Communist Bandit 18 May 1944, 12am, Bahçesaray, Crimea For Bekir Osmanov His picture had sprouted all over the town, on the walls of the city hall, at the entrance of the mosque, even in the small coffee houses, as if to celebrate the early summer in all languages: in Russian, Tatar and of course, German: COMMUNIST BANDIT. MOST WANTED! His eyes wide open – astonished at the listed reward. His rescue of the three partisans from a Gestapo prison in the North in the middle of a snow storm, had brought him the highest of his honors: Partisan of the Patriotic War – First Class and a bullet – a mother’s prayer away from his spine. Only a year later, when crammed into the cattle car by the NKVD agents, next to me, he immediately kissed my hand: Don’t worry, dede, he said. They’ll understand soon, this is a terrible mistake. As soon as they closed the door though, he started to cry: Nazi collaborator, enemy of the proletariat, he sobbed. How can I take that? His medals were stripped away, but the bullet next to his spine stayed forever there. |