This is a touching and tragic date for every family of our great nation.

The cruel and terrible events in which our grandfathers and great-grandfathers participated go far into history.
Fighting soldiers on the battlefield. In the rear, they spared no effort for the Great Victory, both old and young.
And how many children stood up to defend their homeland on a par with adults? What feats did they perform?
Tell and read stories, stories, books to children about the Great Patriotic War of 1941-1945.
Our descendants must know who protected them from fascism. Know the truth about the terrible war.
On the holiday of May 9, visit a monument or monument that is in your city, lay flowers. It will be touching if you and your child mark the event with a moment of silence.
Pay your child's attention to the awards of war veterans, which are becoming less and less every year. From the bottom of my heart, congratulate the veterans on the Great Victory Day.
It is important to remember that each of their gray hairs keeps all the horror and wounds of this terrible war.

"No one is forgotten and nothing is forgotten"

Dedicated to the Great Victory!

BUTsecond: Ilgiz Garayev

I was born and raised in a peaceful land. I know well how noisy spring thunderstorms are, but I have never heard the thunder of guns.

I see how new houses are being built, but I did not suspect how easily houses are destroyed under a hail of bombs and shells.

I know how dreams end, but I find it hard to believe that a human life is as easy to end as a cheerful morning dream.

Nazi Germany, violating the non-aggression pact, invaded the territory of the Soviet Union.

And in order not to end up in fascist slavery, for the sake of saving the Motherland, the people entered into a fight, a mortal fight with an insidious, cruel and merciless enemy.

Then the Great Patriotic War for the honor and independence of our Motherland began.

Millions of people rose to defend the country.

Infantrymen and gunners, tankers and pilots, sailors and signalmen fought and won in the war - soldiers of many and many military specialties, entire regiments, divisions, ships for the heroism of their soldiers were awarded military orders, received honorary titles.

When the flames of war raged, together with the entire Soviet people, cities and villages, farms and auls rose to defend their homeland. Anger and hatred for the vile enemy, an indomitable desire to do everything to defeat him filled the hearts of people.

Every day of the Great Patriotic War at the front and in the rear is a feat of boundless courage and steadfastness of the Soviet people, loyalty to the Motherland.

"Everything for the front, everything for the Victory!"

In the harsh days of the war, children stood next to the adults. Schoolchildren earned money for the defense fund, collected warm clothes for front-line soldiers, were on duty on rooftops during air raids, gave concerts in front of wounded soldiers in hospitals. Fascist barbarians destroyed and burned 1710 cities and more than 70 thousand villages and villages, destroyed 84 thousand schools, displaced 25 million people from their homes.

Concentration death camps have become an ominous symbol of the bestial appearance of fascism.

In Buchenwald, 56 thousand people were killed, in Dachau - 70 thousand, in Mauthausen - more than 122 thousand, in Majdanek - the number of victims was about 1 million 500 thousand people, in Auschwitz more than 4 million people died.

If the memory of every person who died in the Second World War was honored with a minute of silence, it would take 38 years.

The enemy spared neither women nor children.

May Day 1945. Familiar and unfamiliar people hugged each other, gave flowers, sang and danced right on the streets. It seemed that for the first time millions of adults and children raised their eyes to the sun, for the first time enjoyed the colors, sounds, smells of life!

It was a common holiday of all our people, all mankind. It was a holiday for everyone. Because the victory over fascism marked a victory over death, reason over madness, happiness over suffering.

In almost every family, someone died, went missing, died of wounds.

Every year, the events of the Great Patriotic War go further into the depths of history. But for those who fought, who drank the bitterness of retreat and the joy of our great victories with a full cup, these events will never be erased from memory, they will forever remain alive and close. It seemed that it was simply impossible to survive in the midst of heavy fire, not to lose one's mind at the sight of the death of thousands of people and the monstrous destruction.

But the power of the human spirit turned out to be stronger than metal and fire.

That is why, with such deepest respect and admiration, we look at those who went through the hell of war and retained the best human qualities - kindness, compassion and mercy.

It's been 66 years since Victory Day. But we have not forgotten about those 1418 days and nights that the Great Patriotic War continued.

It claimed almost 26 million lives of Soviet people. During these endlessly long four years, our long-suffering land was washed by streams of blood and tears. And if we were to gather together the bitter motherly tears shed over the dead sons, then the Sea of ​​Sorrow would form, and the rivers of Suffering would flow from it to all corners of the planet.

We, the modern generation, value the future of the planet. Our task is to protect the world, to fight so that people are not killed, shots are not fired, human blood is not shed.

The sky should be blue, the sun should be bright, warm, kind and gentle, people's lives should be safe and happy.

party dress

This was before the start of the war with the Nazis.

Katya Izvekova was given a new dress by her parents. The dress is elegant, silk, weekend.

Katya did not have time to update the gift. The war broke out. The dress is left hanging in the closet. Katya thought: the war will end, so she will put on her evening dress.

Nazi planes bombed Sevastopol from the air without ceasing.

Sevastopol went underground, into the rocks.

Military warehouses, headquarters, schools, kindergartens, hospitals, repair shops, even a cinema, even hairdressers - all this crashed into stones, into mountains.

Sevastopol residents also organized two military factories underground.

Katya Izvekova began to work on one of them. The plant produced mortars, mines, grenades. Then he began to master the production of aerial bombs for Sevastopol pilots.

Everything was found in Sevastopol for such production: both explosives and metal for the hull, even fuses were found. There isn't just one. Gunpowder, with which the bombs were blown up, had to be poured into bags made of natural silk.

They began to look for silk for bags. We went to various warehouses.

For one:

There is no natural silk.

On the second:

There is no natural silk.

Went to the third, fourth, fifth.

There is no natural silk anywhere.

And suddenly... Katya appears. Ask Katya:

Well, did you find it?

Found, - answers Katya.

That's right, the girl has a bundle in her hands.

Unfolded Katya's package. They look: in a bundle - a dress. The same. Day off. Made from natural silk.

That's it Katya!

Thanks, Kate!

They cut Katino's dress at the factory. Sewed bags. They poured gunpowder. They put bags in bombs. They sent bombs to the pilots at the airfield.

Following Katya, other workers brought their weekend dresses to the factory. Now there are no interruptions in the work of the plant. The bomb is ready for the bomb.

Pilots take to the skies. Like the bombs are on target.

bul bul

Fighting in Stalingrad does not subside. The Nazis are rushing to the Volga.

Some fascist pissed off Sergeant Noskov. Our trenches and the Nazis here passed side by side. Speech is heard from trench to trench.

The fascist sits in his shelter, shouting:

Rus, tomorrow bul-bul!

That is, he wants to say that tomorrow the Nazis will break through to the Volga, throw the defenders of Stalingrad into the Volga.

Rus, tomorrow bul-bul. - And clarifies: - Bul-bul at Volga.

This "boom-boo" is getting on the nerves of Sergeant Noskov.

Others are calm. Some of the soldiers even chuckle. And Noskov:

Eka, damn Fritz! Yes, show yourself. Let me take a look at you.

The Hitlerite just leaned out. Noskov looked, other soldiers looked. Reddish. Ospovat. Ears up. The cap on the crown miraculously holds.

The fascist leaned out and again:

Bool-boo!

One of our soldiers grabbed a rifle. He jumped up and took aim.

Don't touch! Noskov said sternly.

The soldier looked at Noskov in surprise. Shrugged. Pulled out the rifle.

Until the very evening, the eared German croaked: “Rus, tomorrow bul-bul. Tomorrow at Volga.

By evening, the fascist soldier fell silent.

“He fell asleep,” they understood in our trenches. Gradually, our soldiers began to doze. Suddenly they see someone starting to crawl out of the trench. They look - Sergeant Noskov. And behind him is his best friend, Private Turyanchik. My friends-friends got out of the trench, clung to the ground, crawled to the German trench.

The soldiers woke up. They are perplexed. Why did Noskov and Turyanchik suddenly go to visit the Nazis? The soldiers look there, to the west, their eyes break in the dark. The soldiers began to worry.

But someone said:

Brothers, crawl back.

The second confirmed:

That's right, they're coming back.

The soldiers peered - right. Creep, hugging the ground, friends. Just not two of them. Three. The fighters took a closer look: the third fascist soldier, the same one - "bul-bul". He just doesn't crawl. Noskov and Turyanchik drag him. A gag in the soldier's mouth.

Friends of the screamer were dragged into the trench. We rested and went on to the headquarters.

However, the road fled to the Volga. They grabbed the fascist by the hands, by the neck, they dipped him into the Volga.

Bool bool, bool bool! - shouts mischievously Turyanchik.

Bul-bool, - the fascist blows bubbles. Shaking like an aspen leaf.

Don't be afraid, don't be afraid, - said Noskov. - Russian does not beat a lying person.

The soldiers handed over the prisoner to the headquarters.

He waved goodbye to the fascist Noskov.

Bull-bull, - said Turyanchik, saying goodbye.

Special mission

The assignment was unusual. It was called special. The commander of the marine brigade, Colonel Gorpischenko, said:

The task is unusual. Special. - Then he asked again: - Do you understand?

I understand, Comrade Colonel, - answered the foreman-infantryman - senior over the group of scouts.

He was called to the colonel alone. He returned to his comrades. He chose two to help, said:

Get ready. We had a special task.

However, what kind of special, while the foreman did not say.

It was a new one, 1942. It is clear to scouts: on such and such a night, of course, the task is super-special. Scouts go for the foreman, talking:

Maybe a raid on the Nazi headquarters?

Take it higher, - the foreman smiles.

Maybe we'll capture the general?

Higher, higher, - the elder laughs.

Scouts crossed at night to the territory occupied by the Nazis, moved inland. They walk carefully, stealthily.

Scouts again:

Maybe the bridge, like partisans, are going to blow up?

Maybe we will carry out a sabotage at the fascist airfield?

Look at the elder. The elder smiles.

Night. Darkness. Silence. Deafness. Scouts are coming in the fascist rear. They went down the slope. They climbed the mountain. We entered the pine forest. Crimean pines clung to the stones. It smelled nice of pine. The soldiers remembered their childhood.

The foreman approached one of the pines. I walked around, looked, even felt the branches with my hand.

Good?

Good, say the scouts.

I saw another one nearby.

This one is better?

It seems better, - the scouts nodded.

Fluffy?

Fluffy.

Slim?

Slim!

Well, to the point, - said the foreman. He took out an ax and cut down a pine tree. "That's all," said the foreman. He put the pine tree on his shoulders. - Here we are done with the task.

Here they are, - escaped from the scouts.

The next day, the scouts were released into the city, to the New Year tree to the children in the children's preschool underground garden.

There was a pine. Slim. Fluffy. Balls, garlands hang on a pine tree, multi-colored lanterns burn.

You ask: why is it a pine, not a Christmas tree? Christmas trees do not grow in those latitudes. And in order to get a pine tree, it was necessary to get to the rear of the Nazis.

Not only here, but also in other places of Sevastopol, New Year trees were lit in that difficult year for children.

Apparently, not only in the brigade of marines under Colonel Gorpischenko, but also in other units, the task for scouts on that New Year's eve was special.

gardeners

It was shortly before the Battle of Kursk. Reinforcements arrived in the infantry unit.

The foreman walked around the fighters. Walks along the line. Next comes the corporal. Holds a pencil and notebook in his hands.

The foreman looked at the first of the fighters:

Can you plant potatoes?

The fighter was embarrassed, shrugged his shoulders.

Can you plant potatoes?

I can! the soldier said loudly.

Two steps forward.

The soldier is out of order.

Write to the gardeners, - said the foreman to the corporal.

Can you plant potatoes?

Haven't tried.

Didn't have to, but if needed...

Enough, said the sergeant.

The fighters stepped forward. Anatoliy Skurko found himself in the ranks of able-bodied soldiers. The soldier Skurko wonders: where are they who know how? “To plant potatoes is so late in time. (Summer has already begun to play with might and main.) If you dig it, then it’s very early in time.

The soldier Skurko is guessing. And other fighters wonder:

Plant potatoes?

Sow carrots?

Cucumbers for the staff canteen?

The foreman looked at the soldier.

Well, then, said the foreman. - From now on, you will be in the miners, - and hands mines to the soldiers.

The dashing foreman noticed that the one who knows how to plant potatoes puts mines faster and more reliably.

Soldier Skurko chuckled. Other soldiers could not help but smile.

The gardeners got to work. Of course, not immediately, not at the same moment. Planting mines is not an easy task. Soldiers have undergone special training.

Miners extended minefields and barriers for many kilometers to the north, south, west of Kursk. On the first day of the Battle of Kursk alone, more than a hundred fascist tanks and self-propelled guns were blown up in these fields and barriers.

The miners are coming.

How are you, gardeners?

Complete order in everything.

Evil last name

The soldier of his surname was shy. He was unlucky at birth. His surname is Trusov.

Military time. Surname catchy.

Already in the military registration and enlistment office, when a soldier was drafted into the army, the first question was:

Surname?

Trusov.

How how?

Trusov.

Y-yes ... - drawled the employees of the military registration and enlistment office.

The fighter got into the company.

What's the last name?

Private Trusov.

How how?

Private Trusov.

Y-yes ... - the commander drawled.

A soldier took on a lot of troubles from the surname. All around jokes and jokes:

Looks like your ancestor was not a hero.

In a wagon train with such a surname!

Will bring field mail. The soldiers will gather in a circle. Letters are being distributed. Names are called:

Kozlov! Sizov! Smirnov!

Everything is fine. Soldiers approach, take their letters.

Shout out:

Cowards!

Soldiers laugh all around.

The surname somehow does not fit with wartime. Woe to the soldier with this surname.

As part of his 149th separate rifle brigade, Private Trusov arrived near Stalingrad. The fighters were transported across the Volga to the right bank. The brigade went into action.

Well, Trusov, let's see what kind of soldier you are, - said the squad leader.

Trusov does not want to disgrace himself. Tries. Soldiers go on the attack. Suddenly, an enemy machine gun fired from the left. Trusov turned around. From the machine gave a turn. The enemy machine gun fell silent.

Well done! - praised the fighter squad leader.

The soldiers ran a few more steps. The machine gun fires again.

Now to the right. Trusov turned. I approached the machine gunner. Threw a grenade. And this fascist subsided.

Hero! the squad leader said.

The soldiers lay down. They are shooting with the Nazis. The fight is over. The soldiers of the killed enemies were counted. Twenty people ended up at the place where Private Trusov was firing.

Oh-oh! - broke out from the squad leader. - Well, brother, your surname is evil. Evil!

Trusov smiled.

For courage and determination in battle, Private Trusov was awarded a medal.

The medal "For Courage" hangs on the hero's chest. Whoever meets it will squint its eyes at the reward.

The first question for the soldier is now:

What is the award for, hero?

No one will ask again the name now. No one will giggle now. With malice, the word will not leave.

From now on, it is clear to the fighter: the honor of a soldier is not in the surname - the deeds of a person are painted.

Unusual operation

Mokapka Zyablov was amazed. Something strange was going on at the station. The boy lived with his grandfather and grandmother near the town of Sudzhi in a small workers' settlement at the Lokinskaya station. He was the son of a hereditary railway worker.

Mokapka liked to hang around the station for hours. Especially these days. One by one trains come here. Bringing military equipment. Mokapka knows that our troops beat the Nazis near Kursk. Chasing enemies to the west. Although small, but with the mind of Mokapka, he sees that trains are coming here. He understands: it means that here, in these places, a further offensive is planned.

Trains are coming, locomotives are puffing. Soldiers unload military cargo.

Mokapka was spinning somehow near the tracks. He sees: a new echelon has arrived. Tanks are on platforms. Lot. The boy began to count the tanks. Looked closely - and they are wooden. How to fight them?!

The boy rushed to his grandmother.

Wooden, - whispers, - tanks.

Really? Grandma threw up her hands. Rushed to grandfather:

Wooden, grandfather, tanks. Raised the old eyes on the grandson. The boy ran to the station. Looks: the train is coming again. The composition stopped. Mokapka looked - the guns are on the platforms. Lot. No less than there were tanks.

Mokapka took a closer look - after all, the guns are also, in any way, wooden! Instead of trunks - round timbers stick out.

The boy rushed to his grandmother.

Wooden, - whispers, - guns.

Really? .. - Grandma threw up her hands. Rushed to grandfather:

Wooden, grandfather, guns.

Something new, - said the grandfather.

A lot of incomprehensible things were going on at the station then. Arrived somehow boxes with shells. Mountains have grown of these boxes. Satisfied Mockup:

Great pour our fascists!

And suddenly he finds out: empty boxes at the station. “Why such-and-such and whole mountains?!” - guesses the boy.

And here is something completely incomprehensible. Troops are coming. Lot. The column hurries after the column. They go in the open, they come in the dark.

The boy has an easy temper. I got to know the soldiers right away. Until dark, everything was spinning around. In the morning he again runs to the soldiers. And then he finds out: the soldiers left these places at night.

Mockapka is standing, guessing again.

Mokapka did not know that ours used a military trick under Sudzha.

The Nazis are conducting reconnaissance from aircraft for the Soviet troops. They see: trains come to the station, they bring tanks, they bring guns.

The Nazis also notice mountains of boxes with shells. They detect that troops are moving here. Lot. A column follows a column. The Nazis see how the troops are approaching, but the enemy does not know that they are leaving unnoticed from here at night.

It is clear to the fascists: this is where a new Russian offensive is being prepared! Here, under the city of Sudzha. They pulled troops under Suju, weakened their forces in other areas. They just pulled it off - and then a blow! However, not under Suja. Ours struck elsewhere. Again they defeated the Nazis. And soon they completely defeated them in the Battle of Kursk.

Vyazma

The fields near Vyazma are free. Hills run to the sky.

Words from were not thrown out. Near the city of Vyazma, a large group of Soviet troops was surrounded by the enemy. Satisfied fascists.

Hitler himself, the leader of the Nazis, calls the front:

Surrounded?

That's right, our Fuhrer, - the fascist generals report.

Did you lay down your weapons?

The generals are silent.

Did you lay down your weapons?

Here's a brave one.

No. I dare to report, my Fuhrer ... - The General wanted to say something.

However, Hitler was distracted by something. The speech broke off in mid-sentence.

For several days now, being surrounded, Soviet soldiers have been waging stubborn battles. They shackled the fascists. The fascist offensive breaks down. Enemies got stuck near Vyazma.

Again Hitler calls from Berlin:

Surrounded?

That's right, our Fuhrer, the fascist generals report.

Did you lay down your weapons?

The generals are silent.

Did you lay down your weapons?

Terrible abuse rushed from the tube.

I dare to report, my Fuhrer, - the brave one is trying to say something. - Our Frederick the Great also said...

Days pass again. Fighting near Vyazma does not subside. Stuck, stuck enemies near Vyazma.

Vyazma knits them, knits them. Grabbed by the throat!

In anger the great Fuhrer. Another call from Berlin.

Did you lay down your weapons?

The generals are silent.

Have you laid down your weapons?

No, the brave is responsible for all.

Again, a stream of bad words sprayed out. The membrane in the tube danced.

Shut up the general. Waited it out. Caught a moment:

I dare to report, my Fuhrer, our great, our wise King Friedrich also said ...

Listening to Hitler:

Well, well, what did our Friedrich say?

Frederick the Great said, repeated the general, Russians must be shot twice. And then another push, my Fuhrer, so that they fall.

The Fuhrer muttered something indistinct into the receiver. Berlin wire disconnected.

For a whole week, the fighting did not subside near Vyazma. The week was invaluable for Moscow. During these days, the defenders of Moscow managed to gather their strength and prepared convenient lines for defense.

The fields near Vyazma are free. Hills run to the sky. Here in the fields, on the hills near Vyazma, hundreds of heroes lie. Here, defending Moscow, the Soviet people accomplished a great feat of arms.

Remember!

Keep the bright memory of them!

General Zhukov

Army General Georgy Konstantinovich Zhukov was appointed commander of the Western Front - the front, which included most of the troops defending Moscow.

Zhukov arrived on the Western Front. The staff officers report the combat situation to him.

Fighting is going on near the city of Yukhnov, near Medyn, near Kaluga.

Officers are found on the map of Yukhnov.

Here, - they report, - near Yukhnov, west of the city ... - and they report where and how the fascist troops are located near the city of Yukhnov.

No, no, they are not here, but here, - Zhukov corrects the officers and himself indicates the places where the Nazis are at this time.

The officers exchanged glances. They look at Zhukov in surprise.

Here, here, right here in this place. Don't hesitate, says Zhukov.

The officers continue to report the situation.

Here, - they find the city of Medyn on the map, - to the north-west of the city, the enemy concentrated large forces, - and they list what forces: tanks, artillery, mechanized divisions ...

So, so, right, - says Zhukov. “Only the forces are not here, but here,” Zhukov clarifies on the map.

Again the officers look at Zhukov in surprise. They forgot about the further report, about the map.

The staff officers bent over the map again. They report to Zhukov what the combat situation is near the city of Kaluga.

Here, - the officers say, - south of Kaluga, the enemy pulled up the motorized unit. Here they are at this moment.

No, Zhukov objected. - Not in this place they are now. That's where the pieces moved - and shows the new location on the map.

Staff officers were dumbfounded. They look at the new commander with undisguised surprise. Zhukov caught the distrust in the eyes of the officers. He chuckled.

Do not doubt. Everything is exactly like that. You are great - you know the situation, Zhukov praised the staff officers. - But I'm more precise.

It turns out that General Zhukov has already visited Yukhnov, and Medyn, and Kaluga. Before going to headquarters, I went straight to the battlefield. Here's where the exact information comes from.

General and then Marshal of the Soviet Union Georgy Konstantinovich Zhukov, an outstanding Soviet commander, hero of the Great Patriotic War, took part in many battles. It was under his leadership and under the leadership of other Soviet generals that the Soviet troops defended Moscow from enemies. And then, in stubborn battles, they defeated the Nazis in the Great Battle of Moscow.

Moscow sky

It was before the start of the Moscow battle.

Hitler dreamed in Berlin. Guessing: what to do with Moscow? He suffers - to make such an unusual, original. Thought, thought...

Hitler came up with this. Decided to flood Moscow with water. Build huge dams around Moscow. Pour water over the city and all living things.

Everything will perish at once: people, houses and the Moscow Kremlin!

He closed his eyes. He sees: in the place of Moscow, the bottomless sea splashes!

Descendants will remember me!

Then I thought: “Uh, until the water runs…”

Wait?!

No, he does not agree to wait a long time.

Destroy now! This minute!

Hitler thought, and here is the order:

Bomb Moscow! Destroy! Shells! Bombs! Send squadrons! Send armada! Leave no stone unturned! Flatten to the ground!

He threw his hand forward like a sword:

Destroy! Flatten to the ground!

So for sure, raze to the ground, - the fascist generals froze in readiness.

On July 22, 1941, exactly one month after the start of the war, the Nazis made the first air raid on Moscow.

Immediately 200 aircraft were sent to this raid by the Nazis. The engines hum.

The pilots collapsed in their seats. Moscow is getting closer, getting closer. Fascist pilots reached out to the bomb levers.

But what is it?! Powerful searchlights crossed in the sky with knives-swords. Red-star Soviet fighters rose to meet the air robbers.

The Nazis did not expect such a meeting. The ranks of the enemies were disorganized. Only a few planes then broke through to Moscow. Yes, they were in a hurry. They threw bombs wherever they had to, as soon as possible to drop them and run away from here.

Harsh Moscow sky. The uninvited guest is severely punished. 22 aircraft shot down.

Y-yes ... - stretched out the fascist generals.

Thought. We decided now to send planes not all at once, not in a bunch, but in small groups.

The Bolsheviks will be punished!

The next day, again 200 aircraft fly to Moscow. They fly in small groups - three or four cars in each.

And again they were met by Soviet anti-aircraft gunners, again they were driven off by red star fighters.

For the third time, the Nazis send planes to Moscow. Hitler's generals were not stupid, inventive. The generals came up with a new plan. It is necessary to send planes in three tiers, they decided. Let one group of planes fly low from the ground. The second is a little higher. And the third - and at high altitude, and a little late. The first two groups will divert the attention of the defenders of the Moscow sky, the generals argue, and at this time, at a high altitude, the third group will quietly approach the city, and the pilots will drop bombs right on target.

And here again, fascist planes are in the sky. The pilots collapsed in their seats. Motors hum. The bombs froze in the hatches.

A group is coming. Behind her is the second. And a little behind, at a high altitude, the third. The very last plane flies a special one, with cameras. He will take a picture of how the fascist planes are destroyed in Moscow, he will bring it for show to the generals ...

The generals are waiting for news. Here comes the first plane. Motors stalled. The screws have stopped. The pilots got out. Pale-pale. Barely on their feet.

Fifty planes were lost that day by the Nazis. The photographer did not return either. They killed him on the way.

The Moscow sky is impregnable. It severely punishes enemies. The insidious calculation of the Nazis collapsed.

The Nazis and their possessed Fuhrer dreamed of destroying Moscow to the ground, to the stone. And what happened?

Red Square

The enemy is nearby. Soviet troops left Volokolamsk and Mozhaisk. In some sectors of the front, the Nazis approached Moscow even closer. Fights are going on at Naro-Fominsk, Serpukhov and Tarusa.

But as always, on this dear day for all citizens of the Soviet Union, in Moscow, on Red Square, a military parade was held in honor of the great holiday.

When the soldier Mitrokhin was told that the unit in which he serves would take part in the parade on Red Square, the soldier did not believe at first. He decided that he was mistaken, misheard, misunderstood something.

Parade! - the commander explains to him. - Solemn, on Red Square.

That's right, the parade, - Mitrokhin answers. However, in the eyes of disbelief.

And now Mitrokhin froze in the ranks. It stands on Red Square. And to the left are the troops. And on the right are the troops. Party leaders and members of the government at the Lenin Mausoleum. Everything is exactly the same as in the old peacetime.

Only a rarity for this day - from the snow it is white all around. The frost hit early today. It snowed all night until morning. He whitewashed the Mausoleum, lay down on the walls of the Kremlin, on the square.

8 am. The hands of the clock on the Kremlin tower converged.

The chimes struck time.

Minute. Everything is quiet. The parade commander gave the traditional report. The host of the parade congratulates the troops on the anniversary of the Great October Revolution. Everything was quiet again. Another minute. And now, quietly at first, and then louder and louder are the words of Comrade Stalin, Chairman of the State Defense Committee, Supreme Commander of the Armed Forces of the USSR.

Stalin says that this is not the first time that enemies have attacked us. What were in the history of the young Soviet Republic and more difficult times. That we celebrated the first anniversary of the Great October Revolution surrounded on all sides by invaders. That 14 capitalist states fought against us then and we lost three-quarters of our territory. But the Soviet people believed in victory. And they won. They will win now.

The whole world is looking at you, - the words reach Mitrokhin, as at a force capable of destroying the predatory hordes of German invaders.

The soldiers froze in the ranks.

The great liberation mission fell to your lot - words fly through the frost. - Be worthy of this mission!

Mitrokhin pulled himself up. His face became more severe, more serious, stricter.

The war you are waging is a war of liberation, a just war. - And after that, Stalin said: - Let the courageous image of our great ancestors - Alexander Nevsky, Dmitry Donskoy, Kuzma Minin, Dmitry Pozharsky, Alexander Suvorov, Mikhail Kutuzov inspire you in this war! May the victorious banner of the great Lenin overshadow you!

Beats fascists. Moscow stands and blooms as before. Gets better from year to year.

Crossing case

We had one soldier in our company. Before the war, he studied at the Institute of Music and played the button accordion so wonderfully that one of the soldiers once said:

Brothers, this is an incomprehensible deception! There must be some kind of clever mechanism hidden in this box! Here to see...

Please, - answered the accordion player. - It's time for me to glue the bellows.

And in front of everyone, he dismantled the instrument.

Chu-yu, - the fighter drawled disappointedly. - Empty, like in a spent cartridge case ...

Inside the button accordion, between two wooden boxes connected by a leather accordion fur, it was really empty. Only on the side plates, where the button-buttons are located on the outside, were wide metal plates with holes of different sizes. Behind each hole is a narrow copper strip-petal. When the fur is stretched, air passes through the holes and vibrates the copper petals. And they sound. Thin - high. Thicker - lower, and thick petals seem to sing in bass. If the musician stretches the bellows too much, the records sound loud. If the air is blown weakly, the plates vibrate a little, and the music turns out to be quiet, quiet. That's all miracles!

And the fingers of our accordionist were a real miracle. Surprisingly played, do not say anything!

And this amazing ability has helped us more than once in difficult front-line life.

Our accordion player will raise your mood in time, and warms you in the cold - makes you dance, and inspires courage in the depressed, and makes you remember your pre-war happy youth: native lands, mothers and loved ones. And one day...

One evening, by order of the command, we changed combat positions. It was ordered not to engage in battle with the Germans in any case. On our way, a not very wide, but deep river flowed with a single ford, which we used. The commander and radio operator remained on the other side, they were finishing the communication session. They were cut off by the suddenly descending fascist submachine gunners. And although the Germans did not know that ours were on their shore, they kept the crossing under fire, and there was no way to cross the ford. And when night fell, the Germans began to illuminate the ford with rockets. Needless to say, the situation seemed hopeless.

Suddenly, our accordion player, without saying a word, takes out his button accordion and starts playing "Katyusha".

The Germans were taken aback at first. Then they came to their senses and brought down heavy fire on our shore. And the accordion player suddenly broke off the chord and fell silent. The Germans stopped firing. One of them yelled happily: “Rus, Rus, kaput, boyan!”

And no kaput happened to the accordion player. Luring the Germans, he crawled along the coast away from the crossing and again began to play the fervent "Katyusha".

The Germans accepted this challenge. They began to pursue the musician, and therefore left the ford without lighting rockets for several minutes.

The commander and the radio operator immediately realized why our button accordion player started a “musical” game with the Germans, and, without delay, slipped through the ford to the other side.

These are the cases that happened with our bayanist soldier and his friend the button accordion, by the way, named after the ancient Russian singer Boyan.

Savarovskaya Svetlana Sergeevna

Responsible secretary-operator

Council of Veterans of the South Medvedkovo District

I, Savarovskaya Svetlana Sergeevna (maiden name Shchemeleva) was born

My grandfather and father worked on the railroad. Mom, Novikova Ekaterina Ermolaevna (born in 1920), from the age of 16 she worked as an instructor in the district party committee, later graduated from party courses and grew to the position of second secretary of the district committee. Further, with the creation of the Economic Council, she was transferred to the city of Omsk in the district committee of the party to a leading position. In connection with the liquidation of the Economic Council, she was transferred there to the post of head of the department for work with the population on complaints.

Grandmother did not work, because. in 1941, in addition to our family, two sisters, mothers with children of the weather, came to our room: I was a year old, my cousin was 6 months old, my sister was 1.5 years old. We lived in such conditions for several years. But as far as I remember, they lived together. Two of my aunts got a job, and my grandmother worked with us. And I just don’t understand how she only managed, while also having a household (a cow, chickens, a wild boar and two sheep)! When we grew up, we were assigned to a kindergarten. I still remember my grandfather very well, he was an atheist, a communist. Grandfather was very kind, woke up very early, but whether he went to bed, I just don’t know, apparently, that’s why he lived so little, only 51 years old. He made hay and planted potatoes.

I remember my childhood years with rapture, I still remember the kindergarten, I remember my teacher. She read a lot of books to us, and we walked around her like goslings (I can’t remember that someone would not like to listen to her reading books).

Our school was two-story, wooden, there was stove heating, but I don’t remember that we were freezing. There was discipline, everyone came to school in the same uniform (the quality of the material was different for everyone), but they were all with collars. This somehow accustomed to neatness and cleanliness, the schoolchildren themselves were on alternate duty, in the morning they checked the cleanliness of the hands, the presence of a white collar and cuffs on the sleeves of the girls, and the boys must have a white collar. There were circles at school: dancing, gymnastics, a theater group, choral singing. Much attention was paid to physical education. When I was already retired, I wore skis to my grandson for a physical education lesson, then the post-war 1949 years were especially remembered. How is it that in this school they managed to allocate a special room for well-groomed skis, which stood in pairs along the walls and were enough for everyone. We were taught to order, the lesson passed, you need to wipe them and put them in the cell where you got them. And it's great!

I also remember kindly that from the 8th grade we were taken twice a week to a large plant named after Baranov. This plant was evacuated during the war years from Zaporozhye. The plant is a giant, they taught us how to work on the machines, both girls and boys. We went with great pleasure. There were practically no lectures on working on them, but the training of the machine operators themselves, that is, practice, taught me a lot.

At the end of the decade, the question arose of where to go. It so happened that since 1951, my mother alone raised the two of us. My brother Volodya was in the third grade, and I understood that I needed to help. After school I went to this plant and I was hired as an inspector in a laboratory for testing precision instruments. I liked the work, it was responsible, we checked calibers, staples, compasses and many precise measuring instruments on microscopes. They put their brand and "paraffinels" (in liquid hot paraffin) on each product. I still remember the smell of paraffin. At the same time, she immediately entered the evening department of the aviation technical school at the same plant. I graduated from it and received a diploma already in Leningrad. I really liked the work, but time takes its toll. Two years later, she married a graduate of the Vilnius Radio Engineering Military School Yury Semenovich Savarovsky, born in 1937. We had known each other for a long time: I was still at school, and he studied at the military school in Vilnius.

He himself is from Omsk and came every year for the holidays. The garrison, where he was sent to serve after the school, at that moment was relocated to the village of Toksovo, a suburb of Leningrad, where I left with him. In 1961 our daughter Irina was born. We lived in the Vyborgsky district of Leningrad for almost 11 years. I graduated from the Polytechnic Institute, and Yura from the Academy of Communications. It was convenient, right next to us. After graduating from the Academy in 1971, my husband was sent to Moscow, where we live to this day.

At the end of his service in the army, for health reasons with the rank of lieutenant colonel, her husband was demobilized from the army. They say that if a person has talent, then he is talented in everything. And indeed it is! After graduating from school, college, academy with only excellent grades, my husband found himself in creativity.

Yuri Semenovich is a member of the Writers' Union of Russia. Unfortunately, in April 2018, he died, leaving behind unforgettable masterpieces: paintings published in 13 books of poetry.

In Leningrad, I worked at a factory as a workshop foreman. Upon arrival in Moscow, she worked at the Electrochemical Plant as a senior site foreman, senior engineer at the All-Union Industrial Association of the Ministry of Chemical Engineering. She was awarded many certificates of honor and the medal "Veteran of Labour".

Daughter Irina Yurievna graduated from the Plekhanov Moscow Institute in 1961. She is currently retired. There is a grandson, Stanislav Petrovich, born in 1985, and a great-granddaughter, who is 2 years and 8 months old.

I work in a public organization of veterans of war, labor, law enforcement agencies. She began her activity as a member of the asset of the primary organization No. 1. In 2012, she was elected to the position of chairman of the primary organization of PO No. 1, due to her knowledge of working on a computer, at the request of the chairman of the regional Council of Veterans G.S. Vishnevsky. I was transferred as an executive secretary-operator to the regional Council of Veterans, where I work to this day. Awarded with diplomas from the head of the District Council, the chairman of the RSV, the chairman of the SVAO, the head of the municipality of the Yuzhnoye Medvedkovo district, the chairman of the Moscow City Duma.

Gordasevich Galina Alekseevna

Chairman of the Medical Commission of the Council of Veterans of the South Medvedkovo District.

When the war began, I was visiting my father's relatives in Ukraine in the small town of Shostka. The front was fast approaching. Alarms began day and night. At the alarm signal, it was necessary to run to hide in the cellar. Already the horizon is painted in crimson color and a constant rumble is heard. Close ringing explosions sound. This is blowing up enterprises so that the enemy does not get it. And we can’t evacuate in any way: there is no transport. Anxiety is transmitted from adults to children. Finally, it is allowed to board open freight cars filled to the brim with grain.

The journey to Moscow was long and difficult: bombed out roads, shelling by German pilots returning to base on a strafing flight, locomotive sparks burning holes in clothes, lack of shelter from the piercing wind and rain, problems with water and food.

When it became clear that our cars had been driving along the ring railway around Moscow for several days, we left our temporary housing, with difficulty making our way to Moscow, we found our father, who was mobilized to prepare for the evacuation of a defense plant. He sends us to catch up with my mother with my younger sisters and brother, who, according to the order of the city leadership, have already been evacuated.

The meeting with my mother took place in the village of Upper Kichi of the Republic of Bashkiria. Adults were recruited to work on the collective farm. I, along with other children, collected ears of corn. There was no school in Russian nearby.

In the late autumn of 1942, they moved to their father, who was in the city of Kirov, where the plant was evacuated. There was a school in the factory village. They accepted me straight into the second grade.

Classes were held in a one-story wooden building, similar to a barrack, apparently recently built, since there was no vegetation around, not even a fence and just a landscaped yard. I remember red clay sticking to shoes and making them heavy. In winter, they heated badly. It was cold, or maybe chilly from hunger. Since the evacuees were all arriving, the city could no longer cope with the supply of cards, famine began. I wanted to eat all the time. It was easier in summer. Together with other guys, you could go to the old cemetery, where you can find some edible plants. Oxalis, horsetail, young spruce shoots, just live needles or linden leaves. In the summer it was possible to collect a mug of medicinal chamomile, take it to the hospital, for which you get a portion of gray porridge sweetened with sugar. Mom and other women went to the nearest village to change things for something edible.

The main food was polished oats, which had to be boiled for a long time in order to learn both the first and second. If you were lucky, the menu included "nauseas", a dish similar to meatballs, which was made from frozen potatoes.

At the lessons they often sat in outerwear, as the heat was bad. There were not enough textbooks. Worked in turns or in groups. Notebooks were sewn together from newspapers or written with pens, ink was carried in non-spill inkwells.

In 1944 he returned to Moscow with his parents. Moscow was not so hungry. Food cards were given regularly. We lived in a factory barracks until 1956, since our pre-war living space, despite the reservation, was occupied by other people.

I really liked the Moscow school. It was a typical building, made of gray bricks. In four floors with wide windows. Spacious and light. Classes cleaned themselves, on duty according to the schedule. The teachers treated us kindly. The teacher leading the first lesson always started with a story about front-line news, they were already joyful. The army was victoriously advancing westward. On the big map in the history office there were more and more red flags that marked the liberated cities. At the first big break, sweet tea and a bun were brought to the class. There were also not enough textbooks, and as before, several people studied one book, but we did not quarrel, we helped each other, more successful students helped those who were lagging behind. There were the same non-spills on the desks, but they wrote in real notebooks. There were 40 people in the class. worked in three shifts.

I had to wear a uniform to classes, in our school it was blue. A black apron and dark ribbons relied on a dark blue dress, on holidays a white apron and white ribbons. Even visiting the men's school for joint evenings had to go in this festive uniform.

The school had pioneer and Komsomol organizations. Reception was held solemnly and festively. Out-of-class educational work was carried out through these organizations. Komsomol members worked as detachment pioneer leaders, organized games at recess with the kids. High school students were supposed to walk in circles in pairs during the break. This order was monitored by the teachers on duty.

I was an active pioneer and an active Komsomol member. Amateur theaters were very popular. For some reason, I got male roles.

The most favorite entertainment was a trip by a large yard company to fireworks in honor of the liberation of the city to the center of Manezhnaya Square, where huge searchlights were installed, and somewhere very close a cannon fired, the shells from which were collected as a keepsake. In the intervals between volleys, searchlight beams pierced the sky, either rising vertically, or circling, or crossing, highlighting the state flag and portraits of V.I. Lenin and I.V. Stalin. The festive crowd shouted "Hurrah!", sang songs, it was fun and joyful in the noisy crowd.

And then came the most joyful day - Victory Day. Together with everyone, I also rejoiced at this national holiday. There was a festive event at the school, they sang their favorite military songs, read poems about the exploits of our soldiers.

In 1948, after graduating from seven classes, having received an incomplete secondary education at that time, I entered the Moscow Pedagogical School, as it was necessary to get a profession as soon as possible and help parents raise younger children.

She began her career in the 3rd year, going to work in summer pioneer camps as a pioneer leader.

In 1952, after graduating from a pedagogical school, she was assigned to work as a senior pioneer leader in the men's school No. 438 of the Stalinsky district of Moscow.

After working for the distribution of three years, she went to work by profession as a primary school teacher at school No. 447 and continued to study at the evening department of the MZPI. Since September 1957, after graduating from the institute, she worked in a secondary school as a teacher of Russian language and literature. Until September 1966 at school No. 440 of the Pervomaisky district. Due to illness, in September 1966, she was transferred to work as a methodologist at Pervomaisky RONO.

In connection with the change of residence, she was transferred to school No. 234 in the Kirov district, now it is the Severnoye Medvedkovo district.

I loved my job. She tried to use the latest forms and methods, seeking from each student knowledge of the program material. At the same time, as a class teacher, she paid much attention to the overall development of her students, organized visits to museums, theaters, exhibitions, trips to places of military glory, to memorable places in the Moscow region. She was the initiator of various school initiatives. So, in the courtyard of school No. 440 in the Pervomaisky district, there is still an obelisk in memory of students who died in battles for their homeland, which was installed at my suggestion and active participation.

My professional activity has been repeatedly marked by diplomas by public education authorities of various levels. In April 1984 she was awarded the medal "Veteran of Labour". In July 1985, he was awarded the title of "Excellence in Public Education of the RSFSR". In 1997 she received the medal of the 850th anniversary of Moscow.

Along with teaching, she actively participated in social work. From 1948 to 1959 she was a member of the Komsomol, was the permanent secretary of the Komsomol school organization, from September 1960 until the dissolution of the party she was a member of the CPSU.

In September 1991, I started working as an educator at a boarding school for blind children, where I worked until August 2006.

Total work experience 53 years.

Since August 2006, she has been involved in the work of the Council of Veterans. For the first six months she was in the asset of the primary organization No. 3, then she was invited to the district council for the position of chairman of the social household commission. I am currently the head of the medical commission. Since June 2012 I have a commemorative badge "Honorary Veteran of Moscow".

Dubnov Vitaly Ivanovich

Chairman of primary organization No. 2

Council of Veterans of the South Medvedkovo District

I, Dubnov Vitaly Ivanovich, was born on October 5, 1940 in the city of Lesozavodsk, Primorsky Krai. After the victory of the USSR over Japan and the liberation of South Sakhalin, he moved with his family to Sakhalin, where his father was sent to head the construction of a dry dock for the repair of ships in Nevelsk.

In the city of Nevelsk he graduated from high school and in 1958 entered the Tomsk State University at the Faculty of Physics.

After graduating from university in 1964, he was sent to work as an engineer at a defense industry enterprise in Moscow. In 1992, he was appointed Chief Engineer at one of the enterprises of the scientific production association "Energy" in Moscow.

During his work in the defense industry, he was awarded state and government awards: by the Decree of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the USSR he was awarded the medal "For Labor Distinction", by the order of the Minister he was awarded the title "The Best Test Manager of the Ministry".

In 1994 he completed courses under the Government of the Russian Federation on the privatization of enterprises. Participated in the work of the federal privatization funds as a share manager of OAO ZNIIS.

From 2010 to 2015, he worked as General Director of one of the enterprises of the Transstroy Corporation. On July 1, 2015, he retired. Veteran of labour.

Currently I serve in a public organization, the District Council of Veterans, I am the Chairman of the primary organization No. 2 of the Council of Veterans of the South Medvedkovo District.

Marital status: married, wife Larisa Petrovna Lappo and two daughters - Valeria and Yulia. Larisa Petrovna - philologist, history teacher, graduated from Tomsk State University, Faculty of History and Philology. Valeria (eldest daughter) - pharmacist, graduated from the 1st Moscow Medical Institute. Julia (youngest daughter) - economist, graduated from the Academy of National Economy. Plekhanov. The son of Valeria's daughter Savely is my grandson, he studies at the Moscow Higher School of Economics.

My memories of childhood years spent on Sakhalin after the war. The Soviet Army liberated South Sakhalin from the Japanese army group in a short time, and the civilian population of the Japanese did not have time to evacuate to Japan. The Japanese were the main labor force in the construction of the dry dock. The construction was supervised by Russian specialists. I must say that the Japanese are very hardworking and very polite in communication, including with Russian children. The life of the Japanese was very simple, when it was low tide and the coastal bottom of the ocean was exposed hundreds of meters, Japanese women took large wicker baskets and walked through shallow water far from the coast. They collected small fish, small crabs, shellfish, octopus and seaweed in baskets. This was the food of the Japanese after cooking in small stoves like our bourgeois stoves. Rice, which was paid in advance, was transported in bags to homes on carts. There were no shops in the city. Russian families received food on cards from Lend-Lease stocks. The Japanese lived in small houses (fans), built of light materials, the front doors in the fanz were sliding lattice and pasted over with oiled paper. Russian children pierced these doors with their fingers, for which they received scolding from their parents. Fanzas were heated from bourgeois houses, while the chimney pipe was located around the perimeter inside the fanza and only then went upstairs. The city of Nevelsk (formerly Khonto) is a small town in South Sakhalin. There was one secondary school in the city where Russian children studied together with Japanese children in Russian. At that time, there was a compulsory seven-year education, and those who wanted to go to college studied in the senior classes. My Japanese friend Chiba Noriko studied with me from the first grade to the tenth grade. He entered the Mining Institute in Vladivostok and later worked as the head of a large coal mine on Sakhalin. I remember the difficult post-war childhood. As they also fished in the sea, they made their own scooters, what games they played. How the first shoes were bought when I went to the first class. I walked barefoot to school, and put on my shoes only before school. They went in for sports. And seriously studied, tried. We attended various circles in the Houses of Pioneers. But they were very willing and eager to learn. And how they dressed is funny to remember. There were no briefcases, my mother sewed a bag of matting over her shoulder. There is something to remember, and it is interesting for children to listen to it. A lot of questions are asked when I speak to the students of the school.

To the 70th anniversary of Pob food in the Great Patriotic War, the district administration plans to install a memorial stone to the defenders of the Motherland - residents of villages, villages and the city of Babushkin (the territory of the modern North-Eastern Administrative District) who went to the front during the war years of 1941-1945.

We need the memories of eyewitnesses of these events, the names of villages, villages, the names of people who went to the front (possibly with a biography and photo).

Offers are accepted by email [email protected] with contact information.

Antoshin Alexander Ivanovich

Memoirs of a member of a public organization of former

juvenile prisoners of fascism concentration camps

Alexander Ivanovich was born on February 23, 1939 in the town of Fokino (formerly the village of Cementny) in the Dyatkovo district of the Bryansk region. He was expelled to the Alytus concentration camp (Lithuania) in 1942. “Mom - we had four children,” recalls Alexander Ivanovich, allsubsequently returned home. It was a terrible time, - Alexander Ivanovich continues the story, - a lot has been erased from memory, I remember the barbed wire, we are driven naked in crowds under the showers, the police on horses with whips, there is a queue for a drink, children of Jewish nationality are taken somewhere and the loud roar of parents, some of whom later went mad. The Red Army is liberating us, they settled us in the house of a lone Lithuanian, and again we fall into a trap.

“One of the terrible pictures: It happened in the evening,” Alexander Ivanovich continues his story, “shooting was heard outside the window. Mom immediately hid us in an earthen cellar. After some time it became hot, the house was on fire, we are on fire, we get out into the house. Aunt Shura (we were together in a concentration camp) knocks out the window frame and throws us children into the snow. We raise our heads, there is a detachment in front of us in green and black uniforms. The owner of the house was shot before our very eyes. We heard the revelry of these thugs with shooting every evening, later we learned that they were "forest brothers" - Bandera.

They returned to their native city of Fokino in 1945, the houses were burned down, there was nowhere to live. They found a dug cellar, and lived in it until my mother's brother returned to the war, he helped build a small house with a potbelly stove. Father did not return from the front.

In 1975, Alexander Ivanovich graduated from the Moscow State Correspondence Pedagogical Institute, worked at secondary school No. 2 in Fokino as a teacher of drawing and fine arts. He retired in 1998.

BELTSOVA (Brock) GALINA PAVLOVNA

She was born in 1925. When the Great Patriotic War began, Galina was 16 years old. She studied in the 10th grade of a Moscow school. All Komsomol members of that time had one desire - to get to the front. But in the military registration and enlistment offices they were sent home, promising, when necessary, to call with a summons.

Only in 1942 did Galina Pavlovna manage to enter the Moscow Red Banner Military Aviation School of Communications. Soon, the school began recruiting cadets who wanted to study as shooters-scorers. Seven cadets, including Galina, who passed all the commissions, were sent to the city of Yoshkar-Ola to a reserve aviation regiment. Taught basic rules
aviation and weapons handling. They didn’t get used to flying right away, many felt unwell in the air. When the turn came to jumping, the cadets did not have a great desire to jump. But the words of the instructor: "He who does not jump, he will not get to the front" was enough for everyone to jump in one day.

A huge impression was made by the female crew, which arrived for the girls from the front. “With what admiration and envy we looked at the front-line pilots, at their brave faces and military orders,” recalls Galina Pavlovna, “so we wanted to get there as soon as possible!”

And on April 6, 1944, Galina with a group of other girls - pilots arrived at the front, near Yelnya. We met them warmly and cordially. But they were not allowed to go on a sortie right away. First, they studied the combat area, passed tests, and performed training flights. They quickly became friends with their new comrades.

On June 23, 1944, Galina received her first combat mission - to destroy the accumulation of enemy manpower and equipment in the Riga area. What is indicated on the map by the front line, from the air turned out to be a wide strip of black caps of explosions of anti-aircraft shells. This diverted attention, the pilots did not see the ground at all and dropped bombs, focusing on the leading crew. The task was completed.

Thus began the combat life of Galina Pavlovna, the battle-hardened and fired female pilots were taken into battle. After several sorties, they began to feel more confident, they began to notice more what was happening in the air and on the ground. A little time passed, and the young crews showed examples of courage and bravery.

“Once we flew to bombard enemy artillery and tanks near Ietsava in the Bauska (Baltic) region,” recalls Galina Pavlovna. As soon as we crossed the front line, my pilot Tonya Spitsyna showed me the instruments:

Hands over the right motor, does not pull at all.

We started falling behind. There were still a few minutes to go. Our group is already far ahead. We decided to go on our own. Bombed, photographed the results of the strike and back home. The group is no longer visible, the cover fighters left with it. And suddenly I see: on the right, a Fockewulf is attacking us. I started shooting, fired a few bursts. And here is another Fokker, but already on the right in front. He walked straight at us, but at the very last moment he could not stand it, turned away. No fear, only anger that you could not shoot the vulture - he was in a dead zone, not fired upon by any of the firing points of our aircraft. Another attack is from below. Shooter Raya Radkevich fired there. And suddenly there are red stars nearby! Our fighters rushed to our rescue. Oh, how timely! After escorting us to the front line, they left, waving their wings goodbye.”

Pilots from the neighboring "brotherly" regiments treated the Soviet pilots very well, at first they did not even believe that girls were flying on the Pe-2, and then they even admired them. "Girls, don't be shy! Let's cover it up ”- it was often heard in the air in broken Russian ... And when there are friends in the sky, even an attacking enemy fighter is not so terrible.

Last day of the war. At night they announced that the war was over. The news is stunning! They waited for so long, but when they found out, they did not believe it. Tears in the eyes, congratulations, laughter, kisses, hugs.

After the war, Galina Pavlovna returned home. The Moscow Party Committee sent Galina to work in the state security agencies. In 1960, she graduated in absentia from the Faculty of History of Moscow State University, worked as a teacher of history in a secondary school in the city of Kamyshin, on the Volga. She graduated from graduate school, defended her thesis, worked as an assistant professor at Moscow State University of Civil Engineering.

BELYAEVA (nee Glebova) NATALIA MIKHAILOVNA

Natalia Mikhailovna was born on March 17, 1930 in Leningrad, in the clinic. Otto, who is still on Vasilyevsky Island, near the Rostral Columns. Natalia's mother was a pediatrician, she was in charge of the children's clinic No. 10 of the Oktyabrsky district. Father worked as a researcher at the All-Union Institute of Plant Protection, under the guidance of AcademicianVavilov defended his thesis. who fought among themselves. One knocked out in the form of a torch fell to the ground, the other triumphantly flew to the side. Such a terrible picture was the war for Natalia's children's eyes.

Gradually, life improved, schools opened. At a big break, schoolchildren were given a piece of bread. They did not want to learn German, they went on strike against this lesson, they offended the German teacher. Schools switched to separate education: boys studied separately from girls. Later they introduced a uniform, black satin aprons for every day, white ones were worn for a holiday.

Natalia Mikhailovna grew up as a sickly child, so in grades 1 and 2 she studied at home, studied music, and learned German. In 1939, her mother died, the girl was raised by her father and grandfather, who was also a doctor. Grandfather worked at the Military Medical Academy as an otolaryngologist for the famous academician V.I. Voyachek.

In the summer of 1941, together with her father, Natalia went on an expedition to Belarus. When they heard the announcement of the start of the war, they dropped their suitcases and ran to the railway station. There was hardly enough space on the train in the last car that managed to leave Brest. The train was overcrowded, people stood in vestibules. My father showed his mobilization insert on his military ID and, pointing to me, an orphan, begged to be let into the carriage.

In Bobruisk, the horns of the locomotive hooted alarmingly, the train stopped and everyone was thrown out of the cars. Two planes appeared in the sky

Natalia's father was taken to the front in the first days of the war, leaving the girl in the care of her grandfather and housekeeper. My father served on the Leningrad front, defended the besieged Leningrad. He was wounded and shell-shocked, but continued to remain in service until the blockade was completely lifted. In 1944, he was transferred to Sevastopol.

In mid-September 1941, schools stopped working, grams of bread decreased, stove heating became impossible, and they were heated with furniture and books. For water they went to the Neva 1 time in 2 or more weeks with a sled and a bucket.

The war did not spare people from the remaining neighbors, and before the war, 36 people lived in 8 rooms of a communal apartment, 4 people survived. In January 1942, Natalia's grandfather died in the hospital, for the last 3 months he lived at work, there was no transport, and there was no strength to walk home.

At the end of autumn and especially in the winter of 1941-1942. Natalia and the housekeeper Nadia, a girl of 18-19 years old, lay on the same bed all the time, trying to warm each other. Nadia once every 2-3 days went to buy cards, brought bread, which she then cut into pieces, dried and the girls, lying in bed, sucked it to prolong the process of eating.

In the spring of 1942, bread began to be added from 110 g - 150 - 180 g, it became warmer outside, there was hope for life. At the end of 1942, having received an invitation from the Palace of Pioneers, Natalia became a member of the propaganda team. With a teacher and 2 more boys aged 10 and 12, they went to hospitals, arranged concerts, sang for the seriously ill, recited right in the wards. The song was especially successful, in which there was the following refrain: “Beloved, distant, blue-eyed daughter, gently hide the bear, the battle is over, your father will return home. On short camping halts, and on harsh sleepless nights, you always stood before me with this teddy bear in your hands. The soldiers kissed the children and wiped the tears from their eyes. The guys ended their performances in the kitchen, where they were treated to something. The first salute on the lifting of the blockade was met on the ice of the Neva River, with hoarse voices. Then they yelled "Hurrah!" on Mariinsky Square, and in 1945 they rejoiced on the occasion of the Victory.

H
Atalia Mikhailovna recalls the column of pitiful Germans, which was led through the center of Leningrad. There was confusion in my soul - the pride of the winners was replaced by compassion for these prisoners, but still people.

In 1948, after graduating from school, Natalia Mikhailovna entered the 1st Medical Institute. I.P. Pavlov, who successfully graduated in 1954, choosing the specialty of an infectious disease specialist. After graduating from clinical internship, she defended her PhD thesis. She worked as a senior researcher at the All-Russian Research Institute of Influenza, since 1973 as an assistant, associate professor at the Leningrad GIDUVE.

In 1980, for family reasons, she moved to Moscow. She defended her doctoral dissertation, became a professor, and since 2004, head. department at RMAPO.

During the years of work, she visited the centers of influenza, diphtheria, typhoid fever, salmonellosis, cholera, HIV Z-infection in Kolmykia.

Constantly gives lectures to doctors, conducts consultations for severe diagnostic patients, travels on business trips.

For about 20 years, Natalia Mikhailovna was the chief scientific secretary of the All-Union, and then the Russian Scientific Society of Infectious Diseases, the head of graduate students.

Natalia Mikhailovna Honored Doctor of the Russian Federation, author of 200 scientific publications.

Currently, he continues to head the Department of Infectious Diseases of the Russian Medical Academy of Postgraduate Education, Doctor of Medical Sciences, Professor.

Natalia Mikhailovna is a member of 3 scientific councils for the defense of dissertations, a member of the board of the Scientific Society of Infectious Diseases, "Honored Doctors of Russia", the editorial board of specialized journals.

The son of Natalia Mikhailovna is also a doctor, the grandson and granddaughter have already grown up, the great-granddaughter is growing up. The granddaughter is also a doctor, in the 5th generation!

Natalia Mikhailovna was awarded the badge "Inhabitant of besieged Leningrad", medals "For the Defense of Leningrad", "For Victory in the Great Patriotic War", "Veteran of Labour", "Honored Doctor of the Russian Federation", "80 Years of the Komsomol", and other numerous commemorative medals. Has an honorary silver order "Public Recognition".

He loves his family, work, Russia! Believes sacredly in it!

BARANOVICH (Simonenko) NATALIA DMITRIEVNA

Member of the Great Patriotic War.

In 1930, her family moved to Kharkov, as her father was transferred to work there. Here Natalya Dmitrievna graduated from high school and entered the institute. After the institute, according to the distribution, she ends up in the district settlement of B. Kolodets, Kherson region Tam
she works as a high school teacher.

When the war began, the city of Kharkov fell into the occupation of German troops, there were battles on the Seversky Donets. The school is being closed and a military field hospital is being set up in its building. 3 teachers, and Natalya Dmitrievna among them, volunteer to work in it. Soon the Soviet troops are forced to retreat. The hospital is disbanded, some of its employees are sent to the rear. Now a military unit was stationed at the school - 312 aviation maintenance battalion, 16 RAO, 8 VA - and Natalya Dmitrievna and two school colleagues became military personnel. She worked in this battalion until the end of the war and went a long way to Berlin, where she met the Victory!

Natalya Dmitrievna was awarded the Order of the Patriotic War, medals "For the victory over Germany in the Great Patriotic War of 1941-1945", Zhukov, the Czech Republic, the badge "Front-line soldier 1941-1945", 8th anniversary awards, medals and commemorative signs, including "65 years of victory in the Battle of Stalingrad".

After the war, she and her husband, a soldier, were sent to the city of Chernivtsi. There she graduated from Chernivtsi University and began teaching at school. After the husband's demobilization, the family moved to Moscow, to her husband's homeland. First, Natalya Dmitrievna worked as a teacher at a school, then as an editor at the Research Institute of the Rubber Industry - she and her husband worked there for 20 years. She was repeatedly presented with certificates and thanks, was awarded the medal "For Valiant Labor".

After her retirement, Natalya Dmitrievna decided not to sit at home: a year later she got a job as the head of kindergarten No. 1928 in the Kirov district (now the Severnoye Medvedkovo district),

In peacetime, she worked with the same zeal and enthusiasm as during the war. She often received awards for her hard work, her kindergarten was considered the best in the area, and all colleagues and parents remember their friendly team with warmth.

Vladimir Antonovich, her husband, was seriously ill. He died in 1964, and Natalya Dmitrievna had to single-handedly put her daughter, a student, on her feet. It was not easy, but now the mother is proud of her daughter: she became a doctor of science and professor, head of the department and author of textbooks.

Natalya Dmitrievna always tries to live and work honestly, help people as much as she can, and maintain good physical and psychological shape. She is eagerly interested in everything that happens in our country and in the world. Despite the fact that both eyes have artificial lenses, she reads a lot and watches movies. Natalya Dmitrievna truly loves people and helps them both in word and deed.

Natalya Dmitrievna Baranovich in the top row, first from the left.

This year Natalya Dmitrievna turns 95 years old!

CONGRATULATIONS!!!

BARSUKOV VLADIMIR EGOROVICH

Vladimir Egorovich was born on June 15, 1941, in the town of Zhizdra, Kaluga Region. When the Nazis occupied the Kaluga region and the city of Zhizdra, all the inhabitants felt for themselves what fascism is: misanthropy, contempt for other peoples,cult of brute force, humiliation of the human person.

In August 1943, the entire Barsukov family: little Vova, his sister and mother were forcibly taken to Lithuania to the Alytus concentration camp.

As a child, he went through the "death camp", which forever remained in the ego's memory.

It is impossible to remember those years without shuddering with horror and pain. At first they were placed in a barrack where there was nothing. “We were lying on the cement floor. Mom laid the children on her chest, and protected from the freezing cold of cement, - recalls Vladimir Yegorovich. - The prisoners were used for any work: loading, cleaning the territory. They were fed with rutabaga and water, where it was not clear whose pieces of meat floated. Locals sometimes made their way to the camp and threw food at us. We crawled for food, and the Germans were shooting at us at that time, ”continues the story of Vladimir Yegorovich. In all concentration camps there were hunger and beatings. Every day, the Nazis took away dozens of people who then did not return. German camps were aimed at the physical and moral destruction of man. Children especially suffered.

In September 1944, the Nazis began to take prisoners to Germany. On the border with Poland, freight cars in which people were transported were liberated by a group of partisans. The road home was long and hard, for almost two months they got home hungry and half-dressed, and when they arrived in the city of Zhizra, they saw the burned city. There were only chimneys, there was not a single house. But all the same, there was joy that they were in their homeland. “There was a hope in my heart that my father would soon return from the front and life would get better,” recalls Vladimir Yegorovich, “but they received a funeral. Father died on March 15, 1945 in a battle on the outskirts of the city of Schutzendorf.

They lived in a dugout, after 4 years, Vladimir's mother received a loan to build a house.

From 1947 to 1958, he studied at school, then worked at the Lyudinovsky Diesel Locomotive Plant as a turner. From 1964 to 1967, he participated in a geological exploration expedition in the city of Vorkuta, where he left for company with a friend.

In 1968, he graduated from the Moscow Institute of Radio Electronics and Automation. He worked at the Academy of Medical Sciences as a senior engineer in medical sciences. equipment. In 1995, he retired as head of the design bureau.

Vladimir Egorovich likes to play chess and dominoes with his friends.

VALUIKIN GLEB BORISOVYCH

Gleb Borisovich was born on October 16, 1937, in Pavlovsk, Leningrad Region.

In 1941, fascist troops approached the city of Leningrad, and the blockade of the city began. All residents were in the occupied territory. Shelling went on day and night, shells hit houses, from the fire of one house, whole streets. So overnight, the Valuykin family was left without a roof over their heads. The family moved to live in the grandmother's house.

The main concern of parents was the fight against hunger. Mom went out of town to the fields to collect unharvested vegetables. In the spring of 1942, many families, including the Valuykin family, were loaded onto railway cars and sent to Germany. In the area of ​​the city of Siauliai (Lithuania), families were sorted into farms. In one of which, Gleb Borisovich's parents worked as laborers in the landowner's house. They did various work in the garden and in the yard, early in the morning they went to work and returned exhausted, wet, hungry and cold late in the evening, for this they received a roof over their heads and food.

In 1944, the troops of the Red Army released the prisoners, and the family returned home to Krasnoye Selo.

DEICHMAN LEV PETROVICH

Memoirs of a veteran of the Great Patriotic War

She was born on February 6, 1925 in Kremenchug, Poltava region in a family of workers.

In 1932, he entered school, and in 1940, in the Moscow vocational school No. 1 of railway transport, during the warstudents within the walls of the school make shells, which are then sent to the front. In 1943, by a decree of the Government of the USSR L.P. Deichman is called up for military service. At first, recruits were trained to be sent to the front, and in 1944, they took part in the hostilities on the 1st Baltic Front, 3rd Belorussian on two Far Eastern Fronts, first as part of the 14th separate anti-tank artillery brigade, then 534 and 536 anti-tank artillery regiment. For participation in hostilities 14 separate I.P.A.B. was awarded the Orders of Suvorov and Kutuzov, the regiments were awarded the Orders of Kutuzov, and the personnel were presented for government awards. Lev Petrovich served as a shell carrier in an artillery battery of guns.

L.P. Deichman was awarded the Order of the Patriotic War II degree, medals "For Courage","For the capture of Keninsberg", "For the victory over Germany", "For the victory over Japan", etc.

In 1948, he was demobilized from the army. He graduated from the Moscow Food College with a degree in mechanics. For about 50 years he worked at industrial enterprises and transport of the city of Moscow. He was awarded labor medals.

Lev Petrovich is still in the ranks, was engaged in social activities, spoke to young people and schoolchildren with stories about the courage of our soldiers, about the cost of the Victory.

Despite his advanced age, he actively takes part in sports competitions not only in the district, but also in the district. Has more than 20 sports awards and letters of thanks. He likes skiing, a participant in the annual competitions "Ski Track of Moscow" and "Ski Track of Russia".

In 2014, as part of the Moscow delegation, he traveled abroad.

Currently he is the chairman of the Council of Veterans of the 2nd Guards Army, in 2014 he was awarded the title of Honorary Veteran of the City of Moscow.

Employees of the council, administration of the Moscow Region, USZN of the Yuzhnoye Medvedkovo district heartily congratulate you on your anniversary!

We wish you good health, sports victories, attention, care and respect from relatives and friends!

DUBROVIN BORIS SAVVOVICH

Member of the Great Patriotic War.

Grandmother on the mother's side from a peasant family from a village near the town of Levishevichi. Mom graduated from a medical institute, worked as a doctor in the Lefortovo hospital. My father was a maternity hospital from Ukraine from the city of Uman, worked as a printing worker, and then as a commissar of the 1st Cavalry Army, later as an engineer at the TsGAM plant, and was the head of one of the large workshops.

“I started studying at the age of 6, I studied mediocrely, I did not like to read or write, I perceived everything by ear,” recalls Boris Savvovich.

In 1936, my father was arrested as an enemy of the people, he died in prison, then the "funnel" came for my mother, she was arrested because she did not inform on the enemy of the people. Nine-year-old Boris and his three-year-old sister were taken in by their grandmother. All things were sold or exchanged for food, and still lived from hand to mouth.

There was no doctor in the camp in Minusinsk, the head of the camp assigned Boris's mother to them. She spent 6 years in prison, and came out disabled. Mom worked as a doctor and stayed in a settlement in the Ostyako-Vagulsky district. Being not healthy herself, she went on skis to call on the sick. She was loved.

When the war began, Boris Savvovich went to work at a defense plant as a turner, made shells for anti-tank guns, worked for 12 hours. Boris had a reservation, but in 1944, he went to the front as a volunteer. He got into the infantry in the rifle regiment, from which he was sent to aviation. At first he was a minder, then he asked to be an air shooter. He became an air gunner - the fourth member of the crew after the pilot, navigator and radio operator. The shooter must lie flat on the bottom of the aircraft and guard the tail section of the vehicle. Air gunners died more often than the rest of the crew. And on the first day I had to face signs.

In the barracks they said: "Choose where to put things." I see everything is densely packed with knapsacks, and there is an empty space in the middle. I put my duffel bag in there and went on my mission. When Boris Savvovich returned, they greeted him strangely: “What are you back? And we didn't even wait." It turned out that there was a sign that if a new shooter put his duffel bag in the place of the dead, he is doomed.

So I was left without a coat. It turned out that they exchanged it for Polish vodka, - Boris Savvovich recalls, - and so as not to be upset, they poured me a glass.

He fought on the 1st Belorussian Front, liberated Belarus, Poland, Warsaw, Germany. Finished the war in Falkenberg with the rank of private. What he is very proud of, he served in the army for a total of 7 years.

After the war, Boris Savvovich entered and successfully graduated from the Literary Institute. Gorky. As a true patriot, devoted to his Motherland, the poet Boris Dubrovin could not live a quiet creative life. 30 years of close friendship with the border guards made it possible for the poet to visit all parts of the border (except the Norwegian one). During the Afghan war, Boris Savvovich, along with the artists, performed under fire. And to the song on his poems "The Way Home" our troops left Afghanistan. He is a member of the Writers' Union, winner of many international competitions and literary awards, the television competition Song of the Year "From the XX to the XXI century", the All-Russian competition "Victory-2005", winner of the medal. S.P. Koroleva. Author of 41 books - 33 collections of poetry and 8 books of prose. 62 poems were included in the Anthology of World Poetry. About 500 of his poems became songs that were and are performed by M. Kristalinskaya, I. Kobzon, A. German, V. Tolkunova, E. Piekha, L. Dolina, A. Barykin and many others. other. His poems have been translated and published in Yugoslavia, Poland and Germany.

Boris Savvovich is rightfully proud of his medals: the Order of the Patriotic War II degree, medals "For the liberation of Warsaw", "For the capture of Berlin", Polish medals.

EVSEEVA FAINA ANATOLYEVNA

She was born on January 27, 1937, in Leningrad. When the war began, Faina was 4.5 years old, and her sister was 2 years old.

Father was taken to the front, and he is in the rank of Art. lieutenant, throughout the blockade, defended the Pulkovo Heights for almost 900 days. Faina Anatolyevna's family lived in a nearby suburb, in the town of Uritsk, near the Gulf of Finland.

Less than a month after the start of the war, the German troops ended up in Uritsk. Residents were herded into basements with children. And thenthe Germans drove everyone out of the cellars, not allowing them to take any things, no money, no food, no documents. They lined up everyone in a column on the highway running along the Gulf of Finland and drove the dogs to Leningrad. People ran for 15 km. Mom carried her younger sister Faina Anatolyevna in her arms, and Faina, holding her grandmother's hand, ran herself. When they approached Leningrad, those who fled first were lucky, including Faina Anatolyevna's relatives. They managed to pass through the foreign post, the rest were cut off by fire. The family managed to escape, in Leningrad they found relatives and temporarily settled with them in a room of 16 sq.m - 10 people. We lived for 7 months in a hungry hell, under eternal bombardment. Winter in 1941 was cold, the thermometer needle dropped to -38 0 C. There was a potbelly stove in the room, the firewood quickly ran out, and it had to be heated, first with furniture, then with books, rags. Mom went for bread, the bread was released strictly according to the cards, she, after harvesting cabbage in the fields, collected frozen cabbage leaves on the outskirts of Leningrad. Water was drawn from the river. Not you. Once she saw a lump of flour floating on the water, there was nowhere to put it, without hesitation, she took off her skirt and brought it home. Happy walked around the city in the same pants. At some point, a cat was slaughtered, and broth was cooked from its meat for a whole month. Leather belts were used for the broth, jelly was made from the clover. People were dying of hunger every month. Of the 10 relatives of Faina Anatolyevna, three survived: she herself, her sister and mother. Their father saved them, he helped his wife and children to evacuate through the Ladoga Road of Life to the Urals in Chelyabinsk. The Ladoga road was also bombed day and night. In front of the car that Faina was driving with her mother and sister, a bomb hit the car with people, and she went under the ice.

Further, the path to the Urals lay by rail. People were loaded into a train, the cars of which were adapted for the transport of cattle, straw lay on the floor, in the middle of the car there was a potbelly stove, which was drowned by the military. No one walked around the car, the people lay half dead. On the way the train, at stops, the dead were unloaded, and the children were given a saucer of warm liquid millet porridge. In Chelyabinsk, Faina was separated from her mother. She was placed in an adult hospital, daughters in a nursery. In the children's hospital, the girls contracted diphtheria, and three months later Faina and her sister were discharged. They lived with Aunt Maria, my mother's sister. She worked as a dishwasher in the factory canteen and had the opportunity to bring a handful of burnt food in the evening, this was not enough, so during the day the girls tried to get their own food. The house in which they lived was located near the railway, next to the factory, where white clay was taken. Clay that fell out of the wagons, the girls collected and ate for days on end. She seemed to them sweet, tasty, oily. Mom was discharged from the hospital after another 3 months, she got a job at a factory, received rations, life became more satisfying.

To return to Leningrad, a challenge was needed. To find out if my father was alive, my mother had to go to Leningrad. Having handed over her daughters to an orphanage, she went to her homeland. A terrible picture opened up to her eyes, there was not a single house left in Uritsk, there was nowhere to return. She went to Leningrad to her father's sister. What a joy it was when she met her husband there, who, after the war, stayed with her sister to live. Together, the parents returned to Uritsk, found a dilapidated basement and began to improve it: the father dismantled the rubble, twisted the barbed wire, he was helped to clear the area near the house. Mom took her daughters from Chelyabinsk, the family was reunited. A father from Estonia managed to transport a cow to Uritsk, which he accidentally saw in the forest, only he could milk it. The animal, along with people, lived in the basement. During the day the girls tore quinoa and nettles for themselves and for the cow.

In 1946, Faina went to school, they went to school on foot, every day 3 km to the station. Ligovo. They wrote on the newspaper between the lines, the desire to study was great, I wanted to learn as much as possible, and most importantly, learn German. After graduating from 7 classes, Faina entered the Leningrad Engineering College at the Kirov Plant. Worked as a designer at the brake plant. Koganovich. She got married and moved with her husband to Moscow. She raised a daughter, a granddaughter, and now a great-granddaughter. Faina Anatolyevna suffered her blockade character, which helps to live and remain an optimist for many years.

ZENKOV VASILY SEMENOVICH

Member of the Great Patriotic War. Member of the Battle of Kursk. Staff Sergeant.

Born October 12, 1925, in the village. Maloye Danilovskoye, Tokarsky district, Tambov region.

After graduating from 7 classes, Vasily Semenovich entered the Pedagogical School. On June 22, 1941, the Great Patriotic War began. Germany attacked the Soviet Union, peacetime ended, Vasily's father was taken into the army, where he died in one of the battles defending his homeland.

Vasily Semenovich was forced to quit his studies and go to work in a printing house, first as an apprentice printer. His
I was assigned to an experienced highly qualified mentor, my studies went on at the workplace with the fulfillment of the norm. After 1.5 months, Vasily worked independently. The mother raised 3 children, Vasily earned the maintenance of the whole family.

In December 1942, Vasily Semenovich was drafted into the Red Army. Preparation went on day and night, classes lasted 10-12 hours. At the front he was a sniper, machine gunner.

In September 1943, while expanding the bridgehead on the right bank of the Dnieper, during a shootout, he was wounded by an explosive bullet. He was treated at the hospital in the city of Lukoyanov, Gorky region. (now Nizhny Novgorod region). After treatment, he continued to serve in the army and was sent to school to learn how to drive a motorcycle, and after studying he ended up in the Mechanized Corps as a motorcyclist. On his thorny and difficult path, he saw and experienced a lot: the bitterness of retreat and the joy of victory.

Vasily Semenovich celebrated Victory Day with joy in Germany in the Oberkuntzedorf area.

After serving in the army for 7.5 years, he was demobilized as a civilian and returned to work as a printer. Soon he was sent to study at MIPT in the evening department, and having received a diploma, he worked as the head of the printing house, the chief engineer of the MHP printing house, from where he retired in 1988.

He took an active part in the work of the Council of Veterans of the South Medvedkovo region.

Vasily Semenovich was awarded the Orders of the "Patriotic War" I and II degrees, the "Red Star", the medal "For the Victory over Germany", and commemorative medals.

Ivanov Nikolai Alekseevich

Memoirs of a member of a public organization

former juvenile prisoners of fascism concentration camps

Nikolai Alekseevich was born in 1932, in the village of Orlovo (formerly the village of Svoboda) of the Mezhetchinsky village council, Iznoskovsky district, Kaluga region.

In January - February 1942, the Germans captured the village, driving the villagers out of their houses, German soldiers settled in them, and the inhabitants were forced to live in dugouts.

The moment came when the Germans drove everyone out of the dugouts, lined up in a column and drove people to the West. “In Vyazma, we were connected with other refugees and driven to Smolensk,” Nikolai Alekseevich recalls with pain in his heart, “many people gathered in Smolensk, after a few days, people began to be sorted, some were sent to Germany, others to Belarus. Our family: mother, father and four children, were driven to the city of Mogilev. Settled on the outskirts of the city in a ruined hut. It didn’t take long to live, they were taken somewhere again. This time to the village of Sapezhinka, which was located near the town of Bykhovo (Belarus). All daylight hours, adults worked in the fields, were engaged in agricultural work, processed vegetables, the Germans loved to grow kohlrabi cabbage.

All wartime they were forced to live in labor for the benefit of German soldiers, they beat them for the slightest offense.

In the spring of 1944, Soviet troops released the prisoners. Father Nikolai Alekseevich died, mother and children returned to their homeland. There was nowhere to live, the village was destroyed. They settled in an abandoned house. Later, fellow villagers began to return, together they rebuilt houses and improved their way of life. In the fall, the school began to work, Nikolai went to the 2nd grade.

From 1952 to 1955, he served in the army, in the city of Vologda, in the air defense radar troops, then served in the police. And later he worked in trade, from where he retired in 1992.

Everything went well for Nikolai Alekseevich in life: 2 daughters were born, now a grandson and a great-grandson are already growing, but the horrors of wartime, no, no, and they are remembered.

KRYLOVA NINA PAVLOVNA (nee Vasilyeva)

Memoirs of a juvenile resident of besieged Leningrad.

She was born on August 23, 1935, in Leningrad, st. Nekrasova, house 58 sq. 12. Parents of Nina Vasilievna - Pavel Fedorovichand Maria Andreevna worked at the opera house "People's House". My father died near Leningrad, my mother died in the blockade. By the will of fate, little Nina ended up in orphanage No. 40. Until the spring of 1942, the orphanage was located in Leningrad.

When the "road of life" was opened, according to the documents on April 7, 1942, the orphanage in which Nina Vasilievna was located was taken to the Krasnodar Territory. Due to illness, Nina went to school late. “After what time the Germans came, I don’t remember this time well. - says Nina Pavlovna, - but such a picture ran into my memory: New Year. There is a large decorated Christmas tree, and instead of a five-pointed star on the top of the head, there is a fascist sign. Another

I remember the incident, - Nina Pavlovna continues her story, - They hid us in some pits, if the Germans had found them, they would not have spared.

After the war, Nina Pavlovna really hoped that her dad was alive, she waited every day. She sent requests to various organizations, but when she received the terrible news, her hopes collapsed, and Nina Pavlovna became very ill.

After leaving school, she entered an art school, and later, by distribution, she left for Yaroslavl, where she met her future husband, a cadet of the Moscow Military School. In 1958, Nina Pavlovna got married and moved to Moscow at her husband's place of work. They had two children, and now two grandchildren.

KOSYANENKO (Meinova) KHATICHE SERVEROVNA

Memoirs of a member of the public organization of former juvenile prisoners of fascism in concentration camps

The city of Simferopol, where Khatich's mother lived, was occupied by the Germans in 1942. The city heldThere were daily raids, the Germans went from house to house and forcibly took away young people to be sent to Germany.

In April 1943, after another German raid, Hatice's mother, like many other girls, was loaded into a railway car and sent in an unknown direction, and two months later, mother realized that she was pregnant. Despair seized her, she burst into tears from grief.

Mama Hatice was assigned to a German family to work around the house, and when they found out about her pregnancy, they kicked her out into the street with sticks.

Among other captive girls, Khatich's mother was placed in a barrack, in a dark room with no windows. Ukrainians, Belarusians, Poles, Czechs, Italians already lived there. German soldiers drove the girls to work in the field, to the plant, factory. At different times of the year, they were engaged in: planting, weeding and harvesting vegetables in the field, went to the factory to weave fabrics, and at the factory they made tin cans. For the slightest offense they were put in a punishment cell, leaving for several days without food and water.

The living conditions of people were on the verge of survival: from clothes - rags of rags, from shoes - wooden blocks.

In such difficult conditions, women carried and saved the lives of their children.

In 1945, the American troops - allies liberated the cities of Europe from the German invaders, the Germans retreated, and in order not to leave witnesses, the German government decided to drown all the barracks in which the captured women with children lived. Huge hoses with strong water pressure quickly filled the barracks. Women, trying to save their children, held them in outstretched arms. In the hut where Hatice and her mother were, the water rose almost to the ceiling and suddenly stopped. A little later, American soldiers helped everyone out. Those who could walk went on their own, many exhausted were carried out by the military in their arms. Joy for the saved life overwhelmed women, they thanked hugging and kissing the soldiers, holding their children tightly to themselves. And wept loudly.

Before being sent home, the liberated women were kept in Hungary for a long time. Unsanitary conditions, dirt, heat, insects all contributed to the seedlings of diseases. People were dying without food, water or medical care. Hatice was also on the verge of death.

But the thirst to live and return to their homeland was higher than death. It was difficult then to predict what kind of torment would fall upon returning to their homeland. By order of the government, people could only return to where they were taken from. Numerous interrogations and humiliations to which Hatice's mother was subjected by state security structures did not break her firm character. For a long time they did not have housing, they did not take their mother to work, the question of sending Hatice and her mother to the camp was considered.
Orenburg region.

Hatice's father fought in the ranks of the Soviet army, in 1944, he and his parents were deported from Russia and the relationship between the Meinovs was interrupted. And only in 1946, from the father of Hatice, a letter arrived with an invitation to Uzbekistan, with joy the mother makes a decision, and she and her daughter leave for her father and husband. There, Hatice graduated from a pedagogical university, worked as a teacher of elementary grades, got married, 3 children were born in her family, and did not notice how she went on a well-deserved rest.

In 1997, the family moved to Russia, and in 2000, to Moscow.

Hatice Serverovna loves to knit for the mood. And decorate the entrance to create a mood for your neighbors.

MANTULENKO (Yudina) MARIA FILIPPOVNA

Memoirs of a member of the public organization of former juvenile prisoners of fascism in concentration camps Maria Filippovna was born on May 22, 1932, in the village of Mekhovaya, Khvastovsky District, Kaluga Region.

In January 1942, the Germans entered the village of Mekhovaya and drove the inhabitants to the camp in Bryansk. “Kilometers 25 walked, -recalls Maria Filippovna, - the Germans drove the prisoners with whips. Then we traveled through Belarus by train. They brought us to the Stuttgart camp, then to Stetin, later we were in the Hamburg camp. They lived in common barracks, all mixed up: children, men, women. They were fed with gruel (sweet-salty rutabaga stew, similar in composition to flour) and buckwheat husks. Children were given 100 grams of bread per day, adults 200 grams. People from hunger fell unconscious. Once, Maria Filippovna's mother also fainted.

From lice smeared with kerosene. In September 1943, the Yudin family was taken to work by the Bavaria Shmagrov. Each member of the family had their own duties at home: grandfather worked in the garden, father in the stable, mother in the garden, brother in the calf, grandmother was in charge of the house, she cleaned and cooked food.

Belgian, French, and Italian prisoners lived in the German village, with other owners.

On April 26, 1945, the families of Russian prisoners of war liberated the Soviet troops. “Having returned home,” Maria Filippovna continues the story, “they saw burnt houses, all the villages in the district were burned to the ground. Cold December 1945, lived in a hut, later dug out a dugout, in 1947, built a house.

In order to earn some money, in 1948-1949, Maria Filippovna went to peat diggings in the Yaroslavl region. She arrived in Moscow in December 1949. She worked at a construction site. In 1950, Maria Filippovna went to work in Metrostroy, as an underground hauler, she lived in a hostel. In 1963, she received an apartment in Medvedkovo, where she still lives.

MUKHINA VALENTINA ALEKSANDROVNA

Memoirs of a young resident of besieged Leningrad

She was born on June 8, 1935, in Leningrad. Mom worked at the Baltic Shipyard, dad was a sailor. When Valya was 1 year old, his father drowned.

June 22, 1941, Sunday, warm, sunny morning. And the mood of people is just as joyful and sunny. They go for walks around the city, in the parks. They go to dances, to museums. The cinemas are showing the films "The Pig and the Shepherd", "Merry Fellows", "And if there is war tomorrow ...". And the war will not come tomorrow, it has already been today, the Great Patriotic War.

Hitler hated the name of the city on the Neva, the glorious traditions and patriotism of its inhabitants. He decided to wipe the city off the face of the earth. It was proposed to blockade the city and raze it to the ground by shelling from artillery of all calibers, continuous bombardment from the air. The blockade began on September 8, 1941.

Six-year-old Valechka remembers the bombing both day and night, how scary it was to go out into the street. What this girl experienced and suffered cannot be remembered without pain and righteous anger.

Valina's mother, like many other workers, did not leave the frozen shops for 12-14 hours. The motto of the Leningrad workers is “Everything for the front! Everything for the Victory!

Valya lived with her aunt, her mother's sister. It became very difficult to live: there was no electricity, heat, firewood, because there was a stove
heating. They stoked the stove, everything that burned was used for heating: books, furniture. There was no drinking water. The children were forced to follow her to the Neva River, they tied pots and flasks to the sled, scooped water from ice holes.

But the worst thing is hunger. There was nothing to eat. “Before the war, mothers were a great fashionista - this helped us out,” recalls Valentina Alexandrovna, “with the outbreak of war, we changed many of her things for food. A neighbor supplied us with duranda - it was delicious, and jelly was cooked from carpenter's glue.

Valya's grandmother went to a tobacco factory and brought cigarette casings from there, which were also exchanged for food. In order to fill empty stomachs, drown out the incomparable suffering from hunger, the inhabitants resorted to various methods of finding food. They caught rooks, fiercely hunted for a surviving cat or dog, chose everything that could be eaten from a home medicine cabinet: castor oil, petroleum jelly, glycerin. People had money, but they were worth nothing. Nothing had a price: no jewels, no antiques. Only bread. There were long queues at the bakeries, where the daily rations of bread were given out on cards. Valya remembers the blockade bread - black, sticky. When it was cut into pieces. He sticks to the blade of a knife. Valya cleaned off this sticky mass and ate.

Someone looted the apartments, someone managed to steal a bread coupon from a half-dead old woman. But the majority of Leningraders honestly worked and died on the streets and workplaces, allowing others to survive. In 1942, at the age of 31, Valina's mother died. She returned from work and, having scooped up from a bucket of ice water, she drank plenty. The body was weakened, she fell ill with pneumonia, and never recovered. She was taken on a sled to the Smolensk cemetery and buried. So Valya became an orphan. Yes, and Valya herself, her aunt's family were so weak that they could hardly move. In 1942, residents began to be evacuated. In August, my aunt's family and Valya were sent to the Altai Territory. The train in which they rode was bombed, things burned down, they miraculously survived.

The return to his native city took place at the end of 1944. The city was very different from the city of 1941. Public transport was already running along the streets, snowdrifts and garbage were not visible. Worked enterprises that received fuel and electricity. Schools, cinemas were opened, water supply and sewerage operated in almost all houses, city baths worked, there was a supply of firewood and peat. 500 tram cars ran on 12 routes.

Valya finished 7th grade and entered a technical school. In 1955, she came by assignment to the Moscow hydromechanization section. She worked as a hydraulic engineer-builder for hydroelectric power stations.

During her working career, she worked on construction projects for the embankments of Novodevichy, Ramenskoye, Lyubertsy ponds, made a great contribution to the construction of the Luzhniki stadium and many other facilities.

Since 1990, Valentina Aleksandrovna has been on a well-deserved rest. But an active life position does not allow her only to engage in the upbringing of 2 granddaughters and three great-grandchildren.

Valentina Aleksandrovna is the chairman of the Council of the blockade survivors of the South Medvedkovo district, an active participant in all events held in the district, district. Frequent visitor to schools in the area.

In 1989, she was awarded the badge "Inhabitant of besieged Leningrad".

Meetings with schoolchildren

PAVLOVA YULIA ANDREEVNA

Memoirs of the chairman of the public organization of former juvenile prisoners of fascism in a concentration campth

Yulia Andreevna was born on October 4, 1935, in the town of Yukhnov, Kaluga Region. The city is located in a picturesque area, in the forest, the Ugra and Kunava rivers flow. Before the war, Yulia Andreevna's father worked as a school principal, and her mother worked as a primary school teacher.

The winter of 1941 was snowy, cold, the frost reached a mark of -30 0 С. The Germans broke into the city and began to expel all the residents from their half-dressed houses, a column more than a kilometer long lined up. recalls Yulia Andreevna, - and our torment began. They walked for a long time, surrounded on all sides by armed Germans with sheep dogs, then they rode, falling under fire from German pilots, many prisoners did not reach their destination. The survivors were brought to the city of Roslavl and placed in camp No. 130. The territory was surrounded by barbed wire, there were towers with machine gunners around the entire perimeter. Children were separated from their parents and forcibly placed in different barracks. The roar was terrible, small children all the time asked for their mothers. The barrack was a semi-dark room, with two tiered shelves on which lay straw. Small children were assigned to sleep on the lower shelves, older children on the upper ones. The food they brought was hard to even call food. Potato peels were floating in the water, but we were very hungry, so we tried not to notice the stench that came from the cup. And the next day they all vomited. They didn’t give bread, we forgot its taste.” The women who sat in the neighboring barracks were forced to work in the peat digging in the spring, the work was hard, they got peat out of the swamp, cut it, dried it, and the Germans sent it to their needs. Children were driven to the square to watch the public hanging of Soviet prisoners of war and the execution of Jews. Many terrible moments were seen by children's eyes for 1 year and 3 months, while six-year-old Yulia was in the camp. “Once, shooting was heard somewhere very close, bombs were falling from the sky, it seemed that the barracks were about to collapse,” Yulia Andreevna recalls, “it’s hard to say how long the battle lasted, it seemed long, and then the door opened and 2 soldiers entered the barracks and they say that everyone is freed, whoever can go out on their own, come out, whoever cannot, we will take out in our arms. Taking each other's hands, we began to leave, the sight of the children was terrifying: thin, exhausted, dirty, hungry. Seeing the parents, there was a commotion, a scream, the mothers rushed to the children, the children to the mothers, it is not clear where the strength came from. Not all mothers were able to hug their children, and not all children hugged their mothers. Happiness overwhelmed some and terrible grief for others. Many prisoners died of starvation and overwork. The distraught mothers hugged the soldiers through tears, kissed their dirty boots, and thanked them for their release. It was in August 1943, a column of women and children left the camp, and 2 hours later, by order of Hitler, the barracks were blown up to hide the facts
violence, but the Nazis failed to destroy the living witnesses. There was nothing to get to the house in Yukhnov, they waited a week for a car, they lived on an open-air square. Sometimes cars with soldiers drove past, but it was impossible to take civilians, and there was nowhere to go. When we returned to our city, - Yulia Andreevna continues to recall, - everything was destroyed and burned, there was nowhere to live, we slept on the street, ate grass, sometimes went to the forest for berries, but it was mined and many people died, exploding on mines. shells."

Yulia Andreevna's father, like many men in their cities, fought at the front, so it fell on women's shoulders to restore the destroyed city. They cleared rubble, cleared streets, put houses in order and settled in them. A school for children was opened on the territory of the destroyed monastery, the teacher approached from child to child, explaining the material. They wrote with quills on old yellow newspapers between the lines, the ink was made from soot. There was also nothing to wear, the schoolgirl Yulia and her older sister shared one pair of felt boots and a quilted jacket for two.

Despite all the difficulties that fell on the shoulders of this fragile woman, she did not lose faith in a better life.

Yulia Andreevna is the chairman of the public organization of former juvenile prisoners in the Yuzhnoye Medvedkovo district, visits single members of her organization in the hospital, meets with schoolchildren at courage lessons, answers numerous children's questions, and takes an active part in the activities of the Yuzhnoye Medvedkovo district.

RYAZANOV VLADIMIR VASILIEVICH

Memoirs of a veteran of the Great Patriotic War.

Retired colonel.

“When the Great Patriotic War began, I finished the 9th grade,” recalls Vladimir Vasilyevich. “I still remember that announcement by Molotov. I was born on the banks of the Volga. The Mari Republic was, and now Mary El. Father was the chairman of the artel. Then a congress was organized in Moscow. And my father took me to see the capital. I don't know for sure whether it was the 20th or the 21st, but the next day the country's leadership was to be greeted on the square. And suddenly: “Attention! Now there will be a very important government message.” The message was about the beginning of the war. And after that, no solemn occasions, everyone turned off and everyone went home. I didn't even look at our capital. Father and older brother were drafted into the army. The mother did not work. And I have 2 more brothers, one was 13, the other 9 years old and a sister of 4 years old. After school, I went to the factory, managed to work for 6-7 months, and mastered the profession of an electrician.

In June 1942, at the age of 17, Vladimir Vasilyevich graduated from high school. When the schoolchildren were lined up in the school yard, and the director began to issue certificates, the military commissar arrived in time. All young men who have reached the age of 18 were given summonses. There were 12 such boys among tenth graders, only four of them returned from the front. Two of them are now alive.

Vladimir Vasilyevich participated in the battles of the Great Patriotic War as part of the 3rd and 4th Ukrainian Fronts as a driver of an anti-aircraft battalion of the 104th Guards Order of Kutuzov II degree of the rifle division of the 9th Army. The combat biography of Vladimir Vasilyevich includes victorious battles on the territory of Hungary, Austria, Czechoslovakia in the period from January to May 1945.

In Hungary, he took part in the defeat of the German tank group: in the area of ​​​​Lake Balaton and the capture of the cities of Szekesvehervar, Mor, Pape and others, the capture of Vienna, St. Polten in Austria, Yarmorice and Znojmo in Czechoslovakia. In all battles, he showed courage, courage, resourcefulness.

He was dismissed from the ranks of the Soviet army in September 1975.

After his dismissal, he worked as a senior HR inspector at Remstroytrest. In 1981-1996 a military instructor at a vocational school, then until 1998 a senior engineer in the construction department of MISIS.

Vladimir Vasilyevich was awarded the Order of the Patriotic War II degree, medals "For the Victory over Germany", "For the Capture of Vienna", "For Military Merit", and other commemorative medals.

Suleimanov Sauban Nugumanovich

Memoirs of a WWII participant

Sauban Nugumanovich was born on December 12, 1926, in the city of Chistopol in Tatarstan. Called into the army when he was under the age of 17. The six months of preparation that Saurban went through were very difficult: great physical exertion plus constant hunger. In 1943, Sauban Nugumanovich went to the front, fought on the III and I Belorussian fronts. In one of the heavy battles near Minsk, he was wounded in the leg. He was treated in the hospital of the city of Sasovo, Ryazan region. He recovered, got stronger and again went to the front. Victory in 1945, met in Berlin. He was demobilized in 1951. He studied as a combine operator, went to work in Uzbekistan, where his uncle invited him. Got an apartment and met his wife Maya Ivanovna. She was 19 years old, he was 29 years old, they lived in the city of Nizhnekamsk for 15 years. They had 2 daughters. Sauban Nugumanovich is an excellent family man, his children and wife love him very much. Daughters brought their parents to Moscow and help them.

Suleimanov S.N. awarded the Order of the Red Star, the Order of the Patriotic War, the medals "For the Capture of Berlin", "For the Capture of Warsaw", two medals "For Courage", the Zhukov Medal, the Order of Labor Glory. Sauban Nugumanovich - winner of 4 five-year plans in peacetime.

Sauban Nugumanovich is a kind, sympathetic person. On November 27, 2014, as part of the events dedicated to the 70th anniversary of the Victory in the Great Patriotic War, the Sulemanov family was presented with a TV set.

TYMOSHCHUK ALEXANDER KUZMICH

“They managed to pull me out of a burning tank”

June 25, 1941, Alexander Timoshchuk was supposed to be 16 years old. True, by this age he had only three

Education class. At the age of 11, Sasha lost his mother, and his father, left alone with five children, sold the cow out of grief and drank the money away. Sasha had to leave school and go to work on a collective farm.

“On June 22, 1941, an emka came for me,” the veteran recalls, “and I was sent to a railway school, where I studied for 6 months. For another 3 months I was gaining my mind at the railway technical school, studying the brake system of wagons. 4 hours studying, 8 hours working.

Having received a certificate of a train master, Alexander, until mid-February 1943, accompanied military echelons. “Then I ended up at the Koltubanovskaya station,” recalls Alexander Kuzmich. - Lord, I think where I got: wire in 2 rows, towers all around. We were brought to a former prison camp to build barracks. They had to live in dugouts, which could accommodate two companies, and were heated by only two potbelly stoves. They were fed gruel and soaked bread. Soon many, including myself, fell ill with pneumonia. Not everyone survived."

In August 1943, Alexander Timoshchuk was sent to the 1st Baltic Front. At the station Zapadnaya Dvina, the echelon was partially bombed, the survivors were given rifles and thrown into battle. “I immediately ran into a healthy red-haired German with a machine gun. When he saw me, he raised his hands. I was in a hurry. But the enkavedeshniki approached from behind: “Come on, soldier, go ahead. - recalls the veteran. “And near the village of Zheludy, Pskov region, I was wounded twice, I almost lost my arm.”After hospitalization, Alexander was sent to the 3rd Belorussian Front in the 11th Guards Army under the command of General Chernyakhovsky. Somehow, together with his comrades, he went on reconnaissance and ended up in an environment from which they could not escape for 15 days. “And when they got out,” says A.K. Timoshchuk, - from the environment, he was so hungry that, when they saw dead horses on the field, they immediately cut off a piece of meat and boiled it in swamp water. Everyone was terribly poisoned. I still can't even see meat. And when they returned to the unit, we were left as

Alexander Kuzmich had a chance to take part in Operation Bagration, during which he was once again wounded. When he recovered, a friend advised him to go to the Ulyanovsk tank school, where Alexander received the specialty of the commander of the T-34 gun. “In January 1945, a crew was formed of us and we went to Nizhny Tagil, where, under the guidance of experienced workers, we assembled our own tank, on which we later fought in East Prussia,” recalls the veteran. - I especially remember the battle three kilometers from Frischgaff. During the battle, our tank was knocked out, but the comrades managed to pull me out of the burning tank, ”the NKVD officers interrogated several times from the encirclement until General Chernyakhovsky intervened.

Alexander Kuzmich was awarded the Order "For Courage" 1st Class, medals "For the Capture of Koenigsberg", "For the Victory over Germany" and 20 more commemorative medals.

Interviewed by I.Mikhailova

TSVETKOVA NINA ANATOLYEVNA

Memoirs of a member of the public organization of former juvenile prisoners of fascism in concentration camps

Nina Anatolyevna was born on January 2, 1941, in the village of Baturino, Baturinsky district, Smolensk region.

In March 1943, the Germans drove the family of Nina Anatolyevna to peat developments in Belarus (white peat bogs). Small children were thrown into wagons, and mothers and grandmothers ran after them.

The work on the development was very hard, and the time was very hungry, many children were dying. In May 1945, the Soviet troops released the prisoners, and the family returned to their native village.

The father returned from the front, threw a bunch of large bagels around his daughter's neck, it was so unexpected and tasty that he could not help but bribe the childish attitude towards himself. Little Nina had never seen her father before this meeting.

Nina Anatolyevna, due to her age, does not remember those terrible years, all her memories are from the words of her mother, who is no longer alive. Now Nina Anatolyevna would have asked her in more detail.

In 1958, Nina Anatolyevna graduated from high school and entered the Andreevsky Railway College. In 1963, in the direction, she got a job at Mosgiprotrans. She built a career from a technician to the head of an estimate group. She retired in 1996 and continued to work until 2013.

“Now,” says Nina Anatolyevna, “there is time to meet friends, visit exhibitions, go on excursions.”

Ustinova (nee Proshkina) Anna Grigoryevna

Memoirs of a member of the public organization of former juvenile prisoners of fascism in concentration camps Anna Grigoryevna was born on January 10, 1938, in the village. Gavrilovskoye, Shablykinsky district, Oryol region.

On August 13, 1943, five-year-old Anya was forcibly taken to Germany with her parents and younger sisters. The family was settled inthe house of a German, or rather it was a shed with straw, on which the Ustinov family with small children slept. During the day, the parents went to work, and the girls were locked up in the dark. There was a small window in this shed, through which Anya and her sisters liked to look out into the street, sometimes they saw German children going to school, but most of all the girls liked to follow the stork's nest, to watch how their chicks grew.

In January 1945, the Soviet army was advancing, the Germans were retreating, and the German master fled, fleeing for his life. The Ustinov family escaped from the shed and sat in the moat for several days, afraid to stick their heads out. When the noise of the bustle and the departing carts subsided, Ani's father decided to see how things were in the village where they lived. Realizing that there was not a soul, they returned to the barn. And in the morning the liberators soldiers came, one handed Anya a small chocolate bar, she held it in her hand for a long time, not realizing that she needed to eat it, because she had never seen or tasted chocolate before. The military took the Ustinovs with them and helped them return to their native village. My father stayed to fight with the soldiers.

The Germans burned the village, leaving not a single house. The villagers returned home, and huddled in cellars and basements, rebuilding huts for themselves. In the fall, the school began to work, Anya went to study in the 7th grade, she had to walk 5 km, but no one complained.

At the age of 16, Anna Grigorievna left for the Tula region, worked at a brick factory, then in a mine.

In 1960, she married fellow villager Ustinov A.F., and with her husband moved to Moscow, where they live today.

Stories about the war 1941-1945.

Military fate of people

Grigory Mikhailovich Ryzhov

Photographer Grigory Mikhailovich Ryzhov

© Grigory Mikhailovich Ryzhov, 2017

© Grigory Mikhailovich Ryzhov, photographs, 2017

ISBN 978-5-4483-8055-6

Created with the intelligent publishing system Ridero

Grigory Ryzhov

Stories about the war 1941-1945

The stories of a tankman and a front-line scout ...

... August 1954. Krasilniki village, Spassky district, Ryazan region. At that time, my family and I lived here, where we came from Molotovsk, now this sea city is called Severodvinsk, where warships and submarines are built at shipyards. We got there by recruitment from Sverdlovsk, where my family lived.

The family consisted of five people. My father, his name was Mikhail, got a job as a mechanic at the Isakovo station. Mother, her name was Irina, worked on the collective farm for sticks, that is, for workdays. I, Grigory, was then 9 years old, my sister Vera was 8 years old and the youngest sister Nadia was only 1 year old. She was born in Molotovsk. We lived with Katya's grandmother, my father's mother, she was 62 at the time. In total, our family consisted of six people.

The collective farm was not from the rich, 260 yards. Grains, corn and vegetables were sown in the fields. Cucumbers and tomatoes grew right on the beds in the open air. The collective farm herd of cows was up to 600 heads, there were also pigs up to 100 heads. There was a chicken coop and a duck house, a goose house. The collective farm had a herd of horses up to 50 heads, mostly workers. All products were handed over to the state.

Under N. S. Khrushchev, the collective farmers lived mainly on their own farms. The principle is that one member of the family works on the collective farm, and the rest work on their own farm. They had land up to 30 acres, where apple and pear trees grew up to 25 trees, in addition, plums, cherries and berry bushes grew. Early cucumbers were planted in greenhouses, and then in open-air ridges. The climate in Ryazan is mild and sunny. Three to four days later, 10 to 20 sacks of cucumbers were transported on American trucks to Moscow to sell, to which the distance was 250 kilometers. And so all summer the collective farmers worked on their farm.

I must say that in each house they had one or two cows, a calf, several pigs, up to ten rams, geese, ducks and chickens. As a teenager, I was already thinking. Where are so many cattle and birds? There is no one to sell it to, which means that those who have a large family ate it during the winter. Perhaps they handed over the surplus to the state ...

In 1962, N. S. Khrushchev introduced a high tax on livestock, and it became unprofitable to keep it. In the villages, they began to cut cattle for meat or sell it. It became difficult to live in the village. Passports were introduced in the countryside, and young people began to leave en masse for the city. Villages in the central European part began to grow poor and wither, or even disappear altogether. Only old men and women remained ...

I had village friends, some older by 2 or more years. We often disappeared in our free time from housework at the stables on the "Navel", the so-called hill on a large meadow, where a herd of horses, a herd of collective farm cows and livestock were grazing under the supervision of shepherds.

One of my friends was called Minya, which is equivalent to Misha. He was older than me by two years. Kolya, nicknamed "Karas", who lived opposite my house, is also two years older than me. Kolka, nicknamed "Kolyaska", a year younger than me, and other guys. Our family had a nickname "Fox". In the village, every family had nicknames. This is how it happened in Russia.

Near the village, electric freight and passenger trains rolled along the railway tracks. They rolled along a high embankment, which reached a height of up to 12 meters. A reinforced concrete bridge was built to drive horses and herds of cows from the village to the meadows after work.

We guys, who are braver, walked along the railing of this bridge. The width of the railing was no more than 90 millimeters, and the height above the ground was 12 meters. I was one of those daredevils. Few dared to walk along the railing of the bridge, as well as ride horses, and even drive them in a herd ...

To the south of the railway, two kilometers away, lay a lake three kilometers long and 200 meters wide. The navigable Oka River flowed behind the lake, which overflowed in spring and flooded almost the entire meadow, except for the island, which was nicknamed the “navel”.

During the day they grazed horses that were on vacation or there was no work for them, there were no more than two dozen of them, adult guys of 18-19 years old. Usually in the fall they went to serve in the Soviet Army. To them, we were several guys, went to them almost every day to graze horses. They drove them more closely so that they would not go to other people's pastures.

They kindled a fire from mullein in the form of cakes that burn well. They baked potatoes, and smoked samosad tobacco in the form of rolled cigarettes from newspapers. In every house, tobacco grew in the garden, it grew like a weed ...

A hut was built on the "Navel" to shelter from the rain and coolness at night. Three people could easily fit in it. They slept on bunks, the bed was made of straw and old jerseys.

They just rode horses at full speed through the meadows for overtaking, so much so that it was breathtaking. In the evening at 20 o'clock we drove the horses into a herd and drove them to the lake to the camp, where they were entangled with fetters by the front legs. To confuse horses is not to be afraid to be under their feet and under their belly. Not many did it. The horses knew and did not touch us. They were wary and even aggressive towards strangers. They could kick, bite, etc. This was done so that they would not wander far at night. It’s a pity for the horses, their legs were rubbed to bloody wounds ...

However, dozens of times we, boys, fell from them, but God mercifully saved us from injuries and major injuries. Like this.

In the evening at 21 o'clock the young grooms were replaced by older grooms. They worked two people. We guys often stayed late, and even spent the night here on the spot by the fire or in a hut. We were interested in how adults told all sorts of interesting stories and incidents in life. They often talked about miracles, witches and evil spirits. You listen, and it becomes scary, goosebumps run down your skin. All around is darkness, dead silence and the fire is burning, illuminating our flushed faces.

When we return home to the village at midnight and it seems that an evil spirit surrounds you and follows you ...

One evening in mid-August, after we had driven the horses into a herd to the lake, we tangled the front legs of the horses with fetters, letting them graze in a meadow where green, lush grass grew.

Having finished with the horses, my friends and I went to the grooms to the hut on the Navel. Evening, the sun was already leaning towards sunset, turning purple over the horizon. In August, the days become noticeably shorter and cooler, but not that much. Nine p.m. There were three of us, I, Mitka, nicknamed "Pockmarked", his father had been ill with smallpox and, on his face, there were ripples. This is how the nickname came to their family. There was another boy with us, Kolka "Karas".

After 30 minutes, we were at the "Navel" near the hut, where the groom was talking animatedly. They talked about the news in the countryside, on the collective farm, and so on. We talked about horses. We told the grooms that the horses were mixed up and released to graze in the meadows, that everything was fine.

At the navel they always kept the two best horses, which ran fast. With such horses, you can quickly gather horses into a herd and drive them to the camp on the lake.

Front-line soldier Pyotr Smolov - tanker

Two grooms came to replace, one was over 30 years old, still a young man in strength. His name was Peter Ivanovich, nicknamed "Fighter". He received this name from his youth, when he fought with his fists and beat everyone. He was rude and brash. His surname was Smolov. Perhaps his ancestors extracted resin from pine trees. And so the nickname “Resin” stuck to their family. In our village Krasilnikovo he had no equal in fisticuffs. He was taller than average, up to 175 centimeters, weighing up to 85 kilograms.

Peter at the age of 20 he went to the front as a tanker, being a tractor driver working on a collective farm. He graduated from four classes of a rural school, and then helped with housework. Growing up, he began to work on a collective farm. This happened in 1942. After training in courses for tankers, the cadets were sent to the Stalingrad Front in September 1942. There were then fierce battles for the city of Stalingrad. He was seriously wounded in the chest, and was treated in a hospital near Moscow for several months.

I visited the house on my way and again to the front in June 1943 near Kursk, where decisive events were unfolding in the battle with the Nazi-German invaders. Participated in the Battle of Kursk. He was seriously injured with burns to his face and hands. Again a hospital in the city of Ryazan, almost at home. He was treated for four months with rest at home in the village.

We have collected for you the best stories about the Great Patriotic War of 1941-1945. First-person stories, not invented, living memories of front-line soldiers and witnesses of the war.

A story about the war from the book of the priest Alexander Dyachenko "Overcoming"

I was not always old and weak, I lived in a Belarusian village, I had a family, a very good husband. But the Germans came, my husband, like other men, went to the partisans, he was their commander. We women supported our men in any way we could. The Germans became aware of this. They arrived at the village early in the morning. They drove everyone out of their houses and, like cattle, drove to the station in a neighboring town. The wagons were already waiting for us there. People were stuffed into carts so that we could only stand. We drove with stops for two days, we were not given water or food. When we were finally unloaded from the wagons, some of us were no longer able to move. Then the guards began to drop them to the ground and finish them off with rifle butts. And then they showed us the direction to the gate and said: "Run." As soon as we ran half the distance, the dogs were released. The strongest ones ran to the gate. Then the dogs were driven away, all who remained were lined up in a column and led through the gate, on which it was written in German: "To each his own." Since then, boy, I can't look at the tall chimneys.

She bared her arm and showed me a tattoo of a row of numbers on the inside of the arm, closer to the elbow. I knew it was a tattoo, my dad had a tank inked on his chest because he was a tanker, but why inject numbers?

I remember that she also talked about how our tankers liberated them and how lucky she was to live to this day. About the camp itself and what happened in it, she did not tell me anything, probably, she felt sorry for my childish head.

I learned about Auschwitz only later. I learned and understood why my neighbor could not look at the pipes of our boiler room.

My father also ended up in the occupied territory during the war. They got it from the Germans, oh, how they got it. And when ours drove the Germans, those, realizing that the grown-up boys were tomorrow's soldiers, decided to shoot them. They gathered everyone and took them to the log, and then our plane saw a crowd of people and gave a queue nearby. The Germans are on the ground, and the boys are in all directions. My dad was lucky, he ran away, shot through his hand, but he ran away. Not everyone was lucky then.

My father entered Germany as a tanker. Their tank brigade distinguished itself near Berlin on the Seelow Heights. I saw pictures of these guys. Youth, and the whole chest in orders, several people -. Many, like my dad, were drafted into the army from the occupied lands, and many had something to avenge on the Germans. Therefore, perhaps, they fought so desperately bravely.

They marched across Europe, liberated the prisoners of concentration camps and beat the enemy, finishing off mercilessly. “We rushed into Germany itself, we dreamed of how we would smear it with the tracks of our tank tracks. We had a special part, even the uniform was black. We still laughed, no matter how they confused us with the SS men.

Immediately after the end of the war, my father's brigade was stationed in one of the small German towns. Or rather, in the ruins that were left of him. They themselves somehow settled in the basements of buildings, but there was no room for a dining room. And the commander of the brigade, a young colonel, ordered to knock down tables from shields and set up a temporary dining room right on the square of the town.

“And here is our first peaceful dinner. Field kitchens, cooks, everything is as usual, but the soldiers are not sitting on the ground or on the tank, but, as expected, at the tables. They had just begun to dine, and suddenly German children began to crawl out of all these ruins, cellars, cracks like cockroaches. Someone is standing, and someone is already unable to stand from hunger. They stand and look at us like dogs. And I don’t know how it happened, but I took the bread with my shot hand and put it in my pocket, I look quietly, and all our guys, without raising their eyes from each other, do the same.

And then they fed the German children, gave away everything that could somehow be hidden from dinner, the very children of yesterday, who quite recently, without flinching, were raped, burned, shot by the fathers of these German children on our land they captured.

The brigade commander, Hero of the Soviet Union, a Jew by nationality, whose parents, like all other Jews of a small Belarusian town, were buried alive by the punishers, had every right, both moral and military, to drive away the German "geeks" from their tankers with volleys. They ate his soldiers, lowered their combat effectiveness, many of these children were also sick and could spread the infection among the personnel.

But the colonel, instead of firing, ordered an increase in the rate of consumption of products. And German children, on the orders of a Jew, were fed along with his soldiers.

Do you think what kind of phenomenon is this - Russian Soldier? Where does such mercy come from? Why didn't they take revenge? It seems that it is beyond any strength to find out that all your relatives were buried alive, perhaps by the fathers of these same children, to see concentration camps with many bodies of tortured people. And instead of "breaking away" on the children and wives of the enemy, they, on the contrary, saved them, fed them, treated them.

Several years have passed since the events described, and my dad, having graduated from a military school in the fifties, again served in Germany, but already as an officer. Once, on the street of one city, a young German called him. He ran up to my father, grabbed his hand and asked:

Don't you recognize me? Yes, of course, now it’s hard to recognize in me that hungry ragged boy. But I remember you, how you then fed us among the ruins. Believe us, we will never forget this.

This is how we made friends in the West, by force of arms and the all-conquering power of Christian love.

Alive. We will endure. We will win.

THE TRUTH ABOUT WAR

It should be noted that the speech of V. M. Molotov on the first day of the war did not make a convincing impression on everyone, and the final phrase aroused irony among some soldiers. When we, doctors, asked them how things were at the front, and we lived only for this, we often heard the answer: “We are draping. Victory is ours… that is, the Germans!”

I can't say that JV Stalin's speech had a positive effect on everyone, although the majority felt warm from him. But in the darkness of a long line for water in the basement of the house where the Yakovlevs lived, I once heard: “Here! Brothers, sisters became! I forgot how I was put in jail for being late. The rat squeaked when the tail was pressed! The people remained silent. I have heard similar statements many times.

Two other factors contributed to the rise of patriotism. Firstly, these are the atrocities of the Nazis on our territory. Newspaper reports that in Katyn near Smolensk the Germans shot tens of thousands of Poles captured by us, and not us during the retreat, as the Germans assured, were perceived without malice. Everything could be. “We couldn’t leave them to the Germans,” some argued. But the population could not forgive the murder of our people.

In February 1942, my senior operating nurse A.P. Pavlova received a letter from the liberated banks of Seliger, which told how, after the explosion of hand fans in the German headquarters hut, they hanged almost all the men, including Pavlova's brother. They hung him on a birch near his native hut, and he hung for almost two months in front of his wife and three children. The mood of this news in the entire hospital became formidable for the Germans: Pavlova was loved by both the staff and the wounded soldiers ... I made sure that the original letter was read in all the wards, and Pavlova's face, yellowed from tears, was in the dressing room before everyone's eyes ...

The second thing that made everyone happy was reconciliation with the church. The Orthodox Church showed true patriotism in its preparations for the war, and it was appreciated. Government awards rained down on the patriarch and the clergy. With these funds, air squadrons and tank divisions with the names "Alexander Nevsky" and "Dmitry Donskoy" were created. They showed a film where a priest with the chairman of the district executive committee, a partisan, destroys atrocious fascists. The film ended with the old bell ringer climbing the bell tower and sounding the alarm, before that he crossed himself widely. It sounded directly: “Autumn yourself with the sign of the cross, Russian people!” The wounded spectators and the staff had tears in their eyes when the lights were turned on.

On the contrary, the huge sums of money contributed by the chairman of the collective farm, it seems, Ferapont Golovaty, evoked malicious smiles. “Look how he stole from hungry collective farmers,” said the wounded peasants.

The activities of the fifth column, that is, internal enemies, also caused enormous indignation among the population. I myself saw how many of them there were: German planes were signaled from the windows even with multi-colored rockets. In November 1941, in the hospital of the Neurosurgical Institute, they signaled from the window in Morse code. The doctor on duty, Malm, who was completely drunk and declassed, said that the alarm came from the window of the operating room where my wife was on duty. The head of the hospital, Bondarchuk, said at a five-minute morning meeting that he vouched for Kudrin, and two days later they took the signalmen, and Malm himself disappeared forever.

My violin teacher Yu. A. Aleksandrov, a communist, although a secretly religious, consumptive person, worked as a fire chief of the Red Army House on the corner of Liteiny and Kirovskaya. He was chasing a rocket launcher, obviously an employee of the House of the Red Army, but he could not see him in the dark and did not catch up, but he threw the rocket launcher at Aleksandrov's feet.

Life at the institute gradually improved. The central heating began to work better, the electric light became almost constant, there was water in the plumbing. We went to the movies. Films such as "Two Soldiers", "Once upon a time there was a girl" and others were watched with an undisguised feeling.

At "Two Fighters" the nurse was able to get tickets to the cinema "October" for a session later than we expected. When we arrived at the next screening, we learned that a shell hit the courtyard of this cinema, where visitors from the previous screening were let out, and many were killed and wounded.

The summer of 1942 passed through the hearts of the townsfolk very sadly. The encirclement and defeat of our troops near Kharkov, which greatly increased the number of our prisoners in Germany, brought great despondency to everyone. The new offensive of the Germans to the Volga, to Stalingrad, was very hard for everyone to experience. The mortality of the population, especially increased in the spring months, despite some improvement in nutrition, as a result of dystrophy, as well as the death of people from air bombs and artillery shelling, was felt by everyone.

In mid-May, my wife and her ration cards were stolen from my wife, which is why we were again very hungry. And it was necessary to prepare for the winter.

We not only cultivated and planted kitchen gardens in Rybatsky and Murzinka, but received a fair amount of land in the garden near the Winter Palace, which was given to our hospital. It was excellent land. Other Leningraders cultivated other gardens, squares, the Field of Mars. We planted even a dozen or two potato eyes with an adjacent piece of husk, as well as cabbage, rutabaga, carrots, onion seedlings, and especially a lot of turnips. Planted wherever there was a piece of land.

The wife, fearing a lack of protein food, collected slugs from vegetables and pickled them in two large jars. However, they were not useful, and in the spring of 1943 they were thrown away.

The coming winter of 1942/43 was mild. Transport no longer stopped, all the wooden houses on the outskirts of Leningrad, including the houses in Murzinka, were demolished for fuel and stocked up for the winter. The rooms had electric lights. Soon, scientists were given special letter rations. As a candidate of sciences, I was given a letter ration of group B. It included 2 kg of sugar, 2 kg of cereals, 2 kg of meat, 2 kg of flour, 0.5 kg of butter and 10 packs of Belomorkanal cigarettes every month. It was luxurious and it saved us.

My fainting has stopped. I even easily kept watch with my wife all night, guarding the garden at the Winter Palace in turn, three times during the summer. However, despite the guards, every single head of cabbage was stolen.

Art was of great importance. We began to read more, to go to the cinema more often, to watch film programs in the hospital, to go to amateur concerts and to the artists who came to visit us. Once my wife and I were at a concert of D. Oistrakh and L. Oborin who arrived in Leningrad. When D. Oistrakh played and L. Oborin accompanied, it was cold in the hall. Suddenly a voice said softly, “Air raid, air raid! Those who wish can go down to the bomb shelter!” In the crowded hall, no one moved, Oistrakh smiled gratefully and understandingly at us all with his eyes alone and continued to play, not for a moment stumbling. Although the explosions pushed at my feet and I could hear their sounds and the yelping of anti-aircraft guns, the music absorbed everything. Since then, these two musicians have become my biggest favorites and fighting friends without knowing each other.

By the autumn of 1942, Leningrad was very empty, which also facilitated its supply. By the time the blockade began, up to 7 million cards were being issued in a city overflowing with refugees. In the spring of 1942, only 900 thousand of them were issued.

Many were evacuated, including part of the 2nd Medical Institute. All other universities left. But still, they believe that about two million people were able to leave Leningrad along the Road of Life. So about four million died (According to official figures, about 600 thousand people died in besieged Leningrad, according to others - about 1 million. - Ed.) figure much higher than the official one. Not all the dead ended up in the cemetery. The huge ditch between the Saratov colony and the forest leading to Koltushi and Vsevolozhskaya took in hundreds of thousands of the dead and was leveled to the ground. Now there is a suburban vegetable garden, and there are no traces left. But the rustling tops and cheerful voices of the harvesters are no less happiness for the dead than the mournful music of the Piskarevsky cemetery.

A little about children. Their fate was terrible. Almost nothing was given on children's cards. I remember two cases particularly vividly.

In the most severe part of the winter of 1941/42, I wandered from Bekhterevka to Pestel Street to my hospital. Swollen legs almost did not go, his head was spinning, each cautious step pursued one goal: to move forward and not fall at the same time. On Staronevsky I wanted to go to the bakery to buy two of our cards and warm up at least a little. The frost cut to the bone. I stood in line and noticed that a boy of seven or eight years old was standing near the counter. He leaned over and seemed to shrink. Suddenly he snatched a piece of bread from the woman who had just received it, fell down, huddled up in a bag with his back up, like a hedgehog, and began to greedily tear the bread with his teeth. The woman who lost her bread screamed wildly: probably, a hungry family was waiting impatiently at home. The line got mixed up. Many rushed to beat and trample the boy, who continued to eat, a padded jacket and a hat protected him. "The male! If only you could help,” someone called out to me, apparently because I was the only man in the bakery. I was shaken, my head was spinning. “You beasts, beasts,” I croaked and, staggering, went out into the cold. I couldn't save the child. A slight push was enough, and I would certainly have been taken by angry people for an accomplice, and I would have fallen.

Yes, I am a layman. I did not rush to save this boy. “Do not turn into a werewolf, a beast,” our beloved Olga Berggolts wrote these days. Wonderful woman! She helped many to endure the blockade and preserved in us the necessary humanity.

On behalf of them, I will send a telegram abroad:

“Alive. We will endure. We'll win."

But the unwillingness to share the fate of a beaten child forever remained a notch on my conscience ...

The second incident happened later. We have just received, but already for the second time, a letter ration, and together with my wife we ​​carried it along Liteiny, heading home. Snowdrifts were quite high in the second blockade winter. Almost opposite the house of N. A. Nekrasov, from where he admired the front entrance, clinging to the grate immersed in snow, was a child of four or five years old. He moved his legs with difficulty, huge eyes on a withered old face peered with horror at the world around him. His legs were tangled. Tamara pulled out a large, double, lump of sugar and handed it to him. At first he did not understand and shrank all over, and then suddenly grabbed this sugar with a jerk, pressed it to his chest and froze in fear that everything that had happened was either a dream or not true ... We went on. Well, what more could barely wandering inhabitants do?

BREAKTHROUGH THE BLOCCADE

All Leningraders spoke daily about breaking the blockade, about the upcoming victory, peaceful life and the restoration of the country, the second front, that is, about the active inclusion of the allies in the war. On the allies, however, little hope. “The plan has already been drawn, but there are no Roosevelts,” the Leningraders joked. They also recalled the Indian wisdom: "I have three friends: the first is my friend, the second is the friend of my friend and the third is the enemy of my enemy." Everyone believed that the third degree of friendship only unites us with our allies. (So, by the way, it turned out that the second front appeared only when it became clear that we could liberate the whole of Europe alone.)

Rarely did anyone talk about other outcomes. There were people who believed that Leningrad after the war should become a free city. But everyone immediately cut them off, recalling the “Window to Europe”, and the “Bronze Horseman”, and the historical significance for Russia of access to the Baltic Sea. But they talked about breaking the blockade every day and everywhere: at work, on duty on the roofs, when they “fought off planes with shovels”, extinguishing lighters, for meager food, getting into a cold bed and during unwise self-service in those days. Waiting, hoping. Long and hard. They talked either about Fedyuninsky and his mustache, then about Kulik, then about Meretskov.

In the draft commissions, almost everyone was taken to the front. I was sent there from the hospital. I remember that I gave liberation only to a two-armed man, surprised by the wonderful prostheses that hid his defect. “Don't be afraid, take it with a stomach ulcer, tuberculous. After all, all of them will have to be at the front for no more than a week. If they don’t kill them, they will wound them, and they will end up in the hospital,” the military commissar of the Dzerzhinsky district told us.

Indeed, the war went on with great bloodshed. When trying to break through to communication with the mainland, piles of bodies remained under Krasny Bor, especially along the embankments. "Nevsky Piglet" and Sinyavinsky swamps did not leave the tongue. Leningraders fought furiously. Everyone knew that behind his back his own family was dying of hunger. But all attempts to break the blockade did not lead to success, only our hospitals were filled with crippled and dying.

With horror, we learned about the death of an entire army and the betrayal of Vlasov. This had to be believed. After all, when they read to us about Pavlov and other executed generals of the Western Front, no one believed that they were traitors and "enemies of the people", as we were convinced of this. They remembered that the same was said about Yakir, Tukhachevsky, Uborevich, even Blucher.

The summer campaign of 1942 began, as I wrote, extremely unsuccessfully and depressingly, but already in the fall they began to talk a lot about our stubbornness at Stalingrad. The fighting dragged on, winter approached, and in it we hoped for our Russian strength and Russian endurance. The good news about the counter-offensive at Stalingrad, the encirclement of Paulus with his 6th Army, and Manstein's failure to break through this encirclement gave Leningraders new hope on New Year's Eve 1943.

I celebrated the New Year together with my wife, having returned by 11 o'clock to the closet where we lived at the hospital, from the detour around the evacuation hospitals. There was a glass of diluted alcohol, two slices of bacon, a piece of bread 200 grams and hot tea with a piece of sugar! A whole feast!

Events were not long in coming. Almost all of the wounded were discharged: some were commissioned, some were sent to convalescent battalions, some were taken to the mainland. But we did not long wander around the empty hospital after the bustle of unloading it. A stream of fresh wounded went straight from their positions, dirty, often bandaged with an individual bag over their overcoat, bleeding. We were both a medical battalion, a field hospital, and a front-line hospital. Some began to sort, others - to operating tables for permanent operation. There was no time to eat, and there was no time for food.

It was not the first time that such streams came to us, but this one was too painful and tiring. All the time, the hardest combination of physical work with mental, moral human experiences with the clarity of the dry work of a surgeon was required.

On the third day, the men could no longer stand it. They were given 100 grams of diluted alcohol and sent to sleep for three hours, although the emergency room was littered with the wounded in need of urgent operations. Otherwise, they began to operate badly, half-asleep. Well done women! Not only did they endure the hardships of the blockade many times better than men, they died much less often from dystrophy, but they also worked without complaining of fatigue and clearly fulfilling their duties.

In our operating room, they went on three tables: behind each - a doctor and a nurse, on all three tables - another sister, replacing the operating room. Personnel operating and dressing nurses all assisted in operations. The habit of working for many nights in a row in Bekhterevka, the hospital. On October 25, she helped me out on the ambulance. I passed this test, I can proudly say, like women.

On the night of January 18, a wounded woman was brought to us. On this day, her husband was killed, and she was seriously wounded in the brain, in the left temporal lobe. A shard with fragments of bones penetrated into the depths, completely paralyzing her both right limbs and depriving her of the ability to speak, but while maintaining an understanding of someone else's speech. Female fighters came to us, but not often. I took her on my table, laid her on my right, paralyzed side, anesthetized the skin and very successfully removed the metal fragment and bone fragments that had penetrated into the brain. “My dear,” I said, finishing the operation and getting ready for the next one, “everything will be fine. I took out the shard, and speech will return to you, and the paralysis will completely disappear. You will make a full recovery!"

Suddenly, my wounded free hand from above began to beckon me to her. I knew that she would not soon begin to speak, and I thought that she would whisper something to me, although it seemed incredible. And suddenly, wounded with her healthy naked, but strong hand of a fighter, she grabbed my neck, pressed my face to her lips and kissed me hard. I couldn't take it. I did not sleep for the fourth day, almost did not eat, and only occasionally, holding a cigarette with a forceps, smoked. Everything went haywire in my head, and, like a man possessed, I ran out into the corridor in order to at least for one minute come to my senses. After all, there is a terrible injustice in the fact that women - the successors of the family and softening the morals of the beginning in humanity, are also killed. And at that moment, our loudspeaker spoke, announcing the breaking of the blockade and the connection of the Leningrad Front with the Volkhovsky.

It was a deep night, but what started here! I stood bloodied after the operation, completely stunned by what I had experienced and heard, and sisters, nurses, soldiers ran towards me ... Some with a hand on an “airplane”, that is, on a splint that abducts a bent arm, some on crutches, some still bleeding through a recently applied bandage . And so began the endless kissing. Everyone kissed me, despite my frightening appearance from spilled blood. And I stood, missed 15 minutes of the precious time for operating on other wounded in need, enduring these countless hugs and kisses.

The story of the Great Patriotic War of a front-line soldier

1 year ago, on this day, a war began that divided the history of not only our country, but the whole world into before and after. The participant of the Great Patriotic War Mark Pavlovich Ivanikhin, chairman of the Council of Veterans of War, Labor, Armed Forces and Law Enforcement Agencies of the Eastern Administrative District, tells.

– – this is the day when our life was broken in half. It was a good, bright Sunday, and suddenly war was declared, the first bombings. Everyone understood that they would have to endure a lot, 280 divisions went to our country. I have a military family, my father was a lieutenant colonel. A car immediately came for him, he took his “alarming” suitcase (this is a suitcase in which the most necessary things were always ready), and together we went to the school, I as a cadet, and my father as a teacher.

Everything changed immediately, it became clear to everyone that this war would be for a long time. Disturbing news plunged into another life, they said that the Germans were constantly moving forward. That day was clear and sunny, and in the evening mobilization had already begun.

These are my memories, boys of 18 years old. My father was 43 years old, he worked as a senior teacher at the first Moscow Artillery School named after Krasin, where I also studied. It was the first school that released officers who fought on the Katyusha into the war. I fought in the Katyusha throughout the war.

- Young inexperienced guys went under the bullets. Was it certain death?

“We still did a lot. Even at school, we all needed to pass the standard for the TRP badge (ready for work and defense). They trained almost like in the army: they had to run, crawl, swim, and they also taught how to bandage wounds, apply splints for fractures, and so on. Although we were a little ready to defend our Motherland.

I fought at the front from October 6, 1941 to April 1945. I took part in the battles for Stalingrad, and from the Kursk Bulge through Ukraine and Poland reached Berlin.

War is a terrible ordeal. It is a constant death that is near you and threatens you. Shells are exploding at your feet, enemy tanks are coming at you, flocks of German aircraft are aiming at you from above, artillery is firing. It seems that the earth turns into a small place where you have nowhere to go.

I was a commander, I had 60 people under my command. All these people need to be held accountable. And, despite the planes and tanks that are looking for your death, you need to control yourself and keep soldiers, sergeants and officers in the hands. This is difficult to do.

I can't forget the Majdanek concentration camp. We liberated this death camp, we saw emaciated people: skin and bones. And I especially remember the kids with cut hands, they took blood all the time. We saw bags of human scalps. We saw the chambers of torture and experiments. What to hide, it caused hatred for the enemy.

I still remember that we went into a recaptured village, saw a church, and the Germans set up a stable in it. I had soldiers from all the cities of the Soviet Union, even from Siberia, many of their fathers died in the war. And these guys said: “We will reach Germany, we will kill the Fritz families, and we will burn their houses.” And so we entered the first German city, the soldiers broke into the house of a German pilot, saw a Frau and four small children. Do you think someone touched them? None of the soldiers did anything bad to them. The Russian person is outgoing.

All the German cities that we passed remained intact, with the exception of Berlin, where there was strong resistance.

I have four orders. Order of Alexander Nevsky, which he received for Berlin; Order of the Patriotic War of the 1st degree, two Orders of the Patriotic War of the 2nd degree. Also a medal for military merit, a medal for the victory over Germany, for the defense of Moscow, for the defense of Stalingrad, for the liberation of Warsaw and for the capture of Berlin. These are the main medals, and there are about fifty of them in total. All of us who survived the war years want one thing - peace. And so that the people who won the victory were valuable.

Photo by Yulia Makoveychuk

This is a touching and tragic date for every family of our great nation.

The cruel and terrible events in which our grandfathers and great-grandfathers participated go far into history.
Fighting soldiers on the battlefield. In the rear, they spared no effort for the Great Victory, both old and young.
And how many children stood up to defend their homeland on a par with adults? What feats did they perform?
Tell and read stories, stories, books to children about the Great Patriotic War of 1941-1945.
Our descendants must know who protected them from fascism. Know the truth about the terrible war.
On the holiday of May 9, visit a monument or monument that is in your city, lay flowers. It will be touching if you and your child mark the event with a moment of silence.
Pay your child's attention to the awards of war veterans, which are becoming less and less every year. From the bottom of my heart, congratulate the veterans on the Great Victory Day.
It is important to remember that each of their gray hairs keeps all the horror and wounds of this terrible war.

"No one is forgotten and nothing is forgotten"

Dedicated to the Great Victory!

BUTsecond: Ilgiz Garayev

I was born and raised in a peaceful land. I know well how noisy spring thunderstorms are, but I have never heard the thunder of guns.

I see how new houses are being built, but I did not suspect how easily houses are destroyed under a hail of bombs and shells.

I know how dreams end, but I find it hard to believe that a human life is as easy to end as a cheerful morning dream.

Nazi Germany, violating the non-aggression pact, invaded the territory of the Soviet Union.

And in order not to end up in fascist slavery, for the sake of saving the Motherland, the people entered into a fight, a mortal fight with an insidious, cruel and merciless enemy.

Then the Great Patriotic War for the honor and independence of our Motherland began.

Millions of people rose to defend the country.

Infantrymen and gunners, tankers and pilots, sailors and signalmen fought and won in the war - soldiers of many and many military specialties, entire regiments, divisions, ships for the heroism of their soldiers were awarded military orders, received honorary titles.

When the flames of war raged, together with the entire Soviet people, cities and villages, farms and auls rose to defend their homeland. Anger and hatred for the vile enemy, an indomitable desire to do everything to defeat him filled the hearts of people.

Every day of the Great Patriotic War at the front and in the rear is a feat of boundless courage and steadfastness of the Soviet people, loyalty to the Motherland.

"Everything for the front, everything for the Victory!"

In the harsh days of the war, children stood next to the adults. Schoolchildren earned money for the defense fund, collected warm clothes for front-line soldiers, were on duty on rooftops during air raids, gave concerts in front of wounded soldiers in hospitals. Fascist barbarians destroyed and burned 1710 cities and more than 70 thousand villages and villages, destroyed 84 thousand schools, displaced 25 million people from their homes.

Concentration death camps have become an ominous symbol of the bestial appearance of fascism.

In Buchenwald, 56 thousand people were killed, in Dachau - 70 thousand, in Mauthausen - more than 122 thousand, in Majdanek - the number of victims was about 1 million 500 thousand people, in Auschwitz more than 4 million people died.

If the memory of every person who died in the Second World War was honored with a minute of silence, it would take 38 years.

The enemy spared neither women nor children.

May Day 1945. Familiar and unfamiliar people hugged each other, gave flowers, sang and danced right on the streets. It seemed that for the first time millions of adults and children raised their eyes to the sun, for the first time enjoyed the colors, sounds, smells of life!

It was a common holiday of all our people, all mankind. It was a holiday for everyone. Because the victory over fascism marked a victory over death, reason over madness, happiness over suffering.

In almost every family, someone died, went missing, died of wounds.

Every year, the events of the Great Patriotic War go further into the depths of history. But for those who fought, who drank the bitterness of retreat and the joy of our great victories with a full cup, these events will never be erased from memory, they will forever remain alive and close. It seemed that it was simply impossible to survive in the midst of heavy fire, not to lose one's mind at the sight of the death of thousands of people and the monstrous destruction.

But the power of the human spirit turned out to be stronger than metal and fire.

That is why, with such deepest respect and admiration, we look at those who went through the hell of war and retained the best human qualities - kindness, compassion and mercy.

It's been 66 years since Victory Day. But we have not forgotten about those 1418 days and nights that the Great Patriotic War continued.

It claimed almost 26 million lives of Soviet people. During these endlessly long four years, our long-suffering land was washed by streams of blood and tears. And if we were to gather together the bitter motherly tears shed over the dead sons, then the Sea of ​​Sorrow would form, and the rivers of Suffering would flow from it to all corners of the planet.

We, the modern generation, value the future of the planet. Our task is to protect the world, to fight so that people are not killed, shots are not fired, human blood is not shed.

The sky should be blue, the sun should be bright, warm, kind and gentle, people's lives should be safe and happy.

party dress

This was before the start of the war with the Nazis.

Katya Izvekova was given a new dress by her parents. The dress is elegant, silk, weekend.

Katya did not have time to update the gift. The war broke out. The dress is left hanging in the closet. Katya thought: the war will end, so she will put on her evening dress.

Nazi planes bombed Sevastopol from the air without ceasing.

Sevastopol went underground, into the rocks.

Military warehouses, headquarters, schools, kindergartens, hospitals, repair shops, even a cinema, even hairdressers - all this crashed into stones, into mountains.

Sevastopol residents also organized two military factories underground.

Katya Izvekova began to work on one of them. The plant produced mortars, mines, grenades. Then he began to master the production of aerial bombs for Sevastopol pilots.

Everything was found in Sevastopol for such production: both explosives and metal for the hull, even fuses were found. There isn't just one. Gunpowder, with which the bombs were blown up, had to be poured into bags made of natural silk.

They began to look for silk for bags. We went to various warehouses.

For one:

There is no natural silk.

On the second:

There is no natural silk.

Went to the third, fourth, fifth.

There is no natural silk anywhere.

And suddenly... Katya appears. Ask Katya:

Well, did you find it?

Found, - answers Katya.

That's right, the girl has a bundle in her hands.

Unfolded Katya's package. They look: in a bundle - a dress. The same. Day off. Made from natural silk.

That's it Katya!

Thanks, Kate!

They cut Katino's dress at the factory. Sewed bags. They poured gunpowder. They put bags in bombs. They sent bombs to the pilots at the airfield.

Following Katya, other workers brought their weekend dresses to the factory. Now there are no interruptions in the work of the plant. The bomb is ready for the bomb.

Pilots take to the skies. Like the bombs are on target.

bul bul

Fighting in Stalingrad does not subside. The Nazis are rushing to the Volga.

Some fascist pissed off Sergeant Noskov. Our trenches and the Nazis here passed side by side. Speech is heard from trench to trench.

The fascist sits in his shelter, shouting:

Rus, tomorrow bul-bul!

That is, he wants to say that tomorrow the Nazis will break through to the Volga, throw the defenders of Stalingrad into the Volga.

Rus, tomorrow bul-bul. - And clarifies: - Bul-bul at Volga.

This "boom-boo" is getting on the nerves of Sergeant Noskov.

Others are calm. Some of the soldiers even chuckle. And Noskov:

Eka, damn Fritz! Yes, show yourself. Let me take a look at you.

The Hitlerite just leaned out. Noskov looked, other soldiers looked. Reddish. Ospovat. Ears up. The cap on the crown miraculously holds.

The fascist leaned out and again:

Bool-boo!

One of our soldiers grabbed a rifle. He jumped up and took aim.

Don't touch! Noskov said sternly.

The soldier looked at Noskov in surprise. Shrugged. Pulled out the rifle.

Until the very evening, the eared German croaked: “Rus, tomorrow bul-bul. Tomorrow at Volga.

By evening, the fascist soldier fell silent.

“He fell asleep,” they understood in our trenches. Gradually, our soldiers began to doze. Suddenly they see someone starting to crawl out of the trench. They look - Sergeant Noskov. And behind him is his best friend, Private Turyanchik. My friends-friends got out of the trench, clung to the ground, crawled to the German trench.

The soldiers woke up. They are perplexed. Why did Noskov and Turyanchik suddenly go to visit the Nazis? The soldiers look there, to the west, their eyes break in the dark. The soldiers began to worry.

But someone said:

Brothers, crawl back.

The second confirmed:

That's right, they're coming back.

The soldiers peered - right. Creep, hugging the ground, friends. Just not two of them. Three. The fighters took a closer look: the third fascist soldier, the same one - "bul-bul". He just doesn't crawl. Noskov and Turyanchik drag him. A gag in the soldier's mouth.

Friends of the screamer were dragged into the trench. We rested and went on to the headquarters.

However, the road fled to the Volga. They grabbed the fascist by the hands, by the neck, they dipped him into the Volga.

Bool bool, bool bool! - shouts mischievously Turyanchik.

Bul-bool, - the fascist blows bubbles. Shaking like an aspen leaf.

Don't be afraid, don't be afraid, - said Noskov. - Russian does not beat a lying person.

The soldiers handed over the prisoner to the headquarters.

He waved goodbye to the fascist Noskov.

Bull-bull, - said Turyanchik, saying goodbye.

Special mission

The assignment was unusual. It was called special. The commander of the marine brigade, Colonel Gorpischenko, said:

The task is unusual. Special. - Then he asked again: - Do you understand?

I understand, Comrade Colonel, - answered the foreman-infantryman - senior over the group of scouts.

He was called to the colonel alone. He returned to his comrades. He chose two to help, said:

Get ready. We had a special task.

However, what kind of special, while the foreman did not say.

It was a new one, 1942. It is clear to scouts: on such and such a night, of course, the task is super-special. Scouts go for the foreman, talking:

Maybe a raid on the Nazi headquarters?

Take it higher, - the foreman smiles.

Maybe we'll capture the general?

Higher, higher, - the elder laughs.

Scouts crossed at night to the territory occupied by the Nazis, moved inland. They walk carefully, stealthily.

Scouts again:

Maybe the bridge, like partisans, are going to blow up?

Maybe we will carry out a sabotage at the fascist airfield?

Look at the elder. The elder smiles.

Night. Darkness. Silence. Deafness. Scouts are coming in the fascist rear. They went down the slope. They climbed the mountain. We entered the pine forest. Crimean pines clung to the stones. It smelled nice of pine. The soldiers remembered their childhood.

The foreman approached one of the pines. I walked around, looked, even felt the branches with my hand.

Good?

Good, say the scouts.

I saw another one nearby.

This one is better?

It seems better, - the scouts nodded.

Fluffy?

Fluffy.

Slim?

Slim!

Well, to the point, - said the foreman. He took out an ax and cut down a pine tree. "That's all," said the foreman. He put the pine tree on his shoulders. - Here we are done with the task.

Here they are, - escaped from the scouts.

The next day, the scouts were released into the city, to the New Year tree to the children in the children's preschool underground garden.

There was a pine. Slim. Fluffy. Balls, garlands hang on a pine tree, multi-colored lanterns burn.

You ask: why is it a pine, not a Christmas tree? Christmas trees do not grow in those latitudes. And in order to get a pine tree, it was necessary to get to the rear of the Nazis.

Not only here, but also in other places of Sevastopol, New Year trees were lit in that difficult year for children.

Apparently, not only in the brigade of marines under Colonel Gorpischenko, but also in other units, the task for scouts on that New Year's eve was special.

gardeners

It was shortly before the Battle of Kursk. Reinforcements arrived in the infantry unit.

The foreman walked around the fighters. Walks along the line. Next comes the corporal. Holds a pencil and notebook in his hands.

The foreman looked at the first of the fighters:

Can you plant potatoes?

The fighter was embarrassed, shrugged his shoulders.

Can you plant potatoes?

I can! the soldier said loudly.

Two steps forward.

The soldier is out of order.

Write to the gardeners, - said the foreman to the corporal.

Can you plant potatoes?

Haven't tried.

Didn't have to, but if needed...

Enough, said the sergeant.

The fighters stepped forward. Anatoliy Skurko found himself in the ranks of able-bodied soldiers. The soldier Skurko wonders: where are they who know how? “To plant potatoes is so late in time. (Summer has already begun to play with might and main.) If you dig it, then it’s very early in time.

The soldier Skurko is guessing. And other fighters wonder:

Plant potatoes?

Sow carrots?

Cucumbers for the staff canteen?

The foreman looked at the soldier.

Well, then, said the foreman. - From now on, you will be in the miners, - and hands mines to the soldiers.

The dashing foreman noticed that the one who knows how to plant potatoes puts mines faster and more reliably.

Soldier Skurko chuckled. Other soldiers could not help but smile.

The gardeners got to work. Of course, not immediately, not at the same moment. Planting mines is not an easy task. Soldiers have undergone special training.

Miners extended minefields and barriers for many kilometers to the north, south, west of Kursk. On the first day of the Battle of Kursk alone, more than a hundred fascist tanks and self-propelled guns were blown up in these fields and barriers.

The miners are coming.

How are you, gardeners?

Complete order in everything.

Evil last name

The soldier of his surname was shy. He was unlucky at birth. His surname is Trusov.

Military time. Surname catchy.

Already in the military registration and enlistment office, when a soldier was drafted into the army, the first question was:

Surname?

Trusov.

How how?

Trusov.

Y-yes ... - drawled the employees of the military registration and enlistment office.

The fighter got into the company.

What's the last name?

Private Trusov.

How how?

Private Trusov.

Y-yes ... - the commander drawled.

A soldier took on a lot of troubles from the surname. All around jokes and jokes:

Looks like your ancestor was not a hero.

In a wagon train with such a surname!

Will bring field mail. The soldiers will gather in a circle. Letters are being distributed. Names are called:

Kozlov! Sizov! Smirnov!

Everything is fine. Soldiers approach, take their letters.

Shout out:

Cowards!

Soldiers laugh all around.

The surname somehow does not fit with wartime. Woe to the soldier with this surname.

As part of his 149th separate rifle brigade, Private Trusov arrived near Stalingrad. The fighters were transported across the Volga to the right bank. The brigade went into action.

Well, Trusov, let's see what kind of soldier you are, - said the squad leader.

Trusov does not want to disgrace himself. Tries. Soldiers go on the attack. Suddenly, an enemy machine gun fired from the left. Trusov turned around. From the machine gave a turn. The enemy machine gun fell silent.

Well done! - praised the fighter squad leader.

The soldiers ran a few more steps. The machine gun fires again.

Now to the right. Trusov turned. I approached the machine gunner. Threw a grenade. And this fascist subsided.

Hero! the squad leader said.

The soldiers lay down. They are shooting with the Nazis. The fight is over. The soldiers of the killed enemies were counted. Twenty people ended up at the place where Private Trusov was firing.

Oh-oh! - broke out from the squad leader. - Well, brother, your surname is evil. Evil!

Trusov smiled.

For courage and determination in battle, Private Trusov was awarded a medal.

The medal "For Courage" hangs on the hero's chest. Whoever meets it will squint its eyes at the reward.

The first question for the soldier is now:

What is the award for, hero?

No one will ask again the name now. No one will giggle now. With malice, the word will not leave.

From now on, it is clear to the fighter: the honor of a soldier is not in the surname - the deeds of a person are painted.

Unusual operation

Mokapka Zyablov was amazed. Something strange was going on at the station. The boy lived with his grandfather and grandmother near the town of Sudzhi in a small workers' settlement at the Lokinskaya station. He was the son of a hereditary railway worker.

Mokapka liked to hang around the station for hours. Especially these days. One by one trains come here. Bringing military equipment. Mokapka knows that our troops beat the Nazis near Kursk. Chasing enemies to the west. Although small, but with the mind of Mokapka, he sees that trains are coming here. He understands: it means that here, in these places, a further offensive is planned.

Trains are coming, locomotives are puffing. Soldiers unload military cargo.

Mokapka was spinning somehow near the tracks. He sees: a new echelon has arrived. Tanks are on platforms. Lot. The boy began to count the tanks. Looked closely - and they are wooden. How to fight them?!

The boy rushed to his grandmother.

Wooden, - whispers, - tanks.

Really? Grandma threw up her hands. Rushed to grandfather:

Wooden, grandfather, tanks. Raised the old eyes on the grandson. The boy ran to the station. Looks: the train is coming again. The composition stopped. Mokapka looked - the guns are on the platforms. Lot. No less than there were tanks.

Mokapka took a closer look - after all, the guns are also, in any way, wooden! Instead of trunks - round timbers stick out.

The boy rushed to his grandmother.

Wooden, - whispers, - guns.

Really? .. - Grandma threw up her hands. Rushed to grandfather:

Wooden, grandfather, guns.

Something new, - said the grandfather.

A lot of incomprehensible things were going on at the station then. Arrived somehow boxes with shells. Mountains have grown of these boxes. Satisfied Mockup:

Great pour our fascists!

And suddenly he finds out: empty boxes at the station. “Why such-and-such and whole mountains?!” - guesses the boy.

And here is something completely incomprehensible. Troops are coming. Lot. The column hurries after the column. They go in the open, they come in the dark.

The boy has an easy temper. I got to know the soldiers right away. Until dark, everything was spinning around. In the morning he again runs to the soldiers. And then he finds out: the soldiers left these places at night.

Mockapka is standing, guessing again.

Mokapka did not know that ours used a military trick under Sudzha.

The Nazis are conducting reconnaissance from aircraft for the Soviet troops. They see: trains come to the station, they bring tanks, they bring guns.

The Nazis also notice mountains of boxes with shells. They detect that troops are moving here. Lot. A column follows a column. The Nazis see how the troops are approaching, but the enemy does not know that they are leaving unnoticed from here at night.

It is clear to the fascists: this is where a new Russian offensive is being prepared! Here, under the city of Sudzha. They pulled troops under Suju, weakened their forces in other areas. They just pulled it off - and then a blow! However, not under Suja. Ours struck elsewhere. Again they defeated the Nazis. And soon they completely defeated them in the Battle of Kursk.

Vyazma

The fields near Vyazma are free. Hills run to the sky.

Words from were not thrown out. Near the city of Vyazma, a large group of Soviet troops was surrounded by the enemy. Satisfied fascists.

Hitler himself, the leader of the Nazis, calls the front:

Surrounded?

That's right, our Fuhrer, - the fascist generals report.

Did you lay down your weapons?

The generals are silent.

Did you lay down your weapons?

Here's a brave one.

No. I dare to report, my Fuhrer ... - The General wanted to say something.

However, Hitler was distracted by something. The speech broke off in mid-sentence.

For several days now, being surrounded, Soviet soldiers have been waging stubborn battles. They shackled the fascists. The fascist offensive breaks down. Enemies got stuck near Vyazma.

Again Hitler calls from Berlin:

Surrounded?

That's right, our Fuhrer, the fascist generals report.

Did you lay down your weapons?

The generals are silent.

Did you lay down your weapons?

Terrible abuse rushed from the tube.

I dare to report, my Fuhrer, - the brave one is trying to say something. - Our Frederick the Great also said...

Days pass again. Fighting near Vyazma does not subside. Stuck, stuck enemies near Vyazma.

Vyazma knits them, knits them. Grabbed by the throat!

In anger the great Fuhrer. Another call from Berlin.

Did you lay down your weapons?

The generals are silent.

Have you laid down your weapons?

No, the brave is responsible for all.

Again, a stream of bad words sprayed out. The membrane in the tube danced.

Shut up the general. Waited it out. Caught a moment:

I dare to report, my Fuhrer, our great, our wise King Friedrich also said ...

Listening to Hitler:

Well, well, what did our Friedrich say?

Frederick the Great said, repeated the general, Russians must be shot twice. And then another push, my Fuhrer, so that they fall.

The Fuhrer muttered something indistinct into the receiver. Berlin wire disconnected.

For a whole week, the fighting did not subside near Vyazma. The week was invaluable for Moscow. During these days, the defenders of Moscow managed to gather their strength and prepared convenient lines for defense.

The fields near Vyazma are free. Hills run to the sky. Here in the fields, on the hills near Vyazma, hundreds of heroes lie. Here, defending Moscow, the Soviet people accomplished a great feat of arms.

Remember!

Keep the bright memory of them!

General Zhukov

Army General Georgy Konstantinovich Zhukov was appointed commander of the Western Front - the front, which included most of the troops defending Moscow.

Zhukov arrived on the Western Front. The staff officers report the combat situation to him.

Fighting is going on near the city of Yukhnov, near Medyn, near Kaluga.

Officers are found on the map of Yukhnov.

Here, - they report, - near Yukhnov, west of the city ... - and they report where and how the fascist troops are located near the city of Yukhnov.

No, no, they are not here, but here, - Zhukov corrects the officers and himself indicates the places where the Nazis are at this time.

The officers exchanged glances. They look at Zhukov in surprise.

Here, here, right here in this place. Don't hesitate, says Zhukov.

The officers continue to report the situation.

Here, - they find the city of Medyn on the map, - to the north-west of the city, the enemy concentrated large forces, - and they list what forces: tanks, artillery, mechanized divisions ...

So, so, right, - says Zhukov. “Only the forces are not here, but here,” Zhukov clarifies on the map.

Again the officers look at Zhukov in surprise. They forgot about the further report, about the map.

The staff officers bent over the map again. They report to Zhukov what the combat situation is near the city of Kaluga.

Here, - the officers say, - south of Kaluga, the enemy pulled up the motorized unit. Here they are at this moment.

No, Zhukov objected. - Not in this place they are now. That's where the pieces moved - and shows the new location on the map.

Staff officers were dumbfounded. They look at the new commander with undisguised surprise. Zhukov caught the distrust in the eyes of the officers. He chuckled.

Do not doubt. Everything is exactly like that. You are great - you know the situation, Zhukov praised the staff officers. - But I'm more precise.

It turns out that General Zhukov has already visited Yukhnov, and Medyn, and Kaluga. Before going to headquarters, I went straight to the battlefield. Here's where the exact information comes from.

General and then Marshal of the Soviet Union Georgy Konstantinovich Zhukov, an outstanding Soviet commander, hero of the Great Patriotic War, took part in many battles. It was under his leadership and under the leadership of other Soviet generals that the Soviet troops defended Moscow from enemies. And then, in stubborn battles, they defeated the Nazis in the Great Battle of Moscow.

Moscow sky

It was before the start of the Moscow battle.

Hitler dreamed in Berlin. Guessing: what to do with Moscow? He suffers - to make such an unusual, original. Thought, thought...

Hitler came up with this. Decided to flood Moscow with water. Build huge dams around Moscow. Pour water over the city and all living things.

Everything will perish at once: people, houses and the Moscow Kremlin!

He closed his eyes. He sees: in the place of Moscow, the bottomless sea splashes!

Descendants will remember me!

Then I thought: “Uh, until the water runs…”

Wait?!

No, he does not agree to wait a long time.

Destroy now! This minute!

Hitler thought, and here is the order:

Bomb Moscow! Destroy! Shells! Bombs! Send squadrons! Send armada! Leave no stone unturned! Flatten to the ground!

He threw his hand forward like a sword:

Destroy! Flatten to the ground!

So for sure, raze to the ground, - the fascist generals froze in readiness.

On July 22, 1941, exactly one month after the start of the war, the Nazis made the first air raid on Moscow.

Immediately 200 aircraft were sent to this raid by the Nazis. The engines hum.

The pilots collapsed in their seats. Moscow is getting closer, getting closer. Fascist pilots reached out to the bomb levers.

But what is it?! Powerful searchlights crossed in the sky with knives-swords. Red-star Soviet fighters rose to meet the air robbers.

The Nazis did not expect such a meeting. The ranks of the enemies were disorganized. Only a few planes then broke through to Moscow. Yes, they were in a hurry. They threw bombs wherever they had to, as soon as possible to drop them and run away from here.

Harsh Moscow sky. The uninvited guest is severely punished. 22 aircraft shot down.

Y-yes ... - stretched out the fascist generals.

Thought. We decided now to send planes not all at once, not in a bunch, but in small groups.

The Bolsheviks will be punished!

The next day, again 200 aircraft fly to Moscow. They fly in small groups - three or four cars in each.

And again they were met by Soviet anti-aircraft gunners, again they were driven off by red star fighters.

For the third time, the Nazis send planes to Moscow. Hitler's generals were not stupid, inventive. The generals came up with a new plan. It is necessary to send planes in three tiers, they decided. Let one group of planes fly low from the ground. The second is a little higher. And the third - and at high altitude, and a little late. The first two groups will divert the attention of the defenders of the Moscow sky, the generals argue, and at this time, at a high altitude, the third group will quietly approach the city, and the pilots will drop bombs right on target.

And here again, fascist planes are in the sky. The pilots collapsed in their seats. Motors hum. The bombs froze in the hatches.

A group is coming. Behind her is the second. And a little behind, at a high altitude, the third. The very last plane flies a special one, with cameras. He will take a picture of how the fascist planes are destroyed in Moscow, he will bring it for show to the generals ...

The generals are waiting for news. Here comes the first plane. Motors stalled. The screws have stopped. The pilots got out. Pale-pale. Barely on their feet.

Fifty planes were lost that day by the Nazis. The photographer did not return either. They killed him on the way.

The Moscow sky is impregnable. It severely punishes enemies. The insidious calculation of the Nazis collapsed.

The Nazis and their possessed Fuhrer dreamed of destroying Moscow to the ground, to the stone. And what happened?

Red Square

The enemy is nearby. Soviet troops left Volokolamsk and Mozhaisk. In some sectors of the front, the Nazis approached Moscow even closer. Fights are going on at Naro-Fominsk, Serpukhov and Tarusa.

But as always, on this dear day for all citizens of the Soviet Union, in Moscow, on Red Square, a military parade was held in honor of the great holiday.

When the soldier Mitrokhin was told that the unit in which he serves would take part in the parade on Red Square, the soldier did not believe at first. He decided that he was mistaken, misheard, misunderstood something.

Parade! - the commander explains to him. - Solemn, on Red Square.

That's right, the parade, - Mitrokhin answers. However, in the eyes of disbelief.

And now Mitrokhin froze in the ranks. It stands on Red Square. And to the left are the troops. And on the right are the troops. Party leaders and members of the government at the Lenin Mausoleum. Everything is exactly the same as in the old peacetime.

Only a rarity for this day - from the snow it is white all around. The frost hit early today. It snowed all night until morning. He whitewashed the Mausoleum, lay down on the walls of the Kremlin, on the square.

8 am. The hands of the clock on the Kremlin tower converged.

The chimes struck time.

Minute. Everything is quiet. The parade commander gave the traditional report. The host of the parade congratulates the troops on the anniversary of the Great October Revolution. Everything was quiet again. Another minute. And now, quietly at first, and then louder and louder are the words of Comrade Stalin, Chairman of the State Defense Committee, Supreme Commander of the Armed Forces of the USSR.

Stalin says that this is not the first time that enemies have attacked us. What were in the history of the young Soviet Republic and more difficult times. That we celebrated the first anniversary of the Great October Revolution surrounded on all sides by invaders. That 14 capitalist states fought against us then and we lost three-quarters of our territory. But the Soviet people believed in victory. And they won. They will win now.

The whole world is looking at you, - the words reach Mitrokhin, as at a force capable of destroying the predatory hordes of German invaders.

The soldiers froze in the ranks.

The great liberation mission fell to your lot - words fly through the frost. - Be worthy of this mission!

Mitrokhin pulled himself up. His face became more severe, more serious, stricter.

The war you are waging is a war of liberation, a just war. - And after that, Stalin said: - Let the courageous image of our great ancestors - Alexander Nevsky, Dmitry Donskoy, Kuzma Minin, Dmitry Pozharsky, Alexander Suvorov, Mikhail Kutuzov inspire you in this war! May the victorious banner of the great Lenin overshadow you!

Beats fascists. Moscow stands and blooms as before. Gets better from year to year.

Crossing case

We had one soldier in our company. Before the war, he studied at the Institute of Music and played the button accordion so wonderfully that one of the soldiers once said:

Brothers, this is an incomprehensible deception! There must be some kind of clever mechanism hidden in this box! Here to see...

Please, - answered the accordion player. - It's time for me to glue the bellows.

And in front of everyone, he dismantled the instrument.

Chu-yu, - the fighter drawled disappointedly. - Empty, like in a spent cartridge case ...

Inside the button accordion, between two wooden boxes connected by a leather accordion fur, it was really empty. Only on the side plates, where the button-buttons are located on the outside, were wide metal plates with holes of different sizes. Behind each hole is a narrow copper strip-petal. When the fur is stretched, air passes through the holes and vibrates the copper petals. And they sound. Thin - high. Thicker - lower, and thick petals seem to sing in bass. If the musician stretches the bellows too much, the records sound loud. If the air is blown weakly, the plates vibrate a little, and the music turns out to be quiet, quiet. That's all miracles!

And the fingers of our accordionist were a real miracle. Surprisingly played, do not say anything!

And this amazing ability has helped us more than once in difficult front-line life.

Our accordion player will raise your mood in time, and warms you in the cold - makes you dance, and inspires courage in the depressed, and makes you remember your pre-war happy youth: native lands, mothers and loved ones. And one day...

One evening, by order of the command, we changed combat positions. It was ordered not to engage in battle with the Germans in any case. On our way, a not very wide, but deep river flowed with a single ford, which we used. The commander and radio operator remained on the other side, they were finishing the communication session. They were cut off by the suddenly descending fascist submachine gunners. And although the Germans did not know that ours were on their shore, they kept the crossing under fire, and there was no way to cross the ford. And when night fell, the Germans began to illuminate the ford with rockets. Needless to say, the situation seemed hopeless.

Suddenly, our accordion player, without saying a word, takes out his button accordion and starts playing "Katyusha".

The Germans were taken aback at first. Then they came to their senses and brought down heavy fire on our shore. And the accordion player suddenly broke off the chord and fell silent. The Germans stopped firing. One of them yelled happily: “Rus, Rus, kaput, boyan!”

And no kaput happened to the accordion player. Luring the Germans, he crawled along the coast away from the crossing and again began to play the fervent "Katyusha".

The Germans accepted this challenge. They began to pursue the musician, and therefore left the ford without lighting rockets for several minutes.

The commander and the radio operator immediately realized why our button accordion player started a “musical” game with the Germans, and, without delay, slipped through the ford to the other side.

These are the cases that happened with our bayanist soldier and his friend the button accordion, by the way, named after the ancient Russian singer Boyan.