Plieva Anfisa Anatoljevna, 1955 date of birth, an inhabitant of Tskhinval
I cannot get over awful explosions in August, 2008 so far. One cannot express this horror by words. How can I express my feelings when I was confident that I would die, that I would not escape? On the night of August, 8 I was at home, together with my daughter and my mother-in-law, my son was at his post. We have jumped up at 12 o'clock in the evening when the blast was resounded, and we ran into the cellar. The refuge was not deserved to be called refuge. Through the windows we could see the Georgian tanks passing along the streets.
They were bombing all around, not sparing anybody; they were shouting as madmen, using dirty language, it is terrible to repeat their words. It was intolerable. I was worried about my son; I did not have any information about him. Seeing behavior of the embittered Georgian soldiers, I thought that I would never see him alive any more. Killing us was the entertainment game for them. The Georgian planes were flying over us, and it seemed to us that at last the Russian soldiers had come to rescue us- they were our only hope. One cannot help admiring the heroism of our boys who have defended our country in the first days of the war. Thank God, the Russian army has arrived in time. Almost three years have already passed, but I remember everything in details, each shudder of my relatives at the explosion, each rustle, fear, smell of death. It is impossible to forget, it is necessary to remember for appreciating all you have at present.
