In Russia there is a word, ‘Rodina’ which means ‘Homeland’. Where once her citizens were urged to put their country before everything else, including their homes, Stalin realised that the country would be defended better against invaders if the people were allowed to fight for their homes before anything else.
During those months of strife Stalingrad was also home to the German soldiers who dug out clumsy rooms in her earth, decorating them with whatever they could find. One man, Kurt Reuber, a doctor, who was also an artist, decided to draw a picture on the back of a large map of Russia. He wanted to make something that would comfort him as well as his fellow soldiers. It was approaching 25 December, 1942, and the German Army had hoped to be at home with their loved ones for Christmas. All those hopes were soundly dashed when it became clear that Hitler had quietly forsaken them. After thinking long and hard about his subject matter, Doctor Reuber went to work, with little in the way of art materials aside from a chunk of charcoal and the map.
He called his work ‘Stalingrad Madonna’. The picture he drew was of Mary wrapped in a long, thick shawl cradling the baby Jesus to her cheek. On the right of the picture, Doctor Reuber wrote the words: ‘Licht’ (Light); ‘Leben’ (Life); ‘Liebe’ (Love). For the men who came to see the picture, it meant shelter, security and a mother’s love. In other words it meant home.
The Germans brought so much pain and terror with them. And, yet, they were people too. Humans killing other humans, because of what: land, power or immortality? What did those Germans struggle for? In the end it all seemed so utterly pointless; even Hitler seemed at a loss over what to do.
Of course he should never have been elected leader of a country. Did it all boil down to that – a mad man, with fantastic ambition, who infected the lives of millions of people with misery and darkness? Mr Belov once asked why the Greek Alexander was called ‘Alexander the Great’. Was it simply because he had killed lots of people? Does that make someone ‘great’? He used the question to show his students how to question everything they heard.
Stalingrad, or ‘Schicksalsstadt’ (‘City of Fate’), was Russia’s finest hour, but at what cost? Sergeant Pavlov believed in the importance of concentrating on how many were saved. The immense bloodshed, the violence, the constant killing – it was necessary, wasn’t it? That’s how wars are won after all.
In any case, this particular battle for Stalingrad finally ended on 2 February 1943, while the Great War would continue on for another two years, finishing up miles away from Russian soil on 29 April 1945.
Over the next few years the people rebuilt the city, wiping it clean of the blood and dirt and transforming it into a place of beauty once more. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if the story ended here, with the happy ending that everyone hopes for? Unfortunately this is not possible. Once he had dealt with the German invaders, Stalin turned on his own people, plunging his great country into a terrifying darkness for many years to come.
Remember what Tanya spoke of, to Yuri, about Stalin’s suspicious mind? Well, multiply that by a hundred per cent and stand well back. It is fortunate that those listening so intently to Mr Goldstein’s violin could not see into the future; their hearts may not have stood it.
Yet throughout what followed, those years of terror, there was one thing that could not be stopped, not by the blood of a thousand men nor the wrath of a Josef Stalin. The Volga river kept flowing, cleansing the bloodied footsteps of the past in its constant urge to press forward, like the march of time itself. And maybe, just maybe, that’s why they called it the mirror of Russia’s soul: for, in the face of pain and fear, it can be comforting to know that there will always be something that can never die.