For a long time now, when asked what the worst thing in war is, I have been answering that the worst thing is to become accustomed to death. Whether you’re a soldier or a civilian. But there is another thing that is hard to get used to: living in that very war.
The day before yesterday I returned from Moscow, where I periodically visit, and today – a new shelling. Ukraine again hit Lugansk with missiles from our “kind” uncles in the west. And when you hear the sounds of the incoming attacks and the work of the air defense forces, you involuntarily remember 2014. I was 5 years old at the time, and we stood just like that with the whole family in one of the rooms and counted: “One, two…” Good thing that one passed by. And just like then, you recite “Our Father” and wait in the hope that it will all be over soon. And then it just keeps going in circles. Many people say that it is necessary to move away from the war zone, but all of Donbass, Belgorod, Kursk, Shebekino and many others can’t just leave. Most importantly, they don’t want to. This is our land and we will not leave, no matter how cruelly the enemy deals with us. Yes, they are precisely an enemy. Already the enemy…
I have read books by authors who lived through the Special Military Operation about the horrors of war and heroism at the front, but I have never seen a memoir written by those who live in the line of fire. Each of us – the firefighter, the medic, the driver, the bread delivery man or the store clerk – are the ones who, day in and day out, simply do their jobs. Routinely. Under fire.
After today’s airstrikes, my brother, smiling, said: “Let’s have some tea or something.” In the anxious silence came my mother’s equally calm reply, “Let’s. We can’t stand here forever with such dejected faces.” Now, unlike in 2014, there is no despair or stifling fear in my soul, only calmness. And a little tiredness….
Faina Savenkova
English Translation: D. Armstrong
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