After nightfall, the Kremlin minder who had accompanied journalists into the enclave is attempting to shepherd an unresponsive crowd of reporters together in front of the burnt-out parliament. This is no normal night in Tskhinvali. The Kremlin has decided to put on a victory celebration and has flown in the perfect man to lead the show. Valery Gergiev, the principal conductor of the London Symphony Orchestra, is close to Vladimir Putin and a native Ossetian. He has arrived to conduct a defiant concert in front of the wrecked seat of the South Ossetian government.

Hundreds are pressing into the small stand, surrounded by armoured vehicles, ringed by barbed wire and encircled by soldiers. The excitement rises as the soldiers begin to distribute small ribbons bearing the Ossetian and Russian flags. Clumsily, they begin to knot these round their wrists and climb on to their vehicles, standing to attention during the performance.

"You need a hand, brother?" A trooper pulls me atop an armoured vehicle as the first mournful bars of Shostakovich's Leningrad Symphony begin to play. He is still struggling to tie his Russia-Ossetia ribbon to his sleeve. I ask him, "How do you feel?" "Tired. Very tired. We've been very busy."

Crews of Russian cameramen are making sure they have the whole scene just right for a perfect broadcast across the Federation. The atmosphere seems to encapsulate Putin's agenda. As the marching tunes of the symphony begin to play, the message is simple. The Ossetian leader, Eduard Kokoity, a former wrestling champion, tells the crowd: "I believe we deserve the name of a Hero City, like Stalingrad." Gergiev himself uses the same turn of phrase. For the Russian masses, the glory of the Soviet Union still breathes and Putin and Medvedev are resurrecting it.

"How do you feel?" The music is marching towards its climax, and the soldier beside me on the armoured vehicle seems surprised I even asked. He smiles. "Just like my grand­father must have felt."