It was a cold winter; we ran outside the house to play with snow. There were a lot of children playing outside. If there is any good in war, then it is the unity of people. It doesn’t matter if you are poor or rich, good or bad, because everyone gets connected by the same problems. For a moment, I forget about the war, throwing with the snowballs got the priority. Exhausted and tired I went home late in the evening. The most I missed during this period was my father. He was somewhere there, outside in the dark world. I remember the smell of his brown leather jacket, the smell I will never forget. My mother was worried about him; the Russian soldiers did not spare anyone. There was a difference though, between regular army and private military. The first group was forced to fight, young men that were dropped in the middle of a conflict, not aware of what the purpose of the bloody war is. But the other group, they were the true savages, raping, stealing and killing was not foreign to them.
I think it was the winter I lost my uncle, brother of my father. A fighting jet fired a missile into the house where he was located together with my grandma. She was desperate, as there was no one left to help her to bury her son. She had no strength left, but luckily there were good neighbours ready to help her. After a short time, she also died, she could not handle everything that was happening. I remember her as a very kind person, that did not deserve everything she went through.
My father returned home, I got overwhelmed by happiness. I was always by his side; in my eyes, he was a true hero. Not all the children could feel the same, as many brave men died and never returned to their loved ones. The war zone extended and we had to flee once again, this time we moved to a city called Nalchik. At the time a lot of refugees where located there, I’m very thankful to those people that gave us a new shelter.
(to be continued)