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autumn of my mother and I went to the Urals. Dad worked at the plant, which produces ammunition. Dad was a soldier, and after evacuations from Minsk, was mobilized to work as a military specialist in Katav-Ivanovsk Chelyabinsk region. He wrote in Minsk and found pop. hit the Ural Switzerland - Corner of extraordinary beauty: the mountains, lovely lakes, forests, ski, fish, bear meat. Wild strawberry and bell twice as large ours. After the front-line of darkness, burning light bulbs - is unusual. Only after looking closer saw that and the Urals war swept a heavy roller. People exhausted by hunger and overwork, merznuschie in ice-covered rooms - are refugees. All evacuees were considered by Jews ... My brother got a passport, found in it a new natsionalnost - a Jew. We lived hard, as all around him. Day of victory was met there. I remember how thrilled I danced in the streets, although never this is not learned. Never have so do not overfill happiness. Here so would always people who loved each other. So ended my war. Of course, this only part of my memories, but enough of them to become, to put it mildly, nervous, particularly, as I sometimes remind people close to the doctors. The most interesting thing that anywhere these events are not moved, they are always with me and resonate with real life. I have that to compare with. What I'm older, the heavier the burden, and I want частично от неё избавиться, что я и сделала на этих страницах.
08.03.1994 г. Климентина Рудзина
© - все авторскае права защищены, Наталия Рудзина (Natalia Rudsina).
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