There are many holidays in our country. But May 9 is a special day. 70 years ago, our grandfathers and great-grandfathers saved the world from the fascists. More than 20 million people died in that terrible and ruthless war, but they died, defending our Motherland, so the memory of them is always alive, and the exploits are immortal. In our city there is an area named after the Victory Day. There on the plates are carved the names of soldiers and officers who died during the war. They are our countrymen, our pride and honor. Every year on May 9, grateful descendants lay flowers, remember the feats of the deceased. The Great Patriotic War. in each heart these words are reflected by the deep wound of every person who lived, saw and even heard of these torments of hell.
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Leaving the square, I look around and smile, because it seems to me that my great-grandfather waved to me, and wished me luck in life. And he asked not to make mistakes of the past. He was an ordinary soldier, he fought under the city of Bryansk. In one of the battles, he was seriously wounded, he spent a month in the hospital, but the doctors could not put him on his feet. His last letter came from the hospital, and soon they sent a funeral triangle. My great-grandmother kept his last letter for a long time. This letter warmed her all her life.
And every year, when we celebrate Victory Day. I read my own poem that I dedicated to my great-grandfather: My great-grandfather at the front fought, And he gave his duty to the Motherland