Vladimir Viktorovich Temerov. "I Remember" Project by Artem Drabkin. Bomber Pilots
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I was born on August 15, 1925, in Odessa, to a working-class family. My father, Viktor Vladimirovich Temerov, worked at a tannery, rising from a worker to deputy director. So some of my earliest childhood memories are associated with the factory – the smell of the ash room, where hides were soaked on huge rotating drums.
In 1933, my father was sent to the Dniester station near Odessa as the secretary of the party organization. There, I went to a Ukrainian school. I remember the day the phone rang. My father picked up the receiver, listened, and his expression changed – Comrade Kirov had been killed. It was painful and terrifying. As a boy, I took this tragedy hard. A year later, we returned to Odessa. My father was sent to study at the Kaganovich Higher Communist Agricultural School. In 1937, during the Supreme Soviet elections, my father was appointed chairman of the electoral commission for the Odessa region. It was there that I rode in an M-1 automobile for the first time in my life. I must say, those were not easy years. I distinctly remember the spy mania, a poster in the city center depicting the NKVD Commissar Yezhov in iron fists, with enemies of the people writhing before him. It reached the point of absurdity. At school, notebooks depicting the Spasskaya Tower were confiscated. It turned out that if you looked under a magnifying glass, you'd see hanged figures depicted instead of windows. Or they'd suddenly discover that the letters "USSR" on a matchbox were depicted in such a way that the faces of saints could be seen in the gaps between the letters. The acronym stood for "Forty Saints Will Save Russia." We were told that all this was the work of enemies of the people and churchmen.