Fatal forties. Years of war. A tragic and true story of children whose parents were destroyed during the years of Stalinist repression. The special regime orphanage in which the “cuckoo children” live is no different from the camp zone - useless, abandoned, not knowing their clan or tribe, the ragamuffins rebel in order to, at the cost of their unlived lives, avenge the death of their comrade... “But we people too, there are millions of us, waste... We didn’t grow up in the field ourselves, before us they cut off the heads of full-ripe spikelets... And we, after some year of self-sowing, came up, not expected or desired by anyone, as a memory, as a reproach for that atrocity before us, which we ourselves could not remember. This is memory in our very origins... Some have parents in the camps, some at the front, and others are like crumbs from the table from the feast that was arranged during dispossession in the thirties... So who are we? What nationality and religion? Who should we pay for our broken, ruined, crumpled lives?.. And if not a plaintive letter (song) to calm our own hearts to Comrade Stalin himself, then at least questions to him...”