughter were in the temple; the night before this tragedy there was usaana. restless in his soul, and he uttered the following words: “ let’s not separate this night,” and called everyone to prayer for preparation, for the most important tayans, this is for cleaning. before setting fire to the temple, the punishers selected several dozen people, the workers force,

among them was the priest’s daughter vera, she was not yet 18 years old, it was she who witnessed the tragedy when they were guarding the temple so that no one ran away, then it was reported,

at the same time i watched the police, eavesdropped, then passed on information to the detachment about german technology and punitive actions, conducted funerals where, where i can’t even imagine that they buried in a coffin, not a dead person, but buried, medicines, food for the partisans, clothes, he sits on the cart, covers what he’s carrying with straw, and robes on top, you know? i went and let him through, father vasily even managed to somehow transfer weapons to partisan detachments, yes, he was the liaison for this partisan detachment, at his house he organized underground meetings of partisan commanders, even once he came under

suspicion, and the gestapo was looking for him, they tried to kill him, they say that even several bombs were dropped on his temple, but the priest miraculously survived, despite the threats , father vasily from... read san information bureau reports and leaflets to the parishioners, told people about partisan operations, parishioners collected medicines and various herbal infusions, all this was passed on to the partisans, there were such moments, when he saw... how much they offend their fellow villagers, and he is a priest, you understand, this is the word father, and now i’m thinking like this, how old was that priest, for me now he’s generally a young man, at my age, but he’s a priest, a priest is a father, he’s the father of his parishioners, now i’ll pay straight away, you know, when parishioners are offended, a priest must protect them, so he defended as best he could. the priest’s activities could not go unnoticed, and besides, the priest was reported by people who came to the church service,

informants. the surveillance has begun. the shepherd was warned that he and his family were in danger. father vasily had a small son, and his elderly mother lived with him. most likely , he would probably have been caught and shot, but even though he came at night around 12 am, they knocked on the window, but most likely it was some kind of policeman, a policeman. i say, you know that tomorrow i will arrest you. gospel, then he said that they served the liturgy, moreover, in a detachment, performed the liturgy, he was the best agitator, in fact, who spoke about that in his sermons, in his conversations with members of the partisan detachment, about the fact that they are doing a really right thing, about the fact that the enemy will be defeated, to him. place on our land, and the lord god will truly be our

helper in everything and will bless you for all your good, so to speak, heroic deeds. after the liberation of belarus, vasily kapyshka was sent to pinsk, became the rector of the varvara church, the church where he was ordained as a sandacon in 1934, who would have thought that 10 years later he would return here as rector. them we had to clean the temple ourselves, that is, the family.

this award is quite rare; in 77 years , only 25 people have received it. st. george's church is stale, more than 50 years old, the rector of the church was front-line soldier dmitry khmel, he went to the front at the age of 17. when he went to the front, the war began for dmitry khmel in belarus, liberating viteb with

korshu, lepel, begomal, lagoisk, then lithuania and east prussia, where he was seriously wounded. all the fighters from his unit died, he was the only one who survived. he went with a grenade to an enemy bunker, threw the grenade, but the bullet remained in his thigh, closer to the spine, he lay there for 3 days, already covered with sprinkled earth. i witnessed the event when an icon of the kazan mother of god was brought to konexberg, the icon was brought, a priest came, they began to pray, vasilevsky and krilov knelt before the icon, there were no people, mleben was served for this icon of the mother of god. and so began the assault on kennicksburg. after the victory , dmitry khmel returned to his homeland and prepared to

enter college. he wanted to enter the flour milling institute. at that time the mother of god came to him and said: “what are you doing? i didn’t keep you so that you would enter the flour milling institute." he was walking with his friend in odessa and saw this building. it was a theological seminary. and he realized what it was. after the seminary, the priest was sent to serve the village of kosina, lagoisky district, then there was lagoisk itself, the city that... he liberated, in '57 dmitry's father was sent to nesves, he had such a look that he just seemed to see right through you, so you wanted to talk to him, he could give such advice that you even immediately i understand what you need to do, a participant in the war, a disabled war veteran, he is a warrior of christ, and a warrior

of christ is a winner, as they say that... when he didn’t go on vacation, he didn’t miss a single liturgy, he got up at 6 every day: 00 in the morning, he prayed and went to the temple to the parishioners, in recent years he served on painkillers, the bullet in his spine made itself felt, a reminder of the war, with a bullet in his body, he lived like an ordinary person, and did not show that it was bothering him, during some weather changes, and this field let you know

that’s why he was sick, he spoke sometimes, but didn’t show it, he never complained, he was seriously ill at the end of his life, almost no one knew what was hurting him, when he conducted services, he sometimes froze, it was clear that he had there was something, something wrong, it turns out it was just, well, everything hurt him, he was so patiently waiting in the wings, in the village of sadovaya, kletsky district during the war, the settlement was called blyachin, nikolai served in the local church. they were there, they were given a task, they were paralyzed, they were

dachshunds, they were snarling with my life, i got so excited that at the very hour , i knew the partisans, who knew the partisans, so the police, the partisans were standing with grenades in their hands, he then looked in, said that the police had arrived, that’s how many people there are, guys, if what, fight, fight, but i will give the command, don’t worry about us, save yourself, despite the fact that he was at home, despite the fact that this is his wife, his children, everyone is under threat, the priest is serving in the church called on his parishioners to help the partisans with clothes, food,

in resisting the occupier, father nikolai was helped by his brother georgy heltov, also a priest, rector of the church of the protection of the most holy theotokos in kletsk; he organized the collection of food for soviet prisoners of war and saved jewish children. in 1943, when children were brought here from orphanages in minsk, among them there were jewish children, jews and father george, in order to save the children, he baptized them.

i wrote out baptismal certificates with orthodox names. thanks to this, the children remained alive, and the priests were also able to win over partisans of the head of the kletsky police, who reported about ambushes and raids, the threat of arrest hung over the brothers, the partisans offered to leave with them, but the priests remained with the flock, they were arrested before easter, on good friday, and sent to the koldychev concentration camp. the camp occupied an area of ​​approximately half a kilometer by half a kilometer, the territory was fenced in several rows with barbed wire, and a reinforced escort was installed. people were protected with bunkers and even tanks dug into the ground, but there were also traditional towers with searchlights. here in on april 44, nikolai and georgy kheltov were captured. a few days later they brought me to koldychevo. wives natalya and lydia. nikolai heltov died a martyr's death. he was tied to an iron bed, doused

with gasoline and set on fire. the remains of the priest were buried in the camp cemetery. this was in may of '44. and in the first days of july , his brother george and the wives of the priests were shot. large mass grave. the prisoners dug it themselves a few days before the liberation of this territory, and here the last koldychevo execution took place, people were led to the pit, their hands were tied with barbed wire, the executioners shot in the back of the heads of their victims. the zharovichi monastery is the fruit of the orthodox faith; elder mitrafan lived, worked and prayed here for many years. everyone knew him, students and teachers of seminaries, pilgrims and workers, but that...

in the far east, then the family moved to nikolai ilyin, the secular name of the elder, he was born in the tambov province, after graduating from school nikolai went to moscow to study. after receiving a diploma from the moscow highway institute, in march '41, nikolai ilyin was assigned to the construction of the osovtsy military airfield near bereza. on the very first day of the war, the airfield was bombed, more than a thousand soviet aircraft were destroyed along the entire front line.

a few months later he was the chief engineer of the track and road workshops in pinsk, then he worked as an economist in the statistical department of the pinsk region, and on the third

he returned to serpukhov and got a job as a stoker in a children's tuberculosis sanatorium. in january, as a novice, he comes to zherovichi monastery, in a little more than a month nikolai will take his first monastic vows with the name george, after 6 years, when...

father viktor bikarevich. from the first days of the war, when many of his parishioners were called to the front, the village priest began to help women with food and pastoral words. if you have bread,...

the lord said, share this bread, if you have something else, share it, a normal priest, in principle all priests should be like this, this is the norm of life, and the man essentially fulfilled his oath , given upon entry into the priesthood . the shepherd was responsible for the inhabitants of 25 villages, so many were included in the parish of father victor, the priest himself had four small children, and this did not become an obstacle to save the shelter of scouts and saboteurs, when the police arrived, father victor passed them off as his workers.

may 9 was a holiday for him, you know, as for everyone, not only veterans, for all of us, but especially for veterans, especially for such father. victor, it was the holidays, as he says, this is my second holiday after easter, after the war, viktor bikarevich was the rector of the alexander nevsky church in minsk, saved it from closure in the sixties, then served in venena, returned to minsk again to the alexander nevsky church. proteerius viktor bikarevich was awarded the patriarchal cross. at the end of his life, he helped build a temple in the village of ponyatiche in veleschina, not far from his native latigole. the spiritual core that preserved

our people during the years of the great fatherland. war, we have part of it, it’s important for us not to lose it, not to break it, on the contrary, to strengthen it, so that we, then our children, our grandchildren, will also be guardians, defenders of our country, our people, our fatherland. many priests contributed to the great victory not only through their church services and military exploits. fundraising to help the army and devastated regions of the country was of great importance. except tank. the columns of money collected by the church were created by alexander nevsky. fundraising took place even in the occupied territories. in total , the orthodox church collected 200 million rubles for the needs of the front. everything to bring you closer victory. yes, the victory day itself, may 9, 1945 , fell on the postponed reserve, which was celebrated on may 6, the day of remembrance of st. george the victorious, the heavenly patron of the army.

bricas. supreme commander-in-chief of the red army and navy. the great patriotic war, waged by the soviet people against the nazi

invaders, has been victoriously completed. germany is completely destroyed. the first day of spring warmth, silver velvet on the willows, and love was already blooming then, it blooms before anyone else, probably. and love, and love, then it was already blooming, and love, and love, then it was already blooming, and love, and love was already blooming then, before anyone else, it blooms, probably, and

then the petals dropped, the apple tree fell off. and love, in spite of nature, kept blooming, without knowing a break, and love, and love in nature , in spite of, and love, and love in nature , in spite of, and love, and love in nature, in spite of everything, bloomed, without knowing a break.

the bird cherry has already begun to grow, the nightingales have finished singing, and love. and what has just begun, has begun its blossoming again, and love, and love has only just begun, and love, and love has only just begun has just begun, and love, and love has only just begun, has begun to bloom again, red. a leaf floats across the lake, and behind it a flock of snowflakes flies, and love sings,

knowing neither winter nor autumn, but love, and love laughs , and love, and love laughs and fights, and love... and love laughs sings, knowing neither winter nor autumn, but love, and love laughs and fights, and love, and love laughs, and love, and love laughs, sings, not knowing winter, nor autumn, on...

says shows the city hero minsk. good evening, dear fellow countrymen. hello dear tv viewers, we are glad to welcome everyone who is with us today, celebrating this holy and joyful day, victory day. for us, belarusians, victory day is a national celebration that unites generations. today is may 9, all day long to the eternal flame, monuments and memorials. people are coming to bow to the great feat of the belarusian

people, to remember with kind words the sons and daughters of all the peoples of the soviet union, who in a single battle formation liberated belarus and forged our victory, one for all, which we got at a very high price. or maybe there was no war, and people dreamed of it all, a devastated land. executions of icons from the camp, khatyn mass graves, or

maybe there was no war, the father had scars from birth, no one died from a bullet, and did not rise above the world, a mushroom, and was not afraid of the ghetto. or maybe there was no war, children did not sleep at the machines, and women in the ruined villages did not suffocate in the fields, even with the key the wind was strong, people, we feed ourselves with bread alone. one for all, heaven was given to us,

one earth raised us, people, one for all us, worries, the same paths, the same roads, let my story be a dream, let my story be a dream. or maybe there was no war, the germans weren’t being driven around the stage, the skin of the blech was worn out, and the mousseline was blowing, there was no gestabo in paris, or maybe there was no war, and the shmai of the heart. mug, a diary covered in the blood of wounds, was not

written, onnoy frank, berlin did not hear the thunder of guns, people, we feed ourselves with bread alone, one for all, heaven was given to us, one earth raised us. people, we all have the same worries, the same paths, the same roads, let my story be a dream, let it be again, and my story, maybe there was no war? and

the world invented it for itself, but why do old people cry so much in may from melancholy, one night i thought, maybe... there was no war, and people dreamed about it all. oh, how the birds flew high, through bad weather and darkness, every fourth falcon in the sky,

every fourth was shot down in flight, that’s how our people sang. won, they say forgetting means betraying, we will never betray our heroic ancestors, every year new memorials arise in our country as a symbol of grateful memory.

don't be silent, just don't be silent, people, in memory the line, let it be longer, they gave their spent days, folded into years, for yours. you can sing about victory with anyone you meet, it’s a pity that our grandfathers don’t live forever, one century has passed, let the new century remember the names of all those who

raised the world from its knees, don’t be silent people, just... don’t be silent, children of belarus keep in your memory, the forty-first year became terrible for the world, the forty-fifth, the day of our victory, you can sing about victory with anyone you meet, it’s a pity that our grandfathers don’t live. here forever, one century has passed, may the new century remember the names of all those who raised the world from its knees, the people will live while the memory of the whips is alive, and the grandson

will hand out the flowers of victory to his grandfather, hears belarus. in the whole world they hear a song about victory about our sire, you can sing about victory with anyone you meet, it’s a pity that our grandfathers do not live forever, one century has passed, may the new century remember the names of all those who are worldly. raised, it’s a pity that our grandfathers do not live forever, one century has passed, let the new century remember the names

of all those who raised the world. be silent, just don't be silent, people. the great patriotic war left a deep mark on history of the belarusian people. our people sacredly honor the memory of fallen heroes. quiet prayer, the time has come, loud, unnecessary words, being human is not so

little, a challenge is always ready, life is not easy, but always in the end light conquers darkness, if suddenly evil is on your doorstep, your heart will open to goodness. the time of heroes is not for rewards, honor is not for sale, those who are for truth, there is no barrier for us, together now and here. brothers in spirit, strong-willed, it’s better to contradict me, slight fear,

we don’t ask for a share, we ask for the strong to heal! look out the sun, the clouds will hide, a new one will come dawn, the day will be good, mish will become better, there is no doubt about it, the whole world is in a minor key, but they will steal your voice, peace to those who

are for, and even those who are against, but do not run, peace to those who are for and even those who are against , but doesn't run. but doesn't run away.

so that the whole world knows, we remember, we are proud, we will not betray. our memory is a spiritual

bridge between us and those who remained forever in the distant forty-fifth. i’m sending you a letter from 1945, look at the photo, dear friend, i’m in it with our guys, look how young i am, special correspondent of the front-line newspaper i looked again. i took the new girl’s address with me, and we again went to where the shots were,

look how young i am, it’s spring all around, the sky is blue, the sun is hitting my eyes, and gentleness, we should live and live, live and love and raise children on earth , and we again went to where the shots were. where bomb explosions will appear an ominous battle, we went forward to withstand, to withstand, even at the most terrible cost, the earth became covered in blood in fires, and we fought a fierce battle for our lives, and comrades fell to the ground nearby, each was just as young ,

it’s spring all around, the sky is blue, the sun is shining in the eyes and the leaves are tender, but i wish i could live and live, live and love and raise children on the earth. i didn’t hear how the evil bullet hung, how i fell to the gray ground, and kobelisk became a pure song, look how young i am, i’m

talking to you on the forty-fifth, look at the picture. to take care of this peace on earth, to live vigorously, to live as a gift, to carry on this world, on earth.

nazi germany sent the most powerful military machine in the world towards the soviet union, counting on lightning success, but plans the nazis on the belarusian lands were broken, we fought the enemy not only with force of arms, but also invisibly.

oh my fogs, foggy, oh my native forests and meadows. the partisans were leaving the campaign, they were leaving the campaign against the enemy, the partisans were leaving the campaign, they were leaving on the campaign against the enemy, i say goodbye. whether the heroes

expect good news on the old tar. on the old smolensk road they met uninvited guests, they met with fire, they treated them, forever. laid down i will contribute, for our great sorrows, our flammable forest, for our great

sadness, for our burning tears. a stranger will not leave without being called. your old life, oh, the fogs of may, are foggy,

oh, the glad old lady of may, oh, the fogs of may, are foggy, oh, the glad old one. my donka.

you don’t need to feel sorry for us, you don’t need to feel sorry for us, because we wouldn’t feel sorry for anyone, we... to our battalion commanders, as pure before the lord god, the overcoats on the living were reddened with blood and clay, on the graves of the dead blue flowers bloomed, blossomed and have fallen, the fourth autumn is passing, our mothers are crying, and our peers are silently sad, we did not know love, we have not experienced happiness of crafts, we suffered the difficult fate of soldiers, in my time, no

poems, no love, no peace, only the strength of envy, when we return from the war, we will love everything to the fullest. let's write a story of the same age that the sons will be proud of their fathers as soldiers, but whoever doesn't return, who won't have to love, well , whoever was hit by the first bullet in 1941, a girl the same age will cry, the mother will beat herself up on the threshold, my age has no poems, no wives, who will return, yes he loves, no, his heart is not enough for this, and the dead don’t need the living to love for them, there is no man in the family, no children, no

the owner in the hut, am i grieving like this, the sobs of the living will help, there is no need to feel sorry for us, because... we would not feel sorry for anyone, whoever went on the attack, whoever shared the last piece, will understand this truth, it came to argue in the trenches and cracks with a grumbling, hoarse bosom, let the living remember, and let generations know this harsh truth, taken in battle, soldier.

our concern is simple, our concern is that our native country would live, and there would be no other worries, snow and wind and stars, night ice. here is me, my heart, in an alarming distance while i walk i can, as long as i can look, as long as i can breathe, i will move forward. snow and wind and

stars flying at night, my heart sends a covenant into the anxious distance, we don’t need peace, we are happy with this fate. you take the flame with your hand, with your breath you break the ice, snow, wind, and stars, the beginning of flight, me, my heart, a covenant into the troubled distance.

just like in life, every love you will meet one day with you, as you bravely through the storms, it will go through the snow and the wind and the stars. flight of me into my heart into the alarming distance of the covenant, snow and wind and starry flight, me into my heart, an alarming distance is touched. don’t think that

all are ashes, that they are all ashes, that they are all ashes, i am preparing for a great goal, glory will find you, snow and wind, and starry flight, my heart calls me to the distant distance. me, my heart, the tripod to give a covenant, night trains at the stop, reminded me of burnt bridges, and slow, slow...

tanda, from somewhere floating out of the darkness, and it seemed foggy, as if in a haze, your face inclined towards me, spinning, the record spins and spins, in reverse, like a memory of the war, someone to sleep on. potanka, there sounds like a setup be quiet. secretly, everything that happened was secret, and this meeting is random, like dreams in war, we have a song for a deadly attack, we have rage to fight

for three, we have a slow tanga after the howl, so that this terrible hell can be forgotten in the world. and now, close to the rockets, faces came closer, and a crow flew past, as if, as if from death and from desolation, i covered your heart with my heart, by the broken tank... ostatonko sounds to the passing of toiva, all that was mine, and this meeting was by chance, like dreams in war, night

trains at half the station, standing like sentries at... and the slow, slow tango floats somewhere into the darkness, i don’t know where you are, who you love, but i hear your voice in reality, so argue with me, there will be people there, listen to the flying leaves.

in war, like dreams in war! on the border there are gloomy clouds, the harsh land is enveloped in silence, on the high banks of the amur

there are sentinel homelands, on the high banks of the amur there are frequent homelands. there in the stew a strong barrier is placed, there stands a brave villager, at the borders of the far eastern land, an armored shock battalion, at the borders of the far eastern land, an armored shock battalion, the song lives there in that guarantee, indestructible strong. family, three tank crews, three cheerful friends, crew, combat vehicles, three tank crews, three cheerful friends, crew, combat vehicles.

the wind picks up the tanks. a formidable armor was advancing, and the samurai were flying to the ground, under an assortment of steel and fire. and the samurai flew to the ground, under a set of steel and fire, and finished off

the song in that guarantee, all the enemies in a one-day attack, three tankmen, three cheerful friends, the crew of a combat vehicle, three tankmen, three cheerful friends, the crew, the cars.

i will fold my wings over the abyss, from freedom flight pieney, i have not regretted anything for a long time, i have not served anyone for a long time except. truth and god, which gives strength, to rise again, to go forward, to stand up to the end, for the father, for the children, for the wife and mother, to prove, to the utmost. and to fly, to swim to the end, on

earth, to be a man, i’m no longer afraid of not being able to make it, everything is clothed with yesterday’s me, and it’s not scary, it doesn’t matter anymore, to leave something unsaid, not to sing, if it’s true, my god, what gives strength, they lift you up again they lead you forward, to reach the end to hold you for your father, for your children, for wife and mother, prove, crawl, fly, swim to the end. on earth, to be a man,

to stand up to the end, for your father, for your children, for your wife. what to have, to prove, to crawl, to fly, to swim, to the end on earth, to be a man, to stand up to the end, for a father, for children, for a wife and mother, dokasa. crawl, fly, swim to the end,

on earth, to be a man, to the end on earth, to be a man. “wait for me, and i will return to all the deaths to spite, whoever did not wait for me, let him say, lucky, how i survived, only you and i will know, you just knew how to wait." like no one else, these lines of konstantin simonov

were repeated like a spell by millions of men and women who were separated by the war. yes, mothers, wives, sisters, loved ones, hoped and prayed for their dear people, and sometimes even, having received funeral, they still continued to believe and wait. the greatness of the female, maternal feat is inscribed in the history of belarus forever . the image of the patriotic mother, captured in the monuments, became a true symbol of the strength of the spirit of eternal love, love that conquered even time.

the mother is over 30 years old, and there is no news from... on, but she continues to wait, because she believes, because the mother, what does she hope for, many years since the war ended. it’s been many years since everyone came back, except for the dead that were lying in the ground, how many of them there were then,

the crazy boys, didn’t come. once the village was sent, in the spring, a documentary film about the war, everyone came to the cinema in an old way, some knew the war, some did not, before the bitter memory of people, hatred flowed like a river, it was difficult. know, suddenly the son looked at his mother, the mother recognized her son at the same time mick, and a mother’s cry rang out, alexey, alyoshenka, son, alexey, alyoshenka, son,

alexey alyoshenka. son, as if the son could hear her, he rushed out of the crane, his mother stood up to cover him with her, everyone was afraid that he would fall, but the son rushed through, alexey, his fellow countrymen shouted, alexey. vasily ran away, the frame came to terms, the son remained to live, asks the mother for her son, repeat, asks the mother for her son, repeat,

asks the mother for her son. repeat, again he runs into the attack, alive, healthy, not wounded, not killed, alexey, alyoshenka, son, alexey, alyoshenka, son, alexey alyoshenka, son. oh, as if her son could hear her, at home she kept imagining a movie, she kept waiting, right now out

the window. in the midst of alarming silence, the son will knock. and yok are your own, again until... and the window does not go out, the alarm is knocking in your temples, only the echo of steps, only

the voice of your own, you are back, you are safe, you are like the banks of a crossing, an outpost. simple and life-long roads, there is no right to doubt, as long as you believe, he will return and live, an officer’s wife cannot betray, she... before the battle, with prayer and faith, please stand behind him, here

danger on the edge, an officer's wife, from a thousand places, yours is always next to him. an officer's wife, a special cross, carry it beautifully, the alarm bell rings, he is in a hurry again, which means his homeland needs him. hug him on the threshold and with part of your soul, fall on his shoulder straps, having become a beta like

no one else, he will understand that what saves him, again, is the belief that... that his wife loves him and is always waiting for you, you will wait, the officer’s wife cannot give you she protected me with prayer and faith with a wall behind him. in danger on the edge, an officer's wife,

from a thousand places, yours is always next to him, wife officer, special cross. a modest blue handkerchief, falling from drooping shoulders, you saw off and promised a blue

handkerchief in return, and let my beloved dear one be with me today, i know with love, you hide the handkerchief from your bare skin dear, i know with love, you hide the cotton from your head dear, receiving your letters, i hear your voice. dear, and between the lines, the blue handkerchief again rises in front of me, and more than once i have dreamed of dull hours, hoody floats, blue nights, sparkles of the girls , where in the fruits, blue nights, suits

and... veche to pay, how many cherished handkerchiefs, carry with you in your heart, the joy of meeting, a girl’s shoulders, remember in the suffering of battle, for them, relatives, loved ones, desired ones, then your marksman is in the dark. the handkerchief that was on the shoulders, dear, scribbling a small bullet, for the blue handkerchief that was on the shoulders, dear, the only thing that the war could not destroy was love, warmth. and tenderness broke

through pain and suffering, connecting human hearts, tormented by grief, separated by thousands of kilometers, i will write a letter at a halt. and i'll send it by mail, hello mother, i'm alive, how are we doing? for a long time fate has played out, somewhere out there in the silence a light will flash in your window, only everything is like in

a dream, about 10 years ago in the war, i’ll write a letter to my friend and send it by mail, i’ll hasten to tell you about love, i’ll ask you to wait for me until spring , somewhere out there in the silence a light will flash in your window, only everything is like in a dream, 10 years in the war, only everything is like in a dream, 10 years in the war.

the light will not flash in your window, only everything is like in a dream, for 10 years in the war, only everything is like in a dream, for 10 years in the war, for 10 years. in the war,

apple and pear trees blossomed, fog floated. above the river came out onto the bank of katyusha, onto a high bank above the gruta, he went out on his brother’s bike. usha came out on a high bank on a steep bank, started a song, about the steppe gray eagle, about the one she loved, about the one whose letters

she took care of, about the one she loved, about the one whose letters she took care of. oh, you are a devil, a girl’s song, you are flying after the clear sun, drinking on the distant border, say hello from katyusha, let him remember the simple girl, let him hear her sing, take care of his dear one in the social world, oh love bone.

my grandfather, who went through the whole war, i never liked to think about her, and i certainly would never wish such a fate on my children. my grandmothers, who lived through this terrible time, prayed that our generation would never know what war is, and the world today is so fragile, it...