Rus Articles Journal

Generation 90 - x. What for us is meant by the Victory?

“Time … time … time, two …, - the sound technician considers, - time, two, three …“ And itself sings: “… It seems to me at times that soldiers, with bloody not comers of fields … Time, time, two … Not to our earth lay down once, and turned into white cranes … Time, time … time, two …“ Strike behind a door drums - a military orchestra, boys and girls in the Cossack form, with exaggeratedly solemn persons. Why they in this close hall with the drums? And why here I? I do to

Ya a sad face and I greet the teachers entering the hall, perfectly understanding that all this festival for me - an empty phrase. Grandiloquent words about the Homeland and the Victory will hardly be able to inspire me, and I do not test either sacred awe, or a worship for heroes - veterans. Just me managed to come to hand to the dean and to become one of volunteers who will go to a concert - that`s all.

Many of us who were born at the beginning of 90 - x, still know about the Great Patriotic War “first-hand“. We - one of the last generations which will hold in remembrance real-life communication with the people who passed war. But, indulgently listening to stories of grandmothers, we, students are philosophers, we study war as the social phenomenon - is cold, impartial, as well as it is necessary to researchers.

We consider war as the integral attribute of mankind and we display its social functions, emergence mechanisms, positive and negative aspects on shelves. We are philosophers that is, we seek to get into an essence of things where all of them - both died, and gathered in this hall, see only a surface. We are philosophers, and we study “masses“, “people“. Including those who laid down life for this habitual set of stamps - heroism, patriotism, call of duty, a great Victory, release …

Sacred war? Everything is correct: who will want to give life for good reason which he does not consider sacred? And we, philosophers, study this process of formation of the necessary beliefs in public consciousness and we discuss its most effective strategy. And of course, we look at all this outside, from the outside - and we have no desire to join those who hurry to lay down life for “sacred business“, to those who shout “down with war“. By and large, “everything ethically is neutral“, isn`t it?

I am sorry it is, immensely, insufferably a pity for the people who gave lives for these illusions and it is even more a pity for survivors at whom except these illusions nothing remained, but … but I study them.

“Only still cry, all cry, all cry at dawn tulips as live hearts of the soldiers who did not come from fight“, - the thin shivering voice the girl begins to sing on a scene. What does she know about war? And in general, whether it is possible “to know“ war? Or it, as well as religious experience, it is impossible to understand reason, and it is only possible to worry?

“… They cry as people, they cry on people...“ This song was sung by E. Khil - I remember, the grandmother spoke to me. The whole eternity back when today`s veterans were young people.

Time, time … time, two …

Among young student`s attractive faces begin to flash unusual to this hall wrinkled faces and a gray hair of veterans. I suddenly realize to what to them it is a lot of, it is a lot of years. What is felt by them now?

Students step on the stage, strangers, the learned words about the Victory and about our gratitude to those who for this Victory battled say. And one for another our student`s chorus sings military songs. “… The death is not terrible, more than once we met it in the steppe … Here and now it is necessary me it it is turned …“

- And now we will hand cash bonuses to our veterans, - the vigorous woman with a magnificent hairdress exclaims. - Skripnik Fyodor Ivanovich! (Applause …) Nikolaeva Svetlana Semyonovna … (Applause …) Poplavsky Dmitry Borisovich … It is absent today … Ivanov Alexey Petrovich … Too did not come. Yes, unfortunately, many of our veterans are ill … “You me wait for

and at a crib do not sleep …“, - the soundtrack quietly sounds. To me it becomes for some reason terrible.

“I do not know, there is on our Earth something more important and more valuable than life, but, probably, is if you were at war for it and gave the lives“, - the next congratulating steps on the stage. Farce, just some farce: nothing can be more expensive than life - just because except life we have nothing! I look back - why in the face of so many people - not only veterans - tears?

“... Eh, are expensive... Dust yes fog …“ And I remember this book - in a blue paper cover … We with the grandmother studied on her all these military songs when to me there were years five - six. The grandmother is living - is healthy and found war only the little girl, but the first songs which she sang to me, for some reason were about war. “… Cold weather, alarms and a steppe tall weeds …“ What is it? I pay? Why? I am a philosopher, I am a cynic - I cannot cry from - for … trifles!

Falls and again the curtain rises. On a scene - the apartment. Under sounds of a waltz the young couple is turned. Young, as seventy years ago those who sit in the hall now. Suddenly music is interrupted.

- Attention! Attention! Moscow speaks. Today at four o`clock in the morning without declaration of war the German troops attacked our country …, - slowly, stopping after each word, the announcer says.

“… Night is short, clouds …“ It already in a military uniform sleep. Stand silently, having embraced. “… In this hall empty we dance together, so tell though the word …“ Why you show all this? What have to feel now those for whom this scene - reality? “… So tell though the word - itself I do not know about what …“

Why the girl standing near me secretly wipes tears? Why I want to hide from it the face? “… And I to Russia, home want, I did not see mother so long ago …“ And I? How many days I forget to call home?

“… It seems to me at times that soldiers, with bloody not comers of fields, not to our earth fell once, and turned into white cranes …“

a moment of silence Appears. Offstage hours tick.

“… Remember! In centuries, in years, - remember!“ … Tuk … tuk … “About those who will never come any more, - remember! “ Tuk … tuk … In the hall turn off the light - yes, correctly, so best of all! “… People! While hearts are knocked, remember! What price won, please, remember happiness!.“ The voice rings and is interrupted from tears. And the girl reading these verses does not pretend to be - I understand. “… About those who will never come any more I conjure, REMEMBER!“

That`s all. “The Victory Day - gunpowder became permeated with the smell …“, - bashes out the Cossack orchestra. With feeling unclear to me internal clarification I leave the hall. I hurry: to me it is urgent, it is urgently necessary to get home, to parents. “… It is a holiday with tears in the eyes …“, - I in a low voice sing together with an orchestra, I run out from university and I blink from absolutely already summer sun.