The stout middle-aged woman who answered the door seemed a little confused at first. But when we handed her Vladimir's card she invited us in. We went into the living room where her husband was asleep on the couch. Prominently displayed on a small table in the middle of the room was a photograph of her son, Zhenya.

The mother began to tell us her son's tragic story. Her husband, now awake, added details here and there. Ten months since the young man's death, the family was still devastated by the loss of their oldest son. Throughout the evening we heard stories about Zhenya as a child, saw family photos, and met Zhenya's 12-year-old brother Dennis. Later neighbors joined us and we moved to the kitchen to drink vodka and tea. The conversation eventually faded from Zhenya and we spoke about our trip, our families and life in America and Russia.

Both Lisa and I were moved by Zhenya's and his family's story and felt it spoke as much about the war-- if not more--than anything we could do on a soldier that returned alive from Chechnya. So after consulting with the family, we decided to tell one soldier's story.