Can I Cover A Window With A Poster?

My War ... Part 10

                                                                         -10 -

Our town is located in the guerrilla zone, but our life was relatively calm. There were some brief skirmishes between the guerrillas and police. In one of the "fighting local» killed head Borough. Drunk, he jumped into the square with a sword, calling someone in a fight and was wounded in the leg, and while there was an exchange of fire - bled and died. The town burned more than once. I had grown accustomed to fire and cold-bloodedly took out of our modest home belongings.

One night, it is unknown whose bomber unloaded on us. Bombs fell near our house. One hit a neighbor's barn, dug a deep crater on the edge of which stood unharmed pig.

We also had natural disasters. This hurricane swept over the town. At noon it was so dark, that only endlessly shining lightning lit up the flying roof sheds. In the courtyard stood tied horse. The terrible wind, it fell to her knees and could not get up. It did not last long, but quite enough to topple old trees, adorned city streets.

And on the eve of our house burst into a fireball, destroying the chimney in the kitchen. I am at this moment sitting on their haunches, getting out from under the cupboard illustrated magazine. The blow was deafening. I was thrown to the floor and I saw ourselves floating from left to right at eye level, silvery-pink mist ball, the size of a soccer ball. It was like time-lapse filming. Time, as it were stopped and I did not understand when explosion occurred: before or after the ball? I am deaf and could not move. The room had two other men. They, too, saw all this, and their hairstyles were violated, stacked from left to right. When lightning was gone, we discovered a hole in a window the size of a coin trehkopeechnuyu and around the smoked glass. In home was smoky and smelled strongly of ozone, but the fire was not. Mom, being in the kitchen, received injuries from shrapnel shattered brick chimney, a neighbor, who was nearby, buried up to his knees on the ground. If it were not rubber galoshes, she would have died. By evening, everyone was deaf and we loudly discussed the incident. After all the turmoil they returned to the alarming weekday with new rumors.

Through the years, the word "war" is perceived as a continuous chain of horror. But when exist in this war, living in this time and not one year, all these events are stretched over time and it turns out that the horrors do not occur often, and all rest of the time people just live. live uneasily with their everyday problems and joys available. In quiet periods listening to music - Opera arias. We had a gramophone. Danced the tango and waltz, singing with a guitar, fell in love, got married and spinning rollers. Youth more war.

                

 

   

 

©   -   все авторскае права защищены,   Наталия Рудзина (Natalia Rudsina).