In the Internet I paid attention to one photo: an old woman hugs a young man in a military uniform. In the bottom it was written: “Azeri grandma and Armenian fighter”. I sent this photo through the net and asked people to give me some information about this photo. Istanbul University teacher Alber Keshish reacted. He told me that the soldier is his classmate – Sargis Hatspanyan, Artsakh war participant.

20 years ago, on November 5, 1992 during the fight for one of the villages of Lachin Karen Manvelyan perished.
This year on November 5th a memory function was held in RA MoD military museum «Mother Armenia» dedicated to the 20th death anniversary and 45th birth anniversary of Karen Manvelyan. The function was titled – «If you want your people and Homeland live, have a will to die for them». Karen’s relatives, friends, teachers, guests were present on the function.

Andranik Hayrapetyan was born in Yerevan in 1968. In 1988 he returned from the Soviet army, and in 1990 he was already a member of one of the volunteer’s detachments «Arabkir». In 1991 he was sent to Shahumyan to carry weapons to the border.
Always the most responsible task was entrusted to Andranik. They knew that only he can fulfill it. However this time the unexpected bullet found Andranik. He was not yet 24…

My predecessors are from Old Julfa. My father a general of Indian Army Vanik Minas lived in Kalkata. My grandfather (from father) Tigran I haven’t seen instead of that I won’t never forget my grandmother Mary from Julfa. She was a powerful woman. The characters of my grandma and father were similar: both were too proud of their Armenian roots, were strict, persistent, disciplined, honest and dominant… Both beat me (there was also an occasion for beating). My grandma says: “This stick will make you an Armenian”. She says: “As soon as you come home from school, go and kiss the stick, because you won’t be a man without this stick”.

My youngest son Arman was 13 in 1992. 10 days I was not at home, I drove soldiers to Hadrut. When I returned, my friends said: “Your Arman ran away, went to Krasnoselsk. Go after him, he is very young”.
Months passed, a year, too, but no news from him.
Soon it will be 20 years. My mother died with the name “Arman” on her lips. My wife also didn’t endure. Last time, being infirm, she asked: “Any news from Arman?” I shook my head…

Glancing through “Hay Zinvor” newspaper’s first issues, I paid attention to a photo – a soldier holding a small boy in a military uniform. The photo was shot in the days of formation of our army.

♦ The first day when my foot touches the Holy soil of my Homeland, I’ll visit Tsitsernakaberd, Pantheon Yerabloor and then – Artsakh.
♦ If there is pain and suffering, I’d like to suffer, struggle for my Homeland and love.
♦ To be a soldier – it is not for cowards. However only being brave you can’t be a soldier. Courage is being respected if it is used to protect your Nation, Homeland, Family.