Hello, dear Edgar, by the time you read this letter, you will be a grownup. And the self-sacrificing and heroic struggle of our days will be a lesson on the page of your history textbook, a picture in the Museum of Victory, a precious and incense tomb in the Pantheon of Glory. In our nationwide collective memory, an eternal nightmare, in our hearts, a scar that burns forever, a burning pain … the happiness of having a free, independent, sovereign, powerful and protected homeland.

… I saw your picture on the internet. You were a one year and eight month old baby, stroking a picture of your brother in a military uniform with a chubby finger. There was a smile in your eyes, nostalgia in your eyes. You were waiting for your brother Alex to call. You remembered how he played with you every day. But once he did not return. He started calling on the phone instead at bedtime. He called every day, and before going to bed you could hear his voice through the microphone. I do not know what Alex was saying, and why you were smiling so enthusiastically and happily then, but I know where he was then. Alex Poghosyan, a soldier of the National Army, was on the border of our homeland. He stood before our age-old enemy, so that your smile would never fade, so that you could sleep peacefully and have a peaceful and carefree childhood. One day Alex did not call. He did not call the next day. He never called again. Your father says that when the phone rang, you ran, took it from his hand and said:

– Dad, Ale, Ale …

As if it’s Alex, give me the phone and talk to Alex. You were too young then, no matter how much they explained, you would not understand that Alex would never call again. That your brother died for the sake of the homeland, he died a brave death. And I’m honored to tell you that story.

When the commander noticed that a skirmish had started in the nearby positions and the Turkish-Azerbaijani-terrorist bandits were threatening our soldiers, he took the weapon to go and help the boys.

– I am coming with you too, Commander! Please let me come with you, you need me, the boys need me.

The commander insisted that Alex stay in a safe position, but your brother was adamant…

A shootout ensues between the enemy of forces and those trying to help the trapped soldiers. Alex fought fiercely, selflessly and was seriously wounded. The doctors in the hospital were fighting for the hero’s life until the last hope, but …

Edgar, put your foot firmly on the ground, walk proudly, raise your head. Your father fought for the freedom of Artsakh in the 1990s, he was wounded while liberating his homeland. At the moment I am writing this letter to you, your elder brother Arnold and your uncle Vahram are on the Artsakh front. And your father says he will join them soon. You are a descendant of the brave, honest and heroic blood flows in your veins, the blood of the most honorable, tallest and strongest men. When you were one year and eight months old, all the men in your family were on the battlefield. They saved the independence of our homeland, our land, our honor and our future with their lives.

I talked to your father yesterday. When you were one year and eight months old, he was a broad, bearded, good-looking, young man. The hardness of pain in the eyes, the fire of revenge in the eyes. He said.

– Whoever is able, must take up arms. Whoever can, must shoot at the enemy. My eldest son and brother are at the border, let me go and join them. To whom should I leave the fight? We must end this war with victory. We have no right to leave this fight to future generations. Our children must not go through the horrors of war, they must not feel the pain of losing a loved one.

Edgar, our forces were incomparably small, we were fighting on three fronts: against the Turks, the Azeris and the mercenary terrorists who came to the front from abroad. But we won. Our small but proud and heroic people won. And do you know why? … Because our souls were armed with the weapon of love, the armor of love. We loved our homeland, we loved our people, we loved our dignity, we loved you and thousands of Armenian children like you and we were ready to give the most precious thing, only if you lived in your own country with the right of the master, with the pride of the master. And our love won. The hatred of the enemy knelt before our love. We paid a very high price for you and your peers to live in a free homeland. We put the most precious thing in the salvation of the homeland, our heart, the light of our eyes, our sons. And now that homeland is in your hands. Build, build, flourish your land, and that will be the best reward for our sacrifices. Probably your father would have told you how well Alex was learning math. When your brother was in seventh grade, the teacher would take him to solve ninth grade math problems and exercises to serve as an example to the adults. Alex was a student, I’m sure he would become a great scientist, especially, telling his father, he was very hardworking. Not only did he study diligently, but he also worked from school age to help his father. He would have done great things if he had survived, but he gave his life for the homeland and gave you the message to do great things for the homeland. And you must make Alex’s homeland the most powerful, the most beautiful, the most protected country in the world. You and your contemporaries must realize the unfulfilled dreams of the heroes who saved your childhood at the cost of their lives …

By GAYANE POGHOSYAN