So, Victory Day....
Victory Day is almost over, so I guess I better write something before it ends and my post fades into irrelevance.
On May 9, 1945, the Nazi government officially surrendered to the Allies. The European phase of World War II was over. The Nazi threat was over.
I don't think people realize just how much that meant. The Nazis were out to exterminate everyone they perceived as inferiors. The Jews, the Romani, homosexuals and, yes, Slavs. Sure, they weren't in nearly as much of a hurry to exterminate Russians, Ukrainians, Belorussians, Poles, Czechs, Slovaks, Bulgarians and Serbians as they were Jews and Romani, but Slavs were still disposable to them. Under the Nazis' plan, we were going to be their slaves until we couldn't work, at which point, yes, we would be exterminated.
If the Nazis conquered Soviet Union, I would not be alive. Neither would my parents, or my siblings, or anyone I grew up knowing.
During World War II, 20 million people died in the former Soviet Union. The current-day Ukraine and Belarus lost 16 and 25 percent of its population. Of course, it is worth point out that only 13 million of them were killed directly - the rest died of illness and starvation, or got killed during bombings, because they stepped on mines and otherwise fell victim to what the modern military strategies refer to as "collateral damage."
Yet, those numbers would have been so much greater if millions of soldiers from all across the Soviet Union didn't put everything on the line. They would have been greater if millions of civilians didn't work to maintain the defenses and keep the army going. And, while my people don't always acknowledge it, we probably would have lost millions more if it weren't for American Navy Seals risking their lives to transport much-needed supplies and equipment as part of the land-lease program. Because, make no mistake - some Americans did lose their lives trying to help the my people.
This is what this holiday is about - to remember everything and everyone we lost and honor those who made the victory possible. Whatever ethnicity they were, whatever forces they fought under, whatever they did - they all deserve to be honored and remembered.
On a personal note, I would like to take a moment to honor some of my relatives.
Grandma Nina, who survived the Siege of Leningrad, for which she will always have my respect. She was the one who first taught me about the war and pretty much ensured that her words would be permanently etched into my brain.
Grandpa Victor Semyonov, who served as a medic on the front lines and who, thankfully, lived long enough to share some stories with me. He always faced his life head-on and refused to let age and illness keep him down - his stubborn spirit endured until his dying day.
Grandpa Fyodor Sobolyev - he died when I was four, so I barely even remember him, but his daughter, Grandma Nina, told him a lot about him. When Grandma Nina and her grandmother, his mother, were trapped in the besieged Leningrad, he had to choose which one was evacuated. He chose Grandma Nina - something that she still has a hard time living with, but something which nonetheless probably saved her life. I cannot begin to imagine just how gut-wrenching that choice must have been, but I will always respect him for making it.
And so, in a proud tradition, I bow my head, face the rising sun and proclaim - S Dnyom Pobedy. To Victory Day.
Your sacrifices have not been forgotten.
On May 9, 1945, the Nazi government officially surrendered to the Allies. The European phase of World War II was over. The Nazi threat was over.
I don't think people realize just how much that meant. The Nazis were out to exterminate everyone they perceived as inferiors. The Jews, the Romani, homosexuals and, yes, Slavs. Sure, they weren't in nearly as much of a hurry to exterminate Russians, Ukrainians, Belorussians, Poles, Czechs, Slovaks, Bulgarians and Serbians as they were Jews and Romani, but Slavs were still disposable to them. Under the Nazis' plan, we were going to be their slaves until we couldn't work, at which point, yes, we would be exterminated.
If the Nazis conquered Soviet Union, I would not be alive. Neither would my parents, or my siblings, or anyone I grew up knowing.
During World War II, 20 million people died in the former Soviet Union. The current-day Ukraine and Belarus lost 16 and 25 percent of its population. Of course, it is worth point out that only 13 million of them were killed directly - the rest died of illness and starvation, or got killed during bombings, because they stepped on mines and otherwise fell victim to what the modern military strategies refer to as "collateral damage."
Yet, those numbers would have been so much greater if millions of soldiers from all across the Soviet Union didn't put everything on the line. They would have been greater if millions of civilians didn't work to maintain the defenses and keep the army going. And, while my people don't always acknowledge it, we probably would have lost millions more if it weren't for American Navy Seals risking their lives to transport much-needed supplies and equipment as part of the land-lease program. Because, make no mistake - some Americans did lose their lives trying to help the my people.
This is what this holiday is about - to remember everything and everyone we lost and honor those who made the victory possible. Whatever ethnicity they were, whatever forces they fought under, whatever they did - they all deserve to be honored and remembered.
On a personal note, I would like to take a moment to honor some of my relatives.
Grandma Nina, who survived the Siege of Leningrad, for which she will always have my respect. She was the one who first taught me about the war and pretty much ensured that her words would be permanently etched into my brain.
Grandpa Victor Semyonov, who served as a medic on the front lines and who, thankfully, lived long enough to share some stories with me. He always faced his life head-on and refused to let age and illness keep him down - his stubborn spirit endured until his dying day.
Grandpa Fyodor Sobolyev - he died when I was four, so I barely even remember him, but his daughter, Grandma Nina, told him a lot about him. When Grandma Nina and her grandmother, his mother, were trapped in the besieged Leningrad, he had to choose which one was evacuated. He chose Grandma Nina - something that she still has a hard time living with, but something which nonetheless probably saved her life. I cannot begin to imagine just how gut-wrenching that choice must have been, but I will always respect him for making it.
And so, in a proud tradition, I bow my head, face the rising sun and proclaim - S Dnyom Pobedy. To Victory Day.
Your sacrifices have not been forgotten.