Since hearing the news from Vitya's mother, Natalya Dmitrievna called army services in Moscow several times a day to ask whether her son was on one of the "lists" -- of those wounded, captured, or killed in Chechnya. And every day for more than two weeks, she received the same answer: Zhenya Mamykin was on none of the lists.

Then on the afternoon of January 13, she received a call at work. "Come to the Military Commissar's office," said the voice at the other end of the line. "We have some news for you." Natalya Dmitrievna went with Vladimir and two other people from the factory to the Commissar's office, where they were given the news that she had been dreading. "Your son's body will arrive by train at 4:30 tomorrow morning," they were told. "Go home and prepare to receive his coffin."

In a state of shock, Natalya Dmitrievna and Vladimir went home. There, in accordance with Russian Orthodox traditions, they covered all the mirrors in the house and removed all the carpets. Lacking a properly formal photo of her son in his army uniform, Natalya Dmitrievna arranged for a local photography shop to superimpose a photo of Zhenya's face over that of another soldier. The finished photo stands to this day in their living room.

On the morning of the January 14th, the coffin bearing Zhenya's body arrived at the train station. "I waited at home for Vladimir and his friends to bring it back here," says Natalya Dmitrievna. "The whole time, I kept thinking, 'Maybe there's been a mistake. Maybe they'll get there and find out he's still alive'. But of course, it wasn't a mistake," she continues, the tears that are always close to the surface finally spilling over at the memory.

Ironically, Natasha, who was the first to know he was in Chechnya, was the last to find out about his death. On the evening of the 14th, when Zhenya's sealed coffin had already been in his parents' home all day, Natasha was at home with two of her closest friends. As they sat talking, Natasha noticed a small bird tapping on the window with its beak. "There is a Russian superstition about birds tapping on the window," says Natasha. "I heard it tapping, and said, 'There's going to be a funeral soon.'" Soon after that, her friend's mother came over.

"'I have some terrible news,' she said. 'They've brought Zhenya home.' 'You mean, Zhenya's come home...' I said to her. 'No,' she said. 'He's been brought here.' And I knew suddenly what she meant."