He was born on June 22, 1920 at the Otrado-Kubanskaya station in the Gulkevichy district of Krasnodar Krai in a large Cossack family. There he finished seven years of school, worked on a collective farm, and was called up for active military service when he turned 18 years old. Ivan Ilyich was lucky enough to begin this service in the Red Banner Baltic fleet, in the legendary Kronstadt. Here he received the education to become a Navy radio operator. In 1939, the Soviet-Finnish war began, and my father went to the frontlines. Later, he recalled how difficult this war had been. Especially memorable to him was the bitter winter cold, which created incredibly difficult conditions for the combatants. And then he was back to Kronstadt again. Here Ivan Ilyich went through accelerated training at the commander's courses, receiving an officer's rank. Soon, the Great Patriotic War began. During the first months of the war, he served in Kronstadt, and then was assigned to the Northern fleet. Here, throughout the whole war, he served in command positions, fighting on torpedo boats of the Northern fleet. He talked about the war rarely, but rather liked to talk, not without humorous light, about the many Maritime traditions that he had learned during his years of service in the Navy. After the war, he stayed in Leningrad. Here he met my mother. In the following years, my father worked as a highly ranked electric and gas welder at the Admiralty shipyard. And he was very proud of it. He was proud to be a part of the heroic working class of the Great city of Lenin. Ivan Ilyich was a Communist who joined the party in the difficult year of 1942. He was well aware of the role and significance of the working class for our country. In conversations at home, he always spoke warmly of his working comrades. By nature, he was a collectivist, a consistent supporter of truth and justice. Each launch of a new ship was also his holiday. Once, at his invitation, I visited the launch of a ship on the Admiralty Avenue. This event made a strong impression on me and I still remember it well. It was a real holiday of work without any organization and official fuss. It was a natural result of the colossal work of thousands of workers, engineers, designers - all the people to whom such great and holy concepts as our Soviet homeland, its Navy, the traditions of their grandfathers and fathers-the same creators of ships for the protection of sea borders - were dear. Many of those who were at the festival still remembered the war and understood very well what another cruiser meant for the fleet. Ivan Ilyich passed on his respect for the working class and the working man to me forever. And another thing: he never contrasted his rank of naval officer with that of a worker, a Builder of naval ships. For him, these were states of the same order, of the same scale of measurement. My father knew a lot, read a lot. Therefore, he was well versed in Russian literature. He played the Russian seven-string guitar well. As any self-respecting sailor, he tap-danced wonderfully. He, like any naval officer, loved guests, festive friendly dinners. Ivan Ilyich was very friendly, easy to talk to, but understood very well what a man's and an officer's dignity is. Unfortunately, I don't remember him in his officer's uniform, but his Navy cutlass hung on the wall in our room for a long time. Ivan Ilyich was a very modest man: even on May 9, he was embarrassed to wear his military awards, for some reason. He limited himself to wearing only the Order of the Great Patriotic War and award pads. In 1990, there was an event that excited him. He suddenly received a summons from the military enlistment office. He returned from there in a restrained happy state and with a small box. In it, was the medal "For Bravery". He was awarded it back in 1944. And only then, after so many years, the award has found its hero. Ivan Ilyich worked as long as he had the strength to continue. When he became seriously ill, he met this fact with dignity and courage. He refused to stay in the hospital; it was too late to start intensive treatment. For too long, he had been hiding his serious illness from his family. Ivan Ilyich died on April 17, 1993. He was buried in the southern cemetery of Leningrad, not far from his wife, my mother. They are separated by only three hundred meters, or only three minutes of walking...