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Володимир Шабля Biography

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“A volley thundered — and the prisoner kneeling beside Peter collapsed lifelessly into the dirt. Three more men fell elsewhere along the line. “Reload!” the State Security lieutenant kept commanding. “Aim!” Peter turned his gaze toward the NKVD squad. A rifle was pointed straight at his chest, the bayonet gleaming. He looked into the barrel. “Can a crude piece of lead really destroy my unique soul forever? No — that is absurd!” In a state of shock, he felt himself tearing away from reality, rising above the turmoil into a silvery, radiant height. Below, his body knelt on the ground. But his essence — his soul — watched what was happening with bitter irony from above. His gaze turned toward the beautiful light descending from the heavens. Peter shuddered. The rifle was still aimed at his chest. Yet he felt no fear. Now he knew: his soul could not die — it was impossible. His essence, his spirit — and therefore he himself — were immortal. “Stand down!” the NKVD lieutenant said with relief. “This time you are spared. But if there is any further sabotage, there will be no mercy.” — Volodymyr Shablia, Stone. Book One Context note: During a prisoner transport in Stalin’s USSR, Peter witnesses an execution and is moments away from being shot himself. Facing death, fear gives way to a profound inner realization about the immortality of the human spirit.”

“A son. An heir. Fragile — born too soon, and yet deeply desired.” The thought had barely formed when the father took the newborn into his arms and fell in love at first sight. Afraid to harm him, yet unable to resist, he gently kissed the baby’s cheek. “He is not Alexander, as I once imagined,” he realized suddenly. “He is Peter. My son is Peter.” When the parents chose the name, they did not know its ancient Greek meaning. Nor could they imagine how precisely it would define the boy’s fate: Peter — a stone, a rock. From the very moment of his painful birth, he would stand like a rock against suffering and injustice, enduring hardship, surviving cruelty, and emerging stronger — destined to fulfill a mission of goodness, reason, honesty, and justice. — Volodymyr Shablia, Stone. Book One Context note: Born into a turbulent era of war, revolution, repression, and uncertainty, Peter enters the world fragile — yet claimed by history itself. This moment of birth marks the quiet beginning of a life shaped by endurance, moral strength, and resistance to cruelty.”

“I want to make buns too!” four-year-old Peter declared firmly. “Then help me knead and roll the dough,” Grandma Iryna suggested, “and I’ll shape and bake all sorts of tasty treats from it.” “Deal!” She lifted her grandson onto a sturdy chair at the edge of the table so he could reach the dough comfortably, then pinched off a small lump for him. “I’ll knead my piece, and you’ll knead yours — together we’ll finish faster,” she said. “Watch me and do the same.” Glancing at his teacher, the boy eagerly began working his dough. Soon he was covered in flour from head to toe. Iryna only smiled and encouraged him, kneading her own dough with skillful hands and humming gentle folk rhymes. — Volodymyr Shablia, Stone. Book One Context note: Set in rural Ukraine before war and repression tear childhood apart, this scene captures a fleeting moment of safety and love — a grandmother teaching her grandson patience, trust, and joy through the simplest ritual of home.”

“In childhood, overhearing everyday conversations among relatives about collectivization, famine, war, and political repression, I perceived these stories as curious — sometimes frightening — episodes my loved ones had endured. Although they belonged to a past not so distant, I felt them as something that had happened long ago, almost like events that occurred only slightly later than the fairy tales I loved so much. Much of what I heard I did not yet understand, but my young memory — still largely unfilled — carefully recorded these fragments of history, preserving events and facts deep within its silent annals.” — Volodymyr Shablia, Stone. Book One. Author's foreword Context note: This reflection from the author’s foreword shows how the collective trauma of the early twentieth century entered a child’s consciousness indirectly — through family conversations, half-understood words, and inherited memory. What first felt distant and almost mythical would later reveal itself as lived history, shaping both the author’s worldview and the moral foundation of the novel.”

“Red Army soldier Danylo could only sleep while moving – in transport – and even that could hardly be called sleep at all.”

“Bang!” The explosion thundered right beside him. Danilo’s body was thrown aside like a rag doll, and his mind shut down instantly. What happened next, Red Army soldier Shablia neither saw nor heard. The sounds of battle, the shouts of men, machine-gun fire, shell bursts — even the massive shockwave when the bridge and dam were blown up — could no longer reach his consciousness. Author: Volodymyr Shablia: Context note: This passage describes the moments of Danylo Shablia's last battle during the chaotic retreat of the Red Army, emphasizing the sudden, impersonal nature of events in World War II.”

“I took my own and Kolya’s two-day ration of bread and lard to the hospital,” the boy said, with unsettling calm beyond his years. “We must do everything we can to save him. If he dies, he won’t need food anymore.” Danilo’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh God, how could you let this happen?” he thought bitterly. “Is it fair to take a piece from one starving child to give it to another?” He pulled his son’s head to his chest. “You’re probably right,” he said quietly. After a while, he returned from the pantry with an unusually full bucket of cornmeal and two bundles. “Mother,” Danilo said to his mother-in-law, handing her the food, “besides the usual bread, bake a few pies with lard and pumpkin—for Kolya… and for Peter.” — Volodymyr Shablia, Stone. Book Three Context note: Set during the Holodomor, this scene captures the impossible moral choices faced by families during the man-made famine in Soviet Ukraine. A child’s stark logic forces adults to confront the inhuman calculus of survival—where compassion meant redistributing hunger, and saving one life could mean endangering another.”

“On that winter afternoon, the two boys hurried outside right after lunch, pulling enormous sleds that seemed almost larger than themselves. As they climbed the hill, they kept dodging sleds rushing past, packed with people of all ages. Most were children and teenagers, but there were also young adults and even respectable grown villagers. Sometimes grandparents came too, ‘to remember the old days.’ They rode together with their children or grandchildren, letting the younger ones steer. And after reaching the bottom – or tumbling halfway down – the ‘veterans’ laughed, shouted, and squealed with joy no less than the children. — Volodymyr Shablia, Stone. Book Two Context note: A happy moment of childhood joy and community life in a rural Ukrainian village – a reminder that even under repression, warmth and memory endured.”

“As soon as Peter took off his coat and saw what his grandmother had cooked, he ran straight to the table and climbed into ‘his’ place – a large, sturdy wooden armchair with a small stool set on top of it. He bit eagerly into the pasty, taking large mouthfuls and greedily washing them down with milk. At one moment, the boy moved a little too abruptly, and a thin stream of warm milk escaped from the corner of his mouth, slid between cheek and chin, slipped under his collar, and disappeared on his chest, gently warming his skin. Peter wiped the spilled milk with his sleeve, took another pasty – then another, and another… Years later, this moment – so full of bright childhood sensations – would return to him night after night, haunting the hungry Peter, tormenting both soul and body in his sleep. Repeated endlessly, the dream would turn into suffering – a symbol of doom and unrealized hopes. And even within this seemingly kind dream, a Damoclean sword would hang over his mind: the impossibility, the futility of ever turning it into reality. — Volodymyr Shablia, Stone. Book Two Context note: A memory of warmth, abundance, and family love that later becomes a recurring dream for a starving prisoner. The contrast reveals how childhood comfort turns into psychological torment under hunger and repression.”

“I’ve already learned the poem! I have! Listen!” And five-year-old Peter recited it boldly, without a single pause. His parents were stunned. Danylo considered himself a well-educated man. He had once completed a parish school, later pursued self-education diligently, and through natural intelligence and perseverance had become a skilled accountant. Yet to memorize such a poem casually, in play, having heard only fragments of it? No — such heights had always been beyond him. With a mingled feeling of joy, pride, and astonishment, the father studied his son. For the first time, he saw in this mischievous boy an heir — one who had inherited the best traits of his ancestors and might one day surpass even his boldest expectations. “Maria,” Danylo said to his wife, “let’s send Peter to school, even if it’s still early — let him study alongside his older brother Nick. He’s capable, he’s bright, he’ll manage. After all, no one knows what the future may bring.” — Volodymyr Shablia, Stone. Book One Context note: In a fragile post-war society where education was uncertain and the future unpredictable, a father recognizes early brilliance in his son — a moment when hope quietly overcomes fear, and destiny begins to take shape.”

“My blissful childhood was shattered without warning when I was about ten years old. One day, my father told me that he had spent seventeen years of his life in prisons, Gulag labor camps, and internal exile. At that moment, his confession became the greatest shock I had ever experienced. “My father — the kindest and wisest man on earth — and suddenly this?” I refused to believe my own ears. But my dad did not stop at the bare fact. He spoke of hunger, of cruelty, of utter powerlessness — and of his own horrific existence within a totalitarian, inhuman system. — Volodymyr Shablia, Stone. Book One. Author's Preface Context note: This passage comes from the author’s preface and reflects a real childhood revelation that became the moral and emotional foundation of the novel. Learning that his father had survived years of prisons, labor camps, and exile under the Soviet totalitarian system, the author transformed personal memory into a literary quest to understand repression, trauma, and human endurance.”

“Boom!” The thunder of a massive explosion rolled across the settlement. Maria’s sobbing came from the bedroom. Irina ran to her daughter. “They’ve blown up the church! They destroyed it!” Maria cried again and again in hysteria. “Hush, hush,” Irina whispered, holding her daughter close as she tried to calm her. “Be strong. We will pray before the icons at home. God in heaven sees everything. No one can destroy Him—or our faith.” — Volodymyr Shablia, Stone. Book Three Context note: Set in the 1930s during Stalin’s anti-religious campaign, this scene reflects the Soviet regime’s systematic destruction of churches and persecution of believers. Across the USSR, thousands of religious buildings were demolished as part of the state’s effort to eradicate faith—yet for many families, belief survived behind closed doors, becoming an act of quiet resistance.”

“The hospital’s long-time cook, Iryna, mechanically peeled potatoes as usual — breakfast had to be prepared for the patients. Work was work, and she was now the only breadwinner in her family. Yet today her thoughts were entirely at home. There, her pregnant daughter Maria had been struck down by typhus and had lain alone in critical condition for a week. To make matters worse, no one was with her. Normally, Iryna would visit her sick daughter during the day. But today the hospital was in emergency mode — another convoy of wounded from the civil war had arrived. A mother’s heart was tearing itself toward her child… though what could she really do? Wiping her hands on a towel, Iryna approached the small icon depicting the Virgin Mary with the infant Jesus. She knelt, folded her hands to her chest, fixed her gaze on the immaculate face of the Mother of God — and began to pray. — Volodymyr Shablia, Stone. Book One Context note: Set during the chaos of the Ukrainian Civil War and a typhus epidemic, this scene shows the quiet suffering of civilians. While the hospital is overwhelmed with wounded, a mother torn between duty and fear turns to faith — highlighting the human cost of war beyond the battlefield.”

“Soon after the birth, Maria was shown her son. He was no longer crying. The baby was tiny, frail, his skin wrinkled — yet his bright, restless eyes darted stubbornly in every direction, as if he were trying to take in this vast, unfamiliar, and beautiful world as quickly as possible. “You did well, Maria! You have a son! You did well!” Irina kissed her daughter’s hand joyfully. “Everything will be all right now.” Seeing her child, Maria felt relief wash over her. She longed to take him into her arms, to press him to her chest — but the baby was taken away. After the necessary procedures, the midwife quietly pulled Irina aside. “Breastfeeding is dangerous,” she whispered. “The baby could contract typhus. But he is premature, weak — and if he does not receive colostrum now, I fear he will not survive. The previous woman gave birth a week ago and has no colostrum left. I believe we must take the risk: newborns contract infection from sick mothers in only about a third of cases.” Irina looked at her grandson lying in her arms. He jerked his tiny hands and feet at random — then smiled clumsily. “God’s will be done,” she said firmly. “A child must drink his mother’s milk.” When the alcohol-sterilized breast was offered to the baby, it turned out his mouth was too small to take the nipple. Fortunately, the other breast was smaller — and the boy latched on with determined urgency. Holding the flesh of her flesh to her chest, feeling her son’s gentle sucking, Maria experienced a moment of pure euphoria. The terrible illness receded, making way for the overwhelming joy of motherhood. Neither Maria nor the newborn knew of the danger of infection. They were simply following the ancient law of nature. And Irina spent the rest of the day in prayer, asking God to spare two souls — her daughter and her grandson. — Volodymyr Shablia, Stone. Book One Context note: During the Ukrainian Civil War of 1920, amid epidemics, hunger, and collapsing authority, a premature child is born into a world where survival depends on instinct, faith, and impossible choices. This moment captures motherhood and mercy standing against historical catastrophe.”

“– All strong independent farmers are driven into unbearable conditions. Sooner or later, following the Party’s orders, they will come and eliminate us as a class — within an hour.”

“– Independent farmers are arrested and deported somewhere to the Urals or Siberia. I fear we may be the next to be labeled ‘kulaks’. — Volodymyr Shablia, Stone. Book Two Context note: During the forced collectivization in the USSR, millions of peasants were forcibly deported to remote regions such as Siberia and the Urals as part of state repression against on wealthy peasants (nicknamed "kulaks" by the Soviet authorities).”

“That’s how we’ve ended up,” Ivan said with a bitter smile. “We work, as in the proverb: Enough trading, father — there’s no change left to give. ‘Why did they suddenly increase the grain procurement plan?’ Vasyl protested. ‘Everything seems the same — but it isn’t,’ Danylo explained. ‘The status of our land has changed, and so has the status of the collective farmers. What grew last year is now taxed differently. Even the poor peasants who joined the collective are no longer considered poor — and the taxes rise accordingly.’ ‘Clever,’ Ivan muttered angrily. ‘They’ve laid out their accounting traps well.’ — Volodymyr Shablia, Stone. Book Two Context note: In Soviet collective farms, taxes and grain quotas were often increased not because of real agricultural growth, but due to bureaucratic reclassification. Accounting became a tool of pressure that made normal farming impossible.”

“Our guest—Comrade Stebletsov—is not merely speaking about rooting out class enemies from Soviet society; he is doing so in practice!” the homeroom teacher declared grandly. “He is a member of a grain requisition squad and therefore a true executor of the Bolshevik Party’s line to eliminate the kulaks as a class! And today, the best among you, children, are given the opportunity to prove your loyalty to the cause of Lenin and Stalin. Peter! Marusya! Stand up!” The children rose from their desks in confusion. “As top students and Young Pioneers, you are entrusted by our school collective with participation in an important state mission!” The teacher’s chest seemed to swell with pride as her chin lifted higher. “You will represent our school as public members of the grain requisition squad. Together with your senior comrades, you are assigned to uncover grain hidden by kulaks and saboteurs. Our class enemy does not sleep—he seeks to sabotage the industrialization of the USSR. He hides grain from the Soviet state, condemning the proletariat to suffering. But we will not allow the vile accomplices of the rich to rob our people! We entrust you with a responsible mission: as part of the requisition squad, you will locate and pour into the granaries of the Motherland the grain illegally concealed by the kulaks!” — Volodymyr Shablia, Stone. Book Three Context note: Set during the Holodomor of 1933, this scene illustrates how Soviet schools became instruments of communist propaganda. Children were mobilized as Young Pioneers and encouraged to participate in grain confiscation campaigns against peasants branded by the regime as “kulaks.” The language of class struggle and industrialization masked the immense human cost of forced collectivization and the state-imposed famine in Ukraine and across the USSR.”

“Operational inquiry has established that Danylo Shablia assisted in the espionage activities of his son, Peter Shablia, helping him organize an anti-Soviet network in the settlement of Tomakivka at his place of residence.” Peter read the paragraph in the middle of the page. “As you can see, the document is signed, stamped, and fully prepared for dispatch. Your choice, therefore, is limited. You understand perfectly well what consequences such a response will have for your father,” the NKVD operative Kidman added smoothly. Inwardly, he was triumphant. The fabricated report had worked exactly as intended. The staged performance had exceeded expectations—he could read it on Peter’s face. Now I must not lose the initiative, the operative thought, careful not to betray his satisfaction. “Well? Surely you understand that you have no alternative,” he pressed. Peter understood. From fellow prisoners who had endured the brutal interrogations of Soviet counterintelligence, he knew what such accusations meant for a former prisoner of war: almost certainly execution. But he also knew something else. He would never be able to live with himself as a secret informant for the NKVD. That, to him, was worse than death. He felt it physically—the sense of being driven into a corner. As had happened before in moments of moral extremity, a red haze clouded his mind. Some uncontrollable mechanism inside him broke loose, awakening a furious force that swept aside calculation and fear. “To hell with you and your threats!” he shouted, hurling the papers into the operative’s face. “I want no part of your methods—or your masters!” He leapt to his feet, seized a chair, and flung it toward Kidman. “Cut me to pieces if you must—but I will not become an informer! You’ll drag me back here only as a corpse!” He stormed out, slamming the door so hard it echoed down the corridor. A group of startled onlookers scattered as he made his way back to the barracks — Volodymyr Shablia, Stone. Book Four Context note: Set in 1942 during World War II, this scene portrays one of the coercive methods used by the NKVD—the Soviet secret police—to recruit forced informants inside labor camps. Prisoners were often threatened with fabricated charges against their relatives, including accusations of espionage or anti-Soviet activity, which could result in execution. By exploiting family loyalty and fear, the system sought to turn inmates into secret collaborators tasked with informing on fellow prisoners. The episode reflects the psychological warfare and moral pressure that defined Stalinist repression in Soviet labor camps.”

“– But keeping such large troop formations idle here, while the enemy can outflank us from the right, is extremely dangerous!” Context note: Rigid command structures in the Red Army and a fear of initiative often led to catastrophic delays and encirclements in the early years of the war. In this case, the military leader is frustrated by the impossibility of implementing an obvious solution.”

“The prisoners, feral and maddened by thirst, tried to snatch discarded watermelon rinds lying along the road or to drink from muddy puddles nearby. At first, the NKVD guards simply shot those who dared rush toward the water. But soon the situation slipped out of control. When a small puddle flashed in the sun, all the prisoners surged toward this miserable source of water, ignoring fear of death, desperate shouts, and gunfire from the guards. They fought wildly, beating one another for the right to press their lips to the life-giving moisture. Peter reached the puddle among the first, but several men were already lying in it, gulping greedily and blocking others. In a fit of rage, Peter grabbed one of them by the clothes, flung him several meters aside, collapsed into his place — and fused his mouth to the water. He drank frantically. For the first few minutes, he felt nothing but a dizzying mix of rapture, pleasure, and joy as his thirst was quenched. Only when mud replaced water in his mouth did awareness of what was happening slowly begin to return. — Volodymyr Shablia, Stone. Book One Context note: During a prisoner transport in Stalin’s USSR in the early years of World War II, extreme thirst drove Gulag inmates to the edge of madness. Even filthy puddles became objects of violent struggle, exposing how wartime Soviet repression reduced human survival to pure instinct.”

“1920… Chaos. A chaos brewed from fear, lawlessness, constant changes of power, civil war, and disease. The Red Commissars with their grain requisitions. The White Guards with arrogant imperial plunder. Makhno’s forces with anarchist expropriations and the division of everything and everyone. The gangs of Hryhoriev, Marusia, and countless others… Each with its own rules. Yet all of them take and kill, rape and rob. In Tomakivka, only one institution functioned reliably – the hospital. It was needed by every warring authority, every general and ataman: the wounded had to be treated, the sick healed, and the able-bodied fed and given shelter. — Volodymyr Shablia, Stone. Book One Context note: Set in Ukraine during the Civil War (1917–1921), at the time of the Ukrainian People’s Republic, when multiple armed forces – Red, White, anarchist, and local warlord groups — fought for control, leaving civilians trapped in a landscape of violence, lawlessness, and disease.”

“Faith in God turned into the destruction of churches; collectivization into the Holodomor; hope for a better future into the loss of loved ones. People sought justice, but received unjust court verdicts; they defended their homeland, only to become prisoners or victims of occupation. — Volodymyr Shablia, Stone. Book Three (book description) Context note: This quote reflects the tragic fate of ordinary people in Soviet Ukraine during the 1930s–1940s, when religious persecution, forced collectivization, the Holodomor, political repression, and war shattered personal lives and destroyed hopes for justice and freedom.”

“The doctor delivered a devastating diagnosis: a severe stroke with paralysis of the right side of her body, brought on by prolonged starvation. In the days that followed, Irina’s condition steadily deteriorated. The family took turns caring for her, carefully following every medical instruction, yet the decline was obvious. Within days, her left leg failed as well. She could no longer speak—only stare ahead in silent resignation. Whenever one of her loved ones approached her bedside, tears streamed soundlessly down her face. Now, sitting beside his grandmother’s pillow, Peter watched the boundless sorrow in her eyes as she looked at him. “Grandma, everything will be all right. You’ll recover,” the boy lied with all the gentleness he was capable of. “I love you.” He pressed his face to her chest and kissed her. Heavy tears rolled down Irina’s cheeks. A lump rose in Peter’s throat. He could not drive away the terrible thought: How could it be that only yesterday someone so alive, loving, and active—though ill—could so suddenly become a helpless ruin? It felt unnatural. It felt unjust. With each passing day, life faded from Irina. A week after the stroke, she died quietly in her sleep. At his grandmother’s funeral, Peter wept as he never had before—and never would again. He did not hide his tears. He kept kissing her cold lips, cheeks, and forehead. But each kiss only made the grief heavier. — Volodymyr Shablia, Stone. Book Three Context note: Set during the Holodomor of 1933 in Ukraine, this scene portrays one of the famine’s most tragic realities: the rapid decline and death of the elderly and the sick often among the first victims of starvation. Malnutrition weakened the body’s ability to survive illness, and strokes, infections, and organ failure became fatal in a society stripped of food and medical resources. Behind the statistics of millions dead were intimate family tragedies like this one.”

“Roughly halfway across the frozen river, the column of prisoners was halted by a massive snowdrift blocking their path. It proved too dense to break through in a single charge. “Why are you standing there staring? Move! Help the men in front!” a guard barked. The prisoners crowded forward and began clearing the obstacle together, clawing and kicking at the packed snow with desperate urgency. In their haste, they failed to consider that the ice had not yet thickened sufficiently after the previous night’s freeze. Under the concentrated weight of so many bodies in one place, the thin crust of ice suddenly gave way. The entire vanguard plunged into the freezing water. Those following behind recoiled in terror and collided with the prisoners at the rear. As they fell, the ice shattered beneath them as well, and they too were swallowed by the treacherous water. The more fortunate inmates, farther from the gaping hole in the ice, scattered in panic. Frightened guards fired warning shots into the air, shouting frantically to restore order. An instant later, the icy slurry struck Peter’s body like a thousand knives. Screams, splashing water, cracking ice, and frantic bodies thrashing in the racing current merged into a single nightmare of chaos. Several of the men who had fallen into the river could not swim. One was quickly seized by the current and dragged beneath the ice. Others, stricken by panic, clutched at whoever was near them. Peter found himself locked in the iron grip of a terrified Turkmen prisoner who had never in his life seen a body of water large enough to swim in. Together, they began to sink beneath the ice. — Volodymyr Shablia, Stone. Book Three Context note: Set in 1941 during the chaotic early months of World War II, this scene depicts the forced transfer of prisoners within the Soviet Gulag system. As Nazi Germany invaded the USSR, thousands of inmates were marched or transported across vast distances under brutal conditions. Many perished not in battle, but during these desperate evacuations—victims of cold, exhaustion, panic, and the indifference of a repressive state.”

“The boys lived in their own simple, carefree world, unconcerned with hygiene and unaware of the theory of evolution. Yet ruthless natural selection—further intensified by human disregard for its principles and the laws of biology—allowed only the strongest and most enduring to survive. — Volodymyr Shablia, Stone. Book Three Context note: This quote reflects childhood lived under harsh social neglect, where survival depended not on care or knowledge, but on physical resilience. Set against the backdrop of Soviet Ukraine, it uses the metaphor of natural selection to expose how indifference to basic human and biological needs shaped who endured—and who did not.”

“I have quite a few of ‘my own’ people now,” Stalin concluded, “but the very first day of the war revealed a lack of proper organization and coordination among them. Worse still, among these ‘my own’ there are plenty of fools — and traitors lying low. This filth must be eliminated as quickly as possible, because a new system of power can be built only if I do not fear for my rear.” He turned back to the sheet of paper and wrote decisively: “Immediately neutralize all spies and potential enemies.” The General Secretary of the Communist Party raised his eyes to the ceiling. Images of former comrades — now exposed as traitors — flashed before his mind’s eye. Blood rushed to his face; beneath his habitual vigilance, rage began to surface. Yes, I too had erred for too long, following the lead of Leninist–Trotskyist lackeys who believed the revolution could be exported by financing foreign anti-imperialist movements. Through these empty talkers, colossal resources had vanished abroad like water into sand — resources that should have gone into armaments. And time? Years lost. Years that were desperately needed now. These double-dealers should have been destroyed immediately after Trotsky’s defeat — a barren breed capable only of parroting outdated ideas of long-dead leaders. At least now they were no longer underfoot, no longer pulling in opposite directions and tearing the system apart. “Stop,” Stalin ordered himself. “I must not descend into emotion. That is unacceptable. What matters is drawing conclusions from my own miscalculations.” — Volodymyr Shablia, Stone. Book One Context note: An internal monologue of Joseph Stalin during the first days of the German–Soviet War, a later and decisive phase of World War II. The passage reveals the core logic of Stalinist power: paranoia, purges, and the conviction that absolute control — rather than human life — is the true foundation of victory. It exposes how fear, repression, and ideological obsession shaped decision-making at the highest levels of the Soviet state.”

“When his fingers touched the bread during the inspection of his duffel bag, and he inhaled its warm rye scent, Peeter could no longer restrain himself. He broke off a small piece, placed it in his mouth, and chewed for a long time, trying – if only briefly – to deceive the constant hunger. For a moment, it worked: he swallowed the paste-like pap, felt a rush of euphoria, and quietly fell asleep. — Volodymyr Shablia, Stone. Book Two Context note: During prisoner transports to the Gulag, hunger was constant. Even a single bite of bread could bring brief relief – and an almost euphoric sense of escape from terrible reality.”

“Peter had only just graduated with honors from the Zaporizhzhia Pedagogical Institute and was supposed to leave for his first teaching job the very next day. Instead, he was arrested. For what sins was a student obsessed with honesty punished — a young man who had risen from the very bottom of society and sincerely believed in the socialist ideal? His parents did not know. Peter himself did not know either. He believed what had happened was a terrible mistake and hoped it would soon be corrected. — Volodymyr Shablia, Stone. Book Two Context note: In the Stalinist USSR, arrests often struck young, loyal, and idealistic citizens. Many believed their detention was a bureaucratic error — until the machinery of repression proved otherwise.”

“The most effective move would be to send the tanks with infantry west of Bolshaya Belozerka” Commander Smirnov proposed. “Enemy units there are nearly destroyed — we could threaten a real encirclement.” “That won’t be possible,” the chief of staff objected. “A combat order has just arrived from фронт headquarters: the 15th Tank Brigade, the 530th Anti-Tank Artillery Regiment, and the 30th Cavalry Division are are redeployed to support the 12th Army near Pavlograd, where the situation is critical.” Smirnov turned pale, then his eyes filled with blood. “Damn it!” he slammed his fist on the table. “We needed just two more days. Without tanks now, we’re helpless. — Volodymyr Shablia, Stone. Book Two Context note: In 1941, rigid bureaucracy and centralized command in the Red Army often prevented commanders from exploiting battlefield opportunities. Delays, reassignments, and fear of independent decisions frequently led to disastrous outcomes.”

“Stalin perceived the world in stark black and white. In the same way, he divided people, nations, actions, and ideas into only two absolute categories: “ours” and “theirs.” “Ours” were all those — and everything — that, at the moment of decision, fell under his control or contributed to strengthening it. “Theirs” were everyone else, and everything else. He saw his role as a strategist in constructing a system of power that would force each of the “ours,” individually and collectively, to work at the very limit of human endurance in order to fulfill his strategic design. That design was simple and ruthless: to endlessly increase the number and strength of the “ours” by coercing the “theirs” into becoming “ours,” while simultaneously destroying — or, as a last resort, neutralizing — all who refused to submit. — Volodymyr Shablia, Stone. Book One Context note: This passage reflects the ideological logic of Stalinist totalitarianism, where power was built on absolute division, forced loyalty, and systematic repression. In the Soviet worldview of the 1930s–1940s, survival depended on belonging to “ours” — or being destroyed as “theirs.”

“If your case, as a politically repressed person, is reviewed by the Special Council, you are almost guaranteed the standard sentence: ten years in labor camps plus three years’ loss of civil rights. The Special Council delivers verdicts in batches, so it simply does not have time to examine each case in detail. But if a judicial panel hears your case—and if I, as the prosecutor, withdraw the charges—you might even be acquitted. For that, however, you would need to submit a request to be sent to the front and, if acquitted, go to war.” “And are you prepared to withdraw the charges?” Peter asked in surprise. “I will be frank with you,” the prosecutor replied, enunciating each word. “As a patriot of my country, I believe that in wartime young, strong, and intelligent men like you should fight the enemy—not rot in the camps. Two of my own sons are at the front fulfilling their duty to the Motherland, and I am ready to help you do the same.” “Thank you,” Peter said firmly. “I, too, am ready to defend my country rather than remain safely in the rear.” Context note: Set during World War II under Stalin’s regime, this scene exposes the legal absurdity of Soviet repression, where “justice” depended less on evidence than on political expediency. Special tribunals could issue sentences in batches, while wartime necessity sometimes transformed prisoners into soldiers—revealing a system in which ideology, survival, and patriotism collided.”

“I fear that even my authority as an army commander won’t help. The fear of the High Command is too great.”