I am Mother Russia and my Ghost Children saved me in Stalingrad, they burnt themselves, but they didn’t let me down, it happened in Stalingrad in the autumn of 1942. My children, they were no warmongers, evolved themselves as soldiers from students, artists, craftsmen, cobbler, lover-boys. They left their comfortable lives to burn themselves for me, Mother Russia when the Nazi invaders tried to harm my chastity. They picked up a war that was to be fought between a toddler and a wrestler, the unprepared men trusting a wolf and the wolf who had taken the mask of a goat to earn the trust, between the smiling victim and the grinning backstabber. As the distance between the shores of the great river Volga and the city of Stalingrad was getting minimized, my sons arrived from the other side of Volga. They were from 16 to 60, kids to women, but they came, ignoring the aerial firepower, the artillery and the risk of blazing oil tanks and landmines. They came forward to free me from the clutches of the demons. My bravest son knew that the Nazis had built oil tanks that would explode to burn my gallant children as they forward. My son, a Major took a major risk to launch a commando operation into the temporary command center in Stalingrad only with a hope to secure the forwarding soldiers, but in vain. The mission failed and the oil tanks exploded. As if my sons cared for that, as if they were afraid of that. The oil tanks exploded as they tried to enter the city of ruins. The Nazis cheered that my sons were burning to death like in hellfire, which they deserved for being Comrades. But the cheer wasn’t for long. My sons were full burnt, but they fought till last drop of blood drying up, they were burning and the flames out of their bodies seem like the aura of their gallant, they forwarded without trying to distinguish their fire, they were burning in the fire of truest patriotism, they didn’t retreat, they forwarded towards the Nazi trenches. The afraid Nazis pierced their full burnt bodies with the sprays of bullets from their machine guns and cannons. The Nazis called them ghosts, the ghosts who were burnt, full burnt and probably dead but yet their dead-bodies forwarded to avenge the Nazis for what they have done to the mother of these ghosts. My burning sons burnt the Nazis along with them, they demolished the Nazi power with their vaporing blood and burning soul. They were pledged to free me, they sacrificed their lives in thousands. The German advance was halted in the shore of Volga since then no enemy has ever dared to look beyond Stalingrad, never. Stalingrad is the city nobody would dare look at. The face of history was and the destiny of this world changed in the shore of Stalingrad. The global fear Hitler was downed in the shores of Volga and thus my ghost sons saved the world from destruction but they never claimed any thankfulness from anyone in the face of this planet. Because their aim was to burn themselves to free their mother, me, Mother Russia. This happened in Stalingrad in the autumn of 1942.
Posted on: Wed, 10 Dec 2014 17:46:16 +0000
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