A person as ordinary as a reed can also be as strong as steel.
The soldiers of Stalingrad are often compared to steel. From 18 to 1943, blood nourished every inch of land there. The suffering was too long for Stalingrad, and the same was true for Stalingrad. I often wonder what kind of molten iron cast the souls of the Stalingrad people so that they are not afraid of destruction or any kind of life that fate brings before them.
In 1952 I worked in Stalingrad, where I tried to find answers. The southerners I saw were quiet, simple, with gentle dark eyes, neither as passionate as fire nor as tall as gods. They, like all of us, are ordinary inhabitants of Russian soil. The afternoon I spent as a guest at the home of my neighbor Chernykin, I listened to the story of the mechanical engineer and his wife. Only then did I realize that underneath the gentle appearance of the Stalingrad people, there was a spirit of love for life and the courage to sacrifice. If you want to continue listening, then let me continue.
[Imitation of Soviet literature, hoping to write the original characteristics of the times, I hope readers will like it!
Concept: The love and growth of ordinary people in the context of war
