I became interested in digging 5 years ago when I purchased a metal detector, but my passion for Russian history has gripped me since childhood. I grew up in a family in which almost every generation of men were combatants. I consider myself a happy person, since I was able to learn a lot from primary sources, so to speak. I have always been lucky in life, and having purchased a metal detector, I was more than once delighted with successful finds, which I was very proud of and even set aside a corner in the house for my own “museum.” But in my soul I constantly keep the memory of only one of them, at the sight of which my heart contracts.
I was lucky in that, as an adult, my great-grandfather was still alive, who was 90 years old. In the early spring of 2013, I began to dig up the garden, in the evening my grandfather also took up a shovel, I tried in every possible way to dissuade him, reminding him of his heart problem, but arguing with my grandfather turned out to be absolutely futile. While digging, the grandfather came across something solid; the earth did not give way. Suddenly my grandfather remembered that I had a metal detector and suggested checking the area where there was resistance to digging. I brought the device to my grandfather, showed him what and how, and then I went to flood the bathhouse to wash away the traces of the evening’s work. When I was returning, I saw my grandfather sitting bent over something, his shoulders were shaking, I realized that he was crying. Already excitedly, I rushed to my grandfather to find out what was the matter, but as soon as I approached, I immediately understood everything: in front of my grandfather lay the rusted helmet of a soldier of the Great Patriotic War.
Before my grandfather, who had gone through the entire war from beginning to end, having several wounds, all the horror of this ruthless war instantly flashed before his eyes, his comrades who had not returned from the front passed before his eyes. I sat down next to my grandfather and put my arm around his shoulders. We sat in silence for a long time, understanding each other without words. That night my grandfather and I never fell asleep. My grandfather, who didn’t like to talk about the war, talked to me until the morning. In the morning, my grandfather left, and I sat and rewinded our entire night conversation for a long time, realizing what the price of my happiness today was.
Sent by comrade Alexander L.
