We met in the spring of 2011, on the eve of Victory Day. I collected material about the participants in the war. A friend said that she personally knows such a person - he is her close relative, Uncle Vova. And she asked Uncle Vova to meet me and tell me about the war. So I ended up at Vladimir Vladimirovich Ivanov’s house. It is difficult to find the right words to describe the impressions of this first meeting with him, and of all subsequent ones too. I will only say that this is probably the most lively person I have ever communicated with. There is so much life in him that it is simply amazing how it can all fit into this small, sickly old man’s body, disfigured by the war. But it doesn’t fit in - it spills out, splashing everyone who happens to be nearby and infecting everyone with love. And after a few moments you begin to see only his eyes. Infinitely young, always different, depending on the moments they live, and incredibly beautiful. Veteran of the Great Patriotic War, Vladimir Vladimirovich Ivanov. Red Army soldier (private infantry). Vladimir Vladimirovich, how did the War begin for you? The war began from the very first days. I was 16 years old then. Finished nine grades. At this time we lived in the country. They learned that war - well, “on enemy soil we will defeat the enemy with little bloodshed and a mighty blow.” This was the mood, especially for a sixteen-year-old boy. And on the 22nd the war began, and on June 30th I, together with the Komsomol youth detachment of my district, already went to build defensive structures on the Dnieper, the upper reaches of the Dnieper, between Vyazma and Smolensk. They dug a ditch along the Dnieper, then dug in the bank - such anti-tank obstacles. We were already bombed there. So, the war started from here. And when were you mobilized? Well, at first I was sixteen years old, they couldn’t take me then. Before the offensive near Moscow, 15 days before, he was mobilized to build forest debris near Podolsk. Trees were cut down. Then I went to work. He worked at a military plant as an electrician. First at one plant, then at another - where they were transferred. First as a student, and by 1943, when he turned 18, he had already received his fourth grade. And I already had a reservation then, and I was not drafted into the army. Or rather, they tried to call me, but the personnel department took away the summons from me. But I believed that I had to go defend the Motherland. And through another military registration and enlistment office, without taking a crew, without showing a summons, he simply collected a duffel bag - and ended up in the Tula machine gun school. I studied there for two months. At this time, the battle on the Kursk Bulge was underway. Apparently there were big losses. And we were sent to the front as cadets (not the whole school, but part of it). And we ended up in the 12th Guards Division. Orel had already been liberated, and a division was being formed near Orel. We learned something there. And then - to the front. On foot. Through the Oryol, Kursk, Sumy regions, across Ukraine. Somewhere in the Chernihiv region fighting began. At first I was not a machine gunner, but a messenger (not to be confused with a signalman). The messenger is the one who runs from the command post, say, to the advanced company with reports. And already somewhere on September 29 or 30, the Dnieper was crossed near Lyubech. The fighting on the bridgehead was the most terrible, and 15 days later, on October 15, I was seriously wounded. He spent about 9 months in hospitals, then was declared unfit for military service. What kind of wound was it? I had a through wound. The belt broke, and the bullet entered from the front and exited from the back, damaging the pelvis. So, from the age of 18 I was already a war invalid. Well, nothing, he remained alive. That is, at the age of 18, your war began and ended at 18? It ended at 19, because while he was in the hospital, he was considered a military man. That's how I was a private. The battle for Lyubech was quite serious. Then - the crossing of the Dnieper. It was very difficult. The Dnieper is wide there, on the other side there are already German fortifications along the bank. We need to capture the first trench. And there were very fierce battles on the bridgehead. Especially the first ones, probably.3-4-5 days. Then we were taken beyond the Dnieper to replenish the division, and from that moment I became a machine gunner. That is, for ten days I was a machine gunner. That's my entire military career. Was it scary? It was scary when they approached the front, when you heard shooting, you could see the glow, they were bombing along the road. And then you simply have nowhere to go, and you get used to it, you’re not so afraid anymore. For example, you have to run 200-300 meters to transmit a report - and then you run. Shells are exploding everywhere - you still run, you fall, you run on. I write poetry. I consider myself a poet, I don’t take it seriously, but some say that I have good poems. There are bad ones. Doesn't matter. So, there are these lines: “It’s scary at night on the front line.” Precisely at night. A lot of good things have been written about the war. And we all read about how our reconnaissance passes through the front line, takes the language. But the Germans did the same thing. And almost every day someone was dragged from the front line, people disappeared. That's why it was very scary at night. To me, anyway. Because most of all, perhaps, I was afraid of being captured. I remember at night I went to the company with some kind of report and heard German speech. It was scary. Somewhere I became quiet, hid somewhere. That is, being captured is worse than death? It seemed to me much worse. Because I knew what captivity was. They wrote in the newspapers, I read it and knew that it was very bad. And then, being captured was considered a betrayal. Therefore, the fear of captivity was always present in me. How did you cope, what helped? Gradually you get used to this too. A person gets used to everything. So why is everyone scared, but some are cowards and others are not? After all, there were cases of desertion and betrayal. And others, no matter what, moved forward. I have one poem. I'll read it to you. It was just when we were withdrawn from the bridgehead beyond the Dnieper for a day, and reinforcements arrived. The regiment was withdrawn to be replenished beyond the Dnieper for two days. After a week of fighting, there were only a few of us left. Some are killed and some are wounded, but the bullet has missed me so far, thank God. Near rear - and it’s as if the war is not a war. You'll sleep to your heart's content, from the belly of a soldier's gruel. No shooting, no bombing for you. Silence. "Everyone line up!" - suddenly received a command. They brought two soldiers. No belts, no shoulder straps. His hands are bandaged with a snow-white bandage. "Crossbow" - it rang through the ranks like a groan. And my neighbor said through clenched teeth: “Cowardly bitches.” What did I feel? Pity, pain or fear? Automatic shots pierced the air. Nothing - not a plaque, not a star, not a cross - The unmarked grave will never be seen. And as soon as the sound of the terrible shots fell silent, the usual command sounded: “To the right. March!” And our tormented regiment went back to the Dnieper to the familiar crossing. It was also scary when they shot people in front of the entire regiment for shooting themselves. What is your attitude towards them? Indeed, on the one hand, it’s scary when people are shot. Well, I didn’t know them personally, but still they fought, young guys. But on the other hand, why should you fight for them? Although, after all, they also fought next to you and, perhaps, even much better than you. And they just gave up. And they are shot. Pity, pain and fear - you probably feel all this. And this, and another, and a third. That is, mercy is still above all? Well, of course. Did you write this then? No, much later. At first, when I returned from the front, I took everything lightly. Many were returning from the front at that time. And we did not consider ourselves any heroes or veterans. We tried to forget about everything and get involved in peaceful life. Somewhere there was a war - and to hell with it. The war is over - and thank God. Now there is a different, good life. I went to study. Graduated from the Moscow Institute of Oriental Studies. He worked at MGIMO, taught Vietnamese at the KGB School, although he himself is not a security officer, a civilian, without a rank. Worked at the Progress publishing house. He never aspired to power and never wanted to occupy high positions. And when suddenly it happened to be, well, let’s say, the head of the editorial office at Progress (temporarily, if someone left), I always thought that on this.