Passing on the Memories

On the eve of Victory Day this year, Russia had 1,021,000 WWII war veterans. Of these, 205,129 were still waiting to receive a state apartment and 254,611 were waiting for a telephone line to be installed.

Veteran Mikhail Platonov had been waiting for a telephone since 1984. This year, on the eve of Victory Day, he was sent a postcard informing him that “he was granted permission to install a telephone.” Unfortunately, Platonov died in 1997. According to the Russian Committee on War Veterans, such cases are unfortunately not that rare.

Meanwhile, recent polls show that hazing scandals and problems in the military are changing Russians’ views of that institution. Over half of Russians (55%) polled by monitoring.ru said they want an end to military conscription and the establishment of a fully professional army. Fully 69% of Russians polled by ROMIR do not want their close relatives drafted into the army. These sympathies are now reflected in draft-dodging. Interfax reported that, in 1985, 443 Russians refused to answer the military draft. In 2001, that number had risen to 20,000.

Yet, despite such trends and attitudes, the nation still venerates it war heroes. This year, the 56th anniversary of the war’s end, Moscow youth paid homage to the country’s dwindling veteran population, gifting them with flowers at the main memorial gathering sites: near the Bolshoi Theater, at Gorky Park, and near the Poklonnaya Gora complex. Many asked the veterans to pose with them for photos and heard many stories from living legends.

Unfortunately, one legendary veteran did not live long after this Victory Day. War legend Alexei Maresiev (photo, below) died of a heart attack on May 18, 20 minutes before he was to be feted for his 85th birthday with a new documentary film—he would have turned 85 two days later.

Maresiev, an Air Force fighter pilot, was shot down by the Germans on April 4, 1942, in a battle over Staraya Rus. Seriously wounded, he crawled for 18 days through snowy forest, surviving on berries and melted snow. He was found by partisans and hospitalized. But both legs had been frozen and, to prevent him dying from gangrene, they had to be amputated. It seemed his dream of returning to the front was lost.

Undaunted, the steel-willed Maresiev recuperated and learned to walk, and later even to dance, with protheses.

In June 1943, Maresiev reported to the 63rd Air Regiment and convinced officers there to let him fly. Prior to his accident, he had shot down four German planes. Afterward, he shot down another seven, including three in one sortie.

Maresiev’s exploits was immortalized by Pravda journalist Boris Polevoy, whose book Novel of a Real Man became popular with generations of Soviet youth. The book also became the basis for a film and an opera by Prokofiev.

During the last 20 years of his life, Maresiev worked as deputy chairman of the Russian Committee of War Veterans, living on a miniscule pension.

A hot air balloon featuring the words “85 years, the flight is going OK” was to be launched on his birthday. But the flight was unexpectedly interrupted.  RL