I’m not sure if this tale is true or just a legend… Fact or fiction… But I want to believe that such fortunate coincidences actually happened in life. At least, that’s how I heard it, and that’s how I’ll tell it now.
…In a small village, there lived a woman named Mary. She had lost her husband before the war when he fell through the ice one early spring but managed to get out. However, he fell ill afterward with a terrible fever and didn’t survive. She had three sons. The eldest was twenty-two, the middle one was nineteen, and the youngest was just a year younger. The eldest was thinking about marriage, while the younger ones were still courting girls and never spoke about marriage. Then the war broke out… and they all left. They went to the frontline. The eldest and the middle one went almost immediately, while the youngest joined them only in forty-two.
From the middle son, there was only one letter saying they were fighting the enemy and to take care of themselves. That was all they could write. She was glad just to hear that. It was a sign of life… But from her eldest, there was nothing. He left as if he vanished… She waited, but nothing, not a word…
The youngest wrote, though rarely, as the war allowed. But he wrote.
Then a notification came about Alex, the middle one. It said he was missing in action. And from the eldest, Alexander, there was nothing. She became numb.
The neighbors said she still had Andy, he was alive, and God willing, he’d return… While they had no hope left…
Towards the end of the war, Andy wrote to say he was wounded, lightly in the leg, and not to worry. He would be home soon. “Wait for me!” he wrote. So, she waited. And soon, the war was over.
She ran to the station for every train that came through. It wasn’t close… But Andy didn’t come, again and again. Then one day a train arrived, and she saw him—her son walking along the platform! Leaning on a cane, clearly, the injury wasn’t as mild as he said. She rushed to him, hugging him, crying… “Andy, Andy, my dear boy…” But then he suddenly said, “Mum, why are you calling me Andy? I’m Alex…”
She was overwhelmed… Alex! She had already given up hope, prayed for his soul. Such sin she bore on her conscience… They stood crying together.
He said he had been badly concussed in battle, and they must have thought him dead. He came around and crawled to the outskirts of some village. Fortunately, a woman found him and hid him at great risk to herself, as the Germans had occupied the area. Later she managed to get him to the partisans. His memory was gone… He remembered having a mother, brothers, but not their names. He couldn’t recall where he lived. All he knew was that he used to be a tractor assistant, remembered fields… Well, the partisans didn’t take chances. They kept an eye on him—who knows if he might have been an enemy in disguise?
Then he started going on missions with them, laying mines on the railway—he did it all. Later, when the area was liberated, he asked to join the army unit. Many from the partisan group went to the regular Army then. They assigned him to the tank unit. As he knew tractors, he first served as a mechanic, then a driver-gunner. He reached Berlin. He got wounded again, in the leg. And slowly, his memory returned, piece by piece. First, he remembered the names of his brothers, then his mother. Eventually, his village. Only it was after the war had ended. He had written a letter, but where it got lost, nobody knows…
Mary found a cart and persuaded the driver to take Alex home. It was difficult for him to endure such a long journey. But the cart couldn’t take them right to their village, as they needed to turn towards another at some point. So, they walked the rest of the way. Slowly, as Alex’s leg was still painful. They arrived by evening, as darkness fell. She saw someone moving in the yard! A stranger… Smoking a cigarette, the glow was visible. But the dog didn’t bark… She had a good dog, though old, from before the war.
Mary was afraid.
“Alex,” she said, “Stand still, there’s someone strange there…”
But Alex (the advantage of young eyes!) took a closer look and suddenly went quickly to the house, then tossed aside his cane and, limping badly, almost ran.
And from the house, tossing away a cigarette, ran that ‘stranger,’ nearly tearing off the gate…
They hugged tightly, and then she knew…. Gasped: “Andy!” unable to move, as her legs gave way. She sank to the ground where she stood.
Andy had come home in a truck, not by train. Someone had advised him to get off at an earlier station, saying it would be quicker. He arrived, but his mother had gone to the station. They missed each other.
And nothing was heard from the eldest. Years went by…. The sons got married long ago; Alex built his own house, while Andy added to the family one. Grandchildren ran through the yard, growing up…
On the ninth of May, on the holiday, they would gather around the table. Even though it wasn’t officially a holiday those days, they still celebrated. How could they not? Such a day! One seat was always left empty—there a glass of whiskey stood covered with bread; mother would place a cucumber next to it on a plate. They continually searched and inquired all those years but found nothing. Everyone seemed to have accepted it, except for their mother. She lit a candle by the icons every evening, whispering prayers, asking God…
Sasha’s girl, whom he intended to marry before the war, never wed anyone else. She waited for him, believed. She would visit on the ninth of May, too. They wouldn’t drink to the departed, but for hope. Yet the hope dwindled with each passing day, each passing year…
One day they asked Alex to deliver feed to a neighboring farm. He was a tractor driver. So, he went and delivered it… One fellow helped with the unloading, a recluse with a beard, saying nothing. Something about him struck Alex… he didn’t know what. Well, he asked around who the man was, having never seen him before… They said he hadn’t been working there for long. A farmhand. He lived in a neighboring village, renting a corner from an old lady. He didn’t speak of himself, spoke little and only sensibly. His name no one quite knew. They didn’t ask; he didn’t tell. They simply said—ask the farmhand, tell the ‘old man’… Beards weren’t common in the village.
Alex didn’t want to alarm their mother. But he told Andy. They decided to check the fellow out together. They both turned up at the farm one day under the pretense of business. First, Alex pointed the guy out from afar. He was mucking out stalls, not looking back.
Andy couldn’t hold back, approached. The man didn’t even turn… Andy stood behind him for a moment, then said:
“Sanny… Brother…”
The man barely flinched but didn’t turn around. He tilted his head, spoke over his shoulder:
“You’ve got the wrong man… Move along, sir…”
But Andy didn’t budge. He said:
“You’ve got to come… Our mother is waiting. She’s cried her eyes out asking God you’re alive…”
The man hunched more. Then suddenly he thrust the fork into the ground, turned his whole body:
“Waiting? For a prisoner?”
Here Alex stepped in:
“Alex! … I knew you right away from when we unloaded the feed… She’ll wait for anyone! No arms, no legs, anyone! And here you are with both, why do you hide? You taught us, brother—not to be afraid of anything or anyone! Maybe we survived because we remembered your teachings!
And Tanya is waiting for you, too! Many have courted her since!
Alexander lowered his head, tears streaming down his face… He stepped towards them.
The brothers hugged, all three, and their tears mingled…
Alex told how he was wounded in battle and captured. Held in a camp in Poland. The number on his arm remained… He endured it all—hunger, cold, beatings, torments, hard labor… They tried to escape, but the dogs were on them, legs scarred all over. They beat them so much afterward, death would’ve been easier… When their own forces freed them, he ended up in another camp—ours. They checked him but released him. He had nothing—no passport, no ID, just a release note. The pull towards home was irresistible! He watched from afar, in hiding – the brothers, mother, Tanya. At night, he bit his pillow. Too ashamed to admit who he was… Others returned as heroes, yet he…? Had they not approached him, he would’ve slipped away to some far place and spared them all the pain…
…They decided to prepare their mother gently. First, they said they might have some news, but it was still uncertain. She brightened, came alive. She kept asking when they’d know for sure. They prepared their wives to tell Tanya and to be ready themselves. The ninth of May drew near. The mother set the table, placed a glass of whiskey as always. She was sorrowful. Here was another holiday, and her son still wasn’t there…
Everyone gathered, with Andy running late. They waited for him.
And then Alex said:
“Mum, don’t cover that glass with bread. And don’t just put a cucumber on the plate—add some cabbage, some potatoes… We’re expecting a guest…”
Just as she wanted to ask who the guest might be, as it seemed a family occasion…
That’s when Andy walked in, followed by the ‘guest’… Shaven, in clean clothes. Mary was just about to scold Andy for being late but stared at the ‘guest’…
Her legs gave way…
“Sa-asha! My son!”
Her heart stalled, she didn’t feel well… But the daughters-in-law were ready—they had the smelling salts and heart drops prepared. Tanya also needed some tending…
…I’m not sure if this is true or just a legend. Fact or fiction. But I’ve told it just as I heard it, from a rather elder man, the son of Alexander and Tanya. He claims his father was a hero, despite having no medals…
And I dearly want to believe that all of this is true…
