We continue the tradition of writing reflections and articles on a given topic. We decided to recall personal stories and how the war changed each of us.
Anatoly Tishin, especially for the project.
My first camera.
The properties of human memory are a mysterious category. It branches and is united by five sense organs. One of the saints said about this: "Lord! Illuminate the soul, mind, heart, womb and womb. "Memory is related to conscience. The conscience is never silent and revives the memory. Memory revives images, but the sinful soul sees only the grimaces of the place. Conscience does not allow the mind to remain inactive. Then everything is individual. And then everything depends on the harmony of the heart, soul and consciousness. But that's not what we're talking about now. Short writing, without hypocrisy and pathos, is a difficult task. Memory is not a piano or even a guitar. This is an imperfect device; It cannot be tuned without false notes. Moreover, more than a quarter of a century has passed, and now I remember the Sevastopol operation of the now banned NBP (due to some monstrous misunderstanding) in pieces.
This is exactly the fragment I am writing about now. And it should be noted right away that what I want to talk about now is not about the heroic impulse of young guys and not about a significant page in the modern history of Russia (still not really read by anyone). This fragment was brought about by my memory with the silent consent of my conscience. A rare case of personal destiny: conscience is silent, only memory speaks... The pre-trial detention cell in the "Special Detention Center" in Sevastopol was very small. Before entering it there were humiliating "procedures". There is nothing to hide here: all my friends that day entered the cells through a man in a crimson beret, who did not allow us to utter a single word except "yes" and "no", and at his command we performed "physical exercises", about which it is better to remain silent.