Born on June 23, 1920 in the village of Monastyrshchino (now Kimovsky district of the Tula region). He spent his childhood and youth in Moscow. In 1935 he graduated from the 8th grade of school, in 1937 - the Moscow Chemical College. In 1937-1938 worked as a master chemist at chemical plant No. 7. In 1938 he graduated from the Dzerzhinsky flying club of Moscow. Since December 1938 in the ranks of the Red Army. In 1940 he graduated from the Borisoglebsk Military Aviation Pilot School. He served as a pilot in a reserve air regiment (Kharkov Military District) and as a flight commander in a fighter air regiment (Kiev Special Military District).

Since August 1941, Lieutenant S.D. Gorelov served on the fronts of the Great Patriotic War. He began his combat career as a flight commander of the 165th IAP. Flew I-16, I-153, LaGG-3. In September 1941, he was wounded by a shrapnel in his right leg, and in February 1942, by a shrapnel in his right eyebrow. In September 1942 he graduated from the Poltava advanced training courses for navigators.

From November 1942 - deputy commander and squadron commander of the 13th IAP (on August 24, 1943, transformed into the 111th Guards IAP). Flew La-5 and La-7. In October 1943 he was wounded in the left leg.

By July 1944, the deputy squadron commander of the 111th Guards Fighter Aviation Regiment (10th Guards Fighter Aviation Division, 2nd Air Army, 1st Ukrainian Front) of the Guard, Captain S. D. Gorelov, made 214 combat missions, in 47 air In battles, he personally shot down 24 and 1 enemy aircraft in the group. By decree of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the USSR dated October 26, 1944, he was awarded the title of Hero of the Soviet Union with the Order of Lenin and the Gold Star medal (No. 4495).

By May 1945, Guard Major S.D. Gorelov had completed 312 combat missions, conducted 60 air battles, in which he personally shot down 27 enemy aircraft and 1 as part of a group. He fought on the Reserve, Western, Southwestern, Bryansk, Stalingrad, Southern, North Caucasus, Voronezh, 1st Ukrainian, 4th Ukrainian fronts.

After the end of the war he continued to serve in the Air Force. Until August 1948, he continued to command a squadron (in the Carpathian Military District). In 1952 he graduated from the Air Force Academy (in Monino). Commanded a fighter aviation regiment (in the Central Group of Forces, Austria; from September 1955 - in the Belarusian Military District, Brest Region). From November 1955 to December 1957 - commander of the 66th Fighter Aviation Division (in Romania).

In 1959 he graduated from the Military Academy of the General Staff. From October 1959 to July 1961 - commander of the 275th IAD (in the Southern Group of Forces; Hungary). Since 1961 - Deputy Commander of the 48th Air Army for combat training (in the Odessa Military District), in 1962-1967. - 1st Deputy Commander of the 57th Air Army (in the Carpathian Military District). From November 1967 to June 1969 - on a foreign assignment in Egypt (senior military adviser to the commander of the Air Force).

From June 1969 to January 1977 - commander of the 14th Air Army (in the Carpathian Military District). In 1971 he graduated from the Higher Academic Courses at the Military Academy of the General Staff. From January 1977 to November 1980 - Deputy Commander-in-Chief of the Air Force for military educational institutions. From January 1981 to September 1987 - consultant at the Air Force Academy (in Monino). Since September 1987, Colonel General of Aviation S.D. Gorelov has been retired. He worked as a chief air force specialist at the Energia Rocket and Space Corporation. S. P. Koroleva. Lived in Moscow. He died on December 22, 2009, and was buried at Troekurovskoye Cemetery. In Moscow, a memorial plaque was installed on the house in which he lived.

Awarded orders: Lenin (10/26/1944, 10/11/1974), Red Banner (02/27/1943, 09/28/1943, 09/11/1944, 05/22/1945, 05/16/1947, 12/06/1955, 09/28/1956), Alexander a Nevsky (29.06 .1945), Patriotic War 1st degree (04/27/1943, 03/11/1985), Red Star (11/05/1954); medals, foreign awards.

* * *
List of famous aerial victories of S. D. Gorelov:

Date	Enemy	Plane crash site or air combat	Your own plane
05.02.1942	1 Khsh-126	Western Front	LaGG-3
20.02.1943	1 Me-110	Greko-Timofeevo	La-5
22.02.1943	1 FV-189 (in gr. 1/4)	Marfinskaya
	1 Xe-111	Column No. 3
22.03.1943	1 FV-189	Novopavlovo
20.04.1943	1 Me-109	southeast of Novorossiysk
21.04.1943	1 Xe-111	Myskhako
23.04.1943	1 FV-190	Tsemes Bay
03.08.1943	1 Me-109	Belgorod
04.08.1943	1 Me-109	Tomarovka
	1 FV-190	Pokrovka
05.08.1943	1 Yu-88	Tolokonovo
	1 Yu-88	Zhuravlyovka
06.08.1943	1 Me-109	Stanovoe
12.08.1943	1 Xe-111	Dergachi - Sennoye
	1 FV-190
16.08.1943	1 Me-109	Bogodukhov
05.10.1943	1 FV-190	Zarubentsy
09.10.1943	1 FV-190	Shandra
10.10.1943	1 FV-190	Shchuchino
	1 Me-190	White church
14.10.1943	1 Yu-87	Shandra
21.10.1943	1 Xe-111	Zarubentsy
22.10.1943	2 Yu-87	Zarubentsy - Grigorovka district
15.04.1945	1 Me-109	east of Troppau	La-7
16.04.1945	1 Me-109	Darnowice
22.04.1945	1 Me-109	Velna - Polos
Total aircraft shot down - 27 + 1; combat sorties - 312; air battles - 60.

From photographic materials from different years:

From the materials of the magazine "AviaMaster" (No. 8 - 2005):

Gorelov Sergey Dmitrievich - deputy commander of the air squadron of the 111th Guards Fighter Aviation Regiment (10th Guards Fighter Aviation Division, 10th Fighter Aviation Corps, 2nd Air Army, 1st Ukrainian Front), guard captain.

Born on June 23, 1920 in the village of Monastyrshchino, Kulikovsky volost, Epifansky district, Tula province (now Kimovsky district, Tula region). Russian. He spent his childhood and youth in Moscow. In 1935 he graduated from the 8th grade of school, in 1937 he graduated from the Moscow Chemical College. In 1937-1938 he worked as a master chemist at chemical plant No. 7 in Moscow. In 1938 he graduated from the Dzerzhinsky Aero Club of Moscow.

In the army since December 1938. In 1940 he graduated from the Borisoglebsk Military Aviation Pilot School. He served in the Air Force as a pilot of a reserve aviation regiment (in the Kharkov Military District) and as a flight commander of a fighter aviation regiment (in the Kiev Special Military District).

Participant of the Great Patriotic War: in August 1941 - February 1942 - flight commander of the 165th Fighter Aviation Regiment. He fought on the Reserve (August-October 1941), Western (November 1941), Southwestern (November-December 1941) and Bryansk (December 1941 - February 1942) fronts. Participated in the Battle of Smolensk, the Yelets operation and battles in the Oryol direction. In September 1941, he was wounded by a shrapnel in his right leg, and in February 1942, by a shrapnel in his right eyebrow.

In September 1942, he graduated from the Poltava advanced courses for navigators, who were evacuated in the city of Voroshilovsk (now Stavropol).

In November 1942 - May 1945 - deputy commander and commander of the air squadron of the 13th (from August 1943 - 111th Guards) Fighter Aviation Regiment. He fought in Stalingrad (November 1942 - January 1943), South (January-April 1943), North Caucasus (April-May 1943), Voronezh (July-October 1943), 1st (October 1943 - August 1944) and 4th m (August 1944 - May 1945) Ukrainian fronts.

Participated in the Battle of Stalingrad, the Rostov operation, the air battle in the Kuban, the Battle of Kursk and the battle for the Dnieper, the Proskurov-Chernivtsi, Lvov-Sandomierz, West Carpathian, Moravian-Ostrava and Prague operations. In October 1943 he was wounded in the left leg.

In total, during the war he made 322 combat missions on LaGG-3, La-5 and La-7 fighters, in 60 air battles he personally shot down 27 and 2 enemy aircraft as part of a group.

For courage and heroism shown in battles with the Nazi invaders, by Decree of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the USSR of October 26, 1944, to Guard Captain Gorelov Sergei Dmitrievich awarded the title of Hero of the Soviet Union with the Order of Lenin and the Gold Star medal.

After the war, until August 1948, he continued to command an air squadron of a fighter aviation regiment (in the Carpathian Military District).

In 1952 he graduated from the Air Force Academy (Monino). Commanded a fighter aviation regiment (in the Central Group of Forces, Austria; from September 1955 - in the Belarusian Military District, Brest Region). In November 1955 - December 1957 - commander of the 66th Fighter Aviation Division (in Romania).

In 1959 he graduated from the Military Academy of the General Staff. In October 1959 - July 1961 - commander of the 275th Fighter Aviation Division (in the Southern Group of Forces; Hungary). From 1961 - Deputy Commander of the 48th Air Army for combat training (in the Odessa Military District), in 1962-1967 - 1st Deputy Commander of the 57th Air Army (Carpathian Military District; headquarters in Lvov, Ukraine).

In November 1967 - June 1969 he was on a business trip abroad to Egypt as a senior military adviser to the commander of the Air Force.

In June 1969 - January 1977 - commander of the 14th Air Army (in the Carpathian Military District; headquarters in Lvov, Ukraine). In 1971 he graduated from the Higher Academic Courses at the Military Academy of the General Staff. In January 1977 - November 1980 - Deputy Commander-in-Chief of the Air Force for military educational institutions. In January 1981 - September 1987 - consultant at the Yu.A. Gagarin Air Force Academy (Monino). Since September 1987, Colonel General of Aviation S.D. Gorelov has been retired.

He worked as a chief air force specialist at the Energia Rocket and Space Corporation named after S.P. Korolev.

Deputy of the Supreme Soviet of the Ukrainian SSR of the 9th convocation (in 1975-1980).

Colonel General of Aviation (1973), Honored Military Pilot of the USSR (08/16/1968). Awarded 2 Orders of Lenin (26.10.1944; 11.10.1974), 7 Orders of the Red Banner (27.02.1943; 28.09.1943; 11.09.1944; 22.05.1945; 16.05.1947; 6.12.1955; 28.09.1 ​​956), Order of Alexander Nevsky (06/29/1945), 2 Orders of the Patriotic War, 1st degree (04/27/1943; 03/11/1985), Order of the Red Star (11/5/1954), medal “For Military Merit” (06/24/1948), other foreign medals awards - the Order of the Renaissance of Poland, 5th degree (10/6/1973), the Czechoslovak War Cross (05/1/1946), and other foreign awards.

In Moscow, a memorial plaque was installed on the house in which he lived.

Notes:
1) According to the research of M.Yu. Bykov, there is documentary evidence for 27 personal and 1 group victories;
2) Awarded for performing 214 combat missions and participating in 47 air battles, in which he personally shot down 24 and as part of a group of 1 enemy aircraft (as of July 1944).

Military ranks:
Junior lieutenant (07/25/1940)
Lieutenant (02/19/1943)
Senior Lieutenant (1943)
Captain (1944)
Major (02/04/1945)
Lieutenant Colonel (04/30/1949)
Colonel (2.09.1953)
Major General of Aviation (08/27/1957)
Lieutenant General of Aviation (05/07/1966)
Colonel General of Aviation (11/4/1973)

Other countries:

Sergei Dmitrievich Gorelov(June 23 - December 22) - Colonel General of Aviation, Hero of the Soviet Union (1944).

Biography

Born on June 23, 1920 in the village of Monastyrshchina (now in the Kimovsky district of the Tula region). In 1938 he graduated from the Moscow Chemical College. He worked as a master chemist at the Moscow Chemical Plant.

Deputy squadron commander of the 111th Guards Fighter Aviation Regiment (10th Guards Fighter Aviation Division, 10th Fighter Aviation Corps, 2nd Air Army, 1st Ukrainian Front) by July 1944 had flown 214 combat missions, and personally shot down in 47 air battles 24 and in the group - 1 enemy aircraft.

In total, during the war he made 312 combat missions, in 60 air battles he shot down 27 enemy aircraft personally and as part of a group.

After the war he continued to serve in the Air Force. In 1952 he graduated from the Air Force Academy. Commanded a regiment and division. He was 1st Deputy Commander of the Air Army in the Carpathian Military District. In -1969 - senior military adviser for the Air Force in Egypt. In 1971 he graduated from the Higher Academic Courses at the Military Academy of the General Staff.

• .
• .
• Interview on the website.

An excerpt characterizing Gorelov, Sergey Dmitrievich

- We'll count! Well, did the governor have one? – Ferapontov asked. – What was the solution?
Alpatych replied that the governor did not tell him anything decisive.
- Are we going to leave on our business? - said Ferapontov. - Give me seven rubles per cart to Dorogobuzh. And I say: there is no cross on them! - he said.
“Selivanov, he got in on Thursday and sold flour to the army for nine rubles a sack.” Well, will you drink tea? - he added. While the horses were being pawned, Alpatych and Ferapontov drank tea and talked about the price of grain, the harvest and favorable weather for harvesting.
“However, it began to calm down,” said Ferapontov, drinking three cups of tea and getting up, “ours must have taken over.” They said they won't let me in. This means strength... And after all, they said, Matvey Ivanovich Platov drove them into the Marina River, drowned eighteen thousand, or something, in one day.
Alpatych collected his purchases, handed them over to the coachman who came in, and settled accounts with the owner. At the gate there was the sound of wheels, hooves and bells of a car leaving.
It was already well after noon; half the street was in the shade, the other was brightly lit by the sun. Alpatych looked out the window and went to the door. Suddenly a strange sound of a distant whistle and blow was heard, and after that there was a merging roar of cannon fire, which made the windows tremble.
Alpatych went out into the street; two people ran down the street towards the bridge. From different sides we heard whistles, impacts of cannonballs and the bursting of grenades falling in the city. But these sounds were almost inaudible and did not attract the attention of residents in comparison with the sounds of gunfire heard outside the city. It was a bombardment, which at five o'clock Napoleon ordered to open on the city, from one hundred and thirty guns. At first the people did not understand the significance of this bombing.
The sounds of falling grenades and cannonballs aroused at first only curiosity. Ferapontov’s wife, who had never stopped howling under the barn, fell silent and, with the child in her arms, went out to the gate, silently looking at the people and listening to the sounds.
The cook and the shopkeeper came out to the gate. Everyone with cheerful curiosity tried to see the shells flying over their heads. Several people came out from around the corner, talking animatedly.
- That’s power! - said one. “Both the lid and the ceiling were smashed into splinters.”
“It tore up the earth like a pig,” said another. - That’s so important, that’s how I encouraged you! – he said laughing. “Thank you, I jumped back, otherwise she would have smeared you.”
The people turned to these people. They paused and told how they got into the house near their core. Meanwhile, other shells, now with a quick, gloomy whistle - cannonballs, now with a pleasant whistling - grenades, did not stop flying over the heads of the people; but not a single shell fell close, everything was carried over. Alpatych sat down in the tent. The owner stood at the gate.
- What haven’t you seen! - he shouted at the cook, who, with her sleeves rolled up, in a red skirt, swaying with her bare elbows, came to the corner to listen to what was being said.
“What a miracle,” she said, but, hearing the owner’s voice, she returned, tugging at her tucked skirt.
Again, but very close this time, something whistled, like a bird flying from top to bottom, a fire flashed in the middle of the street, something fired and covered the street with smoke.
- Villain, why are you doing this? – the owner shouted, running up to the cook.
At the same moment, women howled pitifully from different sides, a child began to cry in fear, and people with pale faces silently crowded around the cook. From this crowd, the cook’s moans and sentences were heard most loudly:
- Oh oh oh, my darlings! My little darlings are white! Don't let me die! My white darlings!..
Five minutes later there was no one left on the street. The cook, with her thigh broken by a grenade fragment, was carried into the kitchen. Alpatych, his coachman, Ferapontov’s wife and children, and the janitor sat in the basement, listening. The roar of guns, the whistle of shells and the pitiful moan of the cook, which dominated all sounds, did not cease for a moment. The hostess either rocked and coaxed the child, or in a pitiful whisper asked everyone who entered the basement where her owner, who remained on the street, was. The shopkeeper who entered the basement told her that the owner had gone with the people to the cathedral, where they were raising the Smolensk miraculous icon.
By dusk the cannonade began to subside. Alpatych came out of the basement and stopped at the door. The previously clear evening sky was completely covered with smoke. And through this smoke the young, high-standing crescent of the month strangely shone. After the previous terrible roar of guns had ceased, there seemed silence over the city, interrupted only by the rustling of footsteps, groans, distant screams and the crackle of fires that seemed to be widespread throughout the city. The cook's moans had now died down. Black clouds of smoke from the fires rose and dispersed from both sides. On the street, not in rows, but like ants from a ruined hummock, in different uniforms and in different directions, soldiers passed and ran. In Alpatych’s eyes, several of them ran into Ferapontov’s yard. Alpatych went to the gate. Some regiment, crowded and in a hurry, blocked the street, walking back.
“They are surrendering the city, leave, leave,” the officer who noticed his figure told him and immediately shouted to the soldiers:
- I'll let you run around the yards! - he shouted.
Alpatych returned to the hut and, calling the coachman, ordered him to leave. Following Alpatych and the coachman, all of Ferapontov’s household came out. Seeing the smoke and even the fires of the fires, now visible in the beginning twilight, the women, who had been silent until then, suddenly began to cry out, looking at the fires. As if echoing them, the same cries were heard at other ends of the street. Alpatych and his coachman, with shaking hands, straightened the tangled reins and lines of the horses under the canopy.
When Alpatych was leaving the gate, he saw about ten soldiers in Ferapontov’s open shop, talking loudly, filling bags and backpacks with wheat flour and sunflowers. At the same time, Ferapontov entered the shop, returning from the street. Seeing the soldiers, he wanted to shout something, but suddenly stopped and, clutching his hair, laughed a sobbing laugh.
- Get everything, guys! Don't let the devils get you! - he shouted, grabbing the bags himself and throwing them into the street. Some soldiers, frightened, ran out, some continued to pour in. Seeing Alpatych, Ferapontov turned to him.
– I’ve made up my mind! Race! - he shouted. - Alpatych! I've decided! I'll light it myself. I decided... - Ferapontov ran into the yard.
Soldiers were constantly walking along the street, blocking it all, so that Alpatych could not pass and had to wait. The owner Ferapontova and her children were also sitting on the cart, waiting to be able to leave.
It was already quite night. There were stars in the sky and the young moon, occasionally obscured by smoke, shone. On the descent to the Dnieper, Alpatych's carts and their mistresses, moving slowly in the ranks of soldiers and other crews, had to stop. Not far from the intersection where the carts stopped, in an alley, a house and shops were burning. The fire had already burned out. The flame either died down and was lost in the black smoke, then suddenly flared up brightly, strangely clearly illuminating the faces of the crowded people standing at the crossroads. Black figures of people flashed in front of the fire, and from behind the incessant crackling of the fire, talking and screams were heard. Alpatych, who got off the cart, seeing that the cart would not let him through soon, turned into the alley to look at the fire. The soldiers were constantly snooping back and forth past the fire, and Alpatych saw how two soldiers and with them some man in a frieze overcoat were dragging burning logs from the fire across the street into the neighboring yard; others carried armfuls of hay.
Alpatych approached a large crowd of people standing in front of a tall barn that was burning with full fire. The walls were all on fire, the back one had collapsed, the plank roof had collapsed, the beams were on fire. Obviously, the crowd was waiting for the moment when the roof would collapse. Alpatych expected this too.
- Alpatych! – suddenly a familiar voice called out to the old man.
“Father, your Excellency,” answered Alpatych, instantly recognizing the voice of his young prince.
Prince Andrei, in a cloak, riding a black horse, stood behind the crowd and looked at Alpatych.
- How are you here? - he asked.
“Your... your Excellency,” said Alpatych and began to sob... “Yours, yours... or are we already lost?” Father…
- How are you here? – repeated Prince Andrei.
The flame flared up brightly at that moment and illuminated for Alpatych the pale and exhausted face of his young master. Alpatych told how he was sent and how he could forcefully leave.
- What, your Excellency, or are we lost? – he asked again.
Prince Andrei, without answering, took out a notebook and, raising his knee, began to write with a pencil on a torn sheet. He wrote to his sister:
“Smolensk is being surrendered,” he wrote, “Bald Mountains will be occupied by the enemy in a week. Leave now for Moscow. Answer me immediately when you leave, sending a messenger to Usvyazh.”
Having written and given the piece of paper to Alpatych, he verbally told him how to manage the departure of the prince, princess and son with the teacher and how and where to answer him immediately. Before he had time to finish these orders, the chief of staff on horseback, accompanied by his retinue, galloped up to him.

I was born in the village of Monastyrshchina in the bend of the Don, June 22, 1920. Soon the parents moved to Moscow. Essentially, I lived in Moscow all my life, only on vacation I went fishing in Nepryadva. He graduated from a technical school in Moscow; On a Komsomol ticket he entered the Dzerzhinsky flying club, which he graduated in 1938. After that, I was sent to study at the Borisoglebsk School, which I graduated in the early summer of 1940. The Finnish War was going on, and instead of two years we trained for only a year and a half. Naturally, after college I didn’t know how to do anything except take off and land, but it was believed that we had mastered the U-2, I-5, I-15.

In most schools, I-5s had stripped wings, so they could only be used to learn how to taxi. Our I-5s were airworthy. Well, we taxied, of course... Taxiing is terrible, you are covered in oil flying from the engine, in dust and dirt lifted from the ground by the propeller.

After several flights on the I-5, I switched to the I-15. At the school we had 5 squadrons. Three of them trained on I-16 aircraft, and two on I-15. I graduated from I-15 with the rank of junior lieutenant. Moreover, only those who did not have a single C grade were released as junior lieutenants. There were only two of us.

I was sent to Uman, where I started flying the I-153. This plane's landing gear was already retracted in flight, but it was practically no different from the I-15. At that time, this technique was considered quite decent.

From Uman we were soon transferred to Lvov, where the 165th IAP was based. At first we also flew the I-153, and then retrained on the I-16.

It must be said that the I-16 is a completely different aircraft both in aerobatics and in speed; more difficult, of course. There you need to be able to retract the landing gear - “turn the barrel organ” - and much more. Therefore, by the beginning of the war, I, like many of my peers and fellow soldiers, had practically not mastered this machine. What do you want if we just completed several dozen flights in a circle and piloted a little in the zone?! No shooting, no fighting. We fornicated terribly, we didn’t even know how to fly along the route. We were all 19-20 years old - boys!

Three regiments - about two hundred aircraft - were concentrated at the Lvov airfield. And just on my birthday, at three o’clock in the morning, they started bombing us. We all jumped up, ran to the airfield, and there... Almost all the planes were destroyed or damaged. My I-16 was no exception. When I approached him, it seemed to me that he - askew, with a broken left wing - seemed to be looking at me and asking: “Where are you walking? Why the hell are you sleeping?”

That same day we were distributed into cars and driven towards Kyiv. While driving through the Lviv region, seven people were killed in our car. Local residents shot from bell towers and attics... Before that, they hated the Soviets... And once the war began, they stopped being afraid of us.

We reached Kyiv, where we were put on a train and sent near the city of Gorky to the Seima airfield. In one month we retrained on LaGG-3. We passed the theory and flew for about 12 hours. After that, as part of the same 165th IAP, in July we were sent to Yelnya. True, the regiment was no longer of five squadrons, as in Lvov, but of three squadrons. Smolensk by that time had already been taken by the enemy. And we began to retreat to Moscow.

LaGG-3 is a heavy vehicle with poor maneuverability, although it has powerful weapons: a 20 mm cannon and two 12.7 mm machine guns. Of course, its speed is greater than that of the I-16, but it is maneuverable, it can be used to fight, and the LaGG was only good for attacking ground targets. It's made of plywood and doesn't burn; with a very strong cabin. It happened that the plane completely fell apart during landing, but the cabin was intact, which saved the pilot.

It was pointless to conduct an air battle in our vehicles. We were assigned to Il-2 attack aircraft. We had to cover them. How? With our own planes, there is nothing else. They flew around their attack aircraft, doing everything so as not to shoot them down. Because if they shoot you down, you will be to blame, there will be big troubles, they might even put you on trial.

In 1941, we had neither theory nor practice of covering attack aircraft - nothing. The main thing was, when accompanying attack aircraft, if you didn’t shoot down the enemy, at least scare him and prevent him from shooting accurately at the Il-2. Moreover, the cover was not always sufficient. Sometimes in 1941 a pair of six Ilovs were given cover as cover, while the Germans could attack in a group of up to twenty aircraft. But more often the cover was structured like this: a pair on the right, a pair on the left. Of course, we tried to maneuver (we walked “scissors” and sometimes did a “swing”: over a group of attack aircraft we went into a dive, and then climbed, turned around and performed this maneuver again), not to jump ahead of the attack aircraft - they already have a low speed and, having jumped forward, it was possible to lose sight of them. Nevertheless, in serious battles we still lost attack aircraft. But they are also camouflaged - they are not visible against the background of the earth, motherfucker! I had to fly and count. You get a little confused and start spinning. Was he shot down or not? You are responsible for him! That's horrible! I still dream about escort dogfights.

For a fighter, you can’t think of a worse punishment than escorting attack aircraft, I think so. An attack aircraft moves near the ground at 320-350 kilometers per hour, and only if it gets hot. It's easier to accompany the bombers. Their speed is higher, and they go higher: theirs is 2000-3000 meters, and yours is 3000-4000. It's a completely different matter! You echeloned the group in height, placed some on the right, others on the left, and you look in all directions: you see the enemy on the right - you shout with all your might: “They are attacking from the right!”... True, we only had normal radio communications at the end of 1943. Before this, it was impossible to properly tune the receiver: there was such a crackling noise that we had to turn off the radio stations. And already from the Kursk Bulge, communication became normal both with the ground and between the crews. Girl scouts appeared and helped us out a lot, informing us about the enemy and helping us navigate. It happened that after a battle they had to ask for forgiveness, because swearing in battle was scary, but they usually answered: “Yes, everything is fine.”

In addition to providing cover for attack aircraft, sometimes we ourselves attacked ground targets. But we didn’t fly out much for “free hunting” - we didn’t have the strength. Although, of course, this has happened. At the same time, it happened that five of our planes were opposed by almost twenty-five enemy planes. Moreover, it was not boys who fought against us, but experienced fighters on outstanding aircraft for their time, superior to ours in all respects. But, you know, they still went on the attack only when they saw that it made sense. If a fascist sees that he is not succeeding, he quickly leaves the battle. They would often make one attack, and if it failed, they would leave.

People often ask me: “Was it scary?” But we had no time to be afraid. We were in the mood for a fight. When you arrive, quickly refuel without getting out of the cockpit, and - back into battle! We were prepared for the possibility of being shot down. We even said goodbye before departure. They thought that if we come back, thank God, then in the evening we’ll drink 100 grams and dance; but no, that means it’s not fate. And the losses were not treated as a tragedy. If we compare it with today, we were as ready to die as suicide bombers are now, and, characteristically, our morale did not drop even during the period of retreat! Defeats could not break us - we treated them as a temporary phenomenon. Such was the integral upbringing and such great love for the Motherland. The cry "For Stalin! For the Motherland!" sounded like a prayer to us! During the entire war I never even saw a sign of cowardice! Maybe it was somewhere. But in my environment I have not encountered this phenomenon.

After three days of fighting near Yelnya, where we flew on LaGG-3 aircraft, the regiment was defeated. Only two weeks have passed since we, the survivors, returned to the Seima airfield. The girls we were friends with laugh and ask: “Is the war over?” And it was just beginning. We were replenished - and again there, near Yelnya. And so 4 or 5 times from July to October. I was shot down twice in these battles, and then I did not manage to shoot down a single enemy aircraft. I was more involved in attack and escort. Only in the winter of 1941 did I catch a communications plane somewhere. This was my first victory.

At the beginning of November, our regiment received the order to prepare for the parade. We were in Noginsk at the airfield and received brand new LaGG-3s with guides for RSs. We rehearsed flying in a group, making 3-4 flights. The last training session was scheduled for the seventh. The weapons and missiles were sealed so that they could not even be touched. The day before the parade the weather was clear and cloudless, and in the morning we got up to snowfall and fog. As a result, we did not participate in the parade. At 3 o'clock on the same day we received the order to storm the crossing near Klin. We made two sorties, had a good assault, saw corpses, burning cars... So we finished retreating and began a counter-offensive near Moscow. We were all, of course, glad that the Germans were driven away.

By November-December we had gained air superiority. The Germans practically did not fly, and we did not meet them in the air. We were mainly engaged in ground attack. The Nazis were there in the fallen snow, everything was clear in the palm of your hand - everything was visible. When we attacked them, only chips flew. For two months we became so carried away by this matter, we thought that we would soon defeat everyone! But, of course, this did not happen...

Soon the regiment was sent to the Southwestern Front. There we took part in the summer battles. The spring and summer of 1942 were the most terrible days of the war. It was hot; I didn’t have the strength to get out of the cockpit while the plane was being refueled for a new flight. The girls will bring you a glass of compote - you don’t want anything else... She will kiss you and stroke you. You tell her: “Don’t be late for the dance.” No matter what fights there were, there was always dancing in the evening.

I managed to get through this one of the most difficult periods of the war because I was lucky, of course, but my task was to survive. After all, if you are hit or wounded, the main thing is not to give up, to continue to fight for life. After all, ask anyone - everyone was shot down, and more than once, but they found the strength to either leave the plane or land it.

The commissars helped me a lot in gaining self-confidence. It was at the end of the war that they became political officers, essentially informers on every occasion; and at the beginning of the war they flew with us and in many ways were like fathers to us. They spent all their time with us and showed us by personal example what to do and how to do it. That's why we loved them.

In the early spring of 1942, a small group of pilots, which included me, was sent to air combat courses in Stavropol. There, on the LaGG-3, we practiced shooting at a cone, flying along a route, and attacking ground targets. After completing these courses, I was sent to the 13th IAP.

Did you start fighting as a simple pilot?

I began to fight as a wingman of the squadron commander, Major Erokhin. Then the squadron commanders changed. Although some already had the Order of the Red Banner received for Spain, they also died. By the fall of 1941, there was almost no one left in the regiment of those who started the war. Of those who participated in the battles of Stalingrad, 20-25 percent reached the end of the war. They formed the backbone of the regiment.

First air battle? I don’t know, can I call my first air battle today a battle? I covered the attack aircraft and led the enemy behind me by any means so that the attack aircraft would not be destroyed. In principle, this is also considered an air battle. But back then I didn’t even know how to shoot. I'll give it a turn - maybe I'll get it. I also didn’t know how to construct a maneuver. But to conduct a real battle, you need to be able to maneuver. Operate aviation equipment on the blade. Fly in such a way that your eyes close when overloaded, and the plane almost breaks apart. Only then can you either escape from the enemy’s attack or shoot him down yourself. We learned to do this only after Stalingrad, in air battles in the Kuban, where we met the best pilots in the world.

A lot of people died before my eyes. After all, at the beginning of the war it was like it was: 3-4 days - and there was no squadron. And these were the best pilots. But, as I already said, then we perceived death as something natural, constantly present. The mood changed only for the Kuban and Kursk-Belgorod battles. There we no longer thought that we would be shot down. They themselves began to shoot down the fascists. I remember one girl told me then: “Seryoga, now you can get married.” - "Why?" - “You won’t be hit now.”

Did you have any signs?

There were also some signs: you can’t shave in the morning, only in the evening. A woman should not be allowed near the cockpit of an airplane. My mother sewed a cross into my tunic, and then I transferred it to new tunics.

And if you have a bad dream, then don’t expect anything good. Once, during terrible battles, I had a bad dream. The regiment commander said: “Take fishing rods so that you won’t be here today and tomorrow.” You could refuse to fly if you felt unwell, and this was not considered cowardice.

Near Stalingrad and near Moscow, at the beginning of the operation in the Kursk-Belgorod direction, it happened that it was necessary to make up to 8 sorties a day. The rest of the time - within 4-5 flights. Eight flights are incredibly difficult. After the last flight, it was difficult to get out of the cockpit without assistance. We were tired not so much from physical stress as from nervous tension. Although physical fatigue, of course, accumulated in the evening. Moreover, after heavy and continuous battles, almost all the pilots had an upset stomach.

We cannot say that the fatigue was chronic; we were still given rest. After heavy fighting, we rested for 5-6 days in rest houses, which we set up not far from the front line. There we slept, went dancing with the girls, regained our strength and all the disorders went away on their own.

When did you receive the first Order of the Red Banner?

I received my first Order of the Red Banner in 1942 near Stalingrad. We all treated orders and awards with extreme trepidation. After all, at the beginning of the war, awards were given sparingly. Even pilots with a medal “For Military Merit” or “For Courage” were already considered heroes. He is the first person, he can do everything, and the girls paid attention to this.

During the war I received five Orders of the Red Banner and two after the war. By the way, we flew into battle with orders and party cards. The girls sewed the orders on so that they wouldn’t come off (this is when the pads were already gone). But at first there were medals on the screw, and we liked that better.

In total, I flew about two hundred and fifty missions during the war. Shot down 27 planes personally and 6 in a group. There could be more. But then, the last time I was seriously wounded, I had to miss a whole six months. At that time, although I wandered around the front, I did not fight. After Kyiv, I entered the next battle only in Chernivtsi. In general, pilots were usually given a month of treatment every time they were shot down. And if the injury is serious, then even more.

How were downed planes counted?

Shot down planes were counted like this: I, having arrived from a mission, reported that in such and such an area I shot down such and such type of aircraft; a representative was sent there to bring confirmation from the ground troops that, indeed, this type of aircraft had crashed there. And only after that did you get credit for the downed plane. But if the plane crashed in enemy territory, everything was more complicated. Most often they did not count. In some cases, when the territory was liberated, it was still possible to bring confirmation. And without confirmation they didn’t count it. Even at the end of the war, when we had photo-machine guns, we still needed confirmation from ground troops. In general, I rarely saw the planes I shot down fall, only if they caught fire or lost control. Now they often ask whether there were additions to personal accounts. Hard to say. There could be erroneous entries. In my opinion, not intentionally. Of course, flying as a pair, theoretically, it was possible to agree to attribute the downing, but if they found out about this, there would be no life for such pilots. It is easy to lose honor, but it is almost impossible to restore it.

Did they pay money for those shot down?

They paid for those shot down: for a fighter - a thousand, and for a bomber - two thousand, for a steam locomotive - 900 rubles, for a car - 600 rubles. They also paid for the attack. In 1941, they paid for the development of radio communications. But, you know, we didn’t count money during the war. We were told that we were owed so much money. We never received them, never signed for them, but the money kept flowing. Also, they were fools, it was necessary to arrange transfers to the parents, and I only found out about this when my father had already died. In 1944, I was awarded a Hero and called to Moscow to receive a Star. The pilots and the technicians, knowing that we were flying and we would need to “wash” it, gave us their books, from which we received money.

Relations in the regiment were not exactly good: the regiment commanders were like fathers to us. During the war years we had several of them: Maslov, Kholodov, Naumov. The last two years - Kholodov is a hero! Very strong! The regiment commanders, like everyone else, were constantly flying. (Division commanders also flew, but less often.) Usually it was: I, the squadron commander, lead one group, the regiment commander leads the next.

Of course, of all the commanders, we especially loved Kholodov. He was always with us. In the evening we’ll sit down and pour out 100 grams. He communicated with us easily, knew where it was necessary strictly and where it was humane.

Today, some people say that during the war they gave pilots a drink for courage. This is bullshit. Anyone who allowed himself to drink was usually knocked down. A drunk person has a different reaction. What is combat? If you don't shoot down, you will be shot down. Is it possible to defeat the enemy in such a state when, instead of one, two planes are flying before your eyes? I've never flown drunk. We only drank in the evening. Then it was necessary to relax, to fall asleep. I slept well, I didn’t want to get up. But when I fell asleep, sometimes the battles replayed before my eyes. Especially in the summer, when we fought at Stalingrad.

In long, heavy battles, the commander could say: “Tomorrow you go to rest and rest for three days.” The commanders took care of strong pilots. Losing half a regiment is not as scary as losing one experienced one. I often found myself in this situation.

And the relationship with the technical staff was like with our own parents. When they are released into battle, they are baptized. When we arrive after the battle, they hug and kiss. Real family. If they find booze, they will definitely leave it for the pilot. They especially loved it when you arrived with a victory. Here they carry it in their arms. And if we shot down the enemy before their eyes, they would role-play the battle and show interesting moments that the pilot himself might not have remembered in such detail. Fighters were based close to the front line, so air battles often took place over the front line. In good weather the fighting is visible. When we start debriefing the flights, their mouths are open and they don’t move away, they listen. Sometimes they understood these things better. When correspondents came, and we had no time, the journalists had to ask the technician. And the technician sometimes spoke better than the pilot.

About the mechanics, I just don’t know when they were sleeping. We fly during the day, and at night they check the equipment. It is difficult to say when they rested. I once asked, they answered: “When it rains!”

My mechanic was Kovalev. He was then about 35 years old. A wonderful person. After the war - I was already the commander of the army in Lvov - he came to me. During the war, he addressed me as “comrade commander,” and continued to address me that way.

The squadron engineer was Edelstein, a Jew. They told me: “It’s clear why all the planes in your squadron are in order - your engineer is Jewish, he’s cunning.”

We generally considered commanders to be gods; our lives depended on them. We treated them with great love. And to Zhukov, and to others. The slogan "For the Motherland, for Stalin!" was not an empty phrase either for us or for other branches of the military.

The relationship between the pilots was such that you looked at each one, but you saw yourself. And you worry as if for yourself. Especially if this is a young pilot whom you have been training, and you know that he is not particularly ready to fly. Naturally, in these cases, during the battle you do everything so as not to set up the newcomers, you cover them as best you can. I won’t talk about how young people were introduced in the first years of the war - I was like that myself. I will only say that “Only Old Men Go to Battle” is an honest film, it shows a lot. When I became a squadron commander in 1943, by that time newcomers were no longer allowed into battle immediately. First they flew around the area with us; then, to begin with, we introduced them where the intensity of hostilities was lower. Here a lot still depends on the commander. If you can show by personal example how to fight, then your youth will be fighting.

Mutual assistance helped to win, especially in 1941 and 1942. Let's say, if I go on the attack and see that my wingman is being attacked, then I drop everything and try to use my favorite ways to get the wingman out of the fire or to repel an attack on him. It was mutual assistance that played the main role when my squadron shot down 25 aircraft without losses. Without this, the pilot is dead.

Our relationships with pilots from neighboring squadrons were the same as those within our own squadron. The brotherhood united all pilots. Let's say, in the Kuban air battle we were pinned down, and Pokryshkin and his group saved us by diving from a height. In such cases, the regiment command sent telegrams of gratitude to the regiment whose pilots helped ours. And the pity if someone was shot down was absolutely the same. There was no difference between the attitude towards the pilots of one's own regiment or towards the pilots of another regiment. We always helped each other during battle, this was the main task, success depended on it. In battle, everyone had the desire to shoot down as many as possible, but there was no competition as such.

And, of course, they sorted out all their fights. The most correct thing is to do the analysis as soon as you get out of the cab. The pilot is then like a young child who does not understand what a lie is and honestly tells everything about what he saw, what he did. It is only then that he begins to sift out and hush up his mistakes. And if you ask questions right away, you can see where it’s right, where it’s wrong, where it’s “missed.” They often gave up - there were no ideal fights.

We pilots also considered ourselves one with the infantrymen and tank crews. We were even more worried about them than about our own. It was really hard for them; they were the first to receive fatal blows. We tried in any way to help them during the hostilities. Especially near Moscow and Stalingrad. There we stormed nearby enemy troops by any means necessary. After all, everyone fought for one Motherland.

How did you feel when you were shot down?

I was shot down twice near Moscow. Twice - near Stalingrad. Twice - near the Belgorod-Kursk Bulge and once - near Kiev. Only seven times.

How did I get hit the first time? We accompanied the Pe-2 bombers and took off as a group of four. I was the squadron commander's wingman. Somewhere, before reaching Smolensk, the bombers dropped leaflets and bombs. When they were returning, enemy fighters appeared. The battle has begun. The Germans shot down our squadron commander, and then me. The plane had to be landed at the forefront. I got out and looked - there was shooting. Here are the Germans, here are ours. The infantrymen shout: “Come on quickly - they’ll kill you!” I run to my people. I knew: the main thing is to run, and you will live. I was saved. The second time I was shot down over enemy territory was in August 1941 near Skopin, and my engine stopped. I sat down in a clearing and ran into the forest. I met a boy. I asked him to take me to the partisans. He began to refuse. I pointed the gun at him: “Then I’ll shoot you.” He led the way. I say: “Are you doing the right thing? If only the Germans meet me, I will kill you.” He brought me. I give him money, he says: “Why do I need it?” Then he ran away so that I wouldn’t shoot him. The partisans took me across the front line to their own.

I thought that when they shoot down, it’s normal. I knew: sooner or later they would shoot me down anyway. The main thing was not to fall into the hands of the enemy. Of course, one cannot say that it was not scary at all. But more fear and anxiety appeared when we began to advance, when the real war began. It was scary when they were shot down near Kiev, because I didn’t know how to land - on the fuselage or jump out? And during the Kursk-Belgorod operation I had such a case. It was a very difficult battle; Apparently, they contacted a very experienced enemy. We fought and fought, didn’t hit anyone, but they set me on fire. It was 50-100 kilometers from the front line. At an altitude of 4000-5000 meters. We separated, and I saw: the flames from under the engine were moving towards the cabin. I began to pull towards the front line; I somehow made it, but there was no height left to jump. I decided to land and, out of habit, lowered the landing gear. As soon as it touched the ground, the plane crashed. I can’t get out, the flames are getting closer and closer. The signalmen who happened to be nearby, running the line, ran up. They say: “Wow, how you burn!” I unfastened my seat belts and parachute. They slightly broke off the side trim, so I could only stick my head through and got stuck. They yell at me to push off, but there is nothing to push against. They began to rock the plane, and I slowly got out. They ran into a ravine, and the plane burst into flames. Literally at the last second I was saved. The regiment commander and division commander sent a petition to their unit and they were all awarded the Order of the Red Star.

There was such a case with my friend Petro Gnido. He was shot down near Stalingrad, everyone saw him fall on the front line. And they even saw how a group of Germans immediately grabbed him. The regiment commander gathered us together, made a speech and ended it standing: “Eternal memory of Petro Gnido.” The door opens and Petro comes in. He still escaped with a parachute. They stopped the car somewhere and they brought him. He was so hot! Desperate! We were commanders of neighboring squadrons, but in heavy battles we always flew together. No matter what mess we got into, even when there were ten times more enemy, we still came out of the battle alive and well. He was very desperate both in the air and on the ground. The girls loved him the most. Petro Gnido was a god among women.

Could I have avoided being shot down seven times? How can I say... After all, we didn’t know how to do much, but we still had to fly. And in battle it’s like this: despite the fact that you’ve used up all the ammunition, you can’t leave the battle. If you leave, it's a betrayal. You're in a fight, and the enemy doesn't know whether you're out of ammo or not. This is a hard principle. But we observed it strictly.

Very often the pilot did not know who shot him down or how. This was especially true in 1941, when there were many enemies on all sides, and you didn’t have enough eyes to look in all directions at once, so you didn’t know where and how you were shot down. I probably can’t say in detail how I was shot down all seven times.

They could always shoot down. The last time I was shot down was near Kyiv. Here is how it was. I took off in a formation of eight to cover the crossings south of Kyiv in the area of ​​the Bukrinsky bridgehead. The battles over the crossings were heavy, but we had a lot of aviation. The weather that day was good, and so was my mood. I was told from the ground that three groups of bombers were coming from the direction of Belaya Tserkov, each group containing 30-40 vehicles; ordered to leave the crossing and meet them on the approach. The group performed a maneuver and soon, 60-70 kilometers from the front line, we saw a black cloud. The Nazis were accelerating, as they were flying. As I flew closer, I saw that the bombers were coming with strong fighter cover. I don’t know how many there were, but there were a lot of them. In general, I decided to attack the first group of 30 bombers with all eight of us. From the first attack we shot down seven planes, repeated the attack - another 5. I saw fighters from other regiments arriving. In general, they did not reach the crossings.

In the evening after this fight, I was also eight in the air. I was given the command to pass over the Bukrinskaya bridgehead at a minimum altitude in order to inspire the troops who were in a difficult situation. We formed a wedge and are moving downward. As they later told me (I didn’t see it myself), a German Focke-Wulf appeared from somewhere, broke through the ranks and shot me point-blank. My plane turned over several times (if shells hit at close range, you are sure to do somersaults). The engine is still running, but the turn and elevator rudders are broken - the plane is uncontrollable. You need to jump. He opened the lantern to jump, but immediately closed it back. The parachute was punctured, and it began to be pulled out, and this is a guaranteed death, because it will get caught on the plane, and you will fall with it. What to do? I’m already over my territory, I’ve passed the Dnieper, but I don’t know what to do: neither turn the plane around, nor descend. And then I remembered about the trimmer, I turned the wheel towards myself - the plane went up, I moved downwards. Well, I think that’s it - I’ll live. The left bank of the Dnieper is flat, I settled there on the arable land and lowered the speed. I twisted and twisted the trimmer and got fucked! The plane was completely disintegrated - both the engine and the tail, only one cabin remained. I get up, I feel wounded (the shell pierced the seat, the parachute and entered the upper thigh), but I am glad that I am alive.

When shot down, you were supposed to jump only if you felt that the plane was out of control or on fire. That is, in a critical situation between life and death. Jumping out is also a risk. It may turn out that you will still be shot in the air. We did not shoot Germans in the air. There was no such fashion, but they shot. Therefore, when you are at a high altitude, you need to take a long walk and open it above the ground. And it's not that simple.

When you jump out, it is also dangerous that you can hit the stabilizer. But there are many options on how to avoid this. You can loosen the straps, open the “lantern” and turn over. Or park the plane sideways. The main thing is to create a negative overload, otherwise you won’t get out. Most often you don’t even know how you jumped out?

In 1941, battles took place mainly at medium altitudes up to 2000 meters. Over time, the altitude of the air battle increased, but not by much, still up to 8000.

Let's return to the chronology of the war. How were the battles at Stalingrad?

We arrived at Stalingrad at the end of August after another reorganization, as a result of which we received the La-5. Now life has changed differently... Firstly, his speed is almost 700, if with a “clamper”. Secondly, an amazingly durable car! In one of the air battles near Stalingrad, my plane received a fire in the engine. The cabin began to be splashed with oil, but the plane was still flying! I managed to reach the airfield and land. The engine stopped during the run, and I was pulled into the parking lot. The technicians' conclusion was that it could not be repaired. It turns out that two engine cylinders were knocked off! You imagine?! There were only connecting rods there! The same "Yak", as soon as a fragment gets into the engine, hooks on some tube and that's it. It was possible to earn extra money by freely hunting for La-5, but we continued to accompany the attack aircraft. That's why I shot down few.

In the Lavochkin cockpit, did engine control and propeller pitch distract from piloting?

Kill me, I don’t remember. You do everything automatically. You keep the speed at maximum and only reduce it when you approach the airfield. In combat you lighten the screw, but not completely. There were other subtleties, but all this was worked out automatically, and I did not wonder what to do in this or that situation. The build quality of the Lavochkin was good, there were never any complaints, however, we always had new ones. We still lost and lost.

Rearward visibility, if you turn your head, is normal. They didn’t chafe my neck, I just had to loosen the laryngophones a little. There were oxygen masks, but they were hardly used. They are needed from 5000, and we rarely went there.

Until the end of the war I flew on the Lavochkin. After the war, he mastered the first jet Mig-9. Moreover, before flying a jet, we trained on Cobras - the cabin is comfortable, you sit like in a car. We used to say about her: “America gave Russia a plane. The shaft goes through the ass, and the crutch is the other way around.” The same "Lavochkin" has a worse cabin. But in the Yak it is very cramped, and the plane itself is narrower. But like an airplane, the Cobra is heavy, although it’s okay at altitude. "Lavochkin" is more maneuverable and has higher speed. In total, I have flown on 50 different types of aircraft. I didn’t fight on the Yak, but I flew it a lot. The Yak-3 is very light, maneuverable, like a feather. In speed it is slightly inferior to the La-7, but in maneuverability it is stronger.

Our regiment (I already fought in the 13th IAP, which later became the 111th GvIAP - I went through the whole war with this regiment), was based in the Srednyaya Akhtuba area, 25 kilometers from Stalingrad. Our task was to cover the Stalingrad group. There were 8-10 times more enemy than us. The Germans in our place would not even approach the enemy, but we went into battle. We tried to catch separated single planes or small groups, immediately shoot them down and retreat. This went on for about a month.

Naturally, we had to accompany the attack aircraft. At the same airfield, an Il-2 assault regiment was assigned to our division. When they were ready, we accompanied them. Since everything was happening close to Stalingrad, the attack aircraft struck the front line and immediately left. The enemy did not have time to react, and the losses of the attack aircraft were small.

However, the Battle of Stalingrad is not what is shown in the movies. And it's not about any secrets. It's simply impossible to capture her as she was. Let’s say we take off from the airfield with four or six; we see: over a city of planes - like flies over a garbage pit. The Volga is not visible, it is not there... Although it is huge, wide, a whole kilometer long, it is all on fire, even water is not visible. The whole of Stalingrad was on fire, like a fire-breathing volcano. Here I became a different person. I began to understand how to conduct an air battle with the Germans. During one of the most difficult battles, we shot down two enemy aircraft. I shot down one of them. We immediately launched an attack on the oncoming attack. They thought we would go in at the tail, and we would go in at the front. Do you know what it’s like to see an enemy plane scatter and fall nearby?!

When the German group was surrounded, our task was to destroy by any means the transport aircraft that were trying to supply it. The weather was good at that time. It began to deteriorate only closer to December - fogs and rains began, the clouds were low. In almost 2 weeks we completely destroyed them. Sometimes in one battle we shot down not one, but two planes. At this moment, the enemy specially selected a group to engage the fighters in battle. But by that time there were fewer enemy aircraft.

True, we not only fought, but also, when possible, together with the attack aircraft, we also made a couple or three passes and hit ground targets. They gave us RSs for this purpose.

Perhaps the battles in Kuban were the first real air battles. I would not say that we defeated their aircraft there, but we matched them in numbers and shot down many German aces and simply experienced pilots. For me personally, these battles became a turning point. I learned to fly in such a way as to shoot down. If in 1941 I shot down one plane, in 1942 - five (a Messer, 2 transport planes, a Frama and a Yu-88, for which I received the Order of the Patriotic War, 1st degree), then from the spring to the autumn of 1943 I shot down 20 aircraft.

Here I learned to maneuver well and shoot accurately, stable radio communication and ground guidance appeared. The command has learned to manage the situation in the air. After all, at the beginning of the war, aviation was subordinate to infantry armies. How can an infantry commander control aviation? No way!

When the operation on the Kursk Bulge just began, we had approximately equal forces.

There was such a case. One day, we had just arrived from battle - we were sitting right on the airfield near the planes, having breakfast. Suddenly three Germans arrive and begin to storm the airfield. We quickly board the planes and take off. One of the Germans at that moment made an attack on the airfield and came out of a dive right under my nose. I hadn’t removed the landing gear yet - I reached for it, and it fell right there on the airfield. The rest flew away. We sat down and taxied. I see they are leading this German. He was already wearing gray woolen socks (the anti-aircraft gunners covering the airfield had taken his boots off). This German had about 100 aircraft shot down. Such a strong guy.

What personal weapon was it?

I had a personal weapon - a TT pistol. There was unlimited ammunition, no one counted, so they knew how to shoot. Although I never used it on an enemy, there was no need.

When our troops went on the offensive, we gained air supremacy and maintained it until the end of the war - both quantitatively and qualitatively. Here they were not afraid of us, we were already looking for a fight ourselves, wow! Starting from the Kursk-Belgorod operation, we were not afraid. We were already confident of victory, the pilots were in a very good mood. With every flight there is always success. We no longer knew defeat in air battles. And the Germans were not the same as they were at Moscow or even at Stalingrad. When they met, they immediately left and never got involved in battle. Only when they appeared suddenly could they attack us or capture some straggler somewhere; attack someone who shows that he is a newcomer. We never encountered direct air combat again. After Kyiv, especially closer to Lvov, we were generally masters in the air. They were chasing and looking for someone to shoot down. And not just to knock it down, but beautifully. Frankly, when the war ended for us in Czechoslovakia, I was a little sorry. We can only say that things have gone well...

Which German plane was the most difficult to shoot down?

Fighters, of course. They are maneuvering. It is very difficult to catch them in the crosshairs. You need to have skills and ability. "Rama" is also difficult to shoot down, and bombers and transport aircraft are easy prey. You can take them down with the first attack.

The Focke-Wulf is less maneuverable than the Messerschmitt, but it has more firepower and speed. They are equally difficult to shoot down. Although, you know, sometimes you don’t understand who you’re shooting down: “Messer” or “Foku”. Rarely, but it happened, they shot down their own. In our regiment, from the beginning to the end of the war, this never happened.

We did not feel pity for the Germans. An enemy is an enemy, especially a fascist. We believed that they were all animals. They remembered how cruelly their pilots acted in 1941-1942. And therefore there could be no talk of any pity or condescension. There was hatred. And after the war, 10-15 years later, hatred of the enemy remained. Even when communicating with German pilots now, 3-4 years ago, when so much time has passed, there is still something like that between us, we could not make friends. True, we were friends with the GDR pilots in the Soviet years, but also something like that... some kind of attitude... In short, a German is a German.

I shot down the most German planes in 1944, and then, in 1944 and 1945, I practically didn’t shoot them down - by the middle of the war, air supremacy was already ours. Near Lvov, a large number of German aircraft was a rare occurrence. So, 3-5 planes - maximum. As soon as they felt that you were starting to build a maneuver and go on the attack, they left. They only attacked suddenly and tried not to get involved in the battle.

Were there any cases when a group of fighters recorded all those shot down for one so that he would receive a Hero?

I heard that there were cases when a group began to work for one person so that he would receive a Hero... At Pokryshkin’s, somewhere else... This happened, but not en masse. I don't think it was right.

Attack pilots say that the peak of nervous tension occurs when receiving a mission. What about the fighter?

Of course, when setting a task you are a little nervous, but mostly when are you nervous? Until we meet the enemy. And when the battle starts, there is no longer any feeling. But when you fly home with a victory, it’s something extraordinary! That means you'll definitely go to the dance in the evening!..

Did you know who you were fighting against?

Why the hell is this necessary? Of course, we had some information, but it was very scanty. We analyzed their tactics... We took something into service... Sometimes, when you heard the enemy’s voice on the radio, you guessed - yeah, we’ve already met with this.

What conditions did you have to live in during the war?

We lived away from cities so as not to fall under German bombing; happened in dugouts, near populated areas. Sometimes we agreed with the local residents, they let us in like family. Before and during the Stalingrad operation, they most often lived in dugouts. What are these conditions? You get up in the morning, earth falls through the logs, and tears flow. Logs in three rolls or four rolls. There are sun loungers made of wood where you can sleep. Mattress, blankets, everything was there. The engineering and technical staff had sleeping bags. They managed not to freeze all winter. There was heating, there were potbelly stoves, there was light. Gasoline was poured into the cartridges and illuminated; there was no electricity or radio. Near Moscow they also lived in dugouts, together with technicians. There were separate dugouts for them. Each squadron had separate dugouts so that the Germans could not destroy them all at once. Then, when they started the offensive, after the Kursk-Belgorod operation, they lived all the time in populated areas. Since 1943, we had special groups that looked for housing in nearby settlements. There was no problem with this. To whomever was not approached, there was no case of refusal. When they had already crossed the border, the Poles treated it that way. They considered the Czechs family: they gave away entire houses, the best places. They said: if necessary, they will feed us.

The food was great though. Both near Moscow and wherever we were, the pilots had excellent food. When we got to the rear, we rather strove to the front, because the food in the rear was very poor. And there everyone ate to the fullest. When they liberated their territory, they even gave us fruits and vegetables. Oranges, tangerines... This has been around since 1944. I did not suffer from lack of appetite. But when there are hot battles and a lot of flights, your appetite drops sharply, you only drink water. In the morning, as a rule, you eat almost nothing, only tea or coffee. Compote for lunch. And by the evening I already had an appetite. You eat normally. And the service personnel knew that the pilots needed to eat well in the evening.

What was the attitude of the people? Love! Here's a case. This was in 1942, when we received Lag-5 in Arzamas. Arzamas near the Seym airfield. It was Easter. We weren’t Heroes yet, but we already had a lot of orders. There are six of us. We walk through the center of Arzamas. There is a church nearby. We talk and joke. The weather is excellent, sunny... Suddenly, a procession of the cross, with icons, about five hundred people came towards us. We give way to them. They stop 10 steps away, kneel down and begin to pray to us. What an attitude! After the war, this attitude no longer existed. When we were shot down, the infantry saw the pilot! - and they will give you a meal, and whatever you want.

In your free time, on days when there were no flights, what did you usually do?

There were no flights only in bad weather. Only the intensity of sorties could have decreased: say, before an operation, preparations are underway for it. There were usually continuous flights. It was a little easier in the fall and winter.

At this time we arranged baths and steam rooms. Conducted classes. We discussed all the battles with the flight crew, developed tactics, and began to sort out all the nuances. More often this was done in a squadron, but it also happened on a regimental scale. The latter, however, is very rare. Assembling a regiment on the front line is very dangerous. The enemy will detect and destroy. Usually they didn't take that risk.

After classes there was lunch. We had dancing. And, let’s say, we didn’t play cards, dominoes or billiards. Each regiment had a good accordion player and accordion player. Each regiment has amateur performances. There were such concerts!.. When did they have time to prepare? By the middle of the war, artists from the Center began to appear. The regiment was assembled, but very carefully. In the event of a raid, everyone had to immediately disperse in order to save the artists. Otherwise, if they were killed in our regiment, it would be a shame.

In your squadron you probably had a group of strong pilots and a group of weaker pilots. How did you decide who to hire for a particular task?

Division began only after the capture of Kyiv. And near Stalingrad, near Moscow, they took everyone who was able to take off and fly. Even for myself, the squadron commander, I did not select a wingman. The pilot says to me: “Comrade commander, I will be a wingman” - “Well, go ahead.” So until 1943 I did not have a permanent wingman. Then only we began to choose our followers and select the leader. The couples are some of the best, especially those who have already been knocked down, because they knew how to behave in difficult circumstances.

In general, having a permanent slave is necessary. It's not so easy to stay behind me. I had a lot of followers throughout the war - the losses were heavy. They began to change less frequently at the end of 1943, especially in 1944 and 1945. I flew more or less constantly with Chabrov.

I know that they allowed parcels of trophies to be sent home. Have you sent parcels?

I didn't send any parcels. I had nothing. I had a watch - and it was a bad one - and a small receiver. Nothing else. And so that from junk... This issue was not dealt with. And then, where do I put the junk? Will I take you on a fighter jet? Well, the technician will still put the receiver in the fuselage, but anything larger will no longer be there. The rear units were engaged in petty fighting.

I ended the war as a squadron commander, a major. And after the war, instead of drinking heavily, like some heroes, my friend Petro Gnido and I decided to study. We had 7 grades of education. In Mukachevo we accidentally met an emigrant, Doctor of Mathematical Sciences. And so, this man agreed to prepare us in two years in all subjects that were included in the academy’s examination program. Two years later we passed the final exams for the secondary school program. I remember the director of the school where we took the test said: “Just don’t come in military uniform.” We came in civilian clothes, but they still helped us a little. As a result, we only got C grades in German, and 4-5 grades in all subjects. The next year, in 1948, we entered the Air Force Academy.

It was quite difficult to get used to peaceful life after the war. First of all, domestic problems. No one was involved in our improvement. You fly for a day, then you look for where to live. True, as pilots we ate for free. And they gave rations for the wife, they were provided with food. But where to live? They'll give you a soldier's bed - that's all. But my wife somehow survived. Sixty years have passed since our wedding, and we have been together all this time. I met her when I flew at the flying club in Khimki. Nearby was the village of Vashutino, we went there in the evenings after flights with an accordion and sang songs. And for seven years my future wife and I were friends. As soon as I got to Moscow, I went straight to her. And so, during the war, I had already received the title of Hero, but she did not know about it. Had arrived. Her mother says: “Seryozha, she’s flying into the field.” I went there. I come up and say: “Anya!” She stood up, saw a star on my chest and sat down again. Then I realized that I would marry her.

Hero of the Soviet Union, Colonel General of Aviation, participant in the 1945 Victory Parade, Honored Military Pilot of the USSR

Born on June 22, 1920 in the village of Monastyrshchina, Epifansky (now Kimovsky district) Tula region, into a poor peasant family. Father - Gorelov Dmitry Dmitrievich (1869–1942). Mother - Gorelova Natalya Moiseevna (1886–1961). Wife – Gorelova Anna Sergeevna (born 1921). Son - Evgeny Sergeevich Gorelov. Daughter - Lyudmila Sergeevna.

Born in a bend of the Don, Sergei did not live there long; the family soon moved to Moscow. In 1938, he graduated from a chemical college and worked for some time as a foreman at the Moscow Chemical Plant. With a Komsomol voucher, he entered the Dzerzhinsky flying club in Khimki. While studying, Sergei met his future wife, Anna Sergeevna. They lived together for more than 60 years.

After the flying club, Gorelov was sent to study at the Borisoglebsk Aviation Pilot School, from which he graduated in the summer of 1940. At that time, the Finnish War was going on, and instead of two years, young men studied for one and a half years. There Sergei mastered the U-2, I-5, I-15 aircraft.

At the beginning of July 1941, Gorelov received baptism of fire. That same summer, near the city of Gorky, Sergei mastered the LaGG-3 aircraft, which he used to fight near Smolensk. In the autumn of the same year he took part in the battle for Moscow. Sergei Dmitrievich twice had to jump from a downed plane into occupied territory. In 3 months of 1941, he was shot down four times, but each time he was even more eager to fight.

S. Gorelov shot down the first fascist in August 1941 near Yelnya. Later he chalked up more than 20 enemy aircraft. In 1942 he graduated from the Poltava advanced training courses for navigators.

He took part in the defense of Stalingrad, where he received his first award - the Order of the Patriotic War, 1st degree. By this time he held the position of squadron commander. Using La-5 aircraft, the pilots of his squadron staged a second “aerial Stalingrad” for the Germans in the Kuban. Sergei Gorelov also took part in the battles near Kursk, in Western Ukraine, Poland and Czechoslovakia.

In 1944 he was awarded the title of Hero of the Soviet Union. The air squadron under his command destroyed 25 fascist aircraft in a month, without losing a single one of their own.

During the war years S.D. Gorelov made 260 combat missions, conducted 120 air battles, personally shot down 27 fascist planes and 6 in a group. He ended the war in Czechoslovakia on May 12, 1945 as part of the 111th Guards Fighter Aviation Regiment.

In June 1945, as part of the combined regiment of the 4th Ukrainian Front of the Guard, Major S.D. Gorelov took part in the Victory Parade on Red Square in Moscow.

After the war, despite several wounds, he was declared fully fit for flying service. Until 1948, he continued to command an air squadron of a fighter aviation regiment in the Carpathian Military District.

In 1952 he graduated from the Air Force Academy in the city of Monino, Moscow Region, and later from the Academy of the General Staff. S.D. Gorelov commanded a regiment, division, and air army. For five years he was deputy commander-in-chief of the Air Force. Worked at the rocket and space company named after S.P. Korolev, including the chief specialist in the air force.

Sergei Dmitrievich mastered most types of combat aircraft. He flew until 1977, making his last flights on the MiG-25. Awarded the title “Honored Military Pilot of the USSR.” He retired in 1987 with the rank of Colonel General of Aviation.

Hero of the Soviet Union Sergei Dmitrievich Gorelov was awarded two Orders of Lenin, seven Orders of the Red Banner, the Order of Alexander Nevsky, two Orders of the Patriotic War of the 1st degree, the Order of the Red Star, the Order of the Renaissance of Poland of the 5th degree, the Czechoslovakian Military Cross, medals “For Military Merit”, “For victory over Germany”, “For the defense of Moscow”, “For the defense of Stalingrad”, “For the defense of the Caucasus”, “For the defense of Kyiv”, “For the liberation of Prague”, other medals and insignia.

Memorial plaque to Hero of the Soviet Union S.D. Gorelova was installed on the building of the Monastyrshchinskaya basic secondary school (Tula region).