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And the last for today. I was very pleased with the report about the preparations for the opening of the “Breakthrough” panorama - not only with the scale and high quality of work that are obvious from the first shots - but also with the fact that in this wonderful project the authors took their rightful place to the heroes, whose recent contribution is not just forgotten and devalued - but desecrated and defiled. I am talking about dogs.
More than 60,000 dogs participated in the Great Patriotic War. They took out the wounded, delivered reports, searched for mines and blew up tanks, sacrificing themselves - as is customary with their people - for us people. And today we, the descendants of those whom we saved, whom we served, with whom we went together to meet all hardships and deaths, we are betraying the descendants of our comrades. How many of them today - hungry, freezing, wounded, roam around our cities, while we, well-fed and shiny, bask in warmth and contentment? How many of them are locked up in shelters - like prisoners from the Nazis in a concentration camp, without fault expecting a "humane end to suffering"?
And the worst thing is the impunity for live-stocking, which takes place daily, nightly in the vast expanses of our vast Motherland - the very one that they, our tailed compatriots, helped to defend.
And our connivance to this ...

Winter meeting
 
Completely scrubbing skinny notebooks
Carrying a draft article in draft,
I was returning from an infantry company
To the rear of the army, to the editorial office.
Our offensive has stopped
Recently.
I walked in the morning
Through enemy burned villages
And the deserted farms.
In a damp snowdrift, a country drowned,
But my tread was easy:
I was proud that a small splinter
The other day, a shoulder scratched me slightly.
The scratch hardly hurt
But then I seemed to myself
Shelled, confident and courageous -
Such are the cities.
And a gentle hill descended to the river.
In front of a bridge in a water meadow
Dog at the side of the road
I was looking for mines in the March snow.
The plain, shaggy mongrel -
Of those that bark guard the yard ...
Behind her, with a cautious step
A soldier walked, an elderly miner.
Sometimes she, frowning at the funny face,
Digging snow and yapping lightly, -
Here, tol is an unkind beast in iron skin -
Huddled in a hole, cringing for a jump.
And the miner came up with a long probe
With a watchful step in sensitive silence.
Rows of neutralized mines
They lay on the side of the cuvette.
And suddenly, as if recalling something,
As if a bitter misfortune was shaking,
Interrupting my usual work,
The dog began howling sadly.
So in the backyards, in the mood of a night blizzard,
Trying to bring the sky to tears
To the dead, to sorrow and loss
Kudlaty village howls dog.
I went.
Longing Dog Howl
Over the world mined floated.
"Why would it - howls as if crying?" -
I asked the old mineral.
“War,” he said. “There is no time for offspring,
And the dog is sorry for his children.
We had to throw puppies into the hole, into the water -
To work did not interfere with her. "
There was a conversation road our short-lived.
Minesweeper fell silent and, leaning slightly,
The dog threw a splinter of sugar -
From my own lean ration.
He stroked her red hair,
To shut up, she calmed down.
“Look!” Said sadly to her: “
Look for it!
Everyone has to eat.
War".
I walked on. And aside empty
The village loomed among the fields
And the crow circled, settling,
Like flakes of black soot above her.
And the sky was frowning at me
As if I was to blame for something.
And the blizzard suddenly came and hummed,
In the bushes howled like a dog.
The snow was whiter than hospital wool.
In a whitish, sad, snowy half-haze
Not the same step, not youthful
I walked on conquered land.
And I thought now under the groans of a blizzard,
That roads are not easy in war
And what is my military merit
Before the motherland is not so great.

V.S. Chefner

 http://47channel.ru/video_clip/117469/