The second update is complete

Yanayev's propaganda strategy is not only in the form of film and literature and other artistic culture, but also one of Yanayev's goals is to hold a military museum, so that the younger generation can appreciate the strength and greatness of the motherland through military exhibitions.

The city of Ulyanovsk on the banks of the Volga River is home to a famous Soviet aircraft cemetery where thousands of aircraft are parked, belonging to the Ulyanovsk Aviation Museum, which was once the largest aviation museum in Russia, including hundreds of original aircraft. In addition to some common fighters such as the MiG, there are also the rare Tupolev-built supersonic Tu-144 transport aircraft, which once represented the greatest achievement of the communist regime, but now they are slowly rusting here.

The Ulyanovsk Aviation Museum has only a few caretakers guarding the entire huge aviation cemetery, these are gray-haired old men, they are all fighter pilots who risked their youth for the Motherland in the Great Patriotic War, who once braved enemy fire, but now accompany these fighters to grow old with the memories of the lost beacon fire.

Comrade Bnikov sat on the open-air benches of the Aviation Museum, looking at these ancient memories that had passed away in a daze, and at this time of the year, some of their old comrades-in-arms would gather here, but for a few years it was somewhat unexpected, and he was the only one waiting here for others, passing the long and lonely time.

He was the grave keeper of this aerial cemetery, the last person to experience it personally in the Great Patriotic War.

"Can I sit here?" A childish voice sounded from Bnikov's side, waking him up from his drowsiness, and Bnikov turned his head. I saw a timid little boy standing beside him. He was also holding a toy airplane in his hand. He was staring at Bnikov. Repeat quietly.

"Can I sit here?"

"Of course, why not." Bnikov shifted to make room for the boy and beckoned him to sit down. Bnikov pulled out a few candies from the pocket of his shabby coat, put his hand in front of the little boy, and said, "Do you want candy?" ”

Looking at the tempting candy, the little boy swallowed. Carefully took the candy from Bnikov's warm palm and said thank you.

Bnikov just smiled and waved his hand, and when children used to visit the museum, he would always bring a few sweets with him to them. But now he hasn't seen visitors to the Aviation Museum in Ulyanovsk for a long time, and I don't know when the museum, which symbolizes the glory of the Soviet Union's aviation history, has become deserted and deserted.

I heard that the young people outside are fighting for democracy, freedom, and freedom, but Bnikov doesn't understand these things, he just can't figure out what the bronze statue of Lenin is destroying. What kind of education and qualifications do young people who humiliate World War II veterans have to say that they are righteous and great?

It's that he's really old. Or has the world become strange and unrecognizable?

"Grandpa, have you been sitting here watching these planes?" The little boy munched on candy and asked, "It's my first time here to see an airplane, and I hope to be a hero like my ancestors one day." ”

"You will, kid. One day you can become a good pilot too. "I'm just waiting here for my comrades, we agreed to meet here on this day every year to see the fighters that we flew together." ”

"But they're all rusty now, and they can't fly anymore, right? These planes are on the verge of becoming scrapped metal. The little boy looked at the MiG-19 fighter not far away, the snow was about to bury its take-off in a pale, and the rusty skin was announcing the end of the fighter.

The little boy's innocent answer touched the tenderest place in Bnikov's heart, he remembered his comrades who had died in the war before, and said to the little boy, "No, they are not scrap metal, at least in my eyes, they are not. ”

"If not, what is that?" With the little boy's current perception, it is difficult to understand Bnikov's words.

"They're heroes." Bnikov repeated in a low voice, "These fighters are all heroes of the republic. ”

"Little one, it's still early, I'll tell you a story." In order to pass the long and boring time, Bnikov simply told the child about his experience, "Did you see the fighter? That's right, it's a MiG fighter with a hole in the wing, which was once piloted by a comrade-in-arms of mine, who was entangled in three American fighter jets when he was in North Korea, and finally managed to escape. It's just that in the end the fighter was concentrated in the wing, and as a result, it had to be decommissioned early. ”

"Later, he would brag to us about his experience at every meeting, and whenever we heard him talk about these old things of adulthood, we wanted to beat him......" At this point, Bnikov suddenly paused, as if he remembered something, and said to himself with a wry smile, "It's a pity that he died of a cerebral hemorrhage five years ago, and we never had a chance to laugh at him again." ”

"And that fighter, his master received the most medals among our people, but unfortunately he died in a car accident, and his last dream is to fly again, even if it is just to see the motherland he once defended from the sky." Speaking of this, two cloudy tears fell from Bnikov's eyes. The owners of these fighters have all been reduced to a handful of loess, but Bnikov has always believed that his comrades have never left, and their souls have always been there, accompanying the fighters who once fought together.

Perhaps when people get old, Bnikov will think of many comrades-in-arms who stayed forever in the beacon years, such as the comrade-in-arms who rushed to the enemy with a depleted La-7 fighter jet in order to cover their fleet, and finally said to Bnikov and his party, "I can't go back, you keep going, repeat, you keep going." ”

Bnikov can't even remember his name now, but he will never forget that young and immature face, and the last resolute look.

The wind and snow slowly became fierce, and the aviation museum was already white, and Bnikov could not stay here any longer, so he picked up the little boy and left the silent and solemn aviation cemetery with him.

"A lot of the fighters here are going to be shipped away next week, and they're going to be exhibited in museums somewhere else, and I don't think I'll ever see them again, but that's fine, instead of rusting and rotting in this place, let others know that the great republic once had such an unsung group of heroes."

The little boy felt Bnikov's palm suddenly clench his palm, and he asked suspiciously, "What about your comrades?" Grandpa, don't you wait for them? ”

"I don't think they're coming." Bnikov silently closed his eyes, "They will never come." (To be continued.) )