My father went to war on the very first day, leaving my mother with four children. The smallest was only two months old. Miraculously survived and never told us children about the horrors through which he went. But once the film "The Fate of a Man" was brought to our village. After watching it, my daddy with tears in his eyes told that he had experienced everything about what was shown in the film on himself! Once at the front at the very beginning, they, the soldiers, for some reason did not have enough weapons, there was practically nothing to defend themselves with, and therefore the Nazis captured them and loaded them into wagons. He and a friend made a hole and jumped off on the move, but unfortunately unsuccessfully, broke his collarbone and lost consciousness. The Nazis found them in the forest, beat them very much, beat his comrade to death. So he again ended up in captivity, where for a week people were not given either water or food. When they were driven to another camp, and there were puddles on the road after the rain, many fell to drink and could no longer get up, they were immediately shot by the Nazis, and my ass only moistened my mouth with water, because I understood that if I fell into a puddle, then I would not will rise. So he ended up in captivity in Germany, I don't remember in which concentration camp. Since he was young and strong, the local Germans took him to auxiliary work, thanks to which he survived. Once the Germans drank and decided to make fun of him, poured him a full glass of vodka and said drink, he refused the snack, they also drank a second glass for him and again refused a snack, they drank him a third and again, and again refused a snack. The Germans tell him Stalin is kaput, and my daddy tells them "nicht Hitler kaput!" Of course, if these were not ordinary Germans, he would have been shot right there. He says that there was so much hatred in his entire body that he did not take any hops, and at the same time he really believed in our VICTORY not for a second did not doubt! He returned home with poor health, but like all that generation, he worked tirelessly on a collective farm for a workday which, in fact, cost nothing, that is, everything was aimed at restoring our Motherland. Together with my mom, they kept a household to feed their five children. When the war began, dad was 30 years old, and mom was 29, but despite the horrors they had to endure during the war, they endured all the hardships of the post-war period. They did not harden, but instilled in us, their children, a sense of responsibility, hard work, benevolence, purposefulness, decency.