The love of art. Lofty Russian.

Spring '45. Vienna late evening. At the door of an ancient house knocked politely.
Frau H. doomed opened.

— Good evening, Frau — on a good German said the young Russian soldier with a gun behind his back. A little behind him stood two others, cautiously looking around. — We need Herr H. We know that this is his apartment. He's at home?

Frau silently nodded and stepped back, inviting fighter enter. Herr H., small dry old man met them in the hallway. The soldiers looked at him with a strange curiosity.
-Hello, You — Herr H.?
The old man nodded
— Good morning. For this I found the Red Army?
— Nothing special, Herr H. You played in the orchestra of Strauss?
— Play — the old man shrugged. — At the piano. Since that time.
— Then get ready, come with us.
— Where to?
— Hmm. At the cemetery.
— Well, there, and I'm so ready — an old musician put on shoes and silently walked out the door. The young Russian, closing the door, turned to Frau H.:
— We are in the cemetery, though. But you do not worry, we will refund Herr H. about an hour ….

Wide South American "Dodge" braked at the cemetery gate. The soldiers just jumped out of the truck and assist the musician to get out of the car. Moved deeper into the graveyard alleys on foot. Came the lunar spring night. Front and rear boots skrepeli Russian fighter. And in some places ahead — thought it? — Sounded piano! It was as if someone is trying to sound tool …

Near the grave Strauss Sr. fighters braked.
— We are here, Herr H., — someone said. Herr H. peered into the darkness and was stunned — about stately tomb of the composer was a real grand piano! Snow-white! Around there are several fighter in the form of the Red Army. The piano and the grass was any food that's been forgotten over the years of the war. The Russian smiled.

— Herr H., zlravstvuyte. — Said one of them, — Forgive us for liberty, but realize — the war …
Herr H. silent and nodded at random. He tried to make out a piano.
— Yes, Herr H., is the piano — Russia's caught his eye — that you've played once. We brought him out of the museum. Especially you. Later refund.
— But for what?
The Russian moved, talked about something. There was a gurgle. Someone handed a glass of darkness — real!
— Herr H., I suggest this is a beautiful wine to drink (Herr H. did not hesitate, that's how it is) in memory of the majestic composer Strauss. For the enchanting sounds of the waltz, the prose!
— Prose — repeated musician and took a sip from his glass. Savored. However, a good wine! And the finished glass.
— Herr H., — continued the Russian. — We wish to ask you now to play some waltzes. You will not refuse?
Herr H. from the very beginning was in a bit shocked, but realized that he could not refuse.
— I ask you, the piano at your service. — Someone said out of the darkness. Near the piano even found a "home" chair. Herr H. touched the keys …

An hour later, "Dodge" brought home a musician, and later the piano — a museum, near the grave of Johann Strauss's no longer any trace of the people who came back to war again. They had yet to release Czechoslovakia and beat the Imperial Japan. War lasted.

These men carried their own duty to the end, but the fate of each developed its own. One died from a stray fragment — nearly 800 meters away from the fire, in which fired "Ferdinand", another — in the 49th, in the Carpathians, finishing off Bendery bastard third planted in the late 50's — Bolshennom in the theater began to fire a gun on chandelier with the click of "Beat the Jews and save Russia", the fourth cold winter in the machine of Moscow, and three later in the 68th, again included in Czechoslovakia. Someone from the Union, one of the GSVG. One later even called up from the deepest pension consultant in the intelligence of the 40th Army in the 79th — as an expert on the Middle East and Iran ….

Wrote from memory the words of the 1st of the participants in the amateur Strauss.

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