From this pre-war photo, the deputy commander of the 84th Infantry Regiment, Lieutenant Colonel Alexei Yakovlevich Gribakin (born 1895), his wife Nadezhda Matveevna (born 1898), and their daughters Natalia and Irina are looking at us from this pre-war photograph.

They met the war in Brest. Here is the story of Nadezhda Gribakina about the beginning of the war.

The first time I read it, I couldn't help crying.

And even now, re-reading, I can not.

The war started, we were sleeping. The husband got up very quickly and began to dress. He only said:

Well, the war is waiting.

Artillery shelling and bombing began. We lived in the fortress itself. The husband dressed and left, went to his unit. Then he couldn't get through. He returned to us and told us to go to the city now.

After 10-12 minutes, a fragment hit the house. My mother and I were hurt. In one underwear they ran out into the street. Fragments and bullets were flying everywhere. We met some commander who ordered us to hide in the house. We hid in some ruins, a small house. They were there for three hours. The bombardment continued, and artillery shells flew. When we fled, a wounded man was crawling into this house. We ran past him. When they stayed in this house, the eldest daughter says:

"Mom, I'm going to bandage him."

I didn't let her in, but they both broke loose and ran. He had a broken leg. There was nothing to bind. Daughter says:

- Gain strength and crawl to the medical unit.

“Comrades, help, there is a wounded man here.

Rifles were immediately pointed at us. They were already Germans. We were so frightened, because we betrayed ourselves and did not expect that in some two or three hours the Germans would be here.

After a while, a rifle appears in the window, and a German looks out cautiously. When he saw that there were women, children, there was one old man, he did not pay attention to us. One of the women addressed him in German to let him go home to get dressed. He says:

- Sit here. Soon everything will calm down, then go home. He asked us where the road to the highway was. We showed him.

After a while we hear Russian voices. The commander enters and asks if the Germans were here. We say we were. He does not believe, asks in which direction they went. We said. There were four of them, one of them was wounded. Natasha, the eldest daughter, bandaged him. He's asking:

- What do you think we should do? Protect?

I'm talking:

- What will 30 people do, you need to get where ours are.

Another says:

And we will destroy them. We will start shooting, the Germans will hit us.

One of them sits in a corner. I will remember this picture for a long time. He sits, thoughtful, tears in his eyes and looks, looks. I thought he had a letter. I look - a party card in my hands. His friend says:

- Must be destroyed.

They pulled the sink away from the washbasin and stuffed the party card deep into it. The second tore the ticket and also put it down into the sink. The third, apparently, was non-partisan. The fourth looked at the ticket for a very long time, turned away, smiled and even kissed this ticket and also tore it up.

Then the commander shouted to leave, lay around in the bushes.

The Germans reappeared. I tell them:

- You hide.

They ask fearfully:

- Where? - very confused.

I'm talking:

“Let’s open the doors, and you stand between them.”

The Germans entered. They took out rifles, stuck them out the windows, then they themselves went in and told us:

- Get out.

We went out and carried out the wounded. Ask:

- Who else is there?

We say there is no one. And those in the corner. I don't know what happened to those four people. Fragments fly, bullets fly. We got lost. They are screaming at us. They took me across the road. Forced to carry a wounded officer. The rest of the women were placed in single file to cover them. The woman who spoke German says:

“We are afraid, they are shooting there.

They answer:

“Your guys won’t shoot at you.

They carried this officer. They carried this officer. Then we were led past our house. This woman asks to let me get dressed, opens my coat and shows that I am naked. He shakes his head, says no. Brought to our house from the opposite side, set. I ran out in a shirt. Natasha grabbed my coat and carried it after me. I wrapped myself in a blanket. When we were placed against the wall, I feel how this blanket pulls me down. I can't stand. I get down on my knees. I look ahead, and rifles have already been pointed at us, a platoon of soldiers is running. Then I realized that we were set to be shot. I quickly got up, I think that they will not kill me, and I will see how my girls are shot. There was no fear. Suddenly, some officer runs down the mountain, says something to the soldiers, and they lower their rifles. Then I already found out that they were shooting until 12 o'clock, and then there was an order not to shoot. We were taken away without any three minutes 12.

We were taken somewhere else. 600 women gathered. They brought them to a big house, put them on the ground, and ordered them to lie down. The firing is incredible, everything flies into the air. The house in front of us is on fire.

So we lay until evening. There were many wounded among us. Natasha worked like a real doctor, doing dressings. She performed an operation on one of her sisters with a simple knife, took out a bullet.

By evening, the shooting had calmed down a bit. I'm talking:

- Let's go to the house.

By evening, our guards took the men who can walk, forced them to carry guns and took them somewhere. Only seriously wounded men remained with us. By evening I say:

- Let's go into the house, there we will be calm at least [if] from the fragments that fly and injure people before our eyes.

Some say that the house may collapse. I'm talking:

- As you wish, I'll go.

With me was another woman with a baby and a Polish woman who spoke German. Her husband served as a janitor in the fortress.

Little by little it got quiet. They began to run from house to house, looking for someone to dress, someone to eat. I'm talking:

- Take everything that is white for dressing.

They brought towels and sheets. Immediately began to make dressings.

Everyone is afraid to go to the second floor. Everyone is thirsty. They got water, gave a sip only to the wounded and children. At night, the bombing began again. I stood leaning against the wall of a huge three-story house, and felt the walls literally shaking.

We stayed in this house for three days. Children are hungry, crying, screaming. On the fourth day it became quieter, but we hear voices all the time. Women scream, start arguing, quarreling over seats: I sat here, you sat here. I had to talk to them a lot, even hoarse. I say:

- Hush, hush, death is above us, and you are arguing over some place.

Then the women became bolder, saw a well across the road, began to run there, carry water, give to the wounded, to children, and to others in a small sip. On the fourth day, a German appears and says in Russian:

- Get out.

We leave. Lead. We passed the fortress. We were led somewhere very far. They led us to a huge ditch and told us to hide there. My mother is old, they dragged her in her arms. We can hardly go. It began to calm down a little in general, and there was no such bombing. They raised their heads up, the machine gun was pointed there. Some were with things, things were thrown. Already completely said goodbye to life. Then some officer and two soldiers come down, leading the men separately, us separately. There were a lot of men, soldiers. They were already taken somewhere far away. We don't hear them. Then they tell us to go upstairs. We had a sister with us, wounded in the stomach. At first she stuck. She had a suitcase. She ran out with him, could not find her part and stayed with us. We never knew her. She says to Natasha:

- I beg you. Take my suitcase. Maybe they'll take me to the infirmary, I'll look for you. You're naked, take what you have there, leave me a pair of underwear.

I'm talking:

“Natasha, don’t take it, it’s not known where they are taking us.”

She says:

- I will take.

They took out this wounded sister, a German officer was standing, speaking Russian. This sister turns to him, asks:

- Sir, what will happen to me? I am badly injured. Will they put me in the hospital or will they leave me here?

He doesn't say anything. She turns a second time and cries. He speaks:

- Drop me.

But Ira and I took her by the arms.

Until the night they led us. They took me to the barn. They beat him with a beat. We had the wounded with us. One tanker was wounded. Burnt face, terrible burns. He moaned so. It was so creepy that I couldn't look at it. Natasha patiently approached him, listened to him. He says he can't understand anything. Finally, she realized that he was thirsty. We had a kettle. They took water. She rolled up a paper straw and gives him a drink. He strokes her gratefully. At night he died.

In the morning they took us out, they say:

Officers' wives, come out.

Everyone is silent, afraid. Then he comes out with a list and reads. I read surnames 20, says:

- Go to this barn, your husbands are there.

He did not read my last name, but I followed him. There are tears. It turns out that they have already been taken prisoner. One says:

- Will we live, they will probably kill us, you take care of the children. There was no way to escape from the fortress.

I see one is sitting on the straw. I go up to him and ask:

— You don't know Captain Gribakin? He says:

- I do not know. Everyone is saying goodbye to their wives, but my wife is not here. Allow me to say goodbye to you.

We kissed him. He warns:

- Tell all women not to say that their husbands are political officers. Then they will die themselves and we will be extradited.

I cried with them, went out and quietly told the women about it.

Then they took us again. The next night we again spent the night in a barn somewhere. Then we were led through the Bug. The bridge was not yet completed. When they left us to settle down in the evening, they said:

- Go get dinner.

Who has children, immediately ran.

— Into what? they ask.

- Go, they will give you dishes there.

We didn't go for some reason, as if I felt it. Women run there, there is such laughter, they laughed so much. First they gave everyone mugs. Some took even more than they needed. And then they start laughing and say:

- Go to Stalin, he will feed you.

The women return with tears, but they did not leave the mugs, and one took 4 mugs and gave them to us.

We were taken to the bridge. The wounded sister is coming with us. Suddenly a cart drives up and takes away the wounded. This sister said goodbye to us. Natasha is dragging her suitcase, Ira is bringing her grandmother, but I can't go. We walk on the sides, and in the middle of the bridge there were men. Suddenly I see someone picks me up and to the men. It turns out that one military man saw that I couldn’t walk and said:

“Come with us, or you will fall.”

Went under escort, however, a little. Passed the bridge. The command is given. The women stopped and the men were led on. Here the women abandoned everything. Natasha left our suitcase. Somehow we got over this bridge. Again such a situation. There were no wounded with us. There were lightly wounded who were silent that they were wounded. It was already the eighth day.

When we were being led past our house, after they wanted to shoot us, a Pole woman, the janitor's wife, picked up a bag of sugar near my apartment. In the morning, at noon and in the evening she bit off half a piece with her teeth and gave it to us. We didn't have anything else.

In the morning, the order is given to leave. We get up. Natasha doesn't get up. I thought she was fast asleep. I touch her, her head falls, she is unconscious. I got scared. I think they won't wait for us. Gathered the last strength, I say to Ira:

- Let's carry her in our arms.

Some German comes up and says:

— What, kaput?

I say flu. Asks:

- Mother?

- Yes talking.

He singles out two Poles, says:

- Bring it.

I didn't let them carry it. I gave them the suitcase.

Again we were brought to Brest through the fortress. It's a terrible picture. A lot of our dead sat crouched. I saw one tanker. He sits crouched, his face completely burned. A terrible picture. Horses are rolling, people. I almost had to walk along them, because they were being driven in formation.

Then we go further, two people in our uniform sit opposite each other and look at each other. Turns out they are already dead.
They took us to the fortress. The smell is terrible, everything around is decomposing. It was the eighth day, the heat. Feet with corns, almost all barefoot.

We passed the fortress, the bridge. There were bodies all over the city. When we were led along 17 September Avenue, we were photographed endlessly. I turned away all the time. So they laughed at us. Oh how they laughed. Shout:

Officers' wives! Officers' wives.

You can imagine what we looked like. Natasha put on a nice silk dress, but what has it become? Of course, we looked terrible, funny and miserable, and they laughed a lot.

They lead us, we don't even know where. It's quiet and there's no one but the Germans. I put my mother in a steam room. They held her by the arms. But here we were carrying Natasha, and mother was left alone to the mercy of fate. I will ask my friends:

“Look where my mother is.

She is already lagging behind, walking last, and there a soldier pushes her with a bayonet. One very good woman Anoshkina saved my mother.

Then we were taken to the Brest prison. They let us out into the yard - and whoever wants where. Then we were lined up in a semicircle. 12 Germans came. One, apparently a senior officer, also appeared, and with him an interpreter, then a doctor. Immediately they said: the Jews should go out separately. Many Jews hid, did not come out, but then they were betrayed. Then the Poles and Russians were ordered to leave. They got out. Then we, the Easterners, were ordered to stand separately. So we were divided into groups. The Jews were immediately taken out of prison. The locals were told: "Go to your homes."

We were left in prison, and the interpreter began to go to one, to another:

- Tell me who is a communist here, a member of the Komsomol.

Nobody, of course, said. Then one of ours stands out. I don't know her last name, I never did. There were a lot of Eastern ones. She whispered something to him. He approaches one. She is a Komsomol member with a child. Asks:

Where is your party card?

When we spent the night, she tore it up and left it. This woman saw, ours, an Easterner, and she probably told him. Ta says:

“I don’t have a ticket,” she turned terribly pale. He didn't really get on with her, though.

- And where is the Komsomol ticket? " She says:

- I'm not a Komsomol member.

- And what ticket did you tear up? She quickly found, says:

- Trade union.

— Is the trade union card also red?

- Yes, red.

He turns to me and asks:

- Do you have a red union card too?

I'm talking:

- It depends on what, they were blue and red.

This woman got lost between us, but then we found her.

We were left in jail. Take whatever room you want. Our group occupied a small room. The floor was wooden in the room, and everyone was climbing towards us. We crowded about 50 people. When we went to bed, everyone fought for a place.
Natasha and I are messing around, we don't know what's wrong with her. We do compresses for her. There was no medicine. Anoshkina, another fighting woman began to climb all over the prison. There were no Germans, only sentries remained at the gate. They find a pharmacy, there are a lot of medicines. They took it all away, found streptocide, Natasha was given it. She later had angina. Why angina, I can not understand. This streptocide, then Anoshkina got chocolate, and with this they saved Natasha. She began to come to her senses.

On the fifth day, a commission came to us, lined us up in the yard, each was given a ration in hand. One speaks good Russian, one is a doctor. I say that my daughter is sick, I don’t know what kind of illness, maybe she can be taken to the hospital. Doctor says:

- Hardly.

He spoke Russian well. He speaks:

“I will give you a note and ask you to be admitted to the hospital tomorrow morning. They gave us our biscuits, crackers each, a little bit of cereal and tea. Here they laugh again and say:

- You will receive every day. Stalin sent this to you. It turned out that these stocks remained in the prison.

I went to the sentry with this note. The sentry misses. I'm going to the hospital. Silence in the city. I'm going to the hospital. I hear a thud. The Germans are coming, all in cars, on motorcycles, on bicycles, everyone is beautifully dressed, and there were so many of them that [avenue] on September 17 was all filled with troops. I think: where now ours will win. There were a lot of them, and, most importantly, everything was mechanized.

I enter the hospital. There's not a soul there. I pass one room, the second, the third, there is no one. The beds are standing, no one is there. They gave us rations later, and then we didn't eat anything. I see a piece of bread on the table. It looks like someone bit him. I look at this bread, so I want to grab it. I think: "This is theft." I try not to look at him. I cough, I knock with my feet, no one comes out. I can already smell this bread. I think: "Well, I'll steal it." I grabbed this bread and did not have time to swallow it, my sister comes out. I think, "She saw me take it." She asks:

- What do you want?

I have tears in my eyes. I show her the note. She says:

Under no circumstances will you be released. I will give you some of the medicines, but no one will put you in the hospital. Try to take her to the city hospital.

I go back, I think: why did I eat bread, I could give everyone a piece. I come, pick up Natasha and drag her on my back. I come to the city hospital. She was not accepted there either. I'm dragging her back. At this time, a polka, the janitor's wife, was walking, saw us, was delighted, said that she came several times, brought bread, but the sentry did not let us through. She helped me drag Natasha, gave us bread, sugar, a piece of butter, a scallop. We all have a lot of lice in a week.
She brought Natasha again, but she felt better. After her, her mother fell ill, she has dysentery. We dragged her every minute to the restroom. Washed with cold water, caught a cold. Then she got a little better.

It's been 3 weeks. We were told that one of the family could go and ask for bread and clothes. I went to the wives of one Captain Shenvadze and Commissar Kryuchkov. They received me very badly, asked me to leave, because they had Germans. Came to the wife of a lieutenant. She helped us a lot, gave us linen, gave us food, gave us some pillowcases, towels. We left her with a big bundle. She says:

- If you are released, come to live with me.

Then we were told: whoever has an apartment can leave. We came to this Nevzorova. Then the room was vacated. The owner of this house, a Polish woman, allowed us to live, and then our independent life began. When we came from prison, everyone became interested in us. Most of the locals lived there. Everyone ran to look at us like we were wild animals. Some brought soap, some to eat, some a towel, some a blanket, some a pillow. They brought us beds. There was a woman there, doctor Geishter, who terribly hated the Soviet regime, but she helped us. There was a Jewess there, the head of the pharmacy Ruzya, this one also helped us.

So we started living there. Every day they will not bring us food. Our women went to beg in the villages. Most of our women walked through the villages. Who lived in the city, went to ask in the villages. They helped a lot in the villages, I couldn’t even believe it. The girls were afraid to walk for the first few days, it was scary. I couldn't walk either. I cried for the first few days. My mother will put on a gas mask bag and go to the village, and then the girls go to meet her. They gave bread, cucumbers, and when they started to go far, there was lard, white flour, and eggs. They fed us, literally, until 1943. There were those who both scolded and sent to Stalin, but the majority helped, especially near Kobrin, 50 km. My girls went there. There is nothing on the legs in winter, and we sewed from rags, we will wind up something. Mom used to bring this bag. I am sitting at home. Let's share these pieces of bread. You don't see if they are dirty or not. We had no shame. There were these two mugs that they gave us.

The girls began to go far to the villages, to collect with one woman, but they never asked. This woman holds a child in her arms, she asks, the girls are silent, but they give them too. They went once every two weeks. They brought it so that they came, literally bent over with this burden. For 30 km they no longer carried potatoes, but bread, beans, onions. Milk was given as much as you like, but how to carry it.

Then I see that it is not possible to live like this. Just a friend comes with a bathrobe, how to sew it. We took a pattern from this dressing gown and began to sew. There was no car, we sewed by hand. Then relatives of Irina's friend say: "Come to us to sew," and we went to the 4th Brest - it's far away. So they lived until 1942. In 1941, women entered the workforce. Those who did not work were taken to Germany. True, Ira got a job at a laborer's factory, and Natasha worked in the fortress, peeling potatoes.

The Poles insisted that we be singled out in the same way as the Jews in the ghetto. There was one lawyer Kshenitsky here. He especially insisted on it. He was a big boss. For some reason, the Germans did not agree to this. If someone came and reported that this was the wife of a colonel, this one was a commissar, then she was taken to prison, and then shot. Those who managed to escape, the Germans did not use anything against them. I wasn't called. Only when we had a search [on] the first day, they asked me who the husband was. I was saved by the fact that until 1939 my husband was in reserve, he worked on the railway. For some reason, his passport was in my bag, and Natasha grabbed this bag. It was obvious that he was a railroad worker. I told everyone: I came here to visit relatives, and Natasha came to practice. Her husband was not here, and as proof she showed her passport.

Archive of IRI RAS. Foundation 2. Section VI. Op. 16. D. 9. L. 1-5 (typewritten text, copy).

* * *

And you know what?

They all remained alive.

Lieutenant Colonel Alexei Yakovlevich Gribakin, together with his unit, retreated to Kobrin, served in the field administration of the 13th Army, and reached Berlin. He was awarded the Order of the Patriotic War I and II degrees and the Order of the Red Star.

Nadezhda Matveevna, together with her daughters, lived to see liberation. On December 21, 1944, in Brest, she was interviewed by members of the Commission on the History of the Great Patriotic War F.L. Yelovtsan and A.I. Shamshin.

The train flashed by its luminous windows, whistled a long farewell, and we were left alone with two suitcases at a dimly lit half-station. Rare lanterns, one-story wooden and brick houses with tightly closed shutters, the lights of high-rise buildings flickered in the distance ... After the regular thud of the wagon wheels, silence fell upon us.

Our independent life began.

We had nowhere to sleep. The compassionate duty officer of the hostel offered to stay in the "red corner", where a young married couple had already settled for the night. Probably, our confusion touched the heart of the unfamiliar lieutenant, because late at night, when the four of us gathered at a long meeting table covered with red staples and wondered what we should do, he knocked softly and, apologetically, handed us the key to his room. He and his friend went to sleep in the gym ...

My husband and I once studied in the same class, sat at the same desk, copied from each other, prompted in the lessons. How I didn’t want him to become a military man! .. A gold medal, excellent knowledge in the natural sciences - the doors of all the universities of the city were open before him, but the family tradition (in his family all the men were officers) outweighed the scales.

When my research supervisor at the university found out that I was marrying a cadet, he urged me for a long time not to do stupid things. I studied well, received an increased scholarship, developed a promising topic that could become the basis for a dissertation. But youth and love do not care about the advice of elders, career and well-being. In addition, in self-denial, I imagined myself to be Princess Volkonskaya, going into exile to fetch her husband ...

Our town was considered one of the best. Representative commissions were brought here, flying back in helicopters filled to overflowing with deficits from the military trade warehouses and modest gifts of the local nature.

Everything was in that prosperous, exemplary garrison and the cleanliness that the soldiers brought in the mornings instead of full-time janitors, and the pond, dug and cleaned by their own hands, and the flower beds, abundantly filled with water, while it did not reach the upper floors of the houses, and even a fountain with cascades. There was only the smallest thing - housing for officers.

Young girls like me besieged every day the instructor of the communal-operational unit in charge of resettlement, and she calmly shrugged her hands: “Wait” ...

But not everyone was waiting. Who turned out to be smarter and who had money, soon moved into apartments. The rest, who did not want to present expensive gifts and give bribes, or simply did not have the required amount, lived in the hostel for a long time, moving from room to room.

There, in a communal apartment, for the first time in my life I saw bedbugs. Neighborhood with blood-sucking insects was combined with the crying of a baby behind the wall, the rumble of stomping boots along a long corridor, the howling of a siren in the morning, calling officers to a drill, with the voice of a singer coming from someone's old tape recorder, or the strumming of a detuned guitar.

A year later, I was no longer surprised that at three in the morning someone suddenly needed salt or a piece of bread, or even just wanted to pour out their soul.

Those who had no problems with housing are unlikely to understand the depth of happiness of owning their own corner. One of my acquaintances, also an officer’s wife, who has spent a lot of time around the world, lived in private apartments for crazy pay, once admitted to me: “You know, when I get my apartment, I will kiss and stroke its walls ...”

We were almost the last to leave the hostel, the day before the New Year. And together with the new neighbors, they burned unnecessary trash, boxes and crates. We watched in silence as the flames licked dry cardboard, shooting out bedbugs, and it seemed to us that we were incinerating our recent past in smoldering firebrands. It was believed that this cleansing fire would forever carry away all our sorrows and hardships into the blackness of the night.

And then they returned to their empty apartment, where instead of a light bulb two bare wires hung lifelessly, and on rickety chairs with official numbers that replaced our table, they celebrated the holiday by candlelight.

It wasn't until three years later that we finally received a warrant for a separate apartment.

After work, having hastily eaten store cutlets, we went to repair our new home. They rejoiced, like children, at each painted window, the wall pasted over with wallpaper. And in rare breaks, we imagined how great it would be for us to live here. No one will wake you up in the morning with the sound of heels, no one will meet you at the door and hand over your two-month-old baby to sit. In the evening it will be possible to watch by yourself, without neighbors, a rented TV.

I don’t remember when the first well-knit box appeared in our house, but only then did they become our constant companions. Wooden and cardboard, large and small, neatly folded "just in case."

Surprising this state - temporality. It is difficult to grasp at what point it becomes dominant in your destiny, powerfully subordinates you to its laws, predetermines your desires and actions.

I was absolutely sure that even the most severe administrator would not resist my honors diploma, optimism and energy, and I would find a job for myself without much effort. It wasn't there! At first, everything really went wonderfully (a pleasant smile, a friendly tone), but as soon as I announced that I was the wife of an officer ... At first, it was even curious to observe the drastic change that was taking place with my employers. Where did their administrative enthusiasm, friendliness, sympathetic intonations go! The answer followed immediately and in a categorical form: there are no vacancies and are not expected in the near future.

I continued to knock on the thresholds of the institutions until the military family instructor patiently explained to me that there was a long and hopeless queue for every place in the town. And you have to get out yourself if you want to work. The only thing she could offer me at that moment. - the position of the administrator in the hotel. And yet I was lucky. Something touched the heart of the elderly editor of the local newspaper, and he accepted me as a correspondent for a month's probation, thus insuring himself against further obligations.

Journalist and writer Vasily Sarychev has been writing down the memoirs of old-timers for fifteen years, fixing the history of the western region of Belarus through their destinies. His new story, written especially for TUT.BY, is dedicated to Soviet women, who were left to fend for themselves by the Soviet authorities in 1941. During the occupation, they were forced to survive, including with the help of the Germans.

Vasily Sarychev is working on a series of books "In Search of Lost Time". As the author notes, this is “the history of Europe in the mirror of a Western Belarusian city, which was told by old people who survived six authorities” (Russian Empire, German occupation during the First World War, the period when Western Belarus was part of Poland, Soviet power, German occupation during the Second World War wars and again Soviet power).

Fundraising for the publication of a new book by Sarychev from the series “In Search of Lost Time” ends on the crowdfunding platform “Beehive”. On the page of this project, you can get acquainted with the content, study the list of gifts and participate in the publication of the book. Participants will receive a book as a gift for the New Year holidays.

TUT.BY has already published Vasily about the incredible fate of an ordinary person who fell into the millstones of big politics, “polite people” from 1939, and about escaping naked from prison. The new story is dedicated to the wives of Soviet commanders.

When Western Belarus was annexed to the USSR, they came to our country as winners. But then, when their husbands retreated to the east with the active army, no one needed them. How did they survive under the new government?

I'm on you like in a war. Abandoned

“Let your Stalin feed you!”

Many years ago, in the sixties, there was an incident at the checkpoint of a Brest factory. The enterprise is more female, after the change of workers, an avalanche hurried home, and conflicts occurred in the crush. They did not look at faces: whether it was an editorial or a deputy, they applied it with proletarian frankness.

At the turnstile, as in a bath, everyone is equal, and the wife of the commander from the Brest Fortress, who headed the factory trade union - not yet old, twenty years had not passed since the war, having survived the occupation - was pushing on a common basis. Maybe she hit someone - with her elbow or during distribution - and the young weaver, who heard from her friends such things that they don’t write about in the newspapers, whipped backhand: “German prostitute!” - and she grabbed her breasts and croaked: “If you have small children ...”

So in one phrase - the whole truth about the war, with many shades, from which we were carefully taken away.

In conversations with people who survived the occupation, at first I could not understand when they made the remark “this is already after the war” and began to talk about the Germans. For the inhabitant of Brest, hostilities flashed in one morning, and then another power, three and a half years of deep German rear. Different categories of citizens - locals, Easterners, Poles, Jews, Ukrainians, party workers who got out from behind the wire of prisoners, commander's wives, soltyses, policemen - each had their own war. Some survived the misfortune at home, where neighbors, relatives, where the walls help. It was very bad for those whom hard times caught in a foreign land.

Before the war, they arrived in the “liberated” western region as mistresses - yesterday's girls from the Russian hinterland, who pulled out a lucky ticket (we are talking about the events of 1939, when Western Belarus was annexed to the USSR. - TUT.BY). To marry a lieutenant from a stationed regiment meant to take off in status. And here - the "liberation campaign" and in general a different world, where people, when they meet, raise the brim of their hats and turn to "pan", where in the store without an appointment there are bicycles with wonderfully curved handlebars, and private traders smoke a dozen varieties of sausages, and for a penny you can take at least five cuts on the dress ... And all these people look at them with their husband with caution - they look right ...

Nina Vasilievna Petruchik - by the way, the cousin of Fyodor Maslievich, whose fate was already in the chapter “Polite People of 1939”, recalled that autumn in the town of Volchin: “The wives of the commanders were in boots, printed cotton dresses with flowers, black velvet jackets and huge white scarves. At the market, they began to buy embroidered nightgowns and, out of ignorance, put them on instead of dresses ... "

Maybe the weather was like this - I'm talking about boots, but they are met by clothes. This is how an eleven-year-old girl saw them: very poor people came. People, chuckling, sold nightgowns, but laughter with laughter, and the newcomers became the masters of life in a year and a half before the war.

But life calculates for random happiness. It was these women, perceived with hostility, with children in their arms, with the outbreak of war, who were left alone in an alien world. From a privileged caste they suddenly turned into pariahs, thrown out of the queues with the words: “Let your Stalin feed you!”.

It was not so with everyone, but it was, and it is not for us now to judge the ways of survival that young women chose. The easiest thing was to find a guardian who would warm and feed the children, and protect them somewhere.

“Limousines with German officers drove up to the building and took away young women, the inhabitants of this house”

Photo is illustrative

Vasily Prokopuk, a boy from the time of the occupation, who was snooping around the city with his friends, recalled that on the former Moskovskaya (we are talking about one of the Brest streets. - TUT.BY) one could see young women with soldiers walking in the direction of the fortress. The narrator is convinced that it was not local girls who “spasted” under the arm, for whom it is more difficult to accept such courtship: there were parents, neighbors, in whose eyes the church grew, finally. Maybe polkas are more relaxed? - “What are you, the Poles have ambition! my respondents answered. “There was a case, a panenka was seen flirting with an occupier - the priest screwed this into his sermon ...”

"The war is walking around Russia, and we are so young ..." - three and a half years is a long time in a short Indian century. But this was not the main motive - the children, their eternally hungry eyes. The troubled boys did not delve into the subtleties, they muttered contemptuously about women from the former houses of the officers: “They found themselves ...”

“In the center of the courtyard,” writes the author, “there was a rather exotic wing in which lived a German major, our present chief, along with a beautiful young woman and her little child. We soon learned that this was the ex-wife of a Soviet officer, left to the mercy of fate on the tragic days of June 1941 for the Red Army. In the corner of the barracks yard stood a three-story brick building inhabited by the abandoned families of Soviet officers. In the evenings, limousines with German officers drove up to the building and took away the young women who lived in this house.”

The situation allowed options. For example, weren't the commander's wives forcibly taken away? According to Ivan Petrovich, “it was a small barracks, converted into a residential building, with several apartments per floor. Young women lived here, mostly with small children. It is possible that even before the war it was the house of the command staff, where the families found the war: I did not see guards or any signs of forced detention.

More than once or twice, I witnessed how the Germans drove up here in the evening: our camp was across the parade ground from this house. Sometimes they dropped in on the commandant, other times straight. It was not a trip to a brothel - they were going to the ladies. They knew about the visit, smiled like good friends. Usually the Germans came in the evening, went upstairs, or the women themselves went out dressed up, and the cavaliers took them away, one might assume, to a theater or a restaurant. I didn’t have to catch the return, with whom the children were, I can’t know. But everyone in the camp knew that these were the wives of the commanders. They understood that for women it was a means of survival.”

Here's how it turned out. In the last days before the war, commanders and party workers who wanted to take their families out of the city were accused of alarmism and expelled from the party - and now women have been left for the use of Wehrmacht officers.

The son's name was Albert, the Germans came - he became Adolf

Photo is illustrative

It would be wrong to say that the women left behind were looking for such support, it was just one of the ways to survive. Unpopular, stepping over the line, beyond which - gossip and piercing glances.

Women who came to Western Belarus from the east often lived in twos, threes, it was easier to survive. They went to distant (they didn’t give them to the neighbors) villages, but you can’t live on alms alone, they settled down to wash wagons, barracks, and soldiers’ dormitories. Once a German gave a large postcard to the wife of a political worker from the artillery regiment, and she hung it on the wall to decorate the room. Many years have passed since the war, and the baboons remembered the picture - they vigilantly looked at each other during the war.

The wife of the battalion commander of the rifle regiment, who had been stationed in the fortress before the war, at the beginning of the occupation copied her little son from Albert to Adolf, she came up with such a move, and after liberation she again made Albert. Other widows moved away from her, turned away, but for the mother this was not the main thing.

Someone will be closer to her truth, someone to the heroic Vera Khoruzhey, who insisted on going to the occupied Vitebsk at the head of an underground group, leaving a baby and a little daughter in Moscow.

Life is multifaceted, and those who survived the occupation remembered different things. And a romantic-minded person who left the terrible building of the SD was clearly not after torture, and the German’s love for a Jewish girl, whom he hid to the last and went to a penal company for her, and a city plantation worker who hastily appeased a Wehrmacht soldier nearby in the park until she was shot by a client who caught a bad disease. In each case, it was different: where is the food, where is the physiology, and somewhere - a feeling, love.

Outside of service, the Germans became gallant wealthy males. Bright in her youth, the beauty N. said: at least don’t go beyond the threshold - they stuck like ticks.

Statistics will not answer how many red-haired babies were born during the war and after the expulsion of the Germans from the temporarily occupied territory, as well as with the Slavic appearance in Germany at the beginning of the 46th ... This is a delicate topic to take deeply, and we went somewhere then to the side...

Maybe in vain in general about commander's wives - there were enough restless women of all statuses and categories, and they all behaved differently. Someone tried to hide their beauty, while someone, on the contrary, turned it to good. The wife of the commander of the reconnaissance battalion Anastasia Kudinova, older, shared shelter with young partners who also lost their husbands in the fortress. All three with children - such a kindergarten-day nursery. As soon as the Germans appeared, she smeared her friends with soot and kept her away from the window. I was not afraid for myself, my friends joked, our old maid ... They pulled their mother's strap and survived without the enemy's shoulder, then they joined the fight.

They were not alone, many remained faithful, waiting for their husbands throughout the war and later. However, the opposition - arrived, local - is not entirely true. Everywhere there are cultured and not very cultured people, with principles and creeping, pure and vicious. And there are depths in any person where it is better not to look, the nature of all sorts of things mixed up, and what will manifest itself with greater force depends largely on the circumstances. It so happened that since June 22, 1941, the most destitute, stunned by these circumstances, were the “easterners”.

Another would not be missed - the reason. How did it happen that you had to flee to Smolensk and further, leaving weapons, warehouses, the entire army of personnel, and in the border areas - also wives to the delight of Wehrmacht officers?

Then there was a noble rage, the science of hatred in a journalistic performance and a real one, which increased tenfold strength in battle. This hatred helped to carry out combat missions, but in a surprising way it was not transferred to the direct culprits of many sufferings.

You probably will not argue that we, military sailors, and civilians too, are the most vulnerable part of society in terms of the safety of family relationships. Once I read about a Norwegian, the conqueror of the Arctic, I don’t remember her last name, who said an interesting phrase. Her meaning boiled down to the fact that she conquered the North, but she could never be the wife of a sailor, because not every woman will be able to withstand a long separation, nature will take its toll, well, it is impossible for a young woman to be a nun in the world. I don’t know how to love a man in order to remain faithful to him when there are a lot of hefty stallions around with peaks at the ready. But it happens that the woman remains on top, and the man is shit.

So. We had an absolutely positive lieutenant on the ship, now they are called “nerds”. He didn’t smoke, didn’t even drink beer, studied English and, perhaps, knew it perfectly, in any case, he read English literature in the original, I saw it myself. On vacation with his wife, he went to camp sites, where they went hiking and climbed mountains. In general, there was not a single speck on his "image of morality."

It was on this "nerd" that our special officer had his eye. What else is needed? Like all of us, he is devoted to the cause of the CPSU and the Soviet government, but, unlike us, he does not drink, does not smoke, and has not been noticed in anything reprehensible. Hooray! And the special officer recommended him to his office as a future employee. And Vova-botan gathered for knowledge in the city of Novosibirsk, because neophytes were attached to the great caste there. But, before changing career guidance, he went on another vacation, as usual, to a camp site. With my wife.

After taking a vacation and gaining the necessary amount of health, the family was gathering to a new duty station. Vova says to his wife: “Darling, come immediately to Novosibirsk, and I will send the container from home myself. It makes no sense for two of us to drag ourselves to the Far East, but go to Novosibirsk.” The wife said, “That makes sense. I listen and obey".

But it is not in vain that they say that in a still pool, you yourself know who is found. Once Vova, being a cadet of the first or second year of the naval bursa, met with one girl, and she simply threw him away when a fifth-year student loomed on the horizon. Also reasonable. It’s not for me to tell you - why the hell is she a first-second-year jerk, who needs to be brought up and courted for a few more years, and here is a ready-made lieutenant with a salary, like a miner with experience! And the new family left for the Far East.

Vova married a very interesting girl, they had a daughter. According to the distribution, Vova ended up in the same place where the woman who threw him had lived for several years. With family, of course. Our small town, they could not meet. In general, feelings flared up again, and from feelings, people can do a lot of stupid things. In short: “If you drown, or stick to p ... stick, it’s difficult at first, and then you get used to it.” Vova stuck and got used to it.

The fornicators decided that they would go to Novosibirsk together, and he would introduce her as his wife, and then, you see, everything would settle down. The husband of Vova's passion was in military service. There were children, she had two of them. But then the wives of officers always helped each other out. And this time the woman came to her friend and asked her to look after the children, she would be away for a day or two. There was nothing unusual about the request, and the friend agreed. In general, the wife runs away with a passing lieutenant, as in sentimental novels. The children stayed with a neighbor. The mother was not going to return. Why she did this is still a mystery. And Vova, you know, stuck to the female genital organ and therefore did not understand anything.

But he was a noble man and a great fool. Before leaving, he writes a letter to his lawful wife. The same as in sentimental novels: they say, I'm sorry, all my life I loved only her, and he married you out of hopelessness and despair. It is at least unpleasant for any woman to hear this, and Vova’s wife was a woman who was not only outwardly interesting, but, unlike his passion, she had something in her head. She did not tear up the letter received from her lawful husband in annoyance, as a less intelligent woman would have done, but carefully preserved it. And immediately returned to the place of residence. There she appeared in a special department and, presenting a letter, caught up with a rustle: “How did Felix Edmundovich teach you? Clean hands!!! The man left his family and went with a whore to your holy of holies!!! How did you let this happen?!"

To the honor of the special officers, they reacted promptly and adequately. We were not afraid to sully the honor of the uniform. Although the order to enroll Vova in their camp was signed by the biggest boss, nevertheless, in a matter of days it was canceled, and Vova was expelled for low moral qualities. He returned to the ship, but there was already another person on his staff. Therefore, Vova was accepted back, but taken out of the state, that is, he received money only for his small rank. He was expelled from the party for the same moral qualities. At a party meeting, his uterus was twisted masterfully and completely, and this story became public, because only our party organs and Catholic inquisitors could twist the insides of a person with such pleasure and put them on public display. Or am I wrong?

A neighbor, after sitting with the children for several days, raised the alarm. The husband was pulled from a ship in the Indian Ocean and rushed to his place of residence. Other relatives were also called ... In general, the family united again. The lady returned to her husband. Who would dare to throw a stone at her? He accepted it. And now they live, but I don’t know if they are happy.

And Vova was settled in my cabin, and after a while we began to communicate, but we didn’t touch on past events at all. He is closed, and I do not like to climb into a person’s soul. And only once Vova asked:

“Do you think if I try to return to my family, I will succeed?”

- I do not know. I said honestly. - Women tend to forgive, you should at least try.

Vova did nothing. Subsequently, he went to another ship, but, in my opinion, he rose to the rank only to a drop *. His wife lived alone, according to neighbors and friends, she did not meet with anyone, and after two or three years she left for her homeland with her daughter.

* lieutenant commander (captain)

Reviews

Anything happens.
I had a friend - a marine officer somewhere near Vladik.
You know yourself - marines on large ships, dowries. They went on a campaign, six months later he returns - there is a note on the table, his wife is gone.
Married for the second time. After the next campaign - the same picture.
He never married again.

Grigory, this is not only among sailors.
Here is a typical episode for you.
Grozny. Second Chechen. Call center at Severny airport. Just opened, two booths, satellite connection, expensive. There is a crowd on the porch, there is just no one: special forces, riot police, SOBR, intelligence ... Chatting, flasks in a circle, smoke in a column.
One of the officers called home.
- Hello! Hello! Are you son?
Call Mom!
- There is no mother. And who are you?
- Like who? I am your dad!
- Nope. Dad is washing in the bathroom.
And you are an uncle.

I don't know with what heart he came home.

about

Here it is, female happiness ...

Registration number 0089599 issued for the work:

A young, beautiful, young wife of an officer, she had just graduated from the Pedagogical Institute, I was barely twenty-two years old. We came to the border, to my husband's unit. Around the forest, nature is generous and beautiful, "the air is clean and fresh, like a kiss of a child," but the wilderness is terrible! I’ll go to teach at the garrison school, I’ll definitely find a place for myself, otherwise I’ll die of longing! My husband is a rather nice, kind and reliable person. Several soft-bodied, girlfriends called him "mattress", but I wanted to spit on their characteristics - I will live my life behind him, like behind a stone wall. You look, he will also become a general!

The first day in the garrison began stormily and well. We were received warmly and cordially. As I remember now: preparations are underway for the holiday, and we, having thrown our things into the room allotted to us in the officer's house, are happy to join in the fun commotion. Among the new comrades there is one young officer, he immediately catches the eye: young, but already weighed down by life experience, tall, handsome brunette with breathtaking blue eyes. Rare combination! He also looks at me furtively, but very often, I stumble upon his eyes all the time. In huge aquamarine eyes - admiration and poorly hidden passion. We don't say a word to each other, he laughs a lot, tells jokes and seems agitated for no reason.

I am suddenly seized with an incomprehensible excitement. Finally, everyone sits down at the table, there are a lot of people, it's fun. A strange married couple is present at the celebration: a highly experienced general and his flirtatious young wife, who frivolously shoots her eyes, as if in a shooting range, at all the abundance of local young officers. Looks like I'm tired of my gray-haired husband! They are guests of honor. Zd about right! Music, youth! Maybe it's not as boring here as I thought? "All the same, I'll try the position of a teacher!" - vouched for herself.

Dances begin, and my husband is suddenly invited by a young general's wife. Why, out of all the variety of young interesting men, she chose him, it still remains a mystery. The brunette officer immediately comes up to me and silently drops his head on his chest. Modestly lowering my eyes, I go with him, and the heart begins to dance the Charleston. We are having this conversation.

HE: "Maybe let's go straight to" you "?"

I (coquettishly): "Yes, we didn't seem to drink brotherhood..."

HE (smiling): "The hint is clear."

We are very close, his hot hand trembling slightly on my waist.

HE: "Let's meet! Can you come when your husband is asleep? I'll wait at least until morning at the very place where the two rivers meet."

I know a place with that name. It was shown to me and my husband as the only garrison attraction.

I: "Good! - I remember myself. - However, no! Why do I have to run at your first call?"

HE: "You see, life is fleeting. You can't waste time on all sorts of nonsense if you are convinced of the correctness of the decision, as I am now!"

There is a hint of a dangerous service in his words, and I feel that he does not draw at all, he simply explains the reason for his intemperance.

I: "For such frivolity, very good reasons are needed, agree!"

HE: "Yes, of course! I really liked you, moreover, I'm in love with you, in love to hell ... I immediately understood, as soon as I saw you! Do you think that love at first sight is a good enough reason?"

Me: "I don't know... For an experienced heartthrob like you, a new officer's wife is a tasty morsel... for one night. I don't want that!"

HE: "A very bad hint, Katyusha, but perhaps fair. Still, believe me, believe at your own peril and risk, I have something to compare with! Your face, and smile, and the slight tenderness of words ... Everything is in you "life, it's hard for me to explain... "Tidbit" - it's not about you, rather, about the general's wife. And you are the only woman I need, behind your eyelashes is a mystery! But for now I can only offer a date against the backdrop of a raging water, until only night under the stars. The day will come, and I will conquer you, turn your head, take you away from your husband! You are mine and no one else, and you will not stay with this good guy, just know it!"

Me (trembling): "You're romantic..."

HE: "In relation to you - yes ... So you will come?"

His whisper is trembling, his breath is hot. The officer's mouth almost touches my ear, causing it to ignite and become purple and hot. I can hardly restrain myself so as not to wrap my arms around his neck and press my plump, Marilyn Monroe-like lips against the harsh, hard line of the handsome man's lips.

All evening the officer does not take his eyes off me, does not dance with anyone else, watching me clumsily waltz with my tipsy husband. Before leaving quietly whispers: "I'm waiting for you, Katyusha!" I know his name - Yuri Petrov, and he is single. However, I don’t care, even if it’s one night, but mine, and there, at least twenty years of longing - everything is one! A tickling excitement takes over my being, I'm shaking like I'm in a fever. There is no doubt - in love! I thought I would never lose my head! That's hot!

My husband and I come home and he begins to awkwardly harass me. The husband is pretty drunk, breathing live vodka in his face. I weakly return his caresses, trying not to arouse suspicion, but he falls asleep right on top of me without doing anything. I carefully roll the softened guy onto my back, wait another ten minutes. I leave the house, I’m wearing a summer dress, a blouse on top, my hair is loose and disheveled from a light breeze, wet grass lashes my legs. I quickly run across the field to the river. Here it is, the very place where two streams meet, flowing in different directions, but towards each other. The shaken water forms a turbulent funnel here, directly over which a bridge is built. Watching the whirlpool from above is both enticing and creepy.

The officer is waiting on the bridge, in his hands is a bottle of champagne (we didn’t drink at brotherhood) and a bouquet of wildflowers. I approach slowly, we look into each other's eyes, converge, and he hugs me. His strong beautiful hands are busy, but his whole body is striving to meet me ... No one has ever silently and eloquently let me know about his thirst, no one has ever seduced so fiercely and frankly! I melt, lose control of myself, and flowers and champagne fly into the depths of the waters; a man picks me up in his arms and carries me to the other side. There, in a haystack, under the starry sky, we spend the first night of love. Fly all to hell! His kisses are crazy, his dives are amazing, his hot confessions are mesmerizing! I rush about, as if in agony, whispering crazy words, laughing and crying at the same time... Let the morning never come!!!

I come home at dawn, shocked, tired, exhausted, and under the drunken snoring of my husband, I cry bitterly to the point of complete dumbness. I can’t believe: HE loved me, possessed me, I don’t want to believe: this will not happen again in my life !!! I fall asleep, sobbing ... The morning wakes up with sunlight and a knock on the door. My husband, groaning from drinking, goes to unlock it, but I don’t want to open my eyes, I don’t want to lose the last remnants of happiness.

"Katyusha, pack your things, I'm behind you!" - suddenly I hear a painfully native voice. He, Petrov Yuri! Beside myself, I jump up, muttering: "Yes, yes, yes!" With a groan, I throw myself on his neck.

“I decided not to wait for an opportunity, not to look for prudent solutions, not to lie! I don’t want you to live a day without me!” my lover exclaims and interrupts himself anxiously: “My girl, will you marry me?”

" Yes Yes Yes!" - I keep repeating like a clockwork. I collect things under the bewildered gaze of the one who yesterday was considered my husband. But I know who my real betrothed is!

Reprimand, condemnation, accusations of immorality, human gossip, Yuri and I endured and survived without staggering. The ex-husband began to drink with grief. On New Year's Eve, when my beloved returned from a business trip, he again took me to our place. We threw a bottle of champagne into the whirlpool, taking a sip. Carefully wrapping my hips in a sheepskin coat, Yuri took possession of me right on the bridge, and we conceived our boys, Volodya and Yaroslav. He said then: "How not to freeze these seething waters, so our love with you will never dry up, my Katyusha!" Yuri was again expelled from the unit to a closed garrison, lost in the deep taiga. By sending him, the regimental authorities hoped to reconcile me with my husband. But I knew who my real and only husband was!

She continued to live in the room of officer Petrov, teach at a local school (she achieved her goal) and burn with love. It's time to go on maternity leave, and we finally got permission to marry. The attempt to separate us, prevent "immorality" and "preserve the cell of society" failed miserably. Only when my navel climbed over my nose did the commanders understand: everything is serious with us! Yura was hastily returned from a long business trip, fearing that I would not give birth to a straw widow. They say that the same aforementioned general said the decisive word in our defense, probably, he also came forward, risking marrying his young bird.

I had not seen Petrov for five months, and when he returned, I hardly recognized him. A thick scar cut through his native face, and his hair turned completely gray! But his hardened appearance did not become less beautiful. How I loved him then! Yuri said that he turned gray from longing for me and our child, but I did not believe him. Snow in her hair - it still didn’t go anywhere, but the scar ... I cried all night.

Soon we had twins, Vovka and Slavik. The event was solemnly celebrated by the whole unit. Even my ex-husband forgave me and brought gifts for the boys.

Garrisons, far and near. Borders, northern and southern. Service and teaching. Children and friends-colleagues. This is our life in a nutshell. Sometimes it was not easy, but I do not regret a minute, not a second! Yuri and I still yearn for that beautiful place, the confluence of two rivers, it leads us through life ... A whirlpool where water boils and foams, a bridge and a haystack on the opposite bank ... A dream come true, a fairy tale in reality!

Our boys are completely different, like the two streams over which we conceived them. And yet, Vladimir and Yaroslav, although they are swimming in opposite directions, but towards each other. I believe that someday life will reconcile them. They have a difficult relationship, different characters and passions, but the beginning is the same - a bridge over stormy waters!

A few years later, a new entry appears in the diary: "We have not wandered around the garrisons for a long time, we settled in N in her husband's home country. The boys have become quite adults, they are looking for their own paths in life! And Yuri and I still love each other, we all also dream of breaking out there, to our place. Look at the whirlpool, remember yourself young and in love. Maybe then our young happiness will return again ... "

An ellipsis, a charming reticence, an illogical hope... There is not another word in the diary. Apparently, since then she had nothing to write. Everything is here, love and life.

Here it is, female happiness ...