The War Museum

Gennady was proud that he had ran the War Museum in Nizhniy Novgorod for thirty three years, ever since it had first opened.    

When the officials arrived that day he greeted them as he had greeted thousands of visitors over the years.  

“Welcome to the Nizhniy Novgorod War Museum comrade, can I give you a tour.” 

“We’re not here for a tour,” the brusque official said, “We’re here for your tanks.” 

“Ah, now you’re talking,” said Gennady. “We have a unique collection of military hardware, including three tanks from World War II.” 

“From the Great Patriotic War,” the official corrected. 

“Indeed, from the Great Patriotic War. There is a short film you can watch about the use of tank warfare in the second ... sorry, in the Great Patriotic War.” 

“I’m not here to watch a film, I’m here for the tanks.” 

“I said I’d show you the tanks. The military hardware exhibition is this way.” 

“I’ve not come all this way to stand and look at tanks, I’m  here to requisition them.” 

“Requisition them?”  

“I have papers, here,” the official handed him a piece of paper.

“There is nothing written here, just a blank sheet of paper with a signature at the bottom.” 

“Exactly, so I can requisition anything I want, I just have to write it down. Now are you happy?” 

“Why do you want my tanks? Are you opening another museum?” 

The official laughed. “We need them for the current great patriotic war.” 

“The war in Ukraine? Are they really that short of tanks?” 

“We’re not short of tanks, we’re merely giving your tanks a new opportunity of glory.” 

“And what about our visitors who want to find out about our last glory?” 

“Past glories, who cares, when new glory is being created every day.” 

“But these are eighty-year-old tanks. They’re historic artefacts, not functional military hardware.” 

“Just take me to the tanks.” 

Gennady led the official to the military vehicle section of the museum, which consisted of three tanks from the Great Patriotic War.

The official gave them a cursory inspection. 

“These are all fine, we shall take them.” 

“Take them how?” asked Gennady, there is no way out.” He gestured around them. “There are no doors.” 

The official looked around. “How did you get them in here?” 

“We didn’t,” said Gennady. 

“You didn’t? What is this, an existential puzzle? They’re here aren’t they, so you must have got them in. If you’re being unhelpful it won’t just be the tanks that join the war.” 

“I’m not being unhelpful, they were never ‘got in’, the building was built around them. I know, I was here for the construction.” 

The official stared at him. For a moment Gennady thought he was going to shoot him, but eventually he spoke. 

“Do they work?” 

“I have no idea. They haven’t been used in the thirty-three years I’ve been here.” 

“We will try.” The official barked orders to the small group of soldiers that accompanied him, who busied themselves filling the tanks with fuel. 

“Even if they work, how will you get them out? There is no door.” 

“They are tanks, tanks don’t need a door.” 

“You mean ...” 

“Tanks can go through walls. That’s why they are needed in Ukraine.” 

“But the museum?” 

“The museum will be liable for the costs of its own reconstruction.” 

“We don’t have that sort of money.” 

“You should have thought of that before you stole the military's tanks. If I had my way you would be requisitioned as well as the tanks.” 

Eventually the tanks were filled with petrol and ready for maneuvers. Gennardy watched in horror as one by one they slowly crashed through the walls of the museum, which crumbled behind them.  Just in time he realised that that building was about to collapse and rushed out behind them, only to see the Nizhniy Novgorod War Museum collapse in a heap of rubble.