A story from Moscow 1941.
I was born in Leningrad, my grand-parents are from the South, Ukrainians and Don cossacks. In 1940 my Grandfather got married and moved to Moscow, Artillery college teacher. He was one of the first officers to use Guards Mortars, or RS as they said.
My grandparents lived on Begovaya street, near the hyppodrome (race track (course)). Their nearest bomb-shelter was at a Dynamo subway station.
In August 1941 nazis bombed Presnya station, Belorussian station if we speak in terms of ordinary people. Several dozen trains with artillery ammunition burned and exploded. Some shells are found several kilometers away now after 65 years. /*near Leningrad it's still no wonder when someone blows up on a land-mine when picking mushrooms*/
Ok.
Grandparents come home after an air-raid alarm is cancelled. Their house has no window-glass: 500m from a railway station that was still burning... They come to their room, the door is blown away and carefully put against the wall, and an officer sleeps at their bed... Granfather wakes him up, he salutes and says something like "Comrade senior leutenant, I saw the door blown away and came here to make sure that your posessions are not stolen". Granfather saluted and that officer left.
Great people. Horrible time. That's why we survived.
Later in September 1941 Granfather went to the Front-line with his battery of Guard Mortars (katyusha, BM-13) - Grandmother was evacuated from Msk... This is another long story of human devotion and mutual assistance....