Alexievich - Last Witnesses: An Oral History of the Children of World War II

June 1941

I remember it. I was very little, but I remember everything

The last thing I remember from the peaceful life was a fairy tale that mama read us at bedtime. My favorite oneabout the Golden Fish. I also always asked something from the Golden Fish: Golden FishDear Golden Fish My sister asked, too. She asked differently: By order of the pike, by my like We wanted to go to our grandmother for the summer and have papa come with us. He was so much fun.

In the morning I woke up from fear. From some unfamiliar sounds

Mama and papa thought we were asleep, but I lay next to my sister pretending to sleep. I saw papa kiss mama for a long time, kiss her face and hands, and I kept wondering: hes never kissed her like that before. They went outside, they were holding hands, I ran to the windowmama hung on my fathers neck and wouldnt let him go. He tore free of her and ran, she caught up with him and again held him and shouted something. Then I also shouted: Papa! Papa!

My little sister and brother Vasya woke up, my sister saw me crying, and she, too, shouted: Papa! We all ran out to the porch: Papa! Father saw us and, I remember it like today, covered his head with his hands and walked off, even ran. He was afraid to look back.

The sun was shining in my face. So warmAnd even now I cant believe that my father left that morning for the war. I was very little, but I think I realized that I was seeing him for the last time. That I would never meet him again. I was veryvery little

It became connected like that in my memory, that war is when theres no papa

Then I remember: the black sky and the black plane. Our mama lies by the road with her arms spread. We ask her to get up, but she doesnt. She doesnt rise. The soldiers wrapped mama in a tarpaulin and buried her in the sand, right there. We shouted and begged: Dont put our mama in the ground. Shell wake up and well go on. Some big beetles crawled over the sandI couldnt imagine how mama was going to live with them under the ground. How would we find her afterward, how would we meet her? Who would write to our papa?

One of the soldiers asked me: Whats your name, little girl? But I forgot. And whats your last name, little girl? Whats your mothers name? I didnt rememberWe sat by mamas little mound till night, till we were picked up and put on a cart. The cart was full of children. Some old man drove us, he gathered up everybody on the road. We came to a strange village and strangers took us all to different cottages.

I didnt speak for a long time. I only looked.

Then I remembersummer. Bright summer. A strange woman strokes my head. I begin to cry. I begin to speakTo tell about mama and papa. How papa ran away from us and didnt even look backHow mama layHow the beetles crawled over the sand

The woman strokes my head. In those moments I realized: she looks like my mama