I remember seeing Dad and other soldiers off to the front very well. The time was very hard, so many human tears were shed at the farewell of fathers, brothers, sisters. Dad was leaving the village with his fellow villagers. Mom was standing next to him, and with them we, the children, were like peas, one smaller than the other. I wanted to be with him, he took me in his arms.
I understood my mother’s anxiety and asked him: "Dad, will you take me with you?" He answered to calm me down: "I'll take you, I'll take you." And when everyone loaded up, and dad was the last to jump into the back of the car and the car drove off, I realized that they didn’t take me. I broke away from my mother's arms and started to catch up, stumbled over a piece of brick and fell. I felt so bitter and so hurt then, even now, after so many years, I can hardly remember it without tears.