Never forget: victory over fascism - 80 years on

why studying history and giving a platform to younger generations to express themselves is more important than ever

This month is an unusual one on my Substack - not because we seem to be experiencing an unprecedented heatwave in the UK and President Trump’s new politics in action that might lead to something that none of us have experienced in our lifetime - but because I am doing something here that I haven’t done before. It wasn’t a conscious decision to start with, but as a mother, aunt, godmother, a grown-up and journalist I have always considered it vital to engage in an open dialogue with the younger generation, to listen to them and to offer them support, when needed or asked for. I will be mentoring two young men who are considering journalism as their career shortly, and if they accept the challenge, I plan to set them the writing task and hopefully share the result in here. This platform is for writers and for thinkers, so I also want to share the article written by a young man, Misha Beloborodov, on the subject that still continues to impact and inform our lives in the modern times. Both of my grandfathers, then very young men, fought in the Second World War, but that generation of selfless men and women is almost gone, so sharing their stories and history as it was, not redacted or re-written, is vital. The writing below has been done by Misha, without any input from me. I hope you enjoy reading it. Over to you Misha.

22nd of June, 1941. On this day 84 years ago, the German Reich invaded the Soviet Union. For four years, fascism terrorised the Baltics, Belarus, Ukraine and Eastern Russia. Mass executions and deportation, to name a few of the crimes against humanity committed under German occupation under Hitler’s orders. In those four years, despite setbacks throughout the initial stages of the war, the Soviet Army would fight their way to Berlin and raise the Red Banner over the Reichstag. On the 9th of May, we celebrate Victory Day to remember those who gave their lives for our freedom. Men, women and even children – people just like us who bravely fought against fascism.

Victory Day is far more than just another holiday on the calendar. It is a solemn day of remembrance, national pride and tribute to the ultimate sacrifice made by millions of men & women during the Second World War. Victory Day is not another celebration of a victory in some peripheral war - it serves as a reminder of the enormous price our ancestors paid throughout humanity’s worst conflict in which so many perished.

When the German Reich invaded Poland on the 1st of September 1939, the fragile peace that had held Europe together for just over 20 years was shattered. Fuelled by Hitler’s ravenous ideology of expansionism and racial supremacy, Europe was plunged unwillingly into the most devastating war in human history. Poland bravely held out for more than a month with its limited resources, but eventually succumbed to the constant Wehrmacht offensives. Caught in the jaws of relentless onslaught, Poland became the first victim of fascist expansionism and unfortunately would not be the last.

The year that followed came to be known as the ‘Phoney War’, since the Allies, who promptly declared war on Germany, mostly carried out bombing campaigns, which did little to deter Hitler. A year later the German Reich would invade Denmark, which capitulated after only six hours. Germany then conquered Norway, swiftly followed by the invasion of Belgium, the Netherlands and France. The Allies not only suffered several critical defeats, but also casualties totalling 375,000, with further 1.8 million men becoming prisoners of war.

The Eastern Front came to exist in the early morning hours of the 22nd of June, 1941. It would come to be characterised by its vastness and brutality. Large parts of the Soviet Army were unprepared for a conflict, but the sheer will and determination of the Soviet people could be observed from the first day of the conflict. The Brest fortress, now in modern-day Belarus, held out for nine days, with the Soviet defenders refusing to retreat despite heavy losses. Small groups of the soldiers who refused to leave would continue to resist for another year, working alongside partisans to disrupt the German logistics and damage their command structure. The port city of Odessa was defended for 73 days despite the German and Romanian armies laying siege to the city. Similarly, Sevastopol would be besieged for over eight months, with the Soviet Army being outnumbered 2:1. The Siege of Leningrad would become one of the worst civilian tragedies of the war. In an attempt to force the Soviet contingent to surrender, the German Reich intended to starve the civilian population. The siege would be maintained from September of 1941 until January 1944. For three whole years, the citizens of Leningrad had to endure severe lack of food, winters colder than negative thirty degrees Celsius, and constant aerial and artillery bombardments. Yet despite these conditions, the spirit of Leningrad was never broken. ‘The Road of Life’ was an operation organised by partisans and the Soviet Army to keep supplies moving to the city, and the unyielding defenders prevented the German Reich from ever gaining anything more than a foothold in the city. For over 900 days, the city held out, suffering more civilian casualties than the entirety of the American, French and British war dead combined.

Stalingrad and the Defence of Moscow would become turning points on the Eastern Front. Soviet soldiers marched directly into hell, knowing that this may be their last battle. Most of my relatives participated in the Defence of Moscow. Three would be listed as missing, while another two would go on to fight through the rest of the war. They relentlessly defended the two cities in the face of certain death and were eventually able to turn the tide of the war. Soon after 1943, the Soviet Union began an onslaught of offensives, which would liberate most of the occupied territories. By 1944, the war had turned decisively against the German Reich. With the Allied landings in Normandy on the 6th of June, it was only a matter of time before the German Reich collapsed. Just under a year later, the Soviet flag would be raised over the Reichstag, and the German instrument of surrender would be signed late on the 8th of May. The news would reach Moscow in the early hours of the 9th of May due to a difference in time zones. That day would become ingrained in the hearts of all Soviet citizens.

Fascism is a disease. It is a disease that must be removed from the face of the Earth. Like cancer, it metastasises in society, attacking the most vulnerable. It dehumanises people, stripping them of their rights and eventually their lives. The scars it leaves run deep even today.

In those four years, 24% of all Soviet citizens went through the ranks of the Army. To this day, every family in the Eastern Bloc has at least one relative who died in the war, and most also have family members who are missing to this day, their fate unknown.

Unfortunately, few remain to tell the tale. Photos of veterans show them adorned with medals, which gleam like hardened tears. Each one tells a story – of courage in the face of unimaginable fear, of relationships formed in the heat of battle only to be broken soon after, of loss that leaves a pain not even time can fully erase. We will never know what they went through. We will never hear the thunderous sounds of hundreds of artillery guns firing simultaneously. We will never know the fear of hiding from bombs falling all around. We will never know the pain of watching people you have spent your whole life with disappear without a trace into the fog of war. As the years pass, the direct connection to the war fades with the passing of each veteran. Even though I was born long after the guns fell silent, the 9th of May still carries an indescribable weight. I grew up hearing stories of an unwavering spirit that refused to be broken. I have seen the faded photographs and heard the accounts passed down through generations. This indescribable weight is what I hope to convey to you today. That, on a visceral level, our present was built on the sacrifices of those who came before. That every mile liberated was soaked in the blood of heroes who fought for our freedom. That the 9th of May is a day to say thank you; a day to acknowledge the debt that we can never truly repay. Your names will forever be honoured. Your feat will never be forgotten.