Feature: St. Petersburg cemetery a stark reminder of horrors of war

The Piskaryovskoye Memorial Cemetery is a stark reminder of human tragedy, where lay 490,000 residents who were starved to death when the Russian city became a battlefield between 1941 and 1944.

A giant sign "1941-1945" delivers the atmosphere of the Second World War, and the magnificent Mother Russia statue solemnly presides over a foreground of open flame.

On the memorials of some mass graves, only years and numbers are indicated since some 10,000 bodies were collected and buried every day and it was impossible to keep track of identity, said Olga Bolyshakova, who oversees the cemetery's archives.

"Many people think that St. Petersburg avoided the actual experience of war and the savagery of the front line as a besieged city, but it was terrible here too," said Bolyshakova.

"After the city was blockaded in 1941, supply lines were cut, and with the advent of winter, the city was left without lighting, heating and food. As many as 420,000 of the people buried here were starved and frozen to death, a much higher death toll than any single battle during the war," she added.

The cemetery is funded by the federal government and is open every day, allowing people to lay flowers and visit their loved ones.

A large number of memorial events are held at the cemetery each year, such as official anniversaries, flower-laying ceremonies attended by regional and national dignitaries, and activities organized by veteran associations and youth groups.

One activity involves offering bread to the people buried here. During the infamous siege, the rations of bread offered to residents were half a kilo for soldiers, a quarter for workers, and merely 125 grams for family members and children, 50 percent of which was made up of filling which was not fit for human consumption.

"How many people died dreaming of a mouthful of bread! As a result, many of those who come to pay their respects here bring bread and other food offerings as well as flowers," Bolyshakova said.

Bolyshakova's two grandmothers were both survivors of the siege, who always told her about the solidarity shown by the city residents.

"Nobody complained when the rations were too small, yet everyone took part in the war effort. Virtually everyone lost members of their own families, but the city's residents looked after each other as best as they could and refused to give up hope of victory," she said.

In the cemetery museum, a single room of around 60 square meters lined with wartime photographs, the central attraction among other exhibits is a 125-gram loaf of wartime bread, symbolizing the suffering and hope of hundreds of thousands of siege victims.

One photo on the wall shows a particularly sharp contrast between a contemporary street view and a wartime image.

St. Isaac's Cathedral is a popular tourist destination in the city, but only an attentive tourist will notice the shell holes in one of its pillars, the remnants of an attack by Nazi German forces.

And on the wall outside the Neva Street, one can still read the wartime warning to residents that "in the event of an air raid, this side of the street is more dangerous."

Bolyshakova says that her grandmothers doubted whether younger generations could cope with the all-consuming nature of war. She thinks that everyone should study this bleak episode in human history to cherish the value of peace, and no one would want to put her loved ones through such a fate.

The verses of Russian poet Olga Bergholz are engraved on the wall behind the statue of Mother Russia, with one line reads: "No one has yet been forgotten, nothing has yet been forgotten."

These words have become a slogan which is now repeated at all Russian commemorations of the Second World War. History is indeed the best teacher, a doctor for the ills of the present and a guide for the challenges of the future. Endi