“The Immortal Regiment of Valaam” mobile museum of memory

A long time ago, a good acquaintance, Uncle Vova, brought me a long, metal trough, threw it to the ground and said: “This is for the veterans.” Of course, I did not understand so asked again, and this is what he told me: that on the island of Valaam there is a house for disabled veterans. There is a long trough there and in the summer, it lies directly on the ground in the street. Whoever brings food pours it right into the trough and crippled people – I want to remind you, veterans – if they were able to, crawled there and ate.

Where there was truth to this story and where there was just bad fiction, I did not know but I remembered the words, and some 20 years later, everything was confirmed on the Internet.

I became terribly sad, more for us – for the living. How are we going to live? How will we live in such unconsciousness? But you need to live. They say you won’t kill yourself, but we are killing ourselves. We kill ourselves with unconsciousness and negligence.

I thought: what can I do? What can I do for them? “For them” is not a very correct word here. “For them” before all else rather means for ourselves. And I tried to repeat these words, and cut out Dobrov’s drawings on the boards. Suddenly they will be seen and people will remember the veterans and about the Great Victory. Do you remember how Zhzhenov, it seems, in the film “Hot Snow” repeated: “All that I can, all that I can.” Here I am, and I am doing all that I can. Because we cannot fully pay back or even understand. But we can remember. And why can’t we share victory with them through our memory, and then their victory will become our victory?”