The people behind the numbers

MOSCOW

WHENEVER RUSSIAN and American relations look discouraging, which is very often lately, I think about my infant daughter's late great-grandfathers.

In the second World War, one great-grandfather on her American side was a scout for an armored division that raced across France into the heart of Germany, while on the other side of Europe, one of her Russian great-grandfathers was an artilleryman in the Red Army, plodding west against the same enemy. They never met each other, but the cause they fought for is worth remembering this Memorial Day, as both sides again gin up another predictable cycle of tension and suspicion.

Change happens fast in Russia, and today, buoyed by booming energy markets and the widely held belief that a strong central authority has finally smoothed out the chaos of the 1990s, it is rapidly claiming its wounded pride and confidence. It is starting to again push its weight around, making sure its neighbors, Europe, and the United States remember that it is a power to be respected.

The best and worst of Russia's present mind-set was on full display in the weeks leading up to May 9, when Russia celebrates its victory over Nazi Germany.

Displays of patriotic pride ranged from the sentimental posters in all the shop windows to the ribbons in victory medal colors of orange and black on lapels, car antennas, and children's backpacks.

Leading up to it was an ongoing fight with Estonia over the "Bronze Soldier," a Soviet war memorial in Tallinn that the government chose to move to the outskirts of the city.

This outraged Estonia's sizable Russian minority, which has suffered at the hands of Estonian nationalists since the end of the Soviet Union, and sent Russia itself into fits.

The Kremlin's official youth group started harassing Estonian diplomats in Moscow, and the small Baltic country has suffered a crippling attack on its Internet infrastructure. It is uncertain who is behind it, but many fingers are pointing toward Russia.

Russian newspapers and television are filled with discussions about the dangers of "revisionism," which seems to be generally understood as failing to adequately toe the official version of how the Soviets won the war, with all the time-honored omissions in place.

No one mentions the shameful nonaggression pact between Adolf Hitler and Josef Stalin in the early days of the war, and their alliance in carving up Poland and the Baltics between them. The invasion of Finland is off-limits, as is the tragic mismanagement of the early months of the war and the ruthless, murderous discipline at the front.

But still, some important points are too often overlooked in the West. By conservative estimates, the total number of Soviet men and women who perished in the war amounts to about 27 million, and the final count will likely never be known. Such chilling figures help show why Russia may have a right to be nervous about NATO expansion up to its borders and US anti ballistic missiles in eastern Europe.

Underlying all this are real people. My daughter's great-grandfathers were above draft age when the war began and volunteered to serve. Vernon Yates won a Silver Star, and returned home to a long career as a truck driver. He didn't speak much about the war, and neither did Israel Schub, who spent his career as a Soviet agronomist. We know that he wrote touching letters in rhymed couplets to my daughter's grandmother from the front, and he quit smoking there on a bet after making fun of another soldier who had done so by sucking on lollipops.

He joined the Communist Party in a fit of patriotism after Hitler's 1941 invasion. And like most Soviet veterans, he cherished Victory Day, when you could don your best suit and rows of medals and for one day be remembered as a hero.

Of course, those celebrations in the Soviet Union took place against another backdrop of political bluster. And I have no idea what my wife's grandfather -- who died just months before the Soviet Union did -- would have thought about her marrying an American. But it is worth remembering that they were both on the right side when history called them to the most important fight of the last century.

As Woody Guthrie sang in one of his wartime propaganda songs, "the world is digging Hitler's grave and when the job is done, that'll be the biggest thing that man has ever done." For a moment, we should leave it at that.

Christopher Marcisz is a freelance journalist living in Moscow with his wife and daughter.