80

p Not later than August 20, 1942

p Darling, my love,

p Yesterday we finally contacted the enemy. Today we’ll soon move into the attack.

p This is the set-up: artillery and mortars are thundering away, our bombers have just gone over and given Fritz hell.

p We are very close to the Germans. All the time nazi mortar shells rend the air and bullets whistle overhead. We’re all in good spirits. I’m not the least bit scared, nervous or unsure of myself. Instead, I have a burning love for our country, an urge to do all I can to defend her, my dear ones, from these 20th-century Huns. Get revenge on them for all the misery and suffering they’ve caused our people, get revenge on them for our beloved Leningrad.

p There’s a lot more I could write but not much time left.

All my love and kisses to you,
Goga

p A war correspondent came upon a tank unit in early August 1942 and got into conversation with the men. Soldiers wanted to recount the battle deeds of their comrades, how life was at the front. There and then the correspondent heard about Lieutenant Landau’s letter.

p “We used to call him Goga,” the tank-men recalled. "He was a fantastically courageous and daring officer. His tank crew were always in front.

“This is his last letter. It was written just before the battle. Goga didn’t come back, he died a hero’s death. . . .”