«I do understand you, old man. We have all suffered. We have suffered more than any other nation. We lost the father of our people, Stalin, under whom the nation defeated fascism. And now a new danger threatens us. Do you know that the Americans have already dropped an atom bomb over Japan? And now they are threatening us and so we must defend ourselves. We do not want to attack anyone but we must be vigilant at all times. Am I not right? Yes, we are carrying out tests, but all measures have been taken to ensure that the local population is not.endangered. This is why we suggested that you leave the village. Therefore, insisting that we are driving you to your death is hardly justified. We have no choice – we want to save the country from an American invasion.»
Grandfather, frowning, did not speak. Then, turning around abruptly, he went towards his bullock cart. My father patted me on the shoulder and tousled my hair.
«Alright then, off you go. Help grandfather and grandmother as we agreed,» he said.
I nodded in agreement and then spontaneously looked up at the sky – what if an American bomb was already flying towards us. But the sky was clear, not a single cloud, a clear peaceful sky…
«What will you eat?» grandmother asked my father. «We have some flour, let’s share it.»
«It’s not necessary. We have provisions of tinned food,» answered father. «Don’t worry about me. It’s better that you do all that the army bids you to do…»
«If you really get hungry, then kill the hens. I’ve left them for you.» Grandfather lashed the horse with his whip, ignoring father’s last words, and we set off.
I MISS MY FATHER. My wife and I were walking around the shops attempting to buy something «typical of Moscow» to take to Semipalatinsk. There were queues everywhere for everything, people were snatching pieces of sausage wrapped in polythene, from each other, jostling each other for meat and cheese. Good quality candy, which my father used to like very much, had disappeared. I can’t find anything for my mother. I’ll just have to accept the fact that this evening, for the first time, I will fly to my homeland, to my father’s grave, with empty hands.
My wife and I walked silently down the Arbat. It was crowded. There were street artists, photographers, singers, poets and lively discussions. Young people like everywhere in the world were enjoying themselves, loving, hating and arguing.