Folk classic legend: Candle

It happened on September 19, 1944. At this time, the Second World War was coming to an end. The Soviet army had launched a massive counterattack and drove the German fascist troops out of the Soviet Union. The city had been captured, but the bridge over the river and a small bridgehead were still in the hands of the German invaders.

Before dawn on the 19th, five Red Army soldiers decided to conduct a sneak attack. They had to cross a small square where German troops were also present. As they bent forward and rushed forward, the mortars from the other side opened fire. The fire was so fierce that it lasted for half an hour. When the artillery fire stopped slightly, two slightly injured Red Army soldiers dragged two seriously wounded people back and crawled back, leaving a corpse lying straight in the middle of the square.

Perhaps the German army was frightened by the attack just now by the Red Army. They did not hesitate to fire the artillery shells, and kept firing, bang, bang, bang, endlessly.

The company commander who was ordered to capture the bridgehead said, don’t risk dragging the corpse now, and bury him after the bridgehead is captured. We just waited until the sun went down, but the German gunfire hadn't stopped yet.

There is a pile of high rubble on the edge of the square, and I don’t know what building it used to be. But there is a cellar under these ruined walls, and there lives an old lady named Maria. She is not even eighty but already over seventy. Her husband is a bridge keeper. After her husband died, she lived alone in the building. When the building collapsed, she moved into the cellar.

By the 19th it had been 4 days since she had moved into the cellar.

She was thin and stooped, her cheeks were completely sunken, and her back was bent like a half-qualified soldier. But she was still alive tenaciously, as if she was competing with the Germans to see who could live longer. Looks like.

Early on the morning of the 19th, she clearly saw five Russian soldiers running into the square separated from her by an iron fence. She saw with her own eyes that the evil German invaders fired cannons at these five young men. The shells roared down on the square and exploded around the five of them, leaving craters. She was so anxious that she forgot about the danger, leaned out of the cellar, and called them in her hoarse and weak voice: "Young men! Young men! My children - come quickly, come to me!" "She firmly believed that her cellar was invulnerable to bullets and shells. However, at this moment, there was a "boom" and a shell exploded under her nose. The air waves and loud noise stunned the woman. An old lady threw her up and hit her head on the wall, causing her to lose consciousness.

When she came to, she saw that only one of the five Russian soldiers was left. The soldier was lying comfortably on his side, with one hand stretched out and the other pillowed under his head. He looked like he was sleeping contentedly. She called to him: "Hey, boy! Hello, my child, come here! Do you hear my voice?"

But this one didn't say a word or change his posture. She finally understood. Come here, this young man died. The Germans opened fire again, and the shells fell like hail toward the small square, splashing up columns of black mud. The Russian young man was still lying in the same place as before, ignoring everything happening around him.

The old Maria stared at the sacrificed young man for a long time, without blinking. She wanted to praise this warrior who regarded death as home, but there was not even a living soul around, even with her day and night. The domestic cat who was staying with him had also been hit by German enemy shrapnel and died. The old lady pondered for a while, and then, after groping for a long time from the only baggage she had, she took out something, put it in the black shawl she always wore, and began to crawl out of the cellar slowly. She couldn't run, let alone crawl. She just walked towards the square in a daze. Every step she took seemed like she was going to fall, but she finally didn't fall.

There was a broken iron fence in front of her blocking her way. She couldn't jump over it, nor could she bend over and crawl over it. Her physical strength no longer allowed her to do this. The best way was to go slowly. Go around. At this time, the German artillery shells were still pouring into this small square like crazy, but old lady Maria seemed to be protected by gods, and none of them landed near her. She was like a sleepwalker. Walked to the Soviet soldier's side. She squatted down and breathed heavily for a while, then gathered her strength and turned him over with all her strength. The soldier was very young and very pale. She smoothed his hair slowly, folded his stiff hands on his chest, and then sat down next to him.

The German mortars did not stop for a moment, but the shells also had eyes. They did not want to hurt such an old woman with gray hair and chicken skin and a good conscience, so they all stayed far away from her.

She sat silently like this, maybe for an hour or maybe two or three hours.

The weather was strangely cold, but Maria didn't take it to heart. Finally, her eyes found a large crater. It was exploded a few days ago and has accumulated water inside. The old lady climbed down from the crater, knelt down, and began to scoop out the water with both hands. She didn't even glance at those arrogant cannonballs, she just splashed water, and finally she scooped out the water in the pit. Then she stood up again, returned to the fallen soldier, grabbed his arm, pulled him, and dragged him away step by step with all her strength.

She is too old and this is really not something she is capable of, but she has to do it even if she is not competent. She had to stand down and take three breathless breaks. Finally, she dragged him to the edge of the pit, lowered him into the pit, and laid out his body. This business really exhausted her, and she sat down to rest for an hour before she could catch her breath.

When she recovered she knelt beside him, crossed himself, and kissed his lips and forehead. Then, she began to slowly peel off the loose soil surrounding the crater, and evenly covered the warrior... After a few hours, the tomb was slightly raised, more or less like a real tomb, and then, she started Under the black shawl she took the thing which she had brought from the cellar. It was a huge candle. Forty or fifty years ago, she had used it when she was a bride. She had kept it to this day as a souvenir. Now, she took it out tremblingly, lit the match, and lit it. On fire. The night was very dark, there was not a trace of wind, and the candlelight stood straight, never flickering. The old lady crossed her arms on her knees and sat motionless, like a statue. When cannonballs explode in the distance, the candlelight will flicker slightly, but when they fall nearby, the candles will be swayed left and right by the air waves, or even knocked over, but every time the old woman always Just be patient enough to light it up again.

It's daybreak, and half of the huge candle has been lit. Maria groped around her, and finally she touched a piece of rusty iron sheet. She used her weak hands to bend it into a tile shape with all her strength, and then inserted it next to the candle. , use it to block the wind and the air waves generated during the explosion.

After she finished this matter, she stood up with difficulty, dragged her tired legs, and slowly returned to her cellar step by step.

Before dawn, the Red Army launched an attack and captured the bridgehead with lightning speed. An hour or two later, it was already bright. The Red Army was attacking forward under the cover of tanks, and artillery shells no longer landed in the small square.

The company commander remembered the fallen soldier and sent several soldiers to find his body and bury him in the cemetery. The soldiers set out, but could not find him anywhere. Suddenly, a soldier stopped at the edge of the square. He shouted in surprise, and everyone gathered around him. Ah, near the broken iron fence, a small new grave was raised, and a candle blocked by a piece of rusty iron sheet was emitting a faint wisp of smoke from the grave. This candle has been lit, leaving only a short candlestick sitting among a large amount of candle oil, but the small and small candlelight still does not go out.

The soldiers took off their military caps and stood silently around the grave, staring at the shaky candle. Their tears couldn't help but flow down.

At this moment, an elderly woman in black slowly came to them with dragging steps. She came to the grave, knelt down, and took out from under her shawl another candle of the same size.

She picked up the dying candle, pointed it at it, lit it, and plugged in the new candle again. Then, she slowly stood up. Several station attendants on the side gently supported her. She glanced at them, bowed deeply to them, straightened her black shawl, and walked back slowly without looking back. The soldiers said nothing, just looked at her back silently, and returned to the team to join the battle.

On this ground riddled with gunpowder and shrapnel, a Russian mother used her last possessions...a pair of wedding candles to illuminate the grave of this Russian young man, its flame Will last forever, just like the tears of a mother and the courage of a son.