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21 НАШЕ ЖИТТЯ • Червень 2022 and no potatoes at all was unthinkable. A potato meant the family would eat that evening. My father, in the meantime, was as curious and fearless as only a 14-year-old boy can be, even in wartime. He roamed the countryside, peeking into old, abandoned sheds and closed factories, scavenging for rusty radios and mismatched shoes, watching from a safe distance as various military vehicles passed by. He became very adept at identifying tanks, trucks, and weapons by model name and soldiers or civilians by nationality. One day, as Tato walked by the side of the road, a German military truck passed him, stopped, and slowly backed up to where he was. It was filled with Italian prisoners of war, who apparently had been abandoned by their captors and had stolen the truck, trying to return home. Tato held his breath but didn’t run, while one of the men motioned for him to come closer. As Tato took a few steps, the Italian reached into the truck, hauled out a bicycle, smiled and threw it down at Tato’s feet. The truck drove off as Tato stood there, not believing his good fortune. Yes, the bicycle was old and damaged, but it was fixable. For a kid, the bike was a gift from heaven. From that day on, Tato rode his bike for miles looking for adventures. A few days later, he was astonished to see that a U.S. Army company had set up camp overnight on his usual route. He pedaled by slowly — once, twice, three times — surveying the jeeps and trucks, a little disappointed that there were no tanks. Most of the soldiers were eating breakfast from their mess kits — scrambled eggs! — and the smells coming from the field kitchen made his stomach growl. As Tato stood at a respectful distance, staring at the food the soldiers left uneaten, he saw the cook grab a large spoon and prepare to throw the leftovers in the trash. Tato froze, a silent “noooo!” echoing in his head. It was then that the cook noticed the skinny kid on a bike and motioned for him to come closer. The cook grabbed a cardboard box, swept the scrambled eggs into it, looked around, grabbed a stack of white toast, well buttered, and threw that into the box, too. Without a single word exchanged, Tato took the box as it was offered, closed the lid, got back on his bike, and pedaled away, one hand holding the box, one hand steering. When he returned “home” and presented the precious gift to his family, they were overjoyed. They hadn’t eaten this much and this well in many, many months. The next day Tato was back at the U.S. Army camp, early, hoping that yesterday’s good luck might repeat itself. And indeed, it did. The cook saw him and nodded in recognition. Tato was rewarded with another box, this time pancakes, stacks and stacks of them, along with maple syrup in a big jug. When he returned to his family of seven — parents, grandparents, two uncles, and older brother — they were already waiting at the table, forks in hand. And so it continued for weeks and weeks, the kid on an Italian rescue bike and the U.S. Army field cook developing a wordless routine, both helping a family of Ukrainian refugees to survive. The boxes got bigger and the leftovers more plentiful. There were still lots of pancakes, eggs, and toast, but also the occasional treat of fried spam or sausage. But the crowning glory of Tato’s daily breakfast run was coffee: gallons of thick, dark, army-strong coffee, the likes of which his family hadn’t tasted in years. Tato’s ride home on the bike became more perilous... and comical. It was hard to hold on to the boxes and jugs with one hand, but he was young and highly motivated and managed quite well. He never lost a single pancake on the road. As to the coffee, Tato says, he wouldn’t have left it behind even if he had to balance it on his head. As Tato recounted this story, it occurred to me that Ukraine’s Berehynias come in all ages and genders. I am grateful to all of them, be they enterprising teenagers like my father who saved his family from hunger in World War II or the brave men — and women — in bulletproof vests carrying Javelin anti-tank missiles, who are defending Ukraine from Russian invaders today. We thank you and we love you. Слава Україні!
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