In August 1914, when rumours began circulating in L'viv that Russian forces were approaching and people had to pack up and leave, my great uncle thought about where to go for a long time. Torn by fear and inertia, eventually he made up his mind and took what today would be called an “unusual decision”: he walked to the nearby town of Sknyliv and asked to join the monastery there. We don't know whether the monks were particularly surprised, but they allowed him to stay. And seeing as my great uncle couldn't do anything on the farm, the monks put him in charge of ringing the bells at the bell tower. Gradually it became clear that my great uncle's decision wasn't so absurd after all: he managed to stay safe in the monastery for the first months of the Russian occupation.