76 years have passed since the cannonade of the terrible battles of World War II subsided. For history - it's a little, and for a person - a lifetime!

     The death of one person is a tragedy. And when millions… The dead do not hurt. Wounds continue to bleed in the living: in veterans, widows, early gray children of war, in those who survived the hell of occupation.

Years pass quickly, like spring streams, new people come into the world. But the memory of those terrible and heroic times does not grow old or disappear.

    Memory is not just a part of history. Memory is our conscience, pain and our pride. The memory of our grandfathers and great-grandfathers, the memory of eternally young soldiers and officers who fought bravely against the enemy and won, the memory of those who died brave, the memory of all whose hearts were burned by the Second World War.

    She lives in the memories of soldiers, in triangular letters and old family photo albums. She stares at us from majestic monuments, museum halls and book pages.

    Let us break away from our everyday worries and bustle these days, remember in the circle of family and friends those who are not with us, who have remained young forever, liberating our native land from the enemy. Let us bow to their courageous feat! Let's say words of gratitude to the old veterans!

    Let us think again about the great value of human life and mentally pray for peace!

    No one is forgotten, nothing is forgotten!

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