Daddy

On the beach next to me was a Russian grandfather with two grandchildren.
Black all, you can see immediately - not a month here sunshine, so it turned out.
In the first days, we just greeted, then changed to read to the holes, wet from the splash of Russian newspapers, and when there was nothing more to read, we talked.
First about the Montenegrin flora and the Serbian fauna, then about my children and his grandchildren, and then simply about life.
His son, bought an apartment here, here grandfather and grandchildren and sunshine all summer. Well, only sometimes I want to talk in Russian, but not with anyone.
My grandfather (I didn’t even ask his name for a week) told me some of his family stories, here’s one of them:

We lived in a small village in Ukraine. My father, his kingdom of heaven, went through the whole war, all four years in the tank fought.
When I left, I don’t remember how young I was, but when I came back, I remember as if it was yesterday. The boys were very jealous of me at the time - the folder was alive, with a German accordion, all in medals, orders, and even with whole hands and legs. That was a great rarity then.
True, the bald all and the mouth became small and round - the head in the tank little burned, but the eyes whole and he is healthy as a bull.

Our father worked as a tractorist in the collage, lived hungry, but friendly, did not complain. Everything would be fine, only in the 52nd, coal mines were opened around us and volunteers of Komsomol began to invite them. The volunteers ended, and did not begin, but the task of the party must be fulfilled, and then they began, if you want - you don't want, to scratch all in a row.
And during the work, they didn’t take that no rumors were, probably, they only roamed in the evening.
A man is sitting in the house, not touching anyone, and this time - hello. There were agitators with the police.
All men from eighteen to fifty were taken. You write a declaration of a volunteer, catch the teeth and the mine in the "fight for coal." You don't want to write right away, so the kidneys will be cut off first, and then you will write right away.
My father did not want to go to the mines.
In the hut under the floor he forged a place, smaller than the grave, and as soon as the dog in the evening grabbed, he quickly grabbed the documents, put on a jacket with medals, baptized himself and entered the floor. From above it was closed with a board and each of us, the children, was able to quickly cover the father’s shelter with a carpet. Even a three year old sister. Not noticeable at all.

Sometimes, they break into the house, and let Dad look for him. Everyone turned around, first looking for his father, then his documents, awards, costumes.
Mother said that she said, just before your arrival, the husband gathered, took his passport, medals and went to the city, why, I don't know.
Comrades of agitators argue, plead and leave, maybe for a week, maybe for a month.
The father came out of his grave with his whole face in tears. Until the next dog.
My mother regretted him.
Of course, it is offensive - he did not save his life, he conquered the homeland for four years, leave the man alone, let him pasture the land in his colloquium, so it is not.
One day, they found it.
They pulled it out, brought it out to the courtyard and so knocked off... still in his ears is his scream.
My father worked in the mine for a few months.
Their brigade fell there.
Many were killed and their legs cut above their knees.
Nothing, he did not despair, he did everything at home, jumped around the hut like a monkey, even faster than he was healthy. He even played football with us, stood at the gates.
He was a good man, a good man.
Thank God, he lived to old age and was buried in the 80s.

My grandfather got up and went to the sea to pick up the grandchildren who were fighting for the mattress, and I had a man with tears on his devised face who was lying in the dark and tried not to scream medals.