My darling, my Tonechka!

I don’t know whether you happen to read these lines. But I’m sure that this is my last letter. Now there’s a hot deadly the battle. Our tank is hit. Fascists are all around us. We’ve been resisting the attack all day long. Ostrovsky Street is littered with corpses in green uniforms, they look like large immovable lizards.

It’s the 6^th day of the war. There are two of us – me and Pavel Abramov – left. You know him, I wrote about him to you. We don’t think about salvation. We are warriors and are not afraid of dying for our Motherland. We only want the German pay the highest price for our lives. Now I’m sitting in a mutilated tank. It’s unbearably hot and I’m thirsty. There’s no water at all. Your portrait is resting on my knees. I’m looking at it, at your blue eyes, and I feel relief – you are with me. I would like to talk to you, as long and frankly as we used to in Ivanovo…

On 22th June, when the war was declared, I thought about you, thought about the time I come back to see you and give you a big hug. Or it is never to be. It’s war. When our tank first met the enemy, I hit it with a cannon, mowed it with machine gun fire in order to destroy the Nazis and bring the end of the war closer so that I could see you, my dear. But my dreams did not come true …

The tank shudders from enemy attacks, but we are still alive. There are no shells, cartridges are running out. Pavel aims to shoot while I’m having a rest and talking to you. I know that this is the last time. And I would talk for so much longer, but I run out of time. Do you remember us saying goodbye at the station? You doubted that I’ll always love you and suggested us getting married, so that I belong to you alone. I was eager to accept your suggestion. In your passport and in my receipt there is a stamp now that we are spouses. It’s good. It’s good to die and know that somewhere there is a relative who remembers me, thinks about me, loves me. “It’s good to be loved…”

Through the holes in the tank I can see the street, green trees, vibrant flowers in the garden.

You, survived, will have just as vibrant and bright lives as these flowers. And happy… It isn’t terrifying to die for it. Don’t cry. Doubt  you’ll come to my grave, for is it going to exist?

June, 28 1941