Epilogue: Half-hidden from history

Abstract

The Red Army’s victory over fascism, formally proclaimed by Moscow Radio at 2.10 a.m. on 9 May 1945, was greeted with elation by Soviet civilians and military alike. An estimated two to three million citizens spontaneously flocked into Moscow’s Red Square on what would become henceforth ‘Victory Day’ (Den pobedy).2 Far from Red Square, Red Army women and men, many still on the march, were ecstatic. A Red Army woman political officer, A. V. Nikulina, was among those who hoisted a victory banner over Hitler’s Reich Chancellery.3 Sniper Yulya Zhukova on the Baltic coast was awoken by a whisper: ‘Junior sergeant Yulya, get up. Victory!’ It was a miracle: a mere whisper awoke everybody in the room. They could sleep through artillery fire but now woke as one. Seizing our weapons, we leapt into the street. The unimaginable erupted: bear hugs, tears, laughter, indiscriminate shooting into the air. The artillery unleashed several mighty salvoes seawards. An accordion began playing from somewhere, music rang out, dances began spontaneously. Victory! The long awaited victory!4 Meanwhile, ‘anarchic frenzy’ seized Vera Galaninskaya’s Medsanbat, deployed nearby in Latvia. Awaking to cries of ‘Ura! Ura! Pobeda!’ (Hooray! Hooray! Victory!), elated nurses laughed, cried, kissed, embraced, and fired off ‘pistols, rifles and machine guns’ which ‘chattered out “personal salutes” in honour of the Victory’. Elation was not the only feeling that engulfed medsestra Galaninskaya: