An American Salute for a Soviet WWII Veteran in Kyrgyzstan

A moment of deep respect and gratitude for the sacrifice and service of this Kyrgyz Red Army veteran.

I was at a Memorial Day celebration in Boston last month when I noticed a group of World War II Navy veterans hanging out together.

They were all in remarkably good health, laughing and swapping stories about life aboard their ship amidst the chaos of war. Proud of their service, each wore an identical navy blue hat embroidered with "USS Massachusetts."

That sight immediately brought back a memory from a trip to Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan, the year before.

While walking through one of Bishkek’s lush parks, I crossed paths with a Soviet Red Army veteran. Judging by his appearance, he was an ethnic Kyrgyz man who had served when Kyrgyzstan was still a Soviet Republic. He looked to be in his late 80s or early 90s.

He made a striking impression: a charcoal gray suit, white sneakers, and a top hat. Though the suit hung a bit baggy on his aging frame, he looked exceptionally distinguished. What truly caught my eye, however, was the array of Soviet service medals pinned across his chest.

Fascinated, I walked over to introduce myself.

Although he likely spoke Kyrgyz in addition to Russian, we didn't share a common language. Fortunately, he was with his son—a man in his 40s who spoke a bit of English and acted as our translator.

The old veteran was delighted to explain what his decorations meant and happily posed for a photo. One medal featured Lenin’s profile, suggesting he may have been a war hero and highly decorated officer.

At first, he assumed I was British. But when I mentioned I was American, his eyes lit up. I realized I was likely the first American he had spoken to in decades.

Before parting ways, we shared a warm handshake, and I gave him a respectful salute for good measure.

Standing in Massachusetts watching those Navy veterans, my mind drifted back to that park in Bishkek. I couldn't help but wonder what would happen if those old allies from different corners of the globe could sit down together. What stories would they trade?

Judging by the warmth I received in Kyrgyzstan, I know he would have loved sharing his war experiences with American veterans.

As a 30-year-old carrying no emotional weight from World War II or the Cold War, I would have given anything to sit in on that conversation. Would there be tension? Debate? Laughter? A shared toast?

We can only imagine—but the thought alone made my day.

M. Frunze - Soviet Army Officer, Red Army, USSR