Funny Children's Stories. Bilingual Edition

После этого обычно все замолкают ненадолго. И я даже знаю, о чём все думают в это время. Потому что кто-то обязательно скажет что-то про союзников хорошее. А как только кто-то это скажет, так все начинают сразу говорить всякое хорошее про союзников. О ленд-лизе, конечно, много говорят. И в конце концов все сойдутся на том, что без американской тушёнки мы все бы тут померли от голода.

Обязательно кто-нибудь вспомнит про блокаду. И скажет, что в блокаду кошек и крыс ели. Хотя никто из наших гостей никогда ни одного блокадника в глаза не видел.

А кто-то однажды сказал, что в блокаду были случаи, когда матери своих детей ели. И брат моей мамы сказал тогда, что это было не в блокаду, а в двадцать девятом году, а потом ещё в сорок шестом. И тут на него все зашикали. Что ты, мол, такое говоришь. А мама ему сказала: «Не говори так громко. Соседи могут услышать».

И вот я думаю, почему же это так: война уже давно закончилась, а взрослые всё про неё вспоминают и вспоминают? Почему они, как соберутся у нас, так сразу начинают вспоминать, как было во время войны? И почему они всё говорят, говорят и говорят об одном и том же?

И мне вот ещё что непонятно. Я как-то попробовал американскую тушёнку. Oна, конечно, очень вкусная была. И мясо это тушёное на мясо даже не было похоже. Оно было в десять раз вкуснее обычного мяса.

И я подумал, почему же американцы посылали нам такое вкусное мясо. Ведь во время войны можно было что угодно нам посылать. Почему же они нам посылали самое вкусное, что у них было? Можно ведь было нам посылать то, что американцы сами есть не любят. Мы бы всё равно это съели.

American Stewed Meat

The war ended a long time ago, but adults still remember about it all the time. When they get together in our room, they immediately start remembering about how things were during the war. And they talk about the same things over and over again.

Actually, no one talks about the war itself. Everyone only remembers how they lived during the war. And no one talks about the war itself because there is no one around to talk about it: some were still too young and others were too old to be drafted. And in our room, I have never seen those whose age was just right for the draft.

Only my dad could tell how things were in the war. But he says nothing to our guests. Once when I asked him to tell me, he said that it was nothing like what they showed in the movies.

Dad told me that everyone was afraid that he might be killed. Everyone had a single thought: whether or not he would be killed. On the whole, it was really scary there.

When I asked Dad whether he was scared that he might be killed, he said that he too was really scared. But he said that everyone was scared in different ways. For example, once he was put in charge of safeguarding an officer of the command staff. And as they began to walk, the officer lay down on his stomach and crawled the whole way. And Dad said that he felt very embarrassed for this officer.

I remember asking my dad whether or not he killed anyone. And my dad said that once he had a chance to kill someone. In those days, no one could be certain which buildings were occupied by the Russians and which ones, by the Germans. And it just so happened that looking down through the window Dad spotted some Germans. They were very close to him. Dad grabbed his rifle. But it was full of sand, and Dad could not do anything with it. Then Dad grabbed another rifle, but it was also full of sand.

Once Dad told me that he dragged his wounded commander to the hospital. And as Dad was dragging him, he thought that the commander got shot again. But Dad was not sure about that.

When he finally brought his commander to the hospital, Dad was highly praised and was promised a medal. Because they gave out medals for things like that. But for some reason, he was not given that medal.

Mom says that Dad was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. She says that because we have never heard of anyone coming back from Stalingrad alive. But Dad did come back from Stalingrad. But later he was drafted again.

I once heard Mom telling our guests that before the very end of the war, letters from my dad stopped coming for a few months. Mom did not know what to think. It was already May of forty-five, and still there was nothing from my dad. On the eighth of May, our neighbor told Mom that the war was over. He was angry that the whole world knew about it but we did not. Mom did not know whether to believe him or not and went to sleep.

Early in the morning, she was awoken by three doorbell rings. Three rings meant that someone was coming to see us. Mom did not go to open the door because it was still very early in the morning. At such an early hour, it could only be the milkwoman, who sold us milk.