Altai is a fertile land. Some call it golden, from the Altai word “altyn”, which means “gold”. Others call him excellent from the Turkic root “Al”. Translated as "excellent" or "best". This is an azure edge, it is no coincidence that artists see it as blue. On the territory of Altai, Moscow, Leningrad, Tver and Tula regions could be located, and there would still be room for middle European states. This fertile land has long been called the Russian Switzerland. Altai has everything: mountain meadows with an enchanting variety, and chernozems that are in no way inferior to Ukrainian ones, and special forests (two ribbon pine forests stretching from South to North for more than 400 km.), And rivers. Rivers need to be said separately. Ob - one of the largest rivers in Siberia, originates in Altai from the confluence of two rivers, Biya and Katun, which in turn descend from the glaciers of the Altai Mountains. Katun not only rolls water, but also boulders up to half a ton. It hums so that no sound of the sea surf can be compared with it. Wild primeval nature. On the left bank you can see deer, roe deer and pampering bears at the watering hole. “A pearl, the pride of Siberia, a fabulous land” - these are the words of those who have ever visited Altai and felt its attractive power. I parted with my small homeland more than 60 years ago, but despite such a long period, emotional feelings for my native land not only do not diminish, but, on the contrary, acquire significant qualities. These lines emphasize who you are, who laid those moral and physical strength in you to serve the Fatherland. Altai is my homeland.
WAR
At the end of the first half of the third year of the Barnaul Pedagogical College, I transferred to the correspondence department and went to work as a teacher at the school. The final examination session and exams were taken individually. The reason was that a meeting was to take place at the end of June - a meeting of young teachers. In the area, I was the youngest in age and had to go to this event. Having passed all the exams, I returned to my father's house at the Kalmanka station on June 22, 1941. The morning was warm, sunny, calm. People were resting. Nothing seemed to bode well. But from about 12 o'clock (Moscow time 8 am), the bosses and their entourage changed their mood, and this was striking. The authorities already knew about the beginning of the war. They began to notify the population that by 16 o'clock (12 o'clock Moscow time) they would gather at the station square for a very important message from the government. At 16 o'clock, from the installed radio receivers, Molotov (Minister of Foreign Affairs) made a speech that Germany had suddenly, without declaring war, attacked the Soviet Union. Terrible news. On their faces, fear, concern and even surprise. How is it, after all, there is a contract? If on June 22 after the message there was surprise, unpredictability, fear, then on June 23, there were already a lot of people on the square near the school in the morning. The first mobilization call for conscripts of the first stage. This went on for several days. Then smaller parties were sent to the Army.
Seeing off is generally a painful sight. Seeing off to war is a terrible sight. Soothing speech from men and crying from women. We, the youth, who were brought up with a sense of high patriotism and the slogans “we will smash the enemy in a foreign land, with a little blood, with a powerful blow”, had little despondency at first. But my mind was: what if the war will end without us ?! Why are they not calling us? With this question, several of us turned to an employee of the military registration and enlistment office. The answer was categorical: “Don't interfere with work. When necessary, we will call. " Time passed, but there was still no agenda. Evacuated women and children began to arrive. Their stories about their experiences, about what the Nazis were doing, aroused indignation, but to a greater extent there was anger and hatred for the enemy. One teacher was among the evacuees. And this caused joy among the teachers. At least a little, but the load decreased.
The news from the front continued to come in unhappy. The fascists continued to seize more and more new territories. The first funerals have arrived (notices of death in battles for the Motherland). Relationships between people were changing. All sorts of quarrels and squabbles have ceased. Work, work and work. They found both fulfillment of duty and satisfaction in work. There was joy only when reports of successes in one or another sector of the front came. It was the third month of the war. The news came worse and worse. In August, my father received a summons. His parting words: “Until you are called, you have your family on you. There remain a mother and three children, the youngest is 4 years old. " My father was in his fifth decade. There are almost no men left - all are drafted into the army. On the farm there are women, old people and men unfit for service.
STUDIES
Leningrad Military Medical School named after V.I. Shchorsa was evacuated to Omsk from Leningrad. This school was the oldest in Russia. Created by decree of Peter I as a school of medical assistants. The school graduated paramedics for the navy and for the ground forces. In Omsk, the school was located in an old fortress built in the middle of the 19th century. The school was under the patronage of the Military Medical Academy. The school was named after the hero of the civil war, the legendary commander, medical assistant by education N.A. Shchors. During the evacuation from Leningrad, along with the personnel and teaching staff, the material and technical and training bases were removed. The school had everything necessary for the training of highly qualified specialists. It had the right to use everything that was in the Omsk Medical Institute, especially the anatomical center, which was not in the school. In general, the educational base of the school was an order of magnitude higher than the institute, and the students of the institute periodically used it. When I was assigned to divisions, I ended up in the first platoon. The company had four platoons of forty men each. The composition of the cadets was heterogeneous. By age from 18 to 30 years old. There were only a few with a secondary education. Mostly with incomplete average, i.e. with 7 grades of school. There were also those in the company who had already taken part in the battles. Squad leaders. Assistant platoon commanders were appointed from among the cadets. Cadet Azarov was appointed the commander of the first squad, and cadet Sokolov, who was transferred to our school from the aviation school, was appointed assistant to the platoon commander. The course commander of the 1st and 2nd platoons was Lieutenant Kovarsky, a college graduate. The head of the school was Lieutenant Colonel of the Medical Service Georgievsky, who later became the general and head of the Military Medical Academy. The teachers were highly qualified specialists. There were more candidates and doctors of medical sciences at the school than at the medical institute. The benevolence of the teachers, an excellent educational base ensured the assimilation of the material. The teaching load was very high. For 8-10 hours of special training, four hours of self-training, plus internal and garrison service. Studying carried away. I have successfully mastered the training material. Special attention was paid to military field surgery. The practice took place in military hospitals and civilian clinics. The doctors of these medical institutions highly appreciated the knowledge and diligence of the cadets when performing certain procedures. The cadets were entrusted with assistance during operations, giving anesthesia, dressing for difficult wounds, and much more. Of course, not all cadets could handle the training load. Some were assigned sergeant ranks, and they were sent to units for the posts of medical instructors. Combined arms training and medical and sanitary tactics took a lot of time.
In December 1942. the five most successful cadets were sent to the front as trainees. I was among them. The order read: go to the disposal of the personnel department of the Main Medical Sanitary Directorate. We arrived in Moscow without incident. In the personnel department, we were sent to different fronts. It was my share to go to the Stalingrad front. I got there with great difficulty. First, I joined a military echelon heading south. Then on the checkpoints. I lost track of how many times my documents were checked. I found the medical and sanitary department in a small village - some kind of Yar. The personnel department was greeted unfriendly. The major (who he is by position - I do not know) after a short reflection, said: "A separate company of the Marine Corps has arrived, you will go there as a paramedic," and told how to get to the station Gniloaksayskaya, where the medical battalion was stationed. Before that, I ran my finger over the map for a long time. He handed over the prescription. He entered the title and surname in the form. At the same time he said: in the medical battalion they will tell you where the company is. A painful impression was left from this meeting. I got to the medical battalion. After checking the documents, they said that there were wounded from the company, they would tell you how to get to the company. A slightly wounded sailor volunteered to escort me into the company. We came to the company in the evening. The company took up defensive positions near the Zarya station. Reported to the company commander. During the report, one of those present said that we still lacked the boys. The company commander cut him off, and I stood as if dropped into the water. I asked where the infirmary was. There was no first-aid post as such. The company commander told one of those present to take people for the equipment of the first-aid post and indicate the place. While the sailors equipped the first-aid post (dugout), I returned with one sailor to the medical battalion to take something for the first-aid post. In the medical battalion, with wires, I went from one chief to another, received dressings, several splints, and some medicines needed to provide first aid for injuries. It turned out to be a decent burden. The sailor and I were lucky: a wagon caught up with us, which was going just to the Zarya station. We returned to the company after dark. The company commander ordered to escort me through the company platoons. The acquaintance was short. The sailor said: "This is our doctor." The company was located in trenches, there was occasional shooting. I bowed to the explosions. The sailor encouraged, they say, get used to it. We returned to the company commander. The sailor reported, mentioning that I was bowing from the shooting. I was told that we do not hide and do not show their backs. I somehow reacted quickly and said: “If you get hurt, should I drag you backwards? ”. Laughter of those present. The company commander said, "We'll see." In general, the meeting is wary: a stranger - how he will behave. Everyone in the company knew each other. A company was formed in Khabarovsk and urgently transferred to Stalingrad. The company is large. About 200 people. For several days she participated in battles, suffered losses. The sailor was left with me as an orderly. On the second day they gave me another one. A funnel from the projectile was adapted for the first-aid post, deepened and made a small overlap. The medical battalion was not far away. This made me happy. At eight in the morning, the Germans began with an artillery raid along the front edge, and then transferred the fire to the depths of the defense. It was, of course, scary. But I tried to hold on and not show it. The Germans went on the attack: tanks, armored personnel carriers, followed by infantry. Our artillery began to fire. Several German tanks caught fire. The sailors, despite the cold, took off their hats and put on peakless caps. There were helmets, but not on their heads. The platoon leaders cursed. Useless. The wounded appeared. The first wounded was a bullet wound in the shoulder. Section, bandaged, showed where to go. The same to the other wounded. There were many wounded, and in the course of the battle their number grew. The timidity passed by itself. Work has begun. The attack was repulsed. The evacuation of the seriously wounded began. Several sailors were given to carry the wounded to the medical unit, and from there it was a cart, then a car. Mostly carts. They brought food in thermoses. Everything was new to me. A couple of hours later, the Germans attacked again. Old script. Artillery attack, tanks and infantry. In the brain there is a thought: "How not to be disgraced." Wounded again. Along the trench from one to the other. There was no time to think about the course of the battle. The main assistance to the wounded and their evacuation. The intensity of the fighting continued for several days. After the first days of my participation in the battles, the company commander said: "Keep it up, cadet!" The intensity of the fighting gradually faded away. The Germans are exhausted.
The losses in the company were great. Fewer than a hundred fighters remained in the company. They already considered me their own in the company. The company was replaced by motorized infantry, and we were taken to the rear. This is how my baptism of fire took place. The company was transferred to the subordination of a motorized rifle brigade. 01/20/1943 I was sent back to the school. Received written feedback. The farewell was warm, and there were some drinks. So I felt what the front-line friendship, brotherhood, mutual assistance and cordiality mean. Another officer received me in the medical department. He thanked for the service. He advised me to return to this front. Already in the carriage on the way to Omsk I began to comprehend the entire period of the internship. All the pros and cons began to emerge. It is not enough to be able to provide first aid to the wounded, it is also necessary to solve many organizational issues, such as equipment of the first aid station, replenishment of medical equipment, have a clear idea of the location of medical units, be aware of the course of the battle, routes, methods of evacuating the wounded and much more. But the final comprehension came already at the school. Four of us returned to the school. One cadet was killed. During the internship from the platoon, I was alone and met with the rest of the cadets who were on the internship in passing. After I handed the package to the head of the training unit (the package was handed to me in the personnel department of the front medical department), I reported, or rather, told about my internship in front of a group of heads and teachers of the school. The head of the school was also present at the report. Such reports were made by all other cadets who were on the internship. It turned out that the feedback on my internship was very positive. The training of cadets at the front was necessary for the school in order to adjust some curricula on the basis of the results of the training. This especially concerned the organization of the medical service. After the report to the boss, I was asked to write a detailed report on the internship. Wrote. Then the reports on the internship in each company began. An internship was an internship, but the educational process was going on. I had to catch up on lost time. I had to catch up not only during self-preparation hours, but also at night. Now, when the years have passed, it is difficult to imagine how in such a short time it was possible to master such a mass of educational material.
In addition to the teachers, senior comrades from the school administration were also present at the state examinations in all leading subjects. I graduated from college in the first category, i.e. diploma with honors, with one good mark in Latin, the rest are “excellent”. At a meeting of the entire staff of the school, the order of the People's Commissar was read out, and shoulder straps were handed over. I received the rank of lieutenant of the medical service and a valuable gift - a medical diagnostic kit.
The next day, the solemn formation of the company. Parting words of the head of the school and the command: "March to the front!" Farewell song of the company. In one of the buildings there was a company of girls at the lecture. It was forbidden to communicate with them. But youth took its toll. The girls spontaneously left the lecture, jumped out onto the parade ground with us, despite orders to return to the lecture. They accompanied us to the train station. Many residents of Omsk gathered along the sidewalks on our way. An indelible impression. So all the persuasions were unsuccessful about returning to the school. The maiden company was with us at the station until our train departed. Passenger cars. Everyone is accustomed to teplushki. Surprise and high spirits, but, of course, everyone thought to himself: what next? The way to Moscow took a little time. The euphoria in connection with graduation from school gradually subsided. Everyone gradually began to feel himself in a new capacity, as an officer. If earlier we would have been called “military assistant of the second rank,” now we are an officer. After such a long hostility to this word, now we tried it on ourselves.
At the school, in the fire training classes, we were tuned in so that we perfectly mastered everything that would be in the arsenal of the unit. In addition to purely medical and sanitary work, I began to master the tank, especially tank armament, the duties of the loader and tank commander. It got to the point that I was allowed to shoot at the shooting range as a tank commander. I would like to tell you about my first collection. Nurse Shper Svetlana Isaakovna arrived at the regiment from the courses. She was assigned to a company of anti-tank rifles, but she was stationed in a medical unit. Equipped her, including given a pistol. Behind the tent of the medical unit, she attached a sheet of paper to the trunk of a pine tree and began to shoot. The regiment duty officer quickly reacted to the firing at the unit's location. Understood. He forbade shooting. I reported to the Chief of Staff Captain Khodorich about the state of emergency. I was summoned to the headquarters, where they not only read a notation that it was necessary to demand discipline from their subordinates, but also the chief of staff, Captain Khodorych, gave me a verbal reprimand. The penalty is small, but this is the first penalty for the actions of subordinates. Subsequently, during the period of service, there were many penalties for the misconduct of subordinates, but this was the first, therefore it was imprinted in the memory. The gun, of course, I took from the nurse.
Episode one. The tank army in the Oryol operation performed an unusual role for it. We gnawed at the enemy's defenses. In the battle for the village of Borilovo, our attacks were unsuccessful. At the end of the day, we retreated to our original positions. The tankers had an unwritten law - to go to the rescue of each other. We noticed if a neighboring car was hit, whether the crew jumped out. After the battle, it was found out for each crew who died and who was wounded. There was no one from Lieutenant Markov's crew. The tankers saw that the crew jumped out of the damaged tank. Conclusion: there may be some wounded among them. The tankers turned to me with a question of what to do, and with a proposal to go to the rear of the Germans and find out everything. Lieutenant Markov's tank was knocked out behind the 2nd trench of the Germans. I myself could not decide anything. We went to the headquarters of the regiment in a whole crowd. I reported to the chief of staff, Captain Khodorych, about the essence of the tankers' request. He invited the tank commander, who saw the crew leaving the tank. We have found out the exact location of the damaged tank. The chief of staff hesitated for some time, saying: "To find out what is with the crew, we will find out, and how many people we can lose because of this." His soul as a tankman played a decisive role. Allowed. We knew the area. Two unsuccessful attacks were carried out in this area. Nevertheless, everything was planned out to the smallest detail. Come along, the tank commander is a junior lieutenant (unfortunately, I cannot remember his last name) and two scouts from the regimental reconnaissance platoon with experience in conducting reconnaissance. The first trench of the Germans passed successfully. The Germans were in dugouts, and a sentry was patrolling along the trench. The moment he passed us, we hid near the trench and got over. The second trench was not occupied by the enemy at all: the Germans were still behaving recklessly to the point of insolence. We found a tank and went to the sides. Found three dead next to the tank. They took the documents from them. The scout signaled: “Come to me!”. He found a wounded lieutenant Markov, who was unconscious, in a crater 10-15 meters from the tank. I bandaged it with a quick hand. Wounded on the raincoat and back. We went through the 2nd trench calmly. It was not possible to get over the first one calmly. They also waited for the sentry to leave. They began to drag the wounded man through the trench. At this time Lieutenant Markov groaned. They nevertheless dragged him through the trench. The German sentry must have sensed something was amiss and fired a burst from a machine gun. The scout sergeant gave me and the junior lieutenant the command: “Get it! We will cover! ”. There was no time for disguise. We tried our best to get as far as possible from the German trench. The Germans were alarmed. The shooting began, fortunately, in a disorderly manner. We were also lucky that the Germans belatedly began to fire flares. It saved us. Ours opened fire on the flanks of us to knock the Germans off their pantalyk. It succeeded. This option was envisaged by Major Khodorych. They were already waiting for us in the neutral zone. They took Lieutenant Markov away from us. The scouts also returned. One was slightly injured. Until we returned, the entire regiment and the motorized riflemen who acted with us were on their feet. Bozhenko took care of the wounded and his evacuation. I reported in detail to the regiment commander, who was very dissatisfied with our sortie. The morale after this going to the rear of the Germans was so high that it would have been impossible to achieve such a result with any political studies or conversations. Everyone within himself understood that no one would be thrown in a difficult moment. The chief of staff, Captain Khodorych, was hoping for this when he allowed sorties. And, of course, the authority of doctors has grown immeasurably. Near Kiev, at Vorzel station, we received replenishment of tanks with crews. What a joy it was when Lieutenant Markov was among the arrivals.
Episode two. The regiment concentrated for another attack. I have already said that we literally gnawed at the enemy's defenses. The Germans stubbornly resisted during the day, and at night they set fire to and retreated to prepared positions. Our motorized riflemen were in the trenches occupied by the Germans. A battalion from our brigade. The tankers were located 800 meters behind the infantry. I went into the trench to the front edge. I got along the lines of the message, along the cut-off trenches. I went with the aim of picking up a dugout, where a first-aid post could be located during an attack. I was always accompanied by orderly Kolya Petrov, an 18-year-old boy. They gave it to me from a company of submachine gunners. According to the state, an orderly was not assigned to me. Came under bombing. The German Ju-87s dived with such a terrible howl that it put a lot of pressure on the psyche. In addition to bombs, empty barrels, rails, etc. were dropped. All this created an incredible noise. One of the heavy bombs exploded nearby. I was falling asleep. I woke up when Kolya was bringing me to my senses. It turned out that he was 15 meters away from me. The same fell asleep, but a little. He dug up and dug me up. I was unconscious. I woke up when he conjured over me. He put me on his shoulders and carried me to the nearest medical unit. They examined me there. There is a wound on the back of the head on the left. Processed. Morphine was injected. I was asleep. Kolya woke me up so that I could eat. The guys from the battalion first-aid post (our brigade) for some reason did not report to the regiment. I slept with them for several days. Morphine was doing its job. Someone from the regiment saw me fall asleep, and they reported to headquarters. The scribes did their best and sent a notice to the Motherland that he died a heroic death. The people called such notices funerals. We came to the regiment. There is a great surprise - after all, they buried me. Then there was laughter. The deputy for political affairs said: “Nothing. You will live long. ” The abrasion on the back of his head is overgrown. The scar remains. Many years later, it took an X-ray of the skull. It turned out that there was a fracture of the left parietal bone. This turned out to be my first wound. In 1985, at a meeting of veterans of the 4th Panzer Army in honor of the 40th anniversary of Victory, Kolya Petrov and I met. Joy and tears. Memories. After demobilization, he settled in Central Asia. We corresponded for a long time. The collapse of the USSR stopped our correspondence.
Episode three. After the liberation of one of the large villages, it seems, Pobednoye, the regiment concentrated on the outskirts of the village on a mown wheat field. The bread was collected in heaps. The tanks and our sanitary vehicles were camouflaged with sheaves of wheat. At first glance, everything is fine: the same field and the same heaps. German aircraft have made their own adjustments. After the first bombing, all the sheaves scattered from the blast waves, and our tanks became naked, i.e. open targets. The bombing lasted from 8 am to 5 pm, with a break from 12 to 1 pm. As it turned out, we have experienced 1,500 sorties. One wave of planes left, another entered. The safest thing to survive the bombing is in a tank. I also climbed into the tank, but after the next series of bombs I jumped out of the tank and rather into the slot. There were already three in the gap. We were practically on top of each other. During one of the breaks - some planes bombed, another wave was on the way - I got over to a ditch by the dirt road. The feeling is eerie. The bomb can be seen as it flies, and it seems that it is yours. It is difficult to withstand the bombing in a tank: an enclosed space, fragments of bombs, hitting the armor, create sparks in the tank from scale (they are like bumblebees), the tank rocks as if on waves. Tankers often hide under a tank. This was a serious mistake. Shrapnel, punching the rollers, or fall between the rollers, hitting people at once, or hitting the bottom, hitting the ricochet. Ambulances were also freed from camouflage by explosions. A bomb exploded not far from our specialized nurse. The car flew apart like a house of cards. But surprisingly, a seriously wounded man lay on a stretcher in the car. He was not evacuated, because the medical battalion was relocated, and we did not know where he was yet. The wounded man was thrown out along with the stretcher. But I didn't get a single additional scratch. There are miracles. Almost all of our medical supplies were in the nurse. Everything was lost. When they found out where the medical battalion was, they had to go and knock out everything they needed. Medical suppliers, like all suppliers, when they give out something, the impression is that you climb into their pocket. Here you need assertiveness and impudence. Surprisingly, not a single tank was disabled. Actually, a direct hit of a bomb on a tank is a very rare phenomenon. I do not remember such an incident in the regiment. Among the tankers there were several wounded and that was all. Wounds under the tanks. Subsequently, we paid attention to this phenomenon (injuries under tanks) in medical studies.
One day I was informed that the head of the army medical service, Colonel Vasilyev, was in the regiment. We didn’t have time to visit the marafet. About ten minutes later a group of officers led by a colonel of the medical service came to the medical unit. As expected, he gave a report. He greeted and said: "So what a soldier you are, tell us about the battle at Khotynets, I want to listen." I said that it was not me who fought there, but the soldiers. I was present. “Modesty is good. Show me the medical unit, ”said the colonel. He examined the outpatient clinics, there Bozhenko introduced himself to him, looked at the dugout. I was satisfied. I asked where the nurses live. I pointed to the dugout. She was somewhat aloof. The colonel looked in there. It was dirty and unclean. I was not satisfied. Turning to me he said: "Why did they allow such an outrage?" I decided to turn to him with a request that two nurses be removed from the medical unit. I did not see them in battles, and even now I rarely see them. The colonel, referring to the head of the corps medical service, said to figure it out, since the situation is clearly not normal. The colonel replied that I would figure it out, and immediately reported that more than 2 sets of individual dressing bags had been used up in the regiment. The colonel turned to me. What is the reason? I reported that the wounds of the tankers, as a rule, were multiple, extensive burns. One bag is not enough for a dressing. Therefore, tankers usually have two packages. It is impossible for a sanitary instructor to carry a large number of packages. Colonel Vasiliev listened and said that the lieutenant's arguments were well-grounded. The bosses left.
LVOVSK - SANDOMIR OPERATION
The regiment concentrated near the village of Velikiy Gai at the edge of the forest. The officers received topographic maps of the area of upcoming actions. Ammunition is loaded, barrels of diesel fuel on the sterns of the tanks, logs for self-recovery, in general, everything you need. Komsomol and party meetings were held. They were open, i.e. almost all of the personnel were present. At the meetings, questions were raised: about the tasks for the upcoming battles and about admission to the party at party meetings, admission to the Komsomol at the Komsomol. If the admission to the party was numerous, then the admission to the Komsomol was sporadic. The majority of young people in the regiment and newcomers were already members of the Komsomol. The youth treated the communists with great respect. Sometimes the word of a communist was no less significant than that of a commander. They went to the party not for the sake of a career, but at the call of their hearts. The youth saw how the communists were fighting and tried to be like them. We were tasked with entering the breakthrough, which the infantry would make. In our direction, the rifle units could not break through the defenses. The breakthrough was made at the neighbors, where the 3rd Panzer Army should enter. The corridor was made 8-12 km wide. 3rd Panzer Army entered the operational depth. They also decided to let us go along this corridor. There was a lot of confusion. The rear of the 3rd Panzer Army, our units huddled near the town of Zolochev. The infantry was engaged in the liquidation of the encircled Brodov group. The Germans and SS men of the Galicia division fiercely resisted. The Germans tried to close the corridor at all costs. Our regiment as part of the brigade could not immediately enter the breakthrough. I had to repulse the enemy's counterattacks, who were trying to close the corridor. Major Ternovsky, deputy political officer, said that two tanks were being repaired at the RTO. The tank commanders were not fired upon. Junior lieutenants only from the school. After repairs, I was instructed to take them under my wing and catch up with the regiment. The regiment at this time, repelling counterattacks, went into the operational depth. Our route passed in the direction of Lviv from the south. By morning the tanks were on the move and under my command they began to overtake the regiment. On the outskirts of Zolochev, the tank of our regiment was being repaired by the repair brigade of our maintenance company. The submachine gunners who were on the tank basked in the sun. They stopped and by joint efforts eliminated the malfunction, and already three cars continued on their way. According to the terrain conditions, the road was 200-300 meters under fire by the enemy. At high speeds we passed the turn to Peremyshlyany about ninety degrees. It was a turn on the regiment's route. The last car stopped at the bend. The caterpillar broke. Leaving the cars, I ran to the third car to find out what happened. Approaching the tank, I saw two jeep and recognized General Lelyushenko, the commander of our army, who was emerging from one. He reported who I was and what my task was. The general was angry. Their cars were also fired upon, and then a tank blocked the road. He demanded a map from me and on it with his own hand plotted the route and set the task. First: clear the road as soon as possible. Second: move along the planned route. Bypass settlements and centers of resistance. Cut the Lvov-Sambir highway and hold out until the main forces approach. The first task was completed quickly. We replaced the tracks-caterpillars, and freed the passage. The commander left, and we brought the tracks to normal and continued on our way to the town of Peremyshlyany, bypassing it: there was a battle there. We moved at an accelerated pace. The settlements were not included. But the Old Village, which was on our route, could not be bypassed. A small river, and the bridge across it is only in the village. Here, for sin, in one car the engine started running out of gear. The repairmen began to fix the problem. A wedding was taking place in one of the houses. An elderly man approached us - a groom and a very young bride. The man was with a glass of moonshine. He offered me a drink to the newlyweds. I said that you cannot drink alone. He gave the glass to the bride, and he went for the second glass. The bride said with a tremor in her voice: "Leave soon, they are from the UPA (Ukrainian Insurgent Army)." I poured a glass of moonshine onto the ground. We were not visible from the house. We were covered by a tank. The groom came with a glass. I said I had already drunk. He glanced sideways at the bride. Before his arrival, I managed to give the command: "To fight." The tankers began to turn the turrets little by little. The repairmen reported that the malfunction was eliminated and we moved on. Thanks to the girl - the bride, we avoided possible excesses.
At speed we went out to the road, to our final destination. A large column of cars was moving along the road. There is a tank in the head of the column. We immediately turned around and opened fire. We hit the lead tank right away. He started to smoke. Another tank brought up the rear of the column. We did not notice him. He set fire to the tank of Junior Lieutenant Meshchersky. The crew was killed. Having found the trailing tank, we knocked it out with two tank guns. From an open place we retreated 200-300 meters to the edge of the forest and began to shoot the column. There was a small embankment at the edge, like a parapet. Machine guns removed from tanks (frontal) were placed on this parapet. An armored personnel carrier and two platoons of German submachine gunners appeared from somewhere. They moved to attack us, constantly scribbling from machine guns. I was behind the machine gun. A cry for help. Someone is hurt. Leaving the shooter behind the machine gun, he ran to the call - at this time he burned his left leg. I ran to the wounded man. There was nothing to worry about. Bandaged myself. The bullet went right through the lower thigh without hitting the bone. In general, we repulsed this attack and continued to burn the cars in the convoy. The column of German vehicles was about a kilometer long. The road was clogged with burning cars. We have completed half of the task. Now it remains to hold on and wait for the approach of their own. If the Germans knew that there were a handful of us, they would surely have been crushed. To the west, beyond the forest, we heard the continuous hum of cars. It is possible that the Germans retreated south from Lviv, fearing encirclement. The Germans did not bother us anymore. Tackled my wound. Processed, covered with streptocide. Bandaged. I have already said that in addition to a bag with Komsomol papers, I carried a medical bag with everything necessary to provide assistance in case of injuries. Therefore, in the regiment they continued to call me the Komsomol doctor. And so - the third wound.
CONCLUSION
Finishing your notes, you involuntarily return to what you have lived and experienced. The war ended victoriously. Behind 1408 days and nights of incredible difficulties and heroism. The front-line soldiers returned home with their heads held high. With their inherent patriotism and great responsibility for the fate of the Motherland. They restored the national economy destroyed by the war. They revived and increased the country's power during the difficult post-war years of the Cold War. Many continued to serve in the Armed Forces, passing on their vast front-line experience to the youth. The former commander of the 114th Guards Tank Regiment B.V. Kurtsev became the commander-in-chief of the armored forces of the Soviet Army, the chief of staff of the 16th Guards Order-Bearing Mechanized Brigade Shcherbak, the reconnaissance platoon commander M.Ya. Radugin, the chief of staff of the 114th Guards Tank Regiment, N.S. Merkulov, became generals. , communications officer Sklyarov A.G., intelligence officer Petrov V.I., chief of staff of the artillery battalion K.S. Zaitsev, commander of the artillery battalion M.A.Rublenko, assistant chief of the political department M.K. Ivanov became colonels. other. Colonel V.D. Dementyev, assistant to the head of the political department of the 6th Guards Mechanized Corps. became a professor, Colonel Potapov, Major Livshits Y.S., Senior Lieutenant V.A.Podkin became associate professors. All fellow soldiers have been and continue to work on the military-patriotic education of young people. I only mentioned those mentioned in my notes. Years pass, gray-haired veterans are getting old. But fighting friendship never gets old. It is enough to look at the veterans during the meetings on the days of Victory, at the anniversaries of the 4th Guards Tank Army, at their valiant enthusiasm, at their strong front-line soldier's friendship. We must pay tribute, great gratitude and appreciation to Yakov Lazarevich Livshits for the creation of the Council of Veterans of the 4th Guards Tank Army and many years of work in it. It was only thanks to his efforts that army veterans learned the addresses of fellow soldiers, their birthdays. It was only through his efforts that meetings of Army veterans were organized. At the meetings, they warmly recalled the fallen comrades who passed away after the war. I remember and remember our heroic Komsomol youth, no matter how modern historians expound the history of the Komsomol. The Komsomol was an organization that fosters patriotism, pride in its people, internationalism, organization and high moral qualities among young people. A part of our life is connected with this organization. In the Komsomol, we matured, felt ourselves, learned what it means to be a patriot of the Motherland, what a military partnership is. The Komsomol of the period of the Great Patriotic War is a multimillion army of young soldiers. During the war years, ten and a half million young people joined the Komsomol. Young people with the name of the Motherland went on the attack and died with this name. The youth of the period of the Great Patriotic War is a truly heroic tribe. During the war years, 3.5 million Komsomol members were awarded orders and medals. More than 7 thousand Komsomol members became Heroes of the Soviet Union out of 11 thousand who received this high title for all the years of the war. Of the 104 soldiers who were awarded this title twice, 60 were members of the Komsomol. This heroic tribe has written unforgettable pages in our history. The memory of the heroic defenders of the Motherland is eternal. The main purpose of these notes is to show how 17-18 year old boys and girls, having come to the Army, to the front, quickly grew up, matured and became hardened warriors. This especially applies to the warriors born in 1923. According to statistics and history, this year has come to be called the “lost year”. Out of a hundred young men and women participating in the battles, only one survived. A terrible figure. I'm not going to belittle warriors of other birth years. I dwell on this year of birth only because I was born this year and was, by a lucky chance, among this one percent of the survivors.
I am immensely grateful to my fellow soldiers who shared with me their memories, which have been engraved in their memory. Their names should be named: Rivzh V.E., Barabanov P.I., Radugin M.Ya., Khojayan A.A., Vasin I.V., Sedov G.I., Khalezin P.I., Krokhmal A. P., Derevianko I.Kh., Serovskiy N.D., Aleksandrov M.M., Smetanin M.V., Mironov F.I., Zaitsev K.S., Poltashevsky Yu.V., Pelts S.G.
Time is relentless. There are not many of us front-line soldiers left. These notes are intended for descendants, so that, reading them, they would be imbued with the pride of their ancestors and would become such patriots and would love and defend their Motherland just as we did.
Submitted by: Svyatoslav Denisenko
I am since 1925, but was recorded as born in 1928. In October 1942, the guys from our collective farm brigade were summoned to the military registration and enlistment office for registration. And I'm not on the list. But I sat down with them and drove off. We arrived at the military registration and enlistment office, they let everyone through the list, and the Secretary of the Village Council was Tatyana Borodina standing in the doorway, and she didn’t let me through: "You fool! Where are you going?" - "I want to go with my friends wherever they order." - "You fool! People are trying to get away, but you yourself climb. You are a street child, who will need you if you come back a cripple ?!" And I still didn't understand anything ... At some point she went to the toilet, and left Ivan Mordovin, my friend, at the door. I say: "Vanya, let me in while she's gone." - "Go." - I entered, there were five people sitting there: "I am not on the list, but I want to go voluntarily. Please write me down." They signed me up in the 25th year, they didn't even ask anything.
We were brought to the Frunze Infantry School. We studied for six months. In March 1943, the school was closed. Within 12 hours we were put in teplushki and onward to the front near Kharkov. We drove for seven days, while we were sick, the situation stabilized. We were turned to the Moscow region, to the city of Shchelkovo. Airborne brigades were created there. I ended up in the 4th squad, 4th platoon, 8th company, 2nd battalion, 13th airborne brigade. And since I am short, I always stood in the rear. I have sixteen jumps. Several of them are from a balloon. And jumping from a balloon is worse than jumping from an airplane! Because when the first one jumps, he pushes the basket and it dangles. And the law was this: the instructor sits in one corner, and soldiers sit in three corners. He commands, get ready! I have to say, "eat get ready!" - "Stand up!" - "Have a stand!" "Let's go!" - "I went to eat!" It must be said, but the basket is shaking ...
Jumping in boots?
No, we were jumping in windings all the time. We have not seen boots.
Those who couldn't jump?
They were immediately written off to the infantry and sent off. Not judged. At first we jumped together with the officers, but some officers were afraid to jump and began to jump separately - the officers separately, we - separately. About 150 kilometers away from Shchelkovo they are landing us, and we ourselves must get to the barracks. It is as if they returned from the rear. We jumped mainly from Li-2. You go in first - you jump last. You go in last, you jump first. Which is better? The same. And the last one is bad and the first one is bad. We boys were 17 at that time, if only there was something in our stomach, and we put on the rest.
The food was very poor. In the pot there are rotten frozen potatoes and not chopped, but just boiled stalks of nettles. 600 grams of bread, and in bread and bran, which is not there, it is very heavy. But somehow the body endured. There was a large basement near the barracks, where the military unit brought potatoes. We stole her all winter. They went down the rope and put them in a duffel bag. In each barracks, an iron stove was installed. Wooden fences in Shchelkovo were dismantled for fuel at night. They boiled potatoes, baked them, ate them.
Was there someone from the 3rd or 5th brigade? Of those who participated in the Dnieper landing?
No. True, we were told about this landing. In Shchelkovo, there was a terrible enmity between the pilots and paratroopers. They said that the pilots got scared and threw the paratroopers into the German trenches. They got cold feet. There is a bridge across the Klyazma River. Paratroopers used to be on duty on it, and if a pilot was walking, he was thrown from the bridge into the river.
In June 1944, the 13th Guards Airborne Brigade became the 300th Guards Rifle Regiment of the 99th Guards Rifle Division. And from our platoon they made a regimental reconnaissance platoon. They put us in wagons and drove us away. At first they didn't say where. And that's all. They brought us to the Svir River. We had to force it.
The command decided to make a diversion - to depict the crossing. Launch boats that were to be driven by twelve soldiers. Put stuffed animals on them. And at this time, the main ferry had to pass in a different place. Our intelligence platoon was asked to form this group of twelve volunteers ... Six people have already signed up. I go and think: "How can I be? I can't swim a damn thing." I say to the platoon commander, junior lieutenant Korchkov Pyotr Vasilyevich:
Comrade junior lieutenant, I can't swim, but I want to sign up, what should I do?
What are you doing ?! Little or what ?! You will be given special sleeveless jackets and tubes - it can handle 120 kilograms of weight. "And at that time I was at most 50 kilograms. So I signed up seventh. The second battalion was supposed to cross the Svir first. The battalion commander said to the regiment commander:" My battalion is the first to cross, I will single out these twelve people from my battalion. " regiment headquarters. But I think that they were not in vain awarded - they knew that they were going to die and went to it voluntarily. This is also a feat, I think so. Maybe they did the right thing, that they were left alive, it was necessary to raise their authority We went on the offensive .... It was very difficult to fight the Finns.
A whole company of machine gunners guarded six Finnish prisoners, including two officers. So they ran away anyway. There are swamps all around, you have to cut down trees, build gatis. When will the products come to us? We jammed fish with grenades and ate Finnish biscuits without salt and bread ...
There was such a case. In the cellars, the Finns had wooden barrels filled with butter and dried potatoes. We cooked dry potatoes in this butter. Then you take off your pants, you sit with a machine gun ...
We were advancing completely. We started from Lodeynoye Pole on the banks of the Svir River and walked decently, to the Kuytezhi station. The Finns soon surrendered.
We were put in cars and taken to the station. We embarked and went to Orsha, to Belarus. We became the 13th Guards Air Force Division - again parachutes, again jumping. Then the command: "Set aside!" They made rifle regiments out of the landing troops, and the division became the 103rd Guards. The 324th regiment was created in it. The new regiment commander asked for a reconnaissance platoon from the fired fighters. And we, from our own 300th regiment, were sent to the 324th regiment. In March 1945 we were brought near Budapest. We are in wadded trousers, wadded sweatshirts, size 45 boots, three-meter windings ... But we attacked thoroughly, we fought thoroughly. They were not afraid of death, because we have no family, no children, no one.
The commander of the regiment set a task for us: "Go out to the rear of the Germans and observe whether they are pulling back their forces or are they pulling up?" There were six of us scouts and a radio operator. The task was calculated for a day. We were lined up, the foreman walked around everyone, took away all the documents, all the papers. It is very sad and scary. It depresses a person very much, but there should be nothing in his pockets - this is the law of intelligence. Instead of a day, we were behind the front line for five days! We dug a perimeter defense. We had nothing but grenades and a machine gun! There is nothing to eat! Our scout, a healthy guy, at night, hiding from everyone, went to the highway, killed two Germans and took their duffel bags from them. They contained canned food. It was at their expense that we lived. True, the platoon commander almost shot this soldier because he went without permission. If he were captured, we would all be lost. We found out that the Germans are not pulling up the forces, but delaying, retreating, and were ordered to return.
On the way back we came across the Vlasovites. We didn't contact them. There are only seven of us! What could we have done? Come on, scrape from them! And they scream at us in Russian: "Surrender!" They fled - fled stumbled upon a German warehouse in the woods. There were chrome boots and raincoats. We changed our clothes. Let's move on. There is a road ahead. Some sounds are heard behind the L-shaped bend. The platoon commander tells me: "Smoked (that was my name in the platoon), go out, see what the sound is? I turned around to look and at that time the Fritz sniper caught me ... The bullet hit me in the thigh ... The guys carried me out In the hospital they wanted to cut off my leg, but next to my bed was an old man, a Siberian. We called him Uncle Vasya. When the head of the hospital, Lieutenant Colonel, came, this uncle Vasya grabbed a stool and almost threw at him: "I will write A letter to Stalin that instead of following his order, you should not cut off your arms and legs, but cut them off for nothing. You are going to perform surgery on him, and he is only 18 years old, who will need him without legs ?! And if you do everything right, he will still fight! "This lieutenant colonel:" Okay, okay, you don't need to write anywhere ... " the second day, around lunchtime, I came to my senses. I had white boots on my feet, four wooden planks, the whole thing was pulled together. I was wounded on April 26, the war ended 13 days later, and I was in the hospital for another six months. After 6 months began to stink, the leg festers, the lice wound up. The doctors were happy - it means it heals. They removed the plaster. The leg does not bend. I was put on my back, weights were hung on a stretch, 100 grams, then 150, 200 grams. She slowly bent, but did not unbend. They put me on my stomach, and again the same way. ”Gradually, the leg developed.
I returned from the hospital to my unit, my friends-front-line soldiers welcomed me well. The commission wrote me off as unfit for military service. Thus, I found myself at home. I didn't want to go home - I was sorry to leave my friends. We went through the whole war together. They considered themselves brothers. They got used to each other, they could not live without each other. When everyone was built, they began to say goodbye, I started crying - I don't want to leave! They say to me: "Fool, go away!"
I must say, immediately after the war, no attention was paid to the participants in the Great Patriotic War, to the wounded, crippled. You look, without both legs, he will make himself like a sled or a stroller, pushing off, moving ... Only after 1950 did they begin to understand a little, help.
Was it easier to live before the war?
Yes. The collective farmers even refused to take the earned wheat - they had enough of their own. And they dressed and ate well.
When you were called, did you know Russian well?
I studied at a Russian school. And he was an excellent student. When I was in the 5th grade, they carried my dictation to the 10th grade, showed: "Look how a student of the 5th grade, the Kazakh writes." I was gifted, God helped me in this matter.
What did they teach at the Frunze Infantry School?
I was a mortarman. We studied an 82-mm battalion mortar. The stove is 21 kilograms, the trunk is 19 kilograms, the biped is also 19 kilograms. Like the smallest, I was dragging wooden trays with mines. I could not carry parts of the mortar.
When you got to the front, what kind of weapon did you have?
First they gave me carbines. Then the paratroopers were given a PPS submachine gun. Three horns. Lightweight, with a folding stock. Nice machine gun. We loved it, but the carbine is better. A carbine with a bayonet. I loaded five rounds, you shoot - you know what you will kill for sure. And the sand got into the machine - it got stuck. He can refuse, he can let you down. The carbine will never fail. In addition, everyone was given a Finn and three grenades. The cartridges were stuffed into the duffel bag. Pistols who wanted - had, but I did not have.
What was usually in the duffel bag?
Crackers, bread, a little bacon fat, but mostly cartridges. If we went to the rear, then we did not think about food, we took as many cartridges and grenades as possible.
Did you have to take the "language"?
I had to. In the Carpathians I had to take it during the day. The platoon leader was given the task to urgently take the "language". Send all the platoon. The Germans did not have a solid defense. We wanted to go straight ahead, cross the open space at a run, go to the rear of the Germans and look for whoever we got. When they began to run across, a German machine gun started working. And we all went to bed. We returned back and walked around the forest, making a detour. We came out to the same clearing, only from the other, German, side. We looked - a trench, in it two machine gunners were looking towards our defense. I went and Lagunov Nikolay. We weren't afraid of shit because they didn't see us. Came up from behind: "Halt! Hyundai Hoh!" They grabbed their pistols. We fired a couple of bursts of machine guns, but did not kill them - we needed them alive. Then the rest of the guys came running. They took away from these guys ... they are also young guys ... pistols, the machine gun was taken and taken away. So, within two hours, they carried out the instructions of the headquarters. That's how I had to take ... There were other cases ... On such and such a hill, the Fritzes dug in. We must catch and bring. Moreover, it is desirable not an ordinary, but an officer ... The scout has been crawling on his bellies all his life. Others walk on their feet, the pilots fly, the gunners stand 20 kilometers away, shoot, and the scout crawls on his belly all his life ... And crawling, we help each other out ...
When did you go in search of what you were wearing?
There were camouflages. White in winter and spotted in summer.
Did you use German weapons?
The only time. In Hungary, we climbed to the hill. There was a rich villa on it. We stopped in it - we were very tired. No sentry or security was posted and everyone fell asleep. In the morning one of ours went to recover. He looked into the barn - a German soldier is milking a cow! He ran into the house. Raised the alarm. We jumped out, but the German had already fled. It turned out that the Germans were not far away. There were only 24 of us, but we went on the attack, opened automatic fire, began to surround them. They began to skitter. In 1945 they skedaddle bless you! Nikolai Kutsekon picked up a German machine gun. We began to descend from this hill. The descent ended in a precipice. And under it sat about fifty Hungarian soldiers. We threw a grenade there and Kutsekon at them from a machine gun ... He shoots very quickly, our ta-ta-ta, and this tru-tru-tru ... Nobody escaped.
What trophies did you take?
The watch was mostly taken. Take the cap, put it on, shout: "Urvan - is there a clock ?!" All carry, lay. And then you select which ones you throw away the best. These hours were rapidly moving away. We played the game "let's swing without looking": one clutches a clock in his fist, another something else, or the clock also changes.
How were the Germans treated?
As an enemy. There was no personal hatred.
The prisoners were shot?
Sometimes ... I killed two myself. At night they captured the village, while we were liberating this village, four of our people were killed. I dropped into one yard. There the Germans harnessed the horse to the chaise and wanted to run away. I shot them. Then we drove further along the road in the same chaise. We kept up with them all the time, and they skied without stopping.
Was it harder to fight the Finns?
Very hard. The Germans are far from the Finns! Finns are all 2 meters tall and healthy. They do not speak, everything is silent. Moreover, they were cruel. So it seemed to us at the time.
Magyars?
Cowardly people. As if you take him prisoner, they immediately shout: "Hitler, kaput!"
How did the relationship with the local population develop?
Very good. We were warned that if we treat the local population as the Germans treated ours, they will be judged by the Military Tribunal. Once I was almost tried. We stopped in the village. The reconnaissance platoon was fed from its own boiler. We cooked and ate ourselves. In the morning, when we got up, we see a pockmarked little pig running around. The guys wanted to drive him into the barn, catch him, kill him, but they couldn't. I just went out onto the porch, and Kutsekon shouts to me: "Zeken, let's have a machine gun!" I took a submachine gun and shot him. And the captain from the neighboring unit was washing next to him. We did not pay attention to this. And he reported to the headquarters and the deputy commander of the regiment for political affairs came, we, six people, were arrested, and we took the pig with us. The hostess stood nearby and cried. Either she felt sorry for the pig, or for us. Do not know. They interrogated us, found out that I was shooting. They said: "You will go to the 261st penal company." Captain Bondarenko, the head of the regiment's reconnaissance, says: "Well, what kind of scout are you, your mother ?! Such a scout should be imprisoned! Why are you caught ?!" Kosteril me on what the light is. Five were released, and I was put in a cellar. And then the German went on the offensive near Balaton. We must move, resolve issues. Command released me. I came, the guys prepared to eat, but I had to eat on the go. On the move, and the belt was given away.
Are there awards for the war?
I received the Medal For Courage and the Order of the Patriotic War, 1st Class.
Were there lice at the front?
Lice did not give us life. We were in the forest in winter or summer, kindling a fire, taking off our clothes and shaking over the fire. There was a crackling sound!
What was the scariest episode?
There were a lot of them ... Now I don't even remember ... After the war, for five or six years, the war was constantly dreamed of. And for the last ten years I have never dreamed, it's gone ...
Is the war the most significant event in your life for you, or were there more significant events after it?
During the war there was such friendship, trust in each other, which never existed and probably never will. Then we felt so sorry for each other, we loved each other so. All the guys in the reconnaissance platoon were wonderful. I remember them with such a feeling ... Respect for each other is a great thing. They didn't talk about nationality, they didn't even ask what nationality you were. You are your own person - that's all. We had Ukrainians Kotsekon, Ratushnyak. They were two, three years older than us. Healthy guys. We helped them more often. I am small, I could inconspicuously cut a passage in the barbed wire. They understood that they were stronger than me, but I had to be there to help. This is already an unwritten law, no one taught us this. When we returned from the assignment, we ate and drank 100 grams, remembering who helped whom, who acted how. Such friendship is nowhere to be found, and it is unlikely to be.
In a combat situation, what did you feel: fear, excitement?
Before you step, there is some kind of cowardice. Afraid of staying alive or not. And when you attack, you forget everything, and you run and shoot and don't think. Only after the battle, when you understand how everything happened, sometimes you cannot give yourself an answer as to what and how you did - such excitement in battle.
How were losses treated?
At first, when we first saw our killed on the banks of the Svir River, you know, our legs gave way. And then, when they were attacking thoroughly, they went in the second echelon. We saw the corpses of the enemy lying on the road. Cars had already passed over them - a crushed head, chest, legs ... We looked at this merrily.
But the losses in the platoon were very hard. Especially in Karelia ... We walked through the forests ... Soldiers stepped on mines or were killed by a bullet. Dig a hole under the tree. Half a meter is already water. Wrapped in a raincoat and into this hole, into the water. They threw the earth, left, and there was no memory of this man. How many people left that way ... Everyone is silent, does not speak, everyone experiences in their own way. It was very difficult. Of course, the severity of the losses gradually disappeared, but it was still hard when someone died.
Have you smoked?
Smoked for 42 years, but rarely drank. I grew up a homeless child, I didn't eat sweets, and I had a friend at the front who liked to drink vodka. We changed with him - I gave him vodka, and he gave me sugar.
Were there superstitions?
Yes. They prayed to God, but silently, in their souls.
Could you refuse to go on a mission?
No. This is treason to the Motherland. It was impossible not only to talk about it, but also to think about it.
In moments of rest, what did you do?
We had no rest.
Do you think you will survive the war?
We knew that we would win. We didn’t think that we could die. We were guys. Those who were 30-40 years old, of course, lived and thought differently. At the end of the war, many already had golden spoons, a manufactory, and some trophies. And we don't need anything. In the daytime we throw our overcoat, we throw everything away, the night comes - we are looking.
Have you personally lived for today, or made plans?
We didn’t think about it.
Thought you could die?
Was it hard for you to return?
Very hard. In parting, they gave 5 kilograms of sugar, two footcloths and 40 meters of manufactory, a letter of thanks from the commander and goodbye. An echelon has been formed, and it must separate us across the Soviet Union. When they entered Russia, on their own land, everyone fled - the train remained empty. The head doesn't work a damn thing - there was also a food certificate for us! They all left! They got on passenger trains, but they were not allowed there, they asked for a ticket, they asked for money. And we have nothing, and besides, I'm on crutches.
I came to my native collective farm. He was Russian - 690 Russian households and only 17 - Kazakh. At first he stood as a watchman - he could only walk on crutches. Then he went to the field brigade. They gave a kilogram of bread a day and cooked hot broth. The bulls were plowed and sown. And then, when the bread is ripe, they mowed with a mower. Women knitted in sheaves. These sheaves were piled into heaps. And from the cops they put them in stacks. Only in late autumn this bread was threshed on a threshing machine. I have a canopy basement. It's hard, the sheaves are very large, but I still have one leg ... I walked all ragged. Front trousers with a patch on the notch. After some time, he became the secretary of the Komsomol organization of the collective farm. I was offered to go to the KGB. At that time, a Kazakh, a national, who knew Russian well was a rarity. I gave my consent. They registered for a year, but in the end they refused because I am the son of a bai. They wanted to take him to the Ministry of Internal Affairs, but they also refused - the son of a bai. They made me a librarian. I worked, and the secretary of the party organization received the salary of the head of the reading room. True, I was charged half a day a day. And then they didn't give a shit for a workday ... The secretary of the party organization was an illiterate person. I was in charge of all his work. He needed a person to write minutes, and to write minutes, he needed to sit at a party meeting. And in order to attend a party meeting, you must be a party member. So in 1952 he became a member of the party. In the same year he was taken away as an instructor of the district committee. He worked for a year, became the head of the organizational department. And then they began to check, they found that I was the son of a bai - a severe reprimand with entry into the registration card for hiding social origin, to be relieved of my post. The secretary of the district committee was Lavrikov from the city of Apsheron, Krasnodar Territory. And so he says to me:
You will go to graze pigs on the Mirovoy Oktyabr collective farm.
Let's go to my native collective farm.
No, you won't go to your own collective farm. Go graze the pigs.
I won't go graze the pigs.
Once he got drunk, came to his office and swore at him: "I didn't see my father! I was a year old when he died! I didn't use his wealth. At the age of 17, I left to defend the Motherland. If I knew that if you do that, you would go to the Germans. " I called him a fascist ... It's good that at that time they were not imprisoned for 15 days, otherwise they would definitely have been. The deputy head of the general department and my friend pulled me out by the hand ... With difficulty I managed to get a job as the head of the state insurance of the region. That's how I had to make my way ...
I just started studying in the 9th grade when I received a draft summons, along with other guys my age, born in 1926. We were sixteen years old; in difficult times of war, with a beggarly diet, we were thin, short, emaciated. My height was 149 cm, weight 37 kg. Those whose height was below 147 cm, they were lucky, they were not called up, and they did not do military service at all. I returned from the front seven years later, they had already graduated from institutes and worked as teachers and technical specialists.
When I was called up, both sisters were far away, my brother was at war, and from my family they would accompany me to the assembly point in the village. Wasteland nobody could. A neighbor, Uncle Alexander Punegov, who returned from the front without one leg, volunteered. He agreed to take me on a cart. At that time, there were no cars at all - they were all sent to the front, they traveled mainly on foot or by horse. Mother, as much flour as she could, baked pancakes with potatoes and clover flower flour for the road. She was so swollen from hunger that she could not walk and just went out on the porch - and cried, burst into tears, and this picture remained with me for the rest of my life.
A few months later, my mother died, but I was not informed so that I would not be nervous. But in the beginning, until I got to the front, I had the opportunity to go home for ten days.
Many relatives, acquaintances and neighbors came to see off the soldiers. They gave me someone's harmonica, and I walked in front of all this company and played the village entrance "Kebra Gora", and the girls sang ditties, which they usually performed during Orthodox holidays. I was sad in my heart that all the recruits had someone close at these farewells, and I had no one except my neighbor, Uncle Ol'oksan.
On the outskirts of the village of Vichkodor, the column stopped and began to say goodbye. There were many tears. They did not know then that out of several dozen guys, only a few would return to their homeland. But their relatives felt that these fledgling chicks had not yet grown to the level of soldiers. And they were afraid of the military millstones that awaited them ...
In the Wasteland, we had a snack, listened to the last parting words of Uncle Olyoksan, who returned from the war as an invalid. He said that the front line should be very careful, vigilant, "nimble as hell." The enemy is very strong, equipped with advanced technology, cool weapons, a lot of snipers. Do not ask for trouble, he said, this is stupid.
IN ARKHANGELSK
Soldiers of the 33rd Infantry Regiment arrived to accompany us, recruits, to Arkhangelsk. At st. Aikino already stood teplushki, two-axle "calf" cars.
On the way to Kotlas, five more guys of our age, who had been released from the camps, were hooked up to us. They were all dressed in the same uniform, similar to the uniform of the faculty members, quite solid in comparison with our shabby coats and trousers. Our new neighbors behaved defiantly and even arrogantly. Taking places around the stove, taking out bread, bacon, canned food, sugar from the duffel bags, ate, warmed tea in mugs and laughed loudly. Then they started smoking, and our guys no one smoked. The closed carriage was quickly fogged up with smoke. When you do not smoke, it is especially unpleasant, especially for those on the upper bunk. When they were reprimanded, they say, guys, smoke makhorka near the windows, they reared, almost with a finger in the eye, and when one guy was about to have a snack, these prisoners grab his knapsack and start pulling out the contents, threatening with homemade knives. Then our guys could not stand it, went down from the bunk, some grab a piece of wood, some snatches a belt with a badge from the hands of the bandits, some just fists - and began to blow them. When they stopped digging, they put them under the bunks. Two stops later, when the incident was reported to the escort, they were unloaded and sent to the station hospital. We were not punished by anyone, realizing who was to blame for the drama that happened.
... There were many military men on the Arkhangelsk platform, and a brass band was playing. Before that, I had never heard a brass band ensemble in nature, I decided that it was playing on the radio. And then - look - I saw the pipes shining with gold, how the musicians in military uniform were playing them, I was surprised how harmoniously they were blowing a military march. And the conductor is standing in front of them and gesturing to them. My heart was solemn and light because we were so well received, as at a great holiday.
Having lined up in a column, they took us on foot to the military garrison "Molotovsk", where the first thing they did was to take us to the bathhouse. We washed, took a steam bath, took me to dress in another department and already in military uniform, starting with underwear and ending with an overcoat with a belt, a hat with earflaps. Of course, this form was not fitted and not new, used. Since we were immature and undersized, our overcoats sat baggy on us.
The very next day we were driven from Molotovsk to the village of Sawmill No. 26, where they trained submachine gunners. Intensive military training began. The first step is to get the most basic everyday skills: for example, how to wind up a footcloth so as not to rub your feet during a long walk, how to fold a roll from a soldier's greatcoat on summer hikes, how to wear a belt and tuck in a tunic in order to have a decent appearance, even how wear a cap and a winter hat so that everyone has the same. For every violation of the slightest (for example, the platoon commander noticed that you are standing near the stove and warming yourself or put your hands in your pockets) they will take you out into the street in a tunic in the frost and will drive you through the snow, make you crawl on your bellies. But these punishments also depend on the squad leader, the junior sergeant. For example, our ml. the sergeant was more humane and never abused his duties, and next to Jr. the sergeant went out of his way, drove his soldiers unnecessarily.
The food was very poor. Three months later, some of the soldiers were so starving that they could barely move their legs like decrepit old people - they were then sent to the hospital to recover.
The soldiers serving in the reserve regiment were given makhorka, regardless of whether you smoke or not. Basically, our soldiers all smoked. And my father weaned me from this habit. He planted tobacco for himself in the garden, and in the fall he dried it in a heap to make it stronger, dried it, putting it on the slats in the attic, and chopped it with an ax finely, and packed two wooden boxes. I secretly stuffed my jacket pockets from there before going as a shepherd (the older guys dabbled, and wanted to be on a par with them). There we twisted a cigar from the newspaper and smoked. But this did not last long. Once my father noticed the remains of a shag in my pocket. He grabs me, my head between my legs - and spanked me with a belt on my bare ass so that my mother began to save me so that my father would forgive. After that, I did not try to indulge in a cigarette and did not want to at all. So in the spare regiment I collected the shag into a bag and exchanged it in the market of the village for flat cakes from civilian men, it was extra rations.
PROS OF LEND-LISA
During our service in Arkhangelsk, we were twice involved in the unloading and loading of American ships. From America, as a member of the anti-Hitler coalition, in 1943 large ships arrived with food. Basically, they received granulated sugar in bags, cereals, egg powder in cans, pork stew, beans, beans, etc. You had to pay for everything. And we loaded non-ferrous metals - babbitt and aluminum ingots - into the American ships on their way back. They looked very beautiful outwardly, looking like ice. We were very tired by the end of the shift, but we were fed very well, mainly with beans and corn porridge: each soldier received, if he so desired, almost a full pot at a time. We recovered quite well in a month of work there. The cargo was unloaded by large port cranes, and we only transported it to warehouses in trolleys.
If today you work on the transport of sand or cereals, beans, before going out through the checkpoint, we directly pour each other from a bag, say, sand between underwear and warm underwear and tighten the trousers with a waist belt. Maybe the checking soldiers guessed, but for the near-by, they will hold them down with their hands - and come out. They also managed to hide stew, cans of condensed milk and cans of egg powder. During these works, we were accommodated in one-story houses with a kitchen. When they returned from work, they stood on the newspaper (without shoes) and shook out their catch from the port. All edible prey was collected, cooked on the stove and treated to the whole herd. So every day for some time - good delicacies, sweet tea with condensed milk. Then again the barracks, drill.
ROAD TO THE FRONT
We began to prepare to be sent to the front. On the platform, we were each given dry rations: two crackers instead of bread and two pieces of lard, a briquette of concentrate - pearl barley or millet porridge - and two pieces of sugar. Each soldier had an iron round bowler hat and a spoon. It was later that our military industry began to produce flat aluminum pots, the lid of which served for the second course (porridge), and flat flasks with a screw lid. And the Germans had a cloth cover over the flask.
At st. Konosha, we learned that we were being taken to the South. Nature began to change outside the window, it began to turn green and became warmer, the stove no longer needed to be heated. In Vologda we were taken out of the cars and taken to a restaurant, where they were already ready to feed us. The waiters quickly served everyone a plateful of rice porridge with milk and butter. It was very tasty, and we remembered the treat of the Vologda residents for a long time. We were treated not as soldiers, but as our own sons who are going to protect them, peaceful Russians, from the brown plague.
At one station in front of Moscow I saw they were selling milk. And he bought a whole bucket, treated all the guys in his carriage, it turned out according to a soldier's circle.
We arrived at Ukraine. We were dropped off the train and taken on foot. Around were burnt huts, ruined adobe houses, workshops where old women and old people swarmed, trying to put together a shed to hide from the rain.
We were sent to the Rifle, twice red-banner Sivash regiment. This famous regiment crossed the Sivash in the Crimea, in a mortal battle with the enemy, one of ten regiments took possession of Sapun Mountain near Sevastopol, the storm of which cost our country thousands of lives. We, young soldiers who did not smell gunpowder, were greeted by the fighting soldiers very well. They just took a lot of food trophies from the enemy. (I must say that the old soldier's saying “you haven't smelled gunpowder yet” came from reality. When a shell or mine explodes close to you, you hear the smell of burning gunpowder.)
Our soldiers, exhausted by the meager food in the spare regiment, began to eat off - they gave almost a full pot of corn soup with lard and smoked sausage slices. The cook from the field kitchen only had time to pour the large scoop into the kettles. The soldiers were recovering quickly, and the spirits rose.
Among the old-timers there were people of different ages, but mostly older, there were even those who participated in our retreat and took over the German offensive. Their clothes were worn, faded, on the backs of the gymnasts there were white spots from the salt that had appeared in hot battles and on the crossings. They taught us everything that could help us survive in battle. After all, even mistakes that seem completely inconspicuous can cost your life. They also introduced us to enemy weapons, because some of them had German machine guns, trophy cartridges were kept in the service platoon. These submachine guns had an advantage over ours: they were blued steel, did not rust from the rain, while our weapons were covered with rust from the slightest damp, so it was necessary to constantly lubricate. But basically we armed ourselves with our own assault rifles: Degtyarev, with a wooden stock (PPD-40), and a Shpagin assault rifle (PPSh-41), but it was heavy. We, submachine gunners, preferred the Degtyarev and Sudaev assault rifles (PPS-42). But, I repeat, I had to constantly lubricate them. They also introduced us to how to fight against the "Tigers", and where they have weak points for throwing incendiary bottles.
Soon we were picked up and taken on foot for loading into the railway train. I had to walk for days on the Ukrainian steppes, in the heat. Occasionally there were villages with a well or a stream. Then for the first time in our life we learned what thirst is. You walk along a country road - not a tree, you see a dirty puddle - you rush, scoop up your cap and drink until the officer rips out the cap. Suddenly my neighbor in the ranks, an elderly soldier of about forty years old, from Leningrad, says to me: "Son, you are drinking the wrong way." I asked: what is correct? Here, he says, we will come to a big halt (from 11 to 13 o'clock they did it, in the hottest time), we will eat, and, while we have not begun to rest, drink as much as we like. Then they rested - the body was saturated with water. We collected water in flasks. In a hike, after a short time, you will feel thirsty. But this, still tolerable, thirst must be endured, in extreme cases, 2-3 small sips or just rinse your mouth. At the first halt, I did everything on the advice of an experienced soldier. And he was simply surprised, looking at his colleagues, who rushed with caps to the muddy puddles. And most importantly, you are not so thirsty, you are not so sweaty, and this is not so weak. After that, I conveyed the advice of the old fighter to the guys, but they did not take it seriously. When passing through the villages, they wanted to get enough water in reserve, but it turned out - to the detriment.
From the south of Ukraine we came to the north, to the station. Shchors. We rested there while we were loading horses, field kitchens, and implements. They also loaded captured weapons - German Volker-Erma submachine guns, type MP-38 and MP-40, with a folding metal butt. We did not know where they were taking us, but judging by the names of the cities on the way, we were being taken to the northwest. A terrifying picture was revealed around. All cities, railway stations, villages lay in ruins, only chimneys remained from the villages. People dug holes-dugouts on the hills, closed them with boards, instead of a door - some canvas, they built a stove from various waste and broken bricks and huddled there.
They brought it to Vitebsk and began to unload. The city was completely destroyed, not a single whole house was visible. We walked along the outskirts of the city, it was deserted and deserted, there weren't even dogs. We, 17-year-old soldiers from the hinterland of Russia, have seen this for the first time. Although our people lived in poverty, our houses and collective farm buildings remained intact. Seeing the places where the front passed twice, we were horrified. Occasionally cars with ammunition boxes, tanks and self-propelled guns overtook us, and you envy them that they do not have to go on foot with soldiers' equipment (duffel bag, machine gun, bag of cartridges, roll-up). You hear the command "stop", "halt" - you immediately rush into a roadside ditch - and your feet up. The halt was made in a place where there was water and it was possible to hide from German aircraft. They flew constantly. If the "frame" - a reconnaissance aircraft - has flown by, then wait for the "Messerschmitts" or "Junkers". We were fiercely bombed in the frontline zone. The command "air" was heard more and more often, and we tried to hide in a ditch or a hole, or in the bushes, if they were nearby. Many were given first aid by experienced medical instructors who had been in the battles for Sivash in the Crimea. We had to observe air battles when our Yak-9 or La-7 appeared against the Messerschmitts. They helped a lot.
LITTLE THOUGHTS
Before reaching Polotsk, our 953rd Sivash Sevastopol Order of Suvorov regiment was attached to the 51st Army of the 1st Belorussian Front under the command of Army General Ivan Khristoforovich Baghramyan. We were given the task of cutting off the retreat routes of the German army grouping "North" to East Prussia. Thanks to this operation, the troops of the Germans in Latvia and Estonia will find themselves in a "sack". But in order to accomplish this task, we have to overcome incredible difficulties, since Army Group North in this area owns not only large formations of human, well-armed reserves, but also a huge amount of equipment, motorized units, tank and artillery formations, armed to the teeth. ... And ours is not so hot, except for light artillery and infantry units, although with the help of the 3rd Air Army from the air. I experienced it later on my own skin: when they shoot at you not only from the front, but also from both flanks, it’s like in absolute hell.
Before the first fight, cats scratched their souls. Although the cooks fed us corn soup with lard, they ate without appetite, thinking about what awaits you tomorrow. What devilish forces will meet us? Or German soldiers will stand on the field, shooting at you, with their angular helmets and black muzzles, or maybe they will not be visible, they will fire from trenches and bushes. Or "Ferdinands", smoking exhaust gases, will roar at you, and soldiers walk between them and screech at you in short bursts, and you don't have the right to open return fire - let them come closer, let the artillery shoot at the tanks ... My head is confused by these pictures, and there is no appetite. Besides, I don't like boiled hot bacon. He took the pieces out of the pot, wrapped them in paper and into a duffel bag, then ate them with pleasure.
They lined us up for a rally before the battle, and our view is far from ceremonial.
For months on the front line, a soldier not only cannot choose the moment to wash and dry his tunic, but he even fails to wash. The generals, whom I saw so closely for the first time, were in decent uniform: trousers with red stripes, a cap with a red band. After the meeting, the generals with their adjutants and colonels got into the "Wilis" and drove off to the rear. And we, when we were fed, having rested and taking water into our flasks, soon heard the command to line up in columns, platoon and port. The riders began to assemble the carts. Ambulance carts were laid: various stretchers, raincoats, boxes of medicines, crutches, etc. Boxes with mines were loaded onto mortar carts, small-caliber - so-called muzzle-loading - 50-mm mortars. They were carried on the front line by the mortarmen themselves. Well, carts for boxes with cartridges and transportation of camping items with field kitchens.
We were lined up in columns, the platoon commanders checked their personnel, and set off. We walked with halts until the evening; when it was already dark, we stopped in some village, not far off we could hear the rumble of machine-gun and submachine-gun bursts. They were ordered to settle down for the night right in the forest, since the houses housed officers, carts and cooks of field kitchens. They passed on the chain: in an hour and a half to prepare for dinner. Although we were very tired of walking and the heat, I didn’t sleep. My heart was restless and anxious, and not only among me, but also among others, especially young soldiers. There was one Armenian in our platoon, and he looked especially nervous, because he had a young wife and a small child. I felt sorry for him that he had to worry not only about himself. He was a year older than me, by the name of Hakobyan.
FIRST FIGHT
The night passed almost without sleep, in a nap with sleepy interruptions. At dawn we were invited to have breakfast. The cooks slept little, but they prepared food for us: the first, as usual, soup made from corn grits and canned food and barley porridge with bacon for the second. After breakfast we were lined up and tasked with operations. We had to turn around in a line and imperceptibly - where on our bellies, where in short dashes - move forward, to the trenches of our units. Separately, the trenches were not everywhere connected by trenches: since our troops were on the offensive, the command did not provide for a long-term defense. In this offensive operation, the following was practiced: the advancing unit took the position of another unit every other day, and the replaced unit collected the dead and buried them in mass graves. And a day later - again to the front line, and conducted offensive battles. But this practice was in case human resources allowed.
When we occupied the trenches, the fighting soldiers retreated to rear positions to bury their dead comrades. When we opened active fire on the positions of the Germans, they could not stand it and began to retreat imperceptibly. There were comparatively few of them, and they began to run away not on foot - it turned out that their cars were hidden in a low ravine. We began to move one by one towards the German trenches under fire from the covering Germans-lonely, and then these loners got on the motorcycles, which were also hidden from our eyes. When we reached the German trenches, we were allowed a respite in the offensive. During this time, other units pulled up, dragged to the trenches a 45-mm cannon, which was the only one in our regiment. It is very difficult to advance in the forest for calculation in a wooded area without horse-drawn traction. Treeless terrain opened up against our units. After a short respite, the command decided to continue the offensive. Logistic units, horse-drawn vehicles - carts, field kitchens - were ordered not to protrude from the forest into the open area until further notice. The area was downhill, and behind it was a hill, where several small village huts could be seen.
When the command of the unit commanders was distributed along the chain: “Forward, for the Motherland, for Stalin!”, The soldiers began to jump out of the trenches and trenches, shouting: “Hurray! Hooray!" The whole chain of soldiers running to the enemy somehow inspired, and I, too, shouted "hurray" and ran to the hollow. Then, from the side of the houses, the enemy opened increased fire from machine guns and machine guns with tracer bullets, although it was daylight. These sheaves of bullets, like sparks, flew at us - and flew back over our heads, inspired fear, first seen and bringing death in reality. The Germans, sitting on the hill, could see everything at a glance, every running soldier. The enemy had superiority on the ground, and in spite of this, we fled as if into the devil's mouth. This was a clear wrong decision of the offensive operation, when it was possible to take this protruding height by a roundabout route or after enhanced artillery barrage or aerial bombardment. This would have saved dozens, maybe hundreds of soldiers, and they would not have been killed and maimed.
The Germans fired tracer bullets first to know where their bullets were going. As they reached the middle of the gully, they were forced to stop the offensive, even with short dashes, and lie down. The attack was stopped, and they ordered to dig in, almost lying down, with their sapper blades. But the soil was not solid, apparently, grain was planted there before, then it was overgrown with turf. And we quickly dug a trench, where it was possible to escape the bullets of the Germans behind the earthen parapet, and ourselves to open aimed fire at the points where the flames of the German machine guns blinked like a Morse code. That Armenian dug a trench next to me. And I watch as he lay face down to the breastwork and periodically gave bursts from his machine gun almost up. The platoon commander noticed such a joke, approached him - and how he would hit Hakobyan in the hump with a machine gun! Shouted: “Where are you shooting? For the crows? Bring targeted fire! " My neighbors in the trenches and I began to laugh.
The Germans continued to fire intensively, but the fact that there was no artillery fire saved them. And our "magpie" fired at the enemy, which is behind us, fifty meters away. This greatly interfered with the Germans and reduced the enemy's firing points. Cries from our soldiers were heard: "Medical instructor!", "Wounded!", "Save!" ... The artillery crew also had to drag boxes with shells under fire. The command of the regiment was behind us about two hundred meters away, giving orders to the battalion commanders via wire communication. And signalmen with a coil on their backs had to under enemy fire, where they crawled, and where the terrain allowed, then running, standing, in short dashes, to make a connection. Only division and corps commanders had a radio, rarely regiment commanders.
To reduce the loss of units, the command decided to launch an offensive and capture the height at the beginning of darkness. Since we have almost decided where the firing points were, the main strikes should be developed in the direction between the machine guns, and upon reaching the height, hit the enemy targets from the flanks and from the rear. As soon as it began to darken and the Germans could no longer make out the movement of our soldiers, there was a command to launch an offensive in a chain, but observing the strictest silence, so that there were no blows of pots and shovels, no jingle of water flasks. Since it was not yet dense darkness, the Germans have not yet used missiles to periodically illuminate our positions.
And we rushed forward. We, most importantly, had to reach the bottom of the ravine, and when climbing the mountain, the enemy could no longer see us. And the real battle with the enemy began already in trenches and trenches, unexpectedly for the Germans, where with automatic bursts, where hand-to-hand, where destroyed with grenades. Only a few, mostly officers, could elude us, since their command posts and dugouts were farther from the front line. Many Germans escaped in cars and motorcycles, with poor visibility - it was already almost complete darkness, in addition to fog.
The battle lasted for about an hour. We pursued and finished off the last German soldiers. But about twenty of ours were killed and wounded as well. We saw this the next morning. At night we scoured to find trophy food that was left behind by the Germans when they suddenly retreated. We disarmed the seriously wounded Germans, and buried the corpses in separate graves from our soldiers.
They were buried in a mass grave, with uniforms, without coffins and wraps. The square grave is two by two meters and is also about two meters deep. They laid them in rows, and the mutilated ones were wrapped in a sheet and also laid there. I saw a similar funeral and fireworks several times there, on the 1st Baltic. And later - on the Belorussian fronts - we only attacked, and the soldiers were buried by special funeral units that followed us. The names of the soldiers buried in the mass grave were written on the plywood and installed at the top.
The civilian population in the villages where the fighting was fought was almost invisible. They either left with the partisans, or hid in the nearby forests.
At first, my soul was terrible; it was hard to see and get used to. And it didn’t leave my head that it’s your turn, but when? And will the news that you are in such and such a village and under such and such a bush ... And God ordered who what fate ..
This is how my first day of the war passed. We rested, and the camp kitchen caught up with us, they fed us again, and were full. After the night, they again drove us to the front line - to replace the existing unit ...
On the blue cover of an ordinary school notebook in a cage, in uneven letters, it is printed in large size: "Anatoly Pavlovich Sobolev, born in 1921".
This notebook was brought to me by Pavel Anatolyevich Sobolev. A son. “They never wrote about my father, he didn’t even get into the regional“ Memory Book ”,” said Pavel Anatolyevich.
Well, let's remember the soldier of the Great Patriotic War, senior sergeant, scout and machine gunner Anatoly Sobolev.
Here are the data from the registration card of the Kubeno-Ozersk district military enlistment office: place of birth - s. Novlenskoe; born in 1921, graduated from 6 classes; place of work, position - Novlensky village, worker; called up for active military service on September 16, 1940, a member of the CPSU since 1944, transferred to the reserve on May 23, 1946.
He spoke little about the war, according to his son Paul, and did not keep orders and medals. It is known that during the war years he was "buried" twice - for the first time, at the beginning of the war, his relatives received a notification that he was missing; the second time, already during the liberation of Ukraine, there was a funeral ... But he survived and fought until the end of 1944, when, after being wounded, he was sent to study at the Yaroslavl Infantry School.
After demobilization, Anatoly Sobolev lived in Novlenskoye, worked at a state farm. He wrote down his memories of the war shortly before his death in 1984.
I open the notebook with excitement and read ... into memory and pain.
The entries are fragmentary, the chronology is not always preserved, the narration is either the first or the third person. For all its artlessness, moments, the text reaches a high artistic power. However, his main strength lies not in artistry, but in the truth of war and heroism ... I tried to correct the text as little as possible and for ease of reading I divided the text into chapters.
And I'll start publishing this notebook with the very last phrase, let it become an epigraph:
“This is a very small fraction of reality, because you cannot describe everything, only a few were taken, because every battle, every retreat or attack lasted for days, weeks. This is the path from border to border. "
Anatoly Sobolev
Fiery versts
The 655th artillery regiment, after fierce battles in the border zone (the German offensive in the Lvov region), left the encirclement. There was no front, the enemy was everywhere. And only thanks to the skillful command of the officers, the resilience of the personnel, the regiment left from under the blows of the Germans, and itself inflicted tangible blows on the enemy. The batteries were mostly regular soldiers and officers.
The Germans, seeing in front of them a strong unit that impeded their rapid advance, took all measures to destroy the regiment. But the regiment got out of the blows and appeared where it was not expected, again destroying small parts of the Germans.
Then the Germans abandoned their tanks. Exhausted, having lost track of the days, the soldiers had to change combat positions in a short night, build false positions, prepare for battle.
After artillery and air preparation, the Germans threw tanks and infantry into false positions. And our well-camouflaged batteries burned German tanks from the flanks, fired from distant firing positions ...
This went on for many days and nights.
When the German infantry broke through to the batteries, the guns had only the necessary number of people, the rest - privates and officers - took up their rifles. They repulsed the attacks, turning into hand-to-hand combat, which the Germans could not stand.
Then the Germans, pulling together large forces, decided to destroy the regiment with one blow. From a German colonel captured by intelligence, they learned where it was planned to strike.
There was a huge swamp in front of us. We made a decision to break through to the lane road through the swamp. The soldiers understood what position they were in - ragged, deaf, with bleeding legs wrapped in bandages. It remained to die or break through.
We broke into the bed and broke away from the Germans. We were followed by German tanks, cars full of soldiers, fuel tanks. They understood that we would not have time to cross the swamp and deploy our guns. But we made it ...
They let the motorcyclists through so that the Germans did not feel danger, and when all this mass was two dozen meters away, they began to shoot at close range. First, they hit the first and last tanks.
It was difficult to understand what was happening: tanks were burning, fuel tanks were torn, shells exploded, infantry rushed and, not finding a way out, rushed into the swamp, where they drowned or were shot ...
Still, the Germans infiltrated through the swamp. Our guns were no longer there. Only an observation post remained, from where the commander of the third battery was adjusting the fire. The Germans were everywhere, around. I was the last one to leave the ferry and accidentally ended up at an observation post. Signals have already been dispatched by order. I could not leave this brave man, and he waved his hand, they say, stay.
The Germans were all around. Everything was on fire. German and our shells exploded. I do not know how I was able to endure, how I could shoot the Germans who came out to the observation post. Apparently, the calmness and self-control of the battalion commander passed on to me.
And only when the battalion commander hung up and said "let's go", I realized that there was no more communication. We went out through the bursts of shells, and only now I understood why the signalmen were sent away - the battery fire was called upon ourselves.
I do not know the name of the nearby village, but I remember the rock from where the fire was adjusted, the bed and the swamp.
The regiment lost many guns. Together with the guns, the 2nd battery completely died, and the battalion commander Kovalev miraculously survived. But the quantitative composition of the regiment did not change, there was a replenishment at the expense of other units leaving the encirclement.
The regiment took up defenses near the villages of Leski, Chervonnaya Sloboda, Izmailovka with the task of preventing the Germans from breaking through to the city of Cherkassy and the crossings across the Dnieper, preventing the units from being cut off at the Smeloy station.
On the first day after the artillery preparation, the Germans went on the offensive, were admitted to 200 - 300 meters and destroyed by machine-gun fire.
During the week, the Germans launched an offensive, concentrating a large number of artillery and aviation.
At dawn, the Germans grew like mushrooms among the mops of wheat. They walked in several echelons, full height, drunk, with their sleeves rolled up. The piles of corpses grew with each new attack. They repulsed six or seven attacks a day.
But even at night there was no time to rest: trenches and trenches were torn off, creeping wire was scattered.
The wire was pulled 50 meters from the trenches, in such a way that the chains that came up got tangled in the wire, lost their combat effectiveness and were shot from machine guns and rifles. Those who broke through were destroyed in hand-to-hand combat.
The heavy long-range artillery of the ships of the Dnieper flotilla also hit the Germans. It may or may not be true that in the rear of the Germans there was a sailor who was adjusting the fire of the flotilla.
During the week, the regiment held the defense and only after the order and the landing in the rear of the German landing, it retreated to Cherkassy.
For another day, the regiment held the defense of the city and then was transferred to
left bank of the Dnieper.
At the same time, 230 people remained on the right bank, taking up an all-round defense. The whole city was already occupied by the Germans. But we held the bridge and several houses in our hands for another day, and only on the second day, when the cartridges were used up, without an order (and there was no one to wait from) we decided to leave. The bridge was blown up. It was necessary to leave by swimming.
I was in command of one of the groups. By agreement, fire was opened from machine guns and rifles. We knew that the Germans would now be waiting for our sortie, and at that moment we rushed to the river, winning a few minutes.
Few hoped to swim across the Dnieper under fire, but there was no other way out.
The Germans broke into our location when we were already in the middle of the Dnieper.
Only 13 people managed to swim across the Dnieper. Maybe someone else managed to escape from those who remained on the shore.
These 13 people are: Sergeant Major Melnik, Deputy Regiment Commander Sobolev, Sergeant Yushkevich, Puty, Kolodetsky, Makhilov, Selebenin, Staltsov, Darunin, Zhilov, Kravchenko, Pilatov, Shurzakov.
A very thinned regiment took up defenses on the left bank of the Dnieper and on the island. The Germans threw infantry on boats and rafts on the island under the cover of artillery and occupied the coast of the island, which we did not really hinder.
They, already feeling themselves masters, headed deeper into the island, but were met with machine-gun fire, attacked and thrown into the Dnieper.
The island held out for more than 10 days, many thousands of Germans found their end on the island and in the Dnieper ...
The company went into the night.
Yes, it was the night I am in the Vologda region on rainy autumn days. Only this night was not autumn, but winter. Cold, frost, darkness ... Everything merged together and it was impossible to see anything in two steps.
The company of the 5th regiment of the 226th division went to the rear in order to destroy the garrison in the village of Kiselyovo on the other bank of the Donets with a sudden blow. Three reconnaissance artillerymen left with the company with the task if the company managed to break into the village, destroy the long-range guns of the Germans, who methodically, day and night, fired at our units. If it is not possible to occupy the village, then detect the location of the batteries in order to destroy them from the air.
These were regular scouts who had traveled from the border, who had been in dozens of battles in the Carpathians, near Lvov, Ternopil, near Cherkassy, Belaya Tserkov, Kremenchug, Poltava.
Two are strong, risk-taking.
The third - not at all like them, young, very calm, there was something childish in him. The senior soldiers who did not know him sometimes laughed at him as at a boy. But at the right moment he was completely transformed, and hardly anyone could catch up with him in strength and dexterity.
Any task for him was equally important: he recognized the movement and concentration of German troops, the location of fortified points.
He spoke little about what had already happened - about the battles, about the encirclement. And was it worth talking about it ... He remembered how many comrades he had lost, how many fellow countrymen had died, he remembered the burning villages, in which there were no soldiers, he remembered the prisoners who were crushed by German tanks. That is why he considered every task valuable. Conducted observation in a thirty-degree frost, and nothing remained unnoticed. He crawled to the very firing points of the Germans to adjust the fire so that the artillery would destroy them without spending too much shells.
His assistant was a remarkably brave soldier, Kyrgyz Adzhibek Kushaliev, born in 1921.
They had already gone to the Germans twice at night to burn down the mill, from which the Germans were adjusting their fire. The mill was burned, and the batteries continue to send their deadly cargo ...
And so the company crossed the Donets, crossed the front line of the German defense. The guide was a local resident.
The village arose unexpectedly. Together with this surprise, machine guns began to speak, German grenades tore the air.
Many killed and wounded were left in the snow right away ...
He lay and waited. Hands and feet were numb, and the batteries did not open fire. Two hours seemed like an eternity. I had to leave, but how to leave without fulfilling what I followed? .. I remembered the words of General Gorbatov: "I hope for you, sons." And as if guessing the desire of the scout, they hit the German batteries. Nearby, by the church, down the Donets river.
It was possible to leave, but getting up and leaving is not so easy. There was no strength to get up: an overcoat, boots - everything was frozen as a single ice floe ...
I remembered the chief of communications of the regiment Murzakov: a man of infinite courage, and it seemed that he had been spellbound by bullets, he was always where it was difficult, where it was dangerous. They then, cut off from their own, fighting back, left the village occupied by the Germans. Then he, the intelligence sergeant, suggested simply taking up a perimeter defense and fighting back to the last, as many did. But Murzakov said: “No, it won't work that way, Sobolev. What is the use that you, having killed three or four fascists, will perish yourself? We must go out. After all, you will be needed, because you are a scout, an artilleryman. " And they went for a breakthrough. It was then that the bullet knocked down Lieutenant Murzakov. They buried him in the garden right under fire, very shallow, hoping that the civilians would reburial ...
All this rose in my memory, gave strength, helped to rise from the ice captivity. I had to get there, by all means. Alcohol warmed and helped, and he walked quickly (so it seemed to him). What time it was, he did not know. But it got even darker - a sure sign of dawn soon. Occasionally, the frozen corpses of infantrymen from the company with which he went to the rear came across. One, as it seemed to him, stirred. Yes, it was still alive Kolodetsky! (From Tikhvin).
He couldn't leave him. At first he carried it like a sack on his back, then he dragged him straight through the snow. I thought: just to get to the forest, to the cellars - a place where I often went, from where both the German side and ours were clearly visible.
It was still six kilometers to our own. "Will we make it, will we make it? .."
As if overhearing his thoughts, Kolodetsky sat down in the snow. “Go, you have to get there. I will rest and come. "
No, if you leave it, he will never come ... The forester's cellars are already 500 meters away. You must definitely drag yourself there, there is more opportunity to save Kolodetsky.
How long, how much force it took to walk these 500 meters waist-deep in the snow with a six-pound man ... But there was nothing comforting in the cellars either: the prepared firewood and straw did not burn, the matches were damp ... We kindled a fire with difficulty. But he had to leave, because the Germans could appear at any moment. As it was a few days ago here, when he and Kushaliyev only miraculously got out on a sleigh, in which there was a stereo tube - the dark night helped, and the clever front-line horse.
But then there was a noise upstairs. Many feet went to the cellar. That's the end ... Taking the grenades and "Parabellum" stood at the entrance ...
What is the soldier thinking on the banks of a strange river, maybe about the distant river Elma, on which he was born and raised, which is so often remembered, and which does not resemble any of the rivers seen ...
The 875th regiment of the 226th division was formed from the remnants of the withdrawing units, replenished with Cossacks. The division held its defenses on the Donets in order to go on the offensive in the spring.
Soldiers, partly from the first days of the war; Cossacks are not young people who did not want to lose their glory. They did incredible things: platoons, squads, and sometimes just groups, where there were signalmen, and infantrymen, and scouts, and artillerymen, went to the rear and cut out the garrisons of the Germans, neither minefields nor barbed wire were an obstacle ...
All this rises before our eyes: the battle for Rubezhnoe, German tanks and machine gunners who broke through to the rear. It was necessary to save from under the fire of the guns. People fell, horses were knocked out of the teams, but the guns were saved.
Many people were left to lie there forever. There was also a young gunner who took over the tanks (while the rest were retreating): he shot three tanks, and blew up the fourth along with the gun. Who he was, and remained unknown ... Many times I asked myself: could you do this? Probably could not ... Although I had to knock out German tanks near Kremenchug, when 150 soldiers detained the Germans to allow their artillery to turn around. Half of the soldiers died, but many enemy infantry and 10 tanks were destroyed ... But that was massive heroism, and here one on one with tanks ...
The great May offensive, which had begun so well, led to an encirclement, from which the regiment escaped only thanks to solidarity. The entire composition was concentrated at the guns, they fought their way up to hand-to-hand combat, as on the border in 1941.
Having broken our offensive, the Germans wanted to force the Donets from the march, and crossed over in one sector. Our infantry could not shoot down the Germans, as they created a continuous barrage of fire. It was necessary, by all means, to stop the accumulation of Germans and prevent them from building a crossing.
In one night, an observation post was built at a distance of 400 - 500 meters from the Germans. Here the permanent (or as it was dubbed "hopeless") garrison of 4 people settled: two scouts, two signalmen. There was little hope of getting out of this wretched refuge alive.
For two weeks, they were adjusting fire on the accumulations of Germans, on rafts with infantry and light weapons, knowing that if the Germans found them, they would not let them go alive.
Six times during these days the Germans directed the crossing, and six times it was broken by our artillery ...
And the negligence of the signalman (a smoked cigarette) almost cost them their lives. The first shells showed that they had been found, and there was only one way out - to leave. Two left, and he remained with the culprit of the discovery until the connection was interrupted.
They crawled away under continuous fire. The young signalman turned white as a harrier in half an hour.
Already not far from the forest, something heavy hit on the back ...
Two weeks later, he came to visit his observation post, the Germans were no longer there, and their 5th regiment was again on the other side. The whole area was as if plowed, a lot of iron fell on four soldiers. But, as it turned out, they could not even leave - not a single shell hit exactly the target - in their shelter.
On June 24, before dawn, the 5th regiment was completely destroyed by a German tank attack. There was nowhere to retreat - behind the river. The soldiers died under the tracks of tanks, undermining them along with them, firing point-blank from 45-millimeter rifles and anti-tank rifles. Nobody wanted to give up. Not many survived.
This was the third encirclement, and this time not divisions, but armies. Those surrounded fought to the death. Cartridges and shells ran out, there was no food. They made their way to the east in companies, battalions, and regiments. We went with hostility. They died in hand-to-hand combat. There were mountains of corpses all around ...
Tanks were burning, houses were burning, the steppe was burning. In small groups, they made their way through the German rear. We walked at night, hid in the ravines during the day. On the tenth day, he and the scout Anokhin - ragged, hungry - went out to their own people behind Oskol.
This was the 218th Reserve Regiment. They had no weapons, the composition of the regiment was motley. Every day they took tankers, machine-gunners, “peterovtsy” and riflemen to the front line. They took Anokhin too. Only no one took him - the scouts-artillerymen were on special account.
There were battles all around. What could they do without weapons if a German broke through? - that's what worried the soldiers ...
The front approached the Don. The units cut off from the crossings crossed the river on rafts. German planes, wave after wave, bombed, fired at the Don at low level.
Twice he ferried the horses to the other side: it was a pity to leave them. The first went badly, rushed about from the explosions, jumped back to the shore. But the latter, as if realizing where the salvation was, themselves reached for the horse.
Twice he ferried three people on a raft beyond the Don ... And once again he sent the raft with three soldiers and his own clothes. One explosion - and no raft, no soldiers, no clothes ... For the first time it became so creepy - one on one with a dark night, undressed, without weapons ... Will he be able to swim across the river again? ..
Don carried corpses of people and horses, half-broken rafts. From one raft, he removed the Maxim machine gun, ribbons to it and a duffel bag with clothes ...
The raft sprawled on the opposite bank. There was no longer the strength to fight. Got up. Fortunately, it turned out that on the shallows ...
The platoon, which broke away from its unit, had been marching for many days. The food had long run out, and the soldiers ate last year's frozen potatoes, which were collected from the ashes of the villages.
For several days a blizzard was chalk, knocking down, and the platoon walked and walked. Exhausted, frostbitten by the Stalingrad steppe winds and frost, they fell and walked again. It seemed that the snowstorm and the road would never end. Only on the twelfth day, villages began to appear, filled with the sick, frostbitten, typhoid ...
One night, a platoon entered a village that was occupied by the Germans. The Germans did not expect guests either, they felt completely safe.
Only a very careful withdrawal could save the platoon from destruction. Minutes were everything. If they see it in an open field, they will destroy it for sure. Therefore, they decided, taking advantage of the surprise and darkness, to recapture several houses and fortify themselves in them. The surprise attack stunned the Germans, they did not know that a small unit was attacking, and left the village without resistance. For the first time in 14 days, the platoon was in warmly heated houses.
For the next two days, the Germans shelled and attacked the village, but to no avail.
Here Dmitry Zhidkikh died heroically (Tula region, village Glushkovo, buried in the middle of the village) ...
A battalion of the 37th Guards Division, having wedged into the locations of German units, having lost a lot of personnel and not having the strength to move forward, took up defensive positions.
But could it be called a battalion of one and a half hundred infantrymen and a company of machine gunners? .. True, they were well armed: they had 4 "Maxim" and two light machine guns.
Our and German lines of defense passed through the forest at a distance of 100 - 150 - 200 meters. The Germans, knowing about the small size of the battalion, disturbed day and night. They called back fire from our machine guns in order to destroy them at the right time. And they partially succeeded.
I knew the plan of the Germans and roamed with a machine gun, without opening fire from the main firing point.
One day in March, the Germans unleashed a barrage of heavy and light cannon fire on us in order to knock us out of this important position.
Centuries-old pines fell, the earth swayed underfoot, the calculations could not stand it and retreated. But the Germans, fearing machine-gun fire, threw the entire mass of the infantry to where my firing point was, confident that there should not be a machine gun.
In the calculation, I could hope for one Siberian sergeant, who had already fought a lot. The rest were still newcomers - two Uighurs (Chinese) born in 1927.
The Germans attacked five times and went to bed five times. But it was difficult for such a large mass of people to stop right away, and we shot them point-blank. Only a small number of them broke into the depths of our defenses, but they were also destroyed.
And the boys were not at a loss at the moment when seconds decided the outcome: they brought cartridges, loaded machine-gun belts.
I would like to know about the fate of these people: Sergei Kudryavtsev - Siberian, born in 1920; two Uighurs born in 1927, both wounded in the legs on June 24, 1944.
There was no way to bandage and transfer the wounded deep into the defense: our crew was in an open area, 100-200 meters from the German line. The only way to save the wounded was by knocking the Germans out of their positions. We went on the attack. I was wounded on the parapet of a German trench. In total, there were more than 400 wounded, but the Germans were driven out, cutting off the Bobruisk grouping.
Exactly two hours later, the Germans launched a breakthrough. They walked confidently, unhurriedly, knowing that they were opposed by a handful of wounded.
We decided to die with dignity: who could shoot, who else could hold a rifle, a grenade - everyone was prepared to give their lives as dearly as possible.
The battle began. I fired a machine gun. But my machine gun alone could not stop a thousandth mass of Germans ...
And only the Katyushas, leaving the forest, swept away this avalanche in one gulp. Everything was decided by seconds, the Germans were destroyed 200 meters from our defenses. Just a little more, and we would have come under fire from our own ...
The battalion commander is Novikov, the foreman Khitrov is a fellow countryman ...
This is a very small fraction of reality, because you cannot describe everything, only a few were taken, because every battle, every retreat or attack lasted for days, weeks. This is the path from border to border.
This ended the writing in the notebook. Everlasting memory...
Material prepared for publication Dmitry Ermakov
Part 1
Nikolay Baryakin, 1945
THE START OF THE WAR
I worked as an accountant in the Pelegovsky forestry of the Yuryevetsky forestry enterprise. On June 21, 1941, I came to my father's home in Nezhitino, and the next morning, having turned on the detector receiver, I heard the terrible news: we were attacked by Nazi Germany.
This terrible news quickly spread throughout the village. The war began.
I was born on December 30, 1922, and since I was not even 19 years old, my parents and I felt that they would not take me to the front. But already on August 11, 1941, I was drafted into the army using a special kit, and with a group of Yurievites I was sent to the Lvov military machine-gun and mortar officer school, which by that time had been relocated to the city of Kirov.
After graduating from college in May 1942, I received the rank of lieutenant and was sent to the active army on the Kalinin front in the area of Rzhev in the Third Rifle Division of the 399th Rifle Regiment.
After the defeat of the Germans near Moscow, fierce defensive and offensive battles were fought here from May to September 1942. The Germans on the left bank of the Volga built a multi-echeloned defense with the installation of long-range guns. One of the batteries, codenamed "Berta", was stationed in the area of the Semashko holiday home, and it was here that at the end of May 1942 we launched an offensive.
NINE ROTA COMMANDER
I had a platoon of 82mm mortars under my command, and we covered our rifle companies with fire.
One day the Germans launched an attack, throwing tanks and a large number of bombers at us. Our company took up a firing position in the immediate vicinity of the infantry trenches and conducted continuous fire on the Germans.
The fight was hot. One crew was incapacitated; the company commander, Captain Viktorov, was seriously wounded and he ordered me to take command of the company myself.
So for the first time in difficult combat conditions, I became the commander of a unit, in which there were 12 combat crews, a service platoon, 18 horses and 124 soldiers, sergeants and officers. It was a great test for me, because at that time I was only 19 years old.
In one of the battles I received a shrapnel wound in my right leg. I had to stay for eight days in the regiment's sanroth, but the wound healed quickly, and I again accepted the company. From the explosion of the shell I was lightly concussed, and my head ached for a long time, and sometimes there was a hellish ringing in my ears.
In September 1942, after reaching the bank of the Volga, our unit was withdrawn from the battle zone for reorganization.
A short rest, replenishment, preparation, and we were again thrown into battle - but on a different front. Our division was included in the Steppe Front and now we were advancing with battles in the Kharkov direction.
In December 1942, I was early promoted to the rank of senior lieutenant, and I was officially appointed deputy commander of a mortar company.
We liberated Kharkov and came close to Poltava. Here the company commander, Senior Lieutenant Lukin, was wounded, and I again assumed command of the company.
WOUNDED SANITARY
In one of the battles for a small settlement, our company nurse Sasha Zaitseva was wounded in the abdomen. When we ran up to her with one platoon commander, she took out a pistol and shouted that we should not approach her. A young girl, even in moments of mortal danger she retained a sense of girlish shame and did not want us to bare her for dressing. But choosing the moment, we took the gun away from her, bandaged her and sent her to the medical battalion.
Three years later I met her again: she married an officer. In a friendly conversation, we recalled this incident, and she seriously said that if we had not taken away her weapon, she could have shot both of us. But then she cordially thanked me for saving me.
SHIELD OF PEACEFULS
On the outskirts of Poltava, we occupied the village of Karpovka with battles. We dug in, set up mortars, fired in a fan, and sat down to dinner right at the command post in the late afternoon silence.
Suddenly, a noise was heard from the direction of the German positions, and the observers reported that a crowd of people was moving towards the village. It was already dark and a man's voice came from the darkness:
Brothers, the Germans are behind us, shoot, do not regret!
I immediately gave the command over the phone to the firing position:
Obstacle fire no. 3.5 min, quick, fire!
A moment later, a barrage of mortar fire fell on the Germans. Scream, moan; return fire shook the air. The battery made two more fire raids, and everything was quiet. All night until dawn we stood in full combat readiness.
In the morning we learned from the surviving Russian citizens that the Germans, having gathered the inhabitants of nearby farmsteads, forced them to move to the village in a crowd, and themselves followed them, hoping that in this way they would be able to capture Karpovka. But they miscalculated.
ATROCITY
In the winter of 1942-43. we liberated Kharkov for the first time and successfully moved further west. The Germans retreated in panic, but retreating, they did their terrible deeds. When we occupied the Bolshiye Maidany farm, it turned out that not a single person was left in it.
The Nazis literally in every house ransacked heating devices, knocked out doors and windows, and set some houses on fire. In the middle of the farm they laid an old man, a woman and a child girl on top of each other and pierced them all with a metal crowbar.
The rest of the inhabitants were burnt behind the farm in a stack of straw.
We were exhausted by the long day's march, but when we saw these terrible pictures, no one wanted to stop, and the regiment moved on. The Germans did not count on this and at night, taken by surprise, paid for the Big Maidans.
And now, as if alive, Katina stands in front of me: early in the morning the frozen corpses of the Nazis were piled up in piles on carts and taken to a pit to permanently remove this evil from the face of the earth.
SURROUNDING UNDER KHARKOV
So, fighting, liberating farm after farm, we deeply invaded the Ukrainian land with a narrow wedge and approached Poltava.
But the fascists recovered somewhat and, having concentrated large forces in this sector of the front, launched a counteroffensive. They cut off the rear and surrounded the Third Panzer Army, our division and a number of other formations. A serious environmental threat has arisen. An order was given to Stalin to leave the encirclement, help was sent, but the planned withdrawal did not work.
An infantry group of twelve men and I were cut off from the fascist motor-column regiment. Taking cover in the railway booth, we took up a perimeter defense. The Nazis, firing a machine-gun burst at the booth, slipped further, and we orientated ourselves on the map and decided to cross the Zmiev-Kharkov highway and go through the forest to Zmiev.
The cars of the fascists were walking along the road in an endless stream. When it got dark, we seized the moment and, holding hands, ran across the road and found ourselves in the saving forest. For seven days we dodged through the forest, at night in search of food we entered settlements, and finally got to the city of Zmiev, where the defensive line of the 25th rifle guards division was located.
Our division was stationed in Kharkov, and the next day I was in the arms of my fighting friends. My orderly Yakovlev from Yaroslavl handed me letters that came from home, and said that he had sent a notice to my family that I had died in the battles for the Motherland in the Poltava region.
This news, as I later learned, was a heavy blow to my loved ones. Besides, not long before that, my mother had died. I learned about her death from the letters that Yakovlev gave me.
SOLDIER FROM ALMA-ATA
Our division was withdrawn to reorganize to the area of the village of Bolsheteritsky, Belgorodsky district.
Again preparation for battle, exercises and the adoption of a new replenishment.
I remember a case that later played a big role in my life:
A soldier from Alma-Ata was sent to my company. After studying for several days in the platoon where he was assigned, this soldier asked the commander to allow him to talk to me.
And so we met. A literate, cultured man in pince-nez, dressed in a soldier's greatcoat and boots with windings, he looked somehow pitiful, helpless. Apologizing for the disturbance, he asked to listen to him.
He said that he worked in Alma-Ata as a chief physician, but had a fight with the regional military commissar, and he was sent to a marching company. The soldier swore that he would be more useful if he fulfilled the duties of at least a medical instructor.
He did not have any documents in support of what was said.
You still need to prepare for the coming battles, ”I told him. - Learn to dig in and shoot, and get used to frontline life. And I will report you to the regiment commander.
During one of my reconnaissance, I told this story to the regiment commander, and a few days later the soldier was dispatched from the company. Looking ahead, I will say that he really turned out to be a good medical specialist. He received the title of military doctor and was appointed chief of the medical battalion of our division. But I learned about all this much later.
KURSK ARC
In July 1943, the great battle began on the Oryol-Kursk Bulge. Our division was put into action when, having exhausted the Germans on the defensive lines, the entire front went over to the offensive.
On the very first day, with the support of tanks, aviation and artillery, we advanced 12 kilometers and reached the Seversky Donets, immediately crossed it and broke into Belgorod.
Everything was mixed up in a pitch roar, in smoke, the grinding of tanks and the screams of the wounded. The company, having changed one firing position and firing a volley, removed, took up a new position, again fired a volley and again moved forward. The Germans suffered heavy losses: we captured trophies, guns, tanks, prisoners.
But we also lost comrades in arms. In one of the battles, the platoon commander from our company, Lieutenant Alyoshin, was killed: we buried him with honors on the Belgorod land. And for a long time, for more than two years, I corresponded with Alyoshin's sister, who loved him very much. She wanted to know everything about this nice guy.
A lot of soldiers were left forever lying on this earth. Even a lot. But the living moved on.
RELEASE OF KHARKOV
On August 5, 1943, we entered Kharkov again, but now for good. In honor of this great victory, victorious salutes were thundered in Moscow for the first time in the entire war.
On our sector of the front, the Germans, hastily retreating to the area of Merefa, finally managed to organize a defense and halt the advance of the Soviet army. They took advantageous positions, all the heights and former military barracks, dug in well, set up a large number of firing points and unleashed a flurry of fire on our units.
We also took up defensive positions. The firing positions of the company were chosen very well: the command post was located at the glass factory and was moved directly into the trenches of the rifle company. A battery of mortars began to fire aimed fire at the entrenched Germans. From the observation post, the entire front edge of the Germans' defenses could be seen, so that I could clearly see every exploded mine, which lay exactly along the trenches.
For more than four days, stubborn battles for Merefa went on. Hundreds of mines were fired on the heads of the fascists and, finally, the enemy could not withstand our onslaught. In the morning, Merefa was handed over.
Twelve people died in my company in the battles for this city. Right next to me, at the observation post, my orderly Sofronov, a Penza collective farmer, was killed - a sincere person, the father of three children. While dying, he asked me to report his death to his wife and children. I sacredly fulfilled his request.
For participation in the battles on the Kursk Bulge, many soldiers and officers were awarded orders and medals of the Soviet Union. Our division also received many awards. For the liberation of Kharkov and for the battles on the Kursk Bulge, I was awarded the Order of the Red Star and received three times personal congratulations from the Supreme Commander-in-Chief, Comrade Stalin I.V.
In August 1943, I was awarded the next rank of captain ahead of schedule, and in the same month I was admitted to the ranks of the Communist Party. The party card, order and shoulder straps of ceremonial uniform were presented to me by the deputy commander of the division at the firing position of the battery.
FAITHFUL HORSE
After the end of the Battle of Kursk, our Third Rifle Division, as part of the Second Ukrainian Front, fought for the liberation of Ukraine.
On that day, the regiment was on the march, the front troops were regrouping. Having dispersed in port, we, observing camouflage, moved along country roads. As part of the first rifle battalion, our ministry moved last, followed by the battalion headquarters and the service unit. And when we entered a narrow hollow of a small rivulet, the Germans unexpectedly fired at us from armored vehicles.
I rode astride a beautiful gray, very intelligent horse, which did not save me from any deaths. And suddenly a sharp blow! A bullet from a large-caliber machine gun pierced right next to my foot at the stirrup. Mishka's horse shuddered, then reared up and fell on its left side. I just managed to get off the saddle and hid behind Mishka's body. He groaned and it was over.
The second machine-gun burst once again hit the poor animal, but Mishka was already dead - and he, dead, again saved my life.
The subdivisions accepted the order of battle, opened aimed fire, and the group of fascists was destroyed. Three transporters were taken as trophies, sixteen Germans were captured.
POLICE
At the end of the day we occupied a small farm located in a very picturesque place. It was time for a golden autumn.
They quartered the people, placed mortar carts on alert, set up sentries, and the three of us, my deputy A.S. Kotov and the orderly (I don't remember his last name) went to one of the houses to rest.
The owners, an old man with an old woman and two young women, greeted us very warmly. Having rejected our army rations, they brought us all sorts of food for dinner: expensive German wine, moonshine, fruit.
Together with them we started eating, but at some point one of the women told Kotov that the owner's son, a policeman, was hiding in the house, and that he was armed.
Captain, let's have a smoke, - Kotov called me, took my arm and led me out into the street.
A sentry stood quietly by the porch. Kotov hastily told me what the young woman had told him. We warned the sentry and told him to watch that no one left the house. They raised a platoon on alarm, cordoned off the house, searched and found this villain in a chest, which I sat on several times.
He was a man of 35-40 years old, healthy, well-groomed, in German uniform, with a Parabellum pistol and a German machine gun. We arrested him and sent him under escort to the headquarters of the regiment.
It turned out that the German headquarters were quartered in the house of this family, and all of them, except for the woman who warned us, worked for the Germans. And she was the wife of her second son, who fought in the units of the Soviet troops. The Germans did not touch her, because the old men passed her off as their daughter, not as their son's daughter-in-law. And that his son was alive and fighting against the Germans, only his wife knew. His parents considered him dead, tk. back in 1942 they received a "funeral". Many valuable fascist documents were confiscated in the attic and in the shed.
Were it not for this noble woman, tragedy could have happened to us that night.
ALEXANDER KOTOV
One evening, during a halt, a group of soldiers dragged three Germans: an officer and two soldiers. Kotov and I began to ask them what part they were from, who they were. And before they knew it, the officer took a pistol out of his pocket and fired point-blank at Kotorva. I knocked the pistol out of him with a sharp movement, but it was too late.
Alexander Semyonovich got up, somehow calmly took out his inseparable "TT" and shot everyone himself. The pistol fell out of his hands and Sasha was gone.
He still stands in front of me as if he were alive - always cheerful, smart, modest, my deputy for political affairs, my comrade, with whom I spent more than a year on the fields of war.
Once we were on the march and, as always, rode with him on horseback in front of the column. The population greeted us with joy. All who survived ran out into the streets and looked for their relatives and friends among the soldiers.
One woman suddenly looked intently at Kotov, waved her arms and shouted "Sasha, Sasha!" rushed to his horse. We stopped, dismounted, stepped aside, letting a column of soldiers pass.
She hung on his neck, kissed, hugged, cried, and he carefully removed her: "You must have been mistaken." The woman drew back and sank to the ground with a cry.
Yes, she really was wrong. But when she saw us off, she insisted that he was "exactly like my Sasha" ...
In difficult moments, or in hours of rest, he was very fond of humming a cheerful old melody: "You, Semyonovna, the grass is green ..." And suddenly, because of some absurdity, this dear person died. Damn those three German prisoners!
Senior Lieutenant Alexander Semyonovich Kotov was buried on Ukrainian soil under a small grave mound - without a monument, without rituals. Who knows, maybe now bread is green in this place or a birch grove is growing.
MENTAL ATTACK
Moving with battles almost strictly to the south, our division reached the German fortifications in the Magdalinovka area and took up defensive positions. After the battles on the Kursk Bulge, in the battles for Karpovka and other settlements, our units were weakened, there were not enough fighters in the companies, and in general the troops felt tired. Therefore, we perceived defensive battles as a respite.
The soldiers dug in, set up firing points and, as always, zeroed in on the most likely approaches.
But we only had to rest for three days. On the fourth day, early in the morning, when the sun rose, the German infantry moved in an avalanche directly to our positions. They walked to the beat of the drum and did not shoot; they had neither tanks, nor aircraft, nor even conventional artillery barrage.
At a marching pace, in green uniforms, with rifles at the ready, they marched in chains under the command of officers. It was a psychic attack.
The defense of the farm was occupied by one incomplete battalion, and in the first minutes we were even somewhat confused. But the command "For battle" sounded and everyone got ready.
As soon as the first ranks of the Germans approached the place we had shot, the battery opened fire from all the mortars. The mines landed exactly on the attackers, but they continued to move in our direction.
But then a miracle happened, which no one expected. Several of our tanks opened fire from behind the houses, which approached at dawn, and which we did not even know about.
Under mortar, artillery and machine-gun fire, the psychic attack was drowned out. We shot almost all the Germans, only a few of the wounded were then picked up by our rear detachments. And we went forward again.
FORCING THE DNEPR
Moving in the second echelon of the 49th Army, our division immediately crossed the Dnieper west of Dnepropetrovsk. Having approached the left bank, we took up a temporary defense, let the shock groups through, and when the advanced troops were entrenched on the right bank, our crossing was also organized.
The Germans continually counterattacked us and rained down on our heads merciless artillery fire and aerial bombs, but nothing could deter our troops. And although many soldiers and officers are forever buried in the Dnieper sands, we reached the pro-coastal Ukraine.
Immediately after crossing the Dnieper, the division turned sharply to the west and fought in the direction of the town of Pyatikhatka. We liberated one settlement after another. The Ukrainians greeted us with joy and tried to help.
Although many did not even believe that it was their liberators who had come. The Germans convinced them that the Russian troops were defeated, that an army of foreigners in uniform was marching in order to destroy them all - therefore, indeed, many took us for strangers.
But these were some minutes. Soon all the nonsense dissipated, and our children were hugged, kissed, rocked, and what these glorious long-suffering people could treat them with.
After standing in Pyatikhatki for several days and having received the necessary replenishment, weapons and ammunition, we again started offensive battles. Our task was to capture the city of Kirovograd. In one of the battles, the battalion commander of the First Battalion was killed; I was at his command post and by order of the regiment commander was appointed to replace the deceased.
Having summoned the chief of staff of the battalion to the command post, he conveyed through him the order to accept the ministry by Lieutenant Zverev, and gave the order to the rifle companies to move forward.
After several stubborn battles, our units liberated Zheltye Vody, Spasovo and Adjashka and reached the approaches to Kirovograd.
Now the mine company was moving at the junction of the 1st and 2nd rifle battalions, supporting us with mortar fire.
KATYUSHI
On November 26, 1943, I gave the order to the battalion to conduct an offensive along the Ajamka-Kirovograd highway, placing the companies on a ledge to the right. The first and third companies advanced in the first line, while the second company followed the third company at a distance of 500 meters. At the junction between the second and our battalion, two mortar companies were moving.
By the end of the day on November 26, we had occupied the commanding heights, spread out in the cornfield, and immediately began to dig in. Telephone communication was established with the companies, the regiment commander and neighbors. And although dusk had fallen, there was restlessness at the front. It was felt that the Germans were conducting some kind of regrouping and that something was being prepared on their part.
The front line was continuously illuminated by rockets, tracer bullets were firing. And from the side of the Germans, the noise of engines was heard, and sometimes the screams of people.
Intelligence soon confirmed that the Germans were preparing for a major counteroffensive. Many new units arrived with heavy tanks and SPGs.
At about three in the morning the commander of the 49th Army called me, congratulated on the victory achieved and also warned that the Germans were preparing for battle. Having specified the coordinates of our location, the general very much asked to hold fast in order to prevent the Germans from crushing our troops. He said that on the 27th by lunchtime fresh troops would be brought in, and in the morning, if necessary, a volley from the Katyusha would be fired.
The chief of the artillery regiment, Captain Gasman, immediately contacted. Since we were good friends with him, he simply asked: "Well, how many" cucumbers "and where are you, my friend, to throw?" I realized that they were talking about 120mm mines. I gave Gasman two directions in which to fire throughout the night. Which he did it regularly.
Just before dawn, there was absolute silence along the entire front,
The morning of November 27 was cloudy, foggy and cold, but soon the sun came out and the fog began to dissipate. In the haze of dawn, German tanks, self-propelled guns and figures of running soldiers appeared like ghosts in front of our positions. The Germans went on the offensive.
Everything was shaken in an instant. A machine gun went off, guns rumbled, rifle shots slammed. We rained an avalanche of fire on the Fritz. Not counting on such a meeting, tanks and self-propelled guns began to retreat, and the infantry lay down.
I reported the situation to the regiment commander and asked for urgent help. believed that the Germans would soon go on the attack again.
Indeed, a few minutes later the tanks, picking up speed, opened targeted machine-gun and artillery fire along the line of shooters. The infantry again rushed after the tanks. And at that moment, from behind the edge of the forest, there was a long-awaited salvage volley of "Katyushas", and seconds later - the roar of exploding shells.
What a miracle these Katyushas are! I saw their first volley back in May 1942 in the Rzhev area: there they fired with thermite shells. A whole sea of solid fire on a huge square and nothing alive - that's what a "Katyusha" is.
Now the shells were fragmentation. They were torn apart in a strict checkerboard pattern, and where the blow was directed, rarely anyone survived.
Today the Katyusha hit the target. One tank caught fire, and the remaining soldiers rushed back in panic. But at that time on the right side, two hundred meters from the observation post, a Tiger tank appeared. Noticing us, he fired a volley from a cannon. Machine-gun fire - and the telegraph operator, my orderly and the messenger were killed. My ears rang, I threw myself out of my trench, reached for the telephone tube and, suddenly receiving a hot blow in the back, helplessly sank into my hole.
Something warm and pleasant began to spill over my body, two words flashed through my head: “That's it, the end,” and I lost consciousness.
WOUND
I woke up in a hospital bed with an elderly woman sitting next to it. The whole body ached, objects seemed vague, there was severe pain in the left side, the left hand was lifeless. The old woman brought something warm, sweet to my lips, and with great effort I took a sip, and then plunged into oblivion again.
A few days later I learned the following: our units, having received new reinforcements, which the general had told me about, drove the Germans back, captured the outskirts of Kirovograd and settled here.
Late in the evening I was accidentally discovered by the orderlies of the regiment and, together with other wounded, were taken to the division's medical battalion.
The head of the medical battalion (an Alma-Ata soldier whom I once saved from a mortar plate) recognized me and immediately transported me to his apartment. He did his best to save my life.
It turned out that the bullet, having passed a few millimeters from the heart and shattered the shoulder blade of the left hand, flew out. The wound was over twenty centimeters long and I lost over forty percent of my blood.
For about two weeks my Alma-Ata man and the old lady-hostess looked after me around the clock. When I got a little stronger, they sent me to the Znamenka station and handed me over to the ambulance train, which was being formed here. The war on the Western Front was over for me.
The ambulance train, which I got into, was heading east. We drove through Kirov, Sverdlovsk, Tyumen, Novosibirsk, Kemerovo and finally arrived in the city of Stalinsk (Novokuznetsk). The train was on the way for almost a month. Many of the wounded died on the way, many were operated on on the way, some recovered and returned to duty.
They carried me out of the train on a stretcher and took me to the hospital by ambulance. The agonizing long months of bed life dragged on.
Soon after arriving at the hospital, I underwent an operation (cleaning the wound), but even after that I could neither turn around, let alone get up, or even sit down.
But I began to recover and after five months I was sent to a military sanatorium located near Novosibirsk on the picturesque bank of the Ob. A month spent here gave me the opportunity to finally recover my health.
I dreamed of returning to my unit, which, after the liberation of the Romanian city of Iasi, was already called Yassko-Kishinevskaya, but everything turned out differently.
HIGHER EDUCATIONAL COURSES
After the sanatorium I was sent to Novosibirsk, and from there - to the city of Kuibyshev, Novosibirsk Region, to the training regiment of the deputy commander of the training mortar battalion, where the sergeant staff for the front was trained.
In September 1944, the regiment relocated to the area of the Khobotovo station near Michurinsk, and from here in December 1944 I was sent to Tambov for the Higher tactical courses for officers.
May 9, the Great Victory Day, we met in Tambov. What a triumph, true joy, what happiness this day brought to our people! For us, warriors, this day will remain the happiest of all the days lived.
After completing the courses at the end of June, we, five people from the group of battalion commanders, were seconded to the headquarters and sent to Voronezh. The war ended, a peaceful life began, the restoration of destroyed cities and villages began.
I did not see Voronezh before the war, but what the war did to it, I know, I saw it. And it was all the more joyful to watch this wonderful city rise from the ruins.