Grandma was 8 years old when the war started, they were terribly hungry, the main thing was to feed the soldiers, and only then everyone else, and once she heard the women talking that the soldiers give food if they are given, but she did not understand what they need to give , came to the dining room, stands roaring, an officer came out, asking why the girl was crying, she recounted what she had heard, and he neighed and brought her a whole can of porridge. This is how granny fed four brothers and sisters.

My grandfather was a captain in a motorized rifle regiment. It was 1942, the Germans took Leningrad into a blockade. Hunger, disease and death. The only way to deliver provisions to Leningrad is the "road of life" - the frozen Lake Ladoga. Late at night, a column of trucks with flour and medicines, led by my grandfather, headed down the road of life. Of the 35 cars, only 3 reached Leningrad, the rest went under the ice, like the grandfather's wagon. He dragged the saved bag of flour to the city on foot for 6 km, but did not reach it - he froze because of wet clothes at -30.

The father of a grandmother's friend died in the war, when that one was not even a year old. When the soldiers began to return from the war, she put on the most beautiful dress every day and went to the station to meet trains. The girl said she was going to look for her dad. She ran among the crowd, approached the soldiers, asked: "Will you be my dad?" One man took her by the hand, said: "well, lead" and she brought him home and with her mother and brothers they lived a long and happy life.

My great-grandmother was 12 years old when the blockade of Leningrad began, where she lived. She studied at music school and played the piano. She fiercely defended her instrument and did not allow it to be dismantled for firewood. When the shelling began, and they didn’t have time to leave for the bomb shelter, she sat down and played, loudly, for the whole house. People listened to her music and were not distracted by the shots. My grandmother, mother and I play the piano. When I was too lazy to play, I remembered my great-grandmother and sat down at the instrument.

My grandfather was a border guard, in the summer of 1941 he served somewhere on the border with present-day Moldova, respectively, he began to fight from the very first days. He never spoke much about the war, because the border troops were in the department of the NKVD - it was impossible to tell anything. But we did hear one story. During the forced breakthrough of the Nazis to Baku, grandfather's platoon was thrown into the rear of the Germans. The guys pretty quickly got surrounded in the mountains. They had to get out within 2 weeks, only a few survived, including the grandfather. The soldiers came out to our front exhausted and distraught with hunger. The orderly ran to the village and got a sack of potatoes and a few loaves of bread there. The potatoes were boiled and the hungry soldiers greedily pounced on the food. The grandfather, who survived the famine of 1933 as a child, tried to stop his colleagues as best he could. He himself ate a crust of bread and a few potato peels. An hour and a half later, all my grandfather's colleagues who went through the hell of encirclement, including the platoon commander and the ill-fated orderly, died in terrible agony from intestinal volvulus. Only my grandfather survived. He went through the whole war, was twice wounded and died in 87 from a cerebral hemorrhage - he bent down to fold the cot on which he slept in the hospital, because he wanted to run away and look at his newborn granddaughter, those at me.

During the war, my grandmother was very small, she lived with her older brother and mother, her father left before the girl was born. There was a terrible famine, and great-grandmother was too weak, she had already been lying on the stove for many days and was slowly dying. She was saved by her sister, who had previously lived far away. She soaked some bread in a drop of milk and gave it to her grandmother to chew. Slowly, slowly, my sister came out. So my grandparents were not left orphans. And grandfather, a smart fellow, began to hunt gophers in order to somehow feed his family. He took a couple of buckets of water, went to the steppe, and poured water into gopher holes until a frightened animal jumped out of there. Grandfather grabbed him and killed him instantly so that he would not run away. He dragged home what he could find, and they were fried, and grandmother says that it was a real feast, and the brother's booty helped them to hold out. Grandfather is no longer alive, but grandmother lives and every summer expects numerous grandchildren to visit. She cooks excellently, a lot, generously, and she herself takes a piece of bread with a tomato and eats after everyone else. So I got used to eating little, simply and irregularly. And he feeds his family to the bone. Thanks her. She went through something that makes her heart freeze, and raised a big glorious family.

My great-grandfather was drafted in 1942. He went through the war, was wounded, returned as a Hero of the Soviet Union. On his way home after the end of the war, he stood at the train station where a train full of children of all ages had arrived. There were also those who met - the parents. Only now there were only a few parents, and many times more children. Almost all of them were orphans. They got off the train and, not finding their mom and dad, started crying. My great-grandfather cried with them. For the first and only time in the entire war.

My great-grandfather went to the front in one of the first departures from our city. My great-grandmother was pregnant with her second child - my grandmother. In one of the letters, he indicated that he was going in a ring through our city (by that time my grandmother was born). A neighbor, who at that time was 14 years old, found out about this, she took a 3-month-old grandmother and took it to my great-grandfather, he cried with happiness at the moment when he held her in his arms. It was 1941. He never saw her again. He died on May 6, 1945 in Berlin and was buried there.

My grandfather, a 10-year-old boy, was vacationing in a children's camp in June 1941. The shift was until July 1, on June 22 they were not told anything, they were not sent home, and so the children were given another 9 days of peaceful childhood. All radios were removed from the camp, no news. This, after all, is also courage, as if nothing had happened, to continue detachment affairs with children. I can imagine how the counselors cried at night and whispered news to each other.

My great-grandfather went through two wars. In the First World War he was an ordinary soldier, after the war he went to receive a military education. Learned. During the Great Patriotic War, he participated in two significant and large-scale battles. At the end of the war, he commanded a division. There were injuries, but he returned back to the front line. Many awards and thanks. The worst thing is that he was killed not by the enemies of the country and the people, but by simple hooligans who wanted to steal his awards.

Today my husband and I finished watching "Young Guard". I sit on the balcony, look at the stars, listen to the nightingales. How many young guys and girls never lived to see victory. Life has never been seen. Husband and daughter are sleeping in the room. What a joy it is to know that your favorite houses! Today is May 9, 2016. The main holiday of the peoples former USSR. We live as free people thanks to those who lived during the war years. Who was at the front and in the rear. God forbid, we will not find out what our grandfathers were like.

My grandfather lived in the village, so he had a dog. When the war began, his father was sent to the front, and his mother, two sisters and he were left alone. Because of severe hunger, they wanted to kill the dog and eat it. Grandfather, being small, untied the dog from the kennel and let him run, for which he received from his mother (my great-grandmother). In the evening of the same day, the dog brought them dead cat, and then he began to drag the bones and bury them, and grandfather dug them up and dragged them home (they cooked soup on these bones). So they lived until the 43rd year, thanks to the dog, and then she simply did not return home.

The most memorable story from my grandmother was about her work in a military hospital. When the Nazis were dying, they could not finish them with the girls from the wards from the second floor to the corpse truck ... they simply threw the corpses out of the window. Subsequently, for this they were given to the tribunal.

A neighbor, a veteran of the Second World War, went through the entire war in the infantry to Berlin. Somehow in the morning they were smoking near the entrance, talking. He was struck by the phrase - they show in a movie about the war - soldiers are running - cheers at the top of their lungs ... - this is a fantasy. We, he says, always went on the attack in silence, because it was dumb as fuck.

During the war, my great-grandmother worked in a shoemaker's shop, she fell into a blockade, and in order to somehow feed her family, she stole laces, at that time they were made of pigskin, she brought them home, cut them into small pieces equally, and fried them, so and survived.

Grandmother was born in 1940, and the war left her an orphan. Great-grandmother drowned in a well when she was gathering rose hips for her daughter. Great-grandfather went through the whole war, reached Berlin. Killed by blowing himself up on an abandoned mine while returning home. All that remained of him was his memory and the Order of the Red Star. Grandmother kept it for more than thirty years until it was stolen (she knew who, but could not prove it). I still can't understand how people raised their hands. I know these people, they studied in the same class with their great-granddaughter, they were friends. How interesting life has turned.

As a child, he often sat on his grandfather's lap. He had a scar on his wrist that I touched and examined. They were teeth marks. Years later, my father told the story of the scar. My grandfather, a veteran, went to reconnaissance, in the Smolensk region they encountered the SS-vtsy. After close combat, only one of the enemies remained alive. He was huge and motherly. SS-man in a rage bit his grandfather's wrist to the meat, but was broken and captured. Grandfather and company were presented for another award.

My great-grandfather is gray-haired since he was 19 years old. As soon as the war began, he was immediately called up, not allowing him to finish his studies. He told that they were going to the Germans, but it did not turn out the way they wanted, the Germans were ahead. Everyone was shot, and grandfather decided to hide under the trolley. They sent a German shepherd to sniff everything, grandfather thought that everyone would see it and kill it. But no, the dog just sniffed it and licked it while running away. That's why we have 3 shepherds at home)

My grandmother was 13 years old when she was wounded in the back during a bombing by shrapnel. There were no doctors in the village - everyone was on the battlefield. When the Germans entered the village, their military doctor, having learned about the girl who could no longer walk or sit, secretly made his way to her grandmother’s house at night, made dressings, picked out worms from the wound (it was hot, there were a lot of flies). To distract the girl, the guy asked: "Zoinka, sing Katusha." And she cried and sang. The war passed, my grandmother survived, but all her life she remembered that guy, thanks to whom she remained alive.

Grandmother told me that during the war my great-great-grandmother worked at a factory, at that time they were very strict to ensure that no one stole and was very severely punished for this. And in order to somehow feed their children, women put on two pairs of tights and put grain between them. Or, for example, one distracts the guards while the children are taken to the workshop where butter was churned, they caught small pieces and fed them. The great-great-grandmother had all three children survived that period, and her son no longer eats butter.

My great-grandmother was 16 when German troops came to Belarus. They were examined by doctors in order to be sent to the camps to work. Then the girls were smeared with grass, which caused a rash similar to smallpox. When the doctor examined the great-grandmother, he realized that she was healthy, but he told the soldiers that she was sick, and the Germans were terribly afraid of such people. As a result, this German doctor saved a lot of people. If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't be in the world.

Great-grandfather never shared stories about the war with his family. He went through it from beginning to end, was shell-shocked, but never talked about those terrible times. Now he is 90 and more and more often he remembers that terrible life. He does not remember the names of his relatives, but he remembers where and how Leningrad was shelled. He also has old habits. There is always all the food in the house in huge quantities, what if there is hunger? Doors are locked with several locks - for peace of mind. And there are 3 blankets in the bed, although the house is warm. Watching films about the war with an indifferent look ..

My great-grandfather fought near Königsberg (now Kaliningrad). And during one of the skirmishes, he was hit by shrapnel in his eyes, from which he was instantly blind. As the shots ceased to be heard, he began to look for the voice of the foreman, whose leg was torn off. Grandfather found the foreman, took him in his arms. And so they went. The blind grandfather went to the commands of the one-legged foreman. Both survived. Grandfather even saw after operations.

When the war began, my grandfather was 17 years old, and according to the law of war, he had to arrive at the military registration and enlistment office on the day of majority to be sent to the army. But it turned out that when he received the summons, he and his mother moved, and he did not receive the summons. He came to the military registration and enlistment office the next day, for the day of delay he was sent to the penal battalion, and their department was sent to Leningrad, it was cannon fodder, those who are not sorry to be sent into battle first without weapons. As an 18-year-old guy, he ended up in hell, but he went through the whole war, was never wounded, the only relatives did not know if he was alive or not, there was no right to correspond. He reached Berlin, returned home a year after the war, since he still served active duty. His own mother, having met him on the street, did not recognize him after 5.5 years, and fainted when he called her mother. And he cried like a boy, saying "mom, it's me Vanya, your Vanya"

Great-grandfather at the age of 16, in May 1941, having added 2 years to himself, in order to be hired, he got a job in Ukraine in the city of Krivoy Rog at a mine. In June, when the war began, he was drafted into the army. Their company was immediately surrounded and captured. They were forced to dig a ditch, where they were shot and covered with earth. Great-grandfather woke up, realized that he was alive, crawled upstairs, shouting "Is anyone alive?" Two responded. Three of them got out, crawled to some village, where a woman found them, hid them in her cellar. During the day they hid, and at night they worked in her field, harvesting corn. But one neighbor saw them and handed them over to the Germans. They came for them and took them prisoner. So my great-grandfather ended up in the Buchenwald concentration camp. After some time, due to the fact that my great-grandfather was a young, healthy peasant guy, from this camp, he was transferred to a concentration camp in West Germany, where he already worked in the fields of local rich people, and then as a civilian. In 1945, during the bombing, he was closed in one house, where he sat all day until the American allies entered the city. When he came out, he saw that all the buildings in the district were destroyed, only the house where he was was left intact. The Americans offered all the prisoners to go to America, some agreed, and the great-grandfather and the rest decided to return to their homeland. They returned on foot to the USSR for 3 months, passing all over Germany, Poland, Belarus, Ukraine. In the USSR, their military had already taken them prisoner and wanted to shoot them as traitors to the Motherland, but then the war with Japan began and they were sent there to fight. So my great-grandfather fought in the Japanese War and returned home after it ended in 1949. I can say with confidence that my great-grandfather was born in a shirt. Three times he escaped death and went through two wars.

Grandmother said that her father served in the war, saved the commander, carried him on his back through the whole forest, listened to his heartbeat, when he brought him, he saw that the commander’s entire back looked like a sieve, and he only heard his heart.

I have been searching for several years. Groups of searchers searched for nameless graves in the forests, swamps, on the battlefields. I still cannot forget this feeling of happiness if there were medallions among the remains. In addition to personal data, many soldiers put notes in medallions. Some were written literally moments before death. Until now, literally, I remember a line from one such letter: "Mom, tell Slavka and Mitya to crush the Germans! I can't live anymore, so let them try for three."

My great-grandfather told his grandson stories all his life about how he was afraid during the war. How afraid, sitting in a tank together with a younger comrade, go to 3 German tanks and destroy them all. As I was afraid, under the shelling of aircraft, crawling over the field in order to restore contact with the command. As he was afraid to lead a detachment of very young guys to blow up a German bunker. He said: "Horror lived in me for 5 terrible years. Every moment I was afraid for my life, for the lives of my children, for the life of my Motherland. Whoever says that he was not afraid will lie." So, living in constant fear, my great-grandfather went through the whole war. Fearing, he reached Berlin. He received the title of Hero of the Soviet Union and, despite the experience, remained a wonderful, incredibly kind and sympathetic person.

Great-grandfather was, one might say, the supply manager in his unit. Somehow they were transported by a convoy of cars to a new place and ended up in a German encirclement. There is nowhere to run, only the river. So the grandfather snatched the porridge cauldron out of the car and, holding on to it, swam to the other side. No one else from his unit survived.

During the years of war and famine, my great-grandmother went out for a short time to get bread. And left her daughter (my grandmother) at home alone. She was five years old at the time. So, if the great-grandmother had not returned a few minutes earlier, then her child could have been eaten by the neighbors.

MEMORIES OF THE WEFREITOR OF THE WEHRMACHT

If you believe the media (media of mass idiocy), then the most truthful information about the Great Patriotic War can be obtained from German sources - it is well known that the most reliable picture of what happened is presented by the one who unleashed the war and received a worthy rebuff. Following this principle, we place the memories of an ordinary participant in the war - the enemy - he is telling the truth! The article is provided with small comments (italics) and photographs from the archive of our newspaper. The photographs are also German, taken during the "liberation mission" in Europe by another German soldier. True, an amateur photojournalist was less fortunate than a writer - latest pictures he already did in Germany in 1945, and the Russian guys who sent him to another world appeared on the final frames of the film of his camera.

Ch. editor.

Battle path

I started serving in June 1941. But then I was not quite a military man. We were called the auxiliary unit, and until November, as a driver, I drove in the triangle Vyazma - Gzhatsk - Orsha. There were Germans and Russian defectors in our unit. They worked as porters. We carried ammunition, food. In general, there were defectors from both sides and throughout the war. Russian soldiers also ran across to us after Kursk. And our soldiers ran across to the Russians. I remember that near Taganrog two soldiers stood on guard and went to the Russians, and a few days later we heard their appeal on the radio with a call to surrender. I think the defectors were usually soldiers who just wanted to stay alive. They ran across more often before big battles, when the risk of dying in the attack overcame the feeling of fear of the enemy. Few people ran across their convictions both to us and from us. (Well, no, they defected to the Nazis solely for ideological convictions - from the Stalinist dictatorship.) It was such an attempt to survive in this huge carnage. They hoped that after interrogations and checks you would be sent somewhere to the rear, away from the front. And there life is somehow formed.
Then I was sent to a training garrison near Magdeburg to a non-commissioned officer school, and after it in the spring of 42, I ended up serving in the 111th infantry division near Taganrog. I was a small commander. Big military career didn't. In the Russian army, my rank corresponded to the rank of sergeant. We held back the advance on Rostov. Then we were transferred to North Caucasus, later I was wounded, and after being wounded on a plane, I was transferred to Sevastopol. And there our division was almost completely destroyed. In 1943 I was wounded near Taganrog. I was sent to Germany for treatment, and five months later I returned to my company. There was a tradition in the German army - to return the wounded to their unit, and almost until the very end of the war this was the case. I won the whole war in one division. I think this was one of the main secrets of the resistance of the German units. We lived in the company as one family. Everyone was in sight of each other, everyone knew each other well and could trust each other, rely on each other. Once a year, a soldier was supposed to leave, but after the autumn of 1943, all this became a fiction. And it was possible to leave your unit only after being wounded or in a coffin. The dead were buried in different ways.

Indeed, in different ways, the top picture is Greece, the bottom one is Russia.

If there was time and opportunity, then each was supposed to have a separate grave and a simple coffin.

But if the fighting was heavy and we retreated, then we buried the dead somehow. In ordinary funnels from under the shells, wrapped in a cape or tarpaulin. In such a pit, as many people were buried at a time as they died in this battle and could fit in it. Well, if they fled, then in general it was not up to the dead. Our division was part of the 29th Army Corps and, together with the 16th (I think!) Motorized Division, made up the army group "Reknage". We were all part of the Army Group "Southern Ukraine".

Here they are. “Soldiers of the Center group are walking across Ukraine.

As we have seen the causes of the war. german propaganda

At the beginning of the war, the main thesis of propaganda, which we believed, was the thesis that Russia was preparing to violate the treaty and attack Germany first. But we just got faster. Many then believed in this and were proud that they were ahead of Stalin. There were special front-line newspapers in which they wrote a lot about this. We read them, listened to the officers and believed in it. (Is it any wonder that this propaganda version of the enemy has been adopted by many media outlets and is actively used! The Holodomor in Ukraine, repressions, aggression as a liberation from the Bolsheviks - all this is from a set of fascist agitation initial period war. Later, after getting acquainted with the Soviet reality, these primitive propaganda myths were abandoned by the Nazis. Now they are in use again - apparently the level of knowledge of history, the general culture of the population allow them to be used.) But then, when we found ourselves in the depths of Russia and saw that there was no military victory, and that we were bogged down in this war, disappointment arose. In addition, we already knew a lot about the Red Army, there were a lot of prisoners, and we knew that the Russians themselves were afraid of our attack and did not want to give rise to war. Then the propaganda began to say that now we can no longer retreat, otherwise the Russians will break into the Reich on our shoulders. And we must fight here to secure the conditions for a peace worthy of Germany. Many expected that in the summer of 1942, Stalin and Hitler would make peace. It was naive, but we believed it. They believed that Stalin would make peace with Hitler, and together they would start fighting against England and the USA. It was naive, but the soldiers wanted to believe. (The result of an effective propaganda campaign, during which it was possible to hide the attempts of the most influential forces of the West to unite with Germany for a joint fight against the USSR).
There were no strict requirements for propaganda. No one forced them to read books and pamphlets. I still haven't read Mein Kampf. But the morale was strictly monitored. It was not allowed to conduct "defeatist conversations" and write "defeatist letters". This was supervised by a special "propaganda officer". They appeared in the troops immediately after Stalingrad. We joked among ourselves and called them "commissars". But every month it got worse. Once, a soldier was shot in our division for writing home a "letter of defeat" in which he scolded Hitler. And after the war, I found out that during the years of the war several thousand soldiers and officers were shot for such letters! (It turns out that the defeatists were destroyed in all the warring armies, and not just in the Red Army). One of our officers was demoted to the rank and file for "defeatist talk." Members of the NSDAP were especially feared. They were considered snitches (Then there were no FSB hotlines), because they were very fanatical and could always file a report on you on command. There were not very many of them, but they were almost always not trusted.
The attitude towards the local population, towards Russians, Belarusians, was restrained and distrustful, but without hatred. We were told that we must defeat Stalin, that our enemy is Bolshevism. But, in general, it would be correct to call the attitude towards the local population “colonial”. We looked at them in 1941 as a future labor force, and at the occupied areas as territories that would become our colonies. (Why be cunning? Here are the lines from the order of Field Marshal Walther von Reichenau dated 10.10. a fighter according to all the rules of military art, but also a bearer of a merciless people's idea and an avenger for the atrocities inflicted on the German and other peoples.(?? Editor-in-Chief) ... a soldier must unconditionally perform two tasks: 1) Complete eradication of the heretical Bolshevik teaching, the Soviet state and its army. 2) The merciless eradication of animal cunning and cruelty and thereby the protection of the life of the German Wehrmacht in Russia.)

A concrete example of the relationship with the local population. Zhitomir. 1941. The photo clearly shows the smiles on the faces of two soldiers. Scary picture? Believe me, the most "harmless" was chosen.

The Ukrainians were treated better, because the Ukrainians greeted us very cordially. Almost like liberators. Ukrainian girls easily started romances with the Germans. In Belarus and Russia, this was a rarity. There were also contacts on the ordinary human level.

It is Ukraine.

In the North Caucasus, I was friends with Azerbaijanis who served as auxiliary volunteers (Khivi) with us. In addition to them, Circassians and Georgians served in the division. They often cooked kebabs and other dishes of Caucasian cuisine. I still love this kitchen. At first they were few. But after Stalingrad, there were more and more of them every year. And by the year 44 they were a separate large auxiliary unit in the regiment, but they were commanded by a German officer. We called them “Schwarze” behind their backs - black. (That's where this expression comes from in the modern Russian Federation! In the USSR, neither blacks nor coloreds were known - there were all comrades. A well-known technique in history - the winners impose their culture, their worldview on the vanquished. Imposed? ...). They explained to us that we should treat them like comrades in arms, that they are our assistants. But a certain distrust of them, of course, persisted. They were used only as supporting soldiers. They were armed and equipped worse. (According to various estimates, the number of such "auxiliary units" was 1,000,000-1,200,000 people.)

Here they are the first NATO assistants on the territory of Ukraine.

Sometimes I talked with local people. Went to visit some. Usually to those who collaborated with us or worked for us. I didn't see the partisans. I heard a lot about them, but where I served, they were not. There were almost no partisans in the Smolensk region until November 1941. And in the North Caucasus, I have not heard of them at all. There the steppes are dead places for partisans. We didn't suffer from them. By the end of the war, the attitude towards the local population became indifferent. It was like he didn't exist. We didn't notice him. We were not up to them. We came, took a position. Best case scenario (So, as a rule, they did not speak !!) the commander could tell the locals to get away because there would be a fight. We were no longer up to them. We knew we were retreating. That all this is no longer ours. (Reread the last sentence! It’s not ours anymore! Was it yours?! Here it is - the face of an ordinary invader). Nobody thought about them...

Greece looks around in a businesslike manner...

Exploded Dneproges...

Crimea…

About weapons

The main weapons of the company were machine guns. There were 12 of them in the company, 4 machine guns were in the infantry platoon. It was very powerful and rapid fire weapon. They helped us out a lot. The main weapon of the infantryman was a carbine. He was respected more than an automaton. (There were no machine guns in the German army. There were submachine guns. Machine guns were only in the Red Army even before the war. During the war they were abandoned. The Soviet submachine guns Shpagin, Sudayev were better than German ones. failed, however, like the T-34 and much more.). He was called the "soldier's bride". He was long-range and good at breaking through defense. The machine was good only in close combat. (As Marshal Kulik said: “An assault rifle is a police weapon.” Which is what we see.) There were about 15-20 machine guns in the company. We tried to get a Russian PPSh assault rifle. It was called "little machine gun". There were, I think, 72 rounds in the disk, and with good care it was a very formidable weapon. There were also grenades and small mortars. There were sniper rifles. But not everywhere. I was given a Simonov Russian sniper rifle near Sevastopol. It was a very accurate and powerful weapon. Generally Russian weapons valued for its simplicity and reliability. But it was very poorly protected from corrosion and rust. Our weapons were better crafted.
Definitely Russian artillery was much superior to the German. Russian units always had good artillery cover. All Russian attacks were under heavy artillery fire. The Russians very skillfully maneuvered fire, knew how to masterfully concentrate it. The artillery was well camouflaged. Tankers often complained that you would only see a Russian cannon when it had already fired at you. In general, one had to be under Russian shelling once in order to understand what Russian artillery is. Of course very powerful weapon there was a "Stalin organ" - rocket launchers. Especially when the Russians used Molotov cocktails. They burned entire hectares to ashes.
About Russian tanks. We were told a lot about the T-34. That this is a very powerful and well-armed tank. I first saw the T-34 near Taganrog. Two of my comrades were assigned to the advanced sentinel trench. At first they assigned me with one of them, but his friend asked to go with him instead of me. The commander approved. And in the afternoon, two Russian T-34 tanks came out in front of our positions. At first they fired at us with cannons, and then, apparently, noticing the front trench, they went to it, and there one tank just turned around on it several times and buried the sentinels alive. Then the tanks left. I was lucky that I almost never met Russian tanks. There were few of them on our sector of the front. In general, we infantrymen have always had a fear of tanks in front of Russian tanks. This is clear. After all, we were almost always unarmed in front of armored monsters. And if there was no artillery behind, then the tanks did what they wanted with us.
About stormtroopers. We called them "Rusish Shtka". At the beginning of the war, we saw little of them. But by 1943, they began to annoy us greatly. That was very dangerous weapon. Especially for the infantry. They flew right overhead and poured fire from their cannons on us. Usually Russian attack aircraft made three passes. First, they threw bombs at artillery positions, anti-aircraft guns or dugouts. Then rockets were fired, and with the third run they deployed along the trenches and from the cannons they killed everything alive in them. A projectile exploding in a trench had the force fragmentation grenade and gave a lot of fragments. It was especially depressing that it was almost impossible to shoot down a Russian attack aircraft from small arms, although it flew very low. (They shot down anti-aircraft gunners, pilots. They died themselves - to fly over the battlefield at ultra-low altitudes! It was very dangerous to fly on attack aircraft: the average number of attack aircraft sorties before death was 11!, Which is 6 times less than that of fighters. Pilots capable of flying like that , the Nazis simply didn’t have it. Therefore, Goebbels’ propaganda even created a special myth that inveterate bandits fly on attack aircraft. In other matters, there were torpedo bombers with an average survivability of 3.8 flights ...).
I heard about Po-2 night bombers. But I have not personally encountered them. They flew at night and very accurately threw small bombs and grenades. But it was more psychological weapon than effective combat.
But in general, Russian aviation was, in my opinion, rather weak almost until the very end of 1943. Apart from the attack aircraft, which I have already mentioned, we hardly saw any Russian aircraft. The Russians bombed little and inaccurately. And in the rear, we felt completely calm.

Studies

At the beginning of the war, the soldiers were taught well. There were special training regiments. The strength of the training was that the soldier tried to develop a sense of self-confidence, a reasonable initiative. But there was a lot of pointless drill. I think that this is a minus of the German military school. But after the 43rd year, teaching became worse and worse. Less time was given to study and fewer resources. And in 1944, soldiers began to come who didn’t even know how to shoot properly, but they marched well, because they almost didn’t give cartridges for shooting, but combat sergeants worked with them from morning to evening. The training of officers has also become worse. They already knew nothing but defense and knew nothing but how to dig trenches correctly. They only had time to cultivate loyalty to the Fuhrer and blind obedience to senior commanders.

Food. Supply

They fed well at the forefront. But during the fights it was rarely hot. They mostly ate canned food. Usually in the morning they gave coffee, bread, butter (if any), sausage or canned ham. For lunch - soup, potatoes with meat or lard. For dinner, porridge, bread, coffee. But often some products were not available. And instead of them they could give cookies or, for example, a can of sardines. If a part was taken to the rear, then food became very scarce. Almost starving. (The calorie content of the Soviet soldier's ration exceeded the calorie content of the German ration). Everyone ate the same. Both officers and soldiers ate the same food. I don’t know about the generals - I didn’t see it, but in the regiment everyone ate the same. (According to the memoirs of the German generals, of which enough has now been published, they ate from the same soldier's cauldron. This is a valuable principle of the German army). The diet was general. But you could only eat in your own unit. If for some reason you ended up in another company or unit, then you could not dine with them in the canteen. That was the law. Therefore, when leaving, it was supposed to receive rations. But the Romanians had as many as four cuisines. One is for the soldiers. The other is for sergeants. The third is for officers. And each senior officer, a colonel and above, had his own cook, who cooked for him separately. The Romanian army was the most demoralized. The soldiers hated their officers. And the officers despised their soldiers. Romanians often traded weapons. So, our "black" ("hiwi") began to appear good weapon. Pistols and machine guns. It turned out that they bought it for food and stamps from the neighbors of the Romanians...

About SS

The attitude towards the SS was ambiguous. On the one hand, they were very tenacious soldiers. They were better armed, better equipped, better fed. If they stood side by side, then one could not be afraid for their flanks. But on the other hand, they were somewhat condescending towards the Wehrmacht. In addition, they were not well liked because of their extreme cruelty. They were very cruel to the prisoners and to the civilian population. (This is a traditional technique of Wehrmacht soldiers - to attribute their crimes to the SS or field gendarmerie. Wehrmacht soldiers knew how to hang as well as the SS men and did it no less than them. And they loved to film themselves doing this. For example, the torture and execution of Zoya Kosmodemyanskaya, and the desecration of a corpse ) . And standing next to them was unpleasant. People were often killed there. Besides, it was also dangerous. The Russians, knowing about the cruelty of the SS towards the civilian population and prisoners, did not take the SS prisoners. (Vlasovites were not taken prisoner either). And during the offensive in these areas, few of the Russians figured out who was in front of you - an SS man or an ordinary Wehrmacht soldier. They killed everyone. Therefore, behind the eyes of the SS was sometimes called the "dead".
I remember how in November 1942 we stole a truck from a neighboring SS regiment one evening. He got stuck on the road, and his driver went to his own for help, and we pulled him out, quickly drove him to our place and repainted him there, changed the insignia. They searched for him for a long time, but did not find him. And for us it was a great help. Our officers, when they found out, cursed a lot, but did not say anything to anyone. There were very few trucks left then, and we moved mostly on foot. (Germans on foot? And where are the Czech armored personnel carriers? French trucks, which accounted for 60% of the fascist car park?) And this is also an indicator of attitude. Ours (the Wehrmacht) would never have been stolen from ours. But the SS was not liked.

Soldier and officer

In the Wehrmacht there has always been a great distance between a soldier and an officer. They have never been one with us. Despite the fact that the propaganda spoke of our unity. It was emphasized that we were all "comrades", but even the platoon lieutenant was very far from us. Between him and us were still sergeants, who in every possible way maintained the distance between us and them, sergeants. And only behind them were the officers. The officers usually had very little contact with us soldiers. Basically, all communication with the officer went through the sergeant major. The officer could, of course, ask you something or give you some instructions directly, but I repeat - this was rare. Everything was done through sergeants. They were officers, we were soldiers, and the distance between us was very large. This distance was even greater between us and the high command. (This style of relationship between a soldier and an officer enters the Russian army). We were just cannon fodder for them. No one considered us and did not think about us. I remember that in July 1943, near Taganrog, I stood at a post near the house where the headquarters of the regiment was, and through the open window I heard a report from our regiment commander to some general who had come to our headquarters. It turns out that the general was supposed to organize an assault attack of our regiment on the railway station, which the Russians occupied and turned into a powerful stronghold. And after the report on the plan of the attack, our commander said that the planned losses could reach a thousand people killed and wounded, and this is almost 50% numerical strength shelf. Apparently, the commander wanted to show the futility of such an attack. But the general said:
- Good! Get ready to attack. The Führer demands decisive action from us in the name of Germany. And this thousand soldiers will die for the Fuhrer and Fatherland!
And then I realized that we are nobody for these generals! I was so scared that it is now impossible to convey. (The general's determination may be due to the fact that by this time several fascist generals had already been demoted, even shot for not following orders. The corporal might not have known this). The offensive was to begin in two days. I heard about this through the window and decided that I must save myself at all costs. After all, a thousand dead and wounded is almost all combat units. That is, I had almost no chance of surviving this attack. And the next day, when I was placed in the forward observation patrol, which was advanced in front of our positions towards the Russians, I was delayed when the order came to withdraw. And then, as soon as the shelling began, he shot himself in the leg through a loaf of bread (this does not cause a powder burn of the skin and clothes) so that the bullet broke the bone, but went right through. Then I crawled to the positions of the artillerymen, who stood next to us. They understood little about wounds. I told them that a Russian machine gunner had shot me. There they bandaged me, gave me coffee, gave me a cigarette and sent me to the rear by car. I was very afraid that in the hospital the doctor would find bread crumbs in the wound, but I was lucky. Nobody noticed. When, five months later, in January 1944, I returned to my company, I found out that in that attack the regiment lost nine hundred people killed and wounded, but the station never took ... (Amazing! According to our media, the Nazis fought with little blood ...)
This is how the generals treated us! Therefore, when they ask me how I feel about the German generals, which of them I value as a German commander, I always answer that they were probably good strategists, but I have absolutely nothing to respect them for. As a result, they laid seven million German soldiers in the ground, lost the war, and now they are writing memoirs about how great they fought and how glorious they won. (Pay attention - seven million! Our Russian democratic historians give much smaller numbers.)

The hardest fight

After being wounded, I was transferred to Sevastopol, when the Russians had already cut off the Crimea. We flew from Odessa on transport planes in a large group, and right before our eyes, Russian fighters shot down two planes packed with soldiers. It was terrible! One plane crashed in the steppe and exploded, while the other fell into the sea and instantly disappeared in the waves. We sat and waited helplessly to see who was next. But we were lucky - the fighters flew away. Maybe they were running out of fuel or out of ammo. In the Crimea, I won four months. (Apparently, the author deliberately does not recall the relationship with the local population during the period of service in the Crimea. In 1946, a trial was held in Simferopol over officers and soldiers of the Wehrmacht who fought in the Crimea. It was the Wehrmacht, not the SS. There was someone to judge - many were captured captured during the liberation of the Crimea. It was called the small Nuremberg trial. During the trial, it was convincingly proved that the atrocities against the civilian population were not committed by the SS, but by ordinary German officers and soldiers of the Wehrmacht - ordinary fascists). And there near Sevastopol was the most difficult battle in my life. This was in early May, when the defenses on Sapun Gora had already been broken through and the Russians were approaching Sevastopol. The remnants of our company - about thirty people - were sent over a small mountain so that we would go out to the flank of the Russian division attacking us. We were told that there was no one on this mountain. We walked along the stone bottom of a dry stream and suddenly found ourselves in a fire bag. We were shot at from all sides. We lay down among the stones and began to shoot back, but the Russians were among the greenery - they were not visible, but we were in full view, and they killed us one by one. I do not remember how, while shooting back with a rifle, I was able to crawl out from under the fire. I was hit by several fragments from grenades. Particularly for the legs. Then I lay for a long time between the stones and heard the Russians walking around. When they left, I examined myself and realized that I would soon bleed to death. Apparently, I was the only one alive. There was a lot of blood, but I didn’t have a bandage, nothing! And then I remembered that there were condoms in the jacket pocket. They were given to us upon arrival along with other property. And then I made tourniquets out of them, then tore the shirt and made tampons out of it for the wounds and tied them with tourniquets, and then, leaning on a rifle and a broken branch, I began to get out.

In the evening I crawled out to my

In Sevastopol, the evacuation from the city was already in full swing, the Russians entered the city from one side, and there was no power in it. Everyone was for himself. I will never forget the picture of how we were driven around the city by car and the car broke down. The driver undertook to repair it, and we looked over the board around us. Directly in front of us on the square, several officers were dancing with some women dressed as gypsies. Everyone had bottles of wine in their hands. There was some unreal feeling. They danced like crazy. It was a feast during the plague. I was evacuated from Chersonese on the evening of May 10, after Sevastopol fell. I cannot tell you what was happening on this narrow strip of land. It was hell! People cried, prayed, shot, went crazy, fought to the death for a place in the boats. When I read the memoirs of some talkative general, who told me that we left Chersonesos for in perfect order and discipline and that almost all units of the 17th Army were evacuated from Sevastopol, I wanted to laugh. Of my entire company in Constanta, I was alone! And less than a hundred people escaped from our regiment! (According to the states introduced since 1943, there were more than 200 people in a German infantry company, and more than 2 thousand in a regiment). My whole division lay down in Sevastopol. It is a fact!
I was lucky because we, the wounded, were lying on a pontoon, directly to which one of the last self-propelled barges approached, and we were the first to be loaded onto it. We were taken on a barge to Constanta. All the way we were bombed and fired upon by Russian planes. It was horror. Our barge was not sunk, but there were a lot of dead and wounded. The whole barge was full of holes. In order not to drown, we threw overboard all the weapons, ammunition, then all the dead, and still, when we arrived in Constanta, we were standing in the holds in the water up to the throat, and the wounded who were lying down all drowned. If we had to go another 20 kilometers, we would definitely go to the bottom! I was very bad. All wounds are inflamed sea ​​water. At the hospital the doctor told me that most of the barges were half full of the dead. And that we, the living, are very lucky. There, in Constanta, I was put in a hospital, and I no longer ended up in the war.

On the right, in the bottom row is my grandfather - Leonid Petrovich Beloglazov. Senior lieutenant who participated in the Great Patriotic War until the last 45 years.

Passed Volkhov, Leningrad, Kalinin, 1-2-3 Baltic, 1-2 Belorussian fronts.
Participated in the defense of Leningrad; the liberation of the cities of Ostrov, Pskov, Novgorod, Riga, Warsaw, Gaudzyants; the capture of the cities of Koenigsberg, Oliva, Gdynia, Danzig, Frankfurt on the Oder, Berlin and many others.

Much later, in retirement, in his free time, he decided to leave his memories of the years experienced in the war to posterity. According to the volume of memories, it was accumulated on a rather large story.
I will gradually convert the manuscript into electronic form and upload it to the network.

"There are many memories of the war ...

Now I can't find my way to most of the places where I fought.
I probably remember the brightest, most unusual, which I will not forget until the end of my days.

1 -
I studied at school number 11, starting from the year 32-34, from the 4th grade. She was then on the street. Kuibyshev in the building of the current University. The war of 1941 began...
Most of us (children of the 10th class) knocked on the thresholds of the district committees of the Komsomol and military registration and enlistment offices, annoying with requests to send us to the front.
Me and my classmates Vita Rybakov and Lyova Lebedev were lucky. In October 41 We were offered to write statements in the Oktyabrsky RVC. We lived at that time on the street. Blacksmith (Sini Morozova) No. 169, copy. 4 (a school now stands on this site).
We were sent to the artillery school in Sukhoi Log. At that time, the school was evacuated there from Odessa (O.A.U.)
Everything in the school was unusual: both the soldier's uniform with black buttonholes and the discipline and the classes themselves at the classroom training grounds and in the field.
Officers and soldiers came from the front and from hospitals, who had already sniffed German gunpowder.
We perceived their stories about the defeats of our army somehow incredulously:
“What success can there be at the front when we are not there…”
On February 23, 1942, we took the oath. Here at the school I joined the Komsomol. They gave me a Komsomol ticket - cardboard crusts without a photograph, but with a seal.
All three of us (I, Viktor, Lenya) graduated somewhere in June with the rank of lieutenants.
Our entire issue was lined up on the parade ground and the order of appointment was read out. Victor was heading for Moscow, Lebedev and I were heading for the Volkhov front. Looking ahead, I’ll say that less than half of us returned home after the war.
Viktor Rybakov was already on the Berlin route in 45. tore off his right arm. He returned crippled and in 70 years. died.
The fate of Lebedev is still unknown to me.
During the war, I was lucky enough to go through the Volkhov, Leningrad, Kalinin, 1-2-3 Baltic, 1-2 Belorussian fronts.
I participated in the defense of Leningrad; the liberation of the cities of Ostrov, Pskov, Novgorod, Riga, Warsaw, Gaudzyants; the capture of the cities of Koenigsberg, Oliva, Gdynia, Danzig, Frankfurt on the Oder, Berlin and many others.
During the war, I fought as a control platoon commander artillery batteries. All the time he was either on the NP or in the front trenches. We did not practically stand on the defensive, but were on the offensive. And our brigade belonged to the RGC and was called the breakthrough brigade. I don’t remember all of them, but a lot of our brother died.
I myself was shell-shocked (a heavy shell exploded under my feet) and wounded.
The injury happened on March 27, 1944. under the village Wolves (near Pskov) on the banks of the Malaya Lobyanka river.
With a fragment from a mine, a piece of wool from a sheepskin coat was brought to me. The wound healed, it soon opened. Only in January 46g. I had an operation in VOSKHITO after demobilization.
With the only classmate with whom I happened to meet at the front, it was Sokolkin. We met with him on a sunny autumn day in a forest near Novgorod.
Subsequently, more than once I visited him in the dugout. We sat on the bunk and remembered our comrades and girls. He was an ordinary radio operator.
Soldier's life is not constant, and especially during the war. Soon we parted - we were transferred to another sector of the front………..He did not return from the war…
One of our fellow practitioners later said that he shot himself. His station burned down and he was afraid of responsibility. At that time he was 19 years old. It was high. Slender, swarthy, silent and very honest guy.

2 -
Lots of memories of the war.
Now they are held in my memory, neither connected with place nor with time - like separate pictures of the distant past.
Now I can’t find my way to most of the places where I fought.
I probably remember the brightest, most unusual, which I will not forget until the end of my days.
Here is der. Tortolovo (Volkhov front). Summer. Heat. It's thirsty. I crawl through the reeds to the river. There is a fight. The sultry sky is reflected in the brown water of the swamp river. I greedily drink warm water, scooping it up with a helmet and feel my stomach swell more and more.
And when I climbed back, then 2 meters from the place where I drank, I saw the corpse of a German. He was not killed today ... Apparently, he also crawled to drink water. It makes me sick and vomit..
And Tue, after the battle in the winter, our tired brigade settled down in a pine forest to rest. The camp kitchens gave hot millet porridge to everyone's pots. We are eating... and suddenly... the Germans come out of the forest...
They go in all German uniforms in formation of two, but each of them has a red cloth strip glued on his cap (disguise for our landscapes). Schmeiser submachine guns on chest. They clearly counted on Russian carelessness. They go clearly, boldly, impudently, right through our location. Gone. Nobody stopped them.
My conscience still torments me - after all, I was sure that these were Germans, and not partisans. Why didn't I jump forward then and shout: "Halt!"?
... And then I still think that I would have received the first bullet, and the Germans fled unharmed - we were completely unprepared to receive these "guests".
But the conscience still hurts.
But on September 10, 42. The German at 4 o'clock in the morning began artillery preparation. Everything boils like a cauldron. We close our ears in horror.
Behind the bandage are corpses, horses with loose intestines. You can't stick your nose out. One salvation - rebounds. Earth is pouring from the ceiling, everything is shaking, as during an earthquake. Gets diarrhea. We recover in a helmet and throw it out the door ... The Germans are advancing ... Stuffiness ...
Some who can not stand it ... jump out of the dugout and run into the swamp. Parashchenko also jumped out with a light machine gun ...
I’m the last to run out - I wasn’t as scared as others - I just didn’t understand - this was the first time I met ...
I also ran to where everyone is running. But there was no one else. Suddenly, among the wild rosemary, I came across Parashchenko. He lay on his back. Next to him was light machine gun Degtyarev.
Running past, I noticed how his eyes glaze over ...
It was the first dead soldier in my platoon.
But the hillock ... Our guns SU-100. Also summer, or rather autumn. The fight has just ended. SU-100s are still on fire. From their hatches hang our tankers. Jackets smoke on them ...
We look around, and every moment we are ready to meet the enemy ... etc. etc.

3 -
Kirgishi
There is a thrice cursed place on the river. Volkhov - station and city "Kirgishi"
Until now, there is a dead forest in the swamp, without a single leaf. You can see it when you go on the railway. from Moscow to Leningrad. It dried up because its trunks were riddled with bullets and shrapnel.
Until now, the locals are afraid of mines to go for mushrooms. And until now, in their gardens they are digging up either a rusted machine gun, or a rifle, or a helmet, or the bones of an unknown soldier.
A small foothold on the river. Volkhov near Kirgish in 42 was fired upon by 2 armies (I think 4 and 58)
There were very heavy bloody battles, called local battles. The armies suffered colossal losses, but did not give up their positions.
In the summer, for many kilometers, the wind carried the sweet smell of rotting corpses. Tanks sunk into the ground stood in the marshy no man's land, and from the towers of these tanks there was something like winter slides (which are made for children to ride) only not from snow, but from corpses.
It was the wounded (ours and the Germans) who crawled, seeking protection from the wrecked armored monsters, and died there.
Kirgishi was a real hell.
There was even a fable at the front: “Whoever was not near Kirgish, he did not see the war”
There was a grove on the German side.
We gave her the code name "Elephant". It seems that on the map it very vaguely resembled an elephant.
I have a very unpleasant memory connected with this grove. These two armies could not take it either. And she, apparently, was of great tactical importance. I ended up under Kirgishi after ordeals in the 5th reserve regiment as a completely “yellow-mouthed” lieutenant.
Somehow the commissioner called me to him.
He said: “You are a member of the Komsomol. Your soldiers, all as one, signed up as volunteers to take the "Elephant" grove. It's a shame for the commander to lag behind his soldiers. And I answered: "Write me too."
And then, as I found out, he called one soldier from my platoon and told everyone: “Your commander is young, he is only 19 years old, but he is a member of the Komsomol. He signed up as a volunteer to take the "Elephant" grove. And how are you? It is a shame for soldiers to abandon their commander.” And all my soldiers answered: "Well, write"
I still don’t understand why it was necessary to deceive us like that? ... At that time we were all the same and would have gone like that ...
The attack was scheduled for the next day.
All of us volunteers were taken to the edge of the forest. Ahead was a swamp, and beyond the swamp a skyscraper where the Germans and the ill-fated grove "Elephant" were sitting.
Until 12 o'clock we were waiting for our artillery preparation. Didn't wait.
The enemy occasionally bombarded us with shells, but in the swamp this was of little effect. The shell went deep into the peat and torn there, without giving fragments - it turned out to be a camouflage.
Somewhere at one o'clock in the afternoon we were raised in chains, and silently led to the attack.
It was somewhat similar to a psychic attack in the film "Chapaev".
For some reason, at that time, she was the one that came to my mind.
I walked with a rifle at the ready (at that time we had not yet thrown out all the bayonets). I look to the right, I look to the left, and the soul rejoices - there is a chain, hesitates, bristling with bayonets: "Now we will conquer the whole world."
It wasn't scary at all. On the contrary, some kind of elation, energy, pride was felt. And so they entered the German trenches without a single shot - they occupied the height and the grove "Elephant".
In the German trenches there were two Fritz left to guard positions, who played cards in the dugout, did not notice us, and whom we took prisoner.
The rest went to the bathroom.
Apparently the Germans did not expect such audacity from the Russians - an attack in broad daylight and without any artillery preparation

I can't describe what happened when the enemy came to his senses...
We ran from a height, covering the neutral zone with our bodies. A heavy shower of shells and mines literally came from the sky. From all sides, automatic bursts merged into one common rumble. All mixed up. We have ceased to think what is happening, where are ours, where are strangers.
Only in the morning along some kind of drainage ditch, almost afloat, covered in swamp slurry, without a rifle and a helmet, I, staggering from fatigue in an almost unconscious state, crawled out to my people at the edge of the forest.
Of the many, many, I was very lucky - I survived.
Grove "Elephant" was never taken. She was with the Germans until our troops, by a roundabout maneuver, created a threat of encirclement for them and forced them to withdraw. But this happened much later - in the year 43 or even 44.

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The monograph deals with a set of issues related to the history of the creation and activities of Belarusian collaborationist formations in the power structures of Nazi Germany. On the basis of extensive historical material from the archives of Ukraine, Belarus, Russia, Germany and the United States, the process of organization, training and combat use of Belarusian units and subunits as part of the police, the Wehrmacht and the Waffen SS is traced. The book is intended for historians, university professors, students and anyone interested in the history of the Second…

I am from 1925, but was recorded as having been born in 1928. In October 1942, the guys from our field-farming collective farm brigade were called for registration in the military registration and enlistment office. And I'm not on the list. But I sat down with them and went. We arrived at the military registration and enlistment office, they let everyone in on the list, and the Secretary of the village council was Tatyana Borodina, standing at the door, and she wouldn’t let me through: “Fool, you! Where are you going?” - "I want to go with my friends, wherever they are ordered." - "Fool, you! People are trying to get away, and you yourself are climbing. You are a homeless child, who will need you if you return a cripple ?!" But I still didn’t understand anything ... At some point, she went to the toilet, and left Ivan Mordovin, my friend, at the door. I say: "Vanyushka, let me in while she's gone." - "Go." - I went in, there were five people sitting there: "I'm not on the list, but I want to go voluntarily. Please write me down." They signed me up for the 25th year, they didn’t even ask anything.

We were brought to the Frunze Infantry School. Trained for six months. In March 1943 the school was closed. Within 12 hours, we were put in a wagon and forward to the front near Kharkov. We drove for seven days, while we were dying, the situation stabilized. We were turned to the suburbs, to the city of Shchelkovo. Airborne brigades were created there. I ended up in the 4th squad, 4th platoon, 8th company, 2nd battalion, 13th airborne brigade. And since I am short, I always stood at the rear. I have sixteen jumps. Of these, several from the balloon. And jumping from a balloon is worse than jumping from an airplane! Because when the first one jumps, he pushes the basket and it dangles. And the law was this: the instructor sits in one corner, and soldiers sit in three corners. He commands, get ready! I have to say: "eat get ready!" - "Get up!" - "There are stand up!" "Go!" - "Eat gone!" You have to say this, but the basket is shaking...

Jumping in boots?

No, they jumped in windings all the time. We didn't see the boots.

The ones who couldn't jump?

They were immediately written off to the infantry and sent. They didn't judge. At first we jumped together with the officers, but some officers were afraid to jump and began to jump separately - the officers separately, we - separately. About 150 kilometers from Shchyolkovo we are parachuted, and we ourselves have to get to the barracks. It's like they came back from behind. We jumped mainly from Li-2. You go first, you jump last. You go in last, you jump first. Which is better? Equally. And the last is bad and the first is bad. We boys - we were 17 years old at that time, if only there was something in the stomach, and we put on the rest.

The food was very bad. There are rotten frozen potatoes in the pot and not cut, but simply boiled nettle stalks. 600 grams of bread, and in bread and bran, which is just not there - very heavy. But somehow the body endured. Near the barracks there was a large cellar, where military unit brought potatoes. We've been stealing it all winter. They went down the rope, and typed in a duffel bag. In each barracks, they put an iron stove. Wooden fences in Shchelkovo were dismantled at night for fuel. They boiled potatoes, baked, ate.

Did you have someone from the 3rd or 5th brigades? Of those who participated in the Dnieper landing?

No. True, we were told about this landing. In Shchelkovo there was a terrible enmity between pilots and paratroopers. It was said that the pilots got scared and dropped the paratroopers on the German trenches. They got scared. There is a bridge across the Klyazma River. Paratroopers used to be on duty on it, and if a pilot was walking, then he was thrown from the bridge into the river.

In June 1944, the 13th Guards Airborne Brigade became the 300th Guards Rifle Regiment of the 99th Guards rifle division. And from our platoon they made a platoon regimental intelligence. We were put into wagons and taken away. At first they didn't say where. They took everything. They brought us to the Svir River. We had to force it.

The command decided to make a distracting maneuver - to portray the crossing. Let the boats run by twelve soldiers. Put stuffed animals on them. And at this time the main crossing was to pass in another place. Our reconnaissance platoon was asked to form this group of twelve volunteers ... Six people have already signed up. I go thinking: "What can I do?! I don't know how to swim, damn it." I tell the platoon commander, Junior Lieutenant Korchkov Pyotr Vasilyevich:

Comrade junior lieutenant, I don’t know how to swim, but I want to enroll, what should I do?

What are you?! Little one?! You will be given special sleeveless jackets and tubes - 120 kilograms of weight can withstand. "And at that time I had 50 kilograms at the most. So I signed up seventh. The second battalion was supposed to be the first to cross the Svir. The battalion commander told the regiment commander this:" My battalion is forcing first, I will single out these twelve people from my battalion .. ". The regiment commander considered that it would be more correct. Twelve people signed up different nationalities and professions. There was even a chef there. All of them received the title of Hero of the Soviet Union. True, they were already crossing along with the headquarters of the regiment. But I think that they were not awarded in vain - they knew that they were going to their death and went to it voluntarily. This is also a feat, I think so. Maybe they did the right thing by leaving them alive, it was necessary to raise the authority of the regiment. We went on the offensive .... It was very difficult to fight the Finns.

A whole company of submachine gunners guarded six captured Finns, including two officers. So they ran anyway. Around the swamps, it is necessary to cut down trees, build gati. When will the products arrive? We killed fish with pomegranates and ate without salt and bread with Finnish biscuits ...

There was such a case. In the cellars, the Finns had wooden barrels of butter and dry potatoes. We are in it butter boiled dry potatoes. Then you take off your pants, you sit automatically ...

We attacked capitally. We started from Lodeynoye Pole on the banks of the Svir River and walked fairly well to the Kutezhi station. The Finns soon surrendered.

We were put into cars and taken to the station. We plunged and went to Orsha, in Belarus. We became the 13th Guards Air Division - parachutes again, jump again. Then the command: "Set aside!". They made rifle regiments back from the landing troops, and the division became the 103rd Guards. The 324th regiment was created in it. The new regiment commander asked for a reconnaissance platoon of fired soldiers. And we, from our native 300th regiment, were sent to the 324th regiment. In March 1945 we were brought near Budapest. We are in wadded trousers, in wadded jerseys, 45th size of boots, three-meter windings ... But we attacked thoroughly, we fought capitally. We were not afraid of death, because we have no family, no children, no one.

The regiment commander set us the task: "Go to the rear of the Germans and observe whether they are pulling forces or pulling them up?" We were six scouts and a radio operator. The assignment was for a day. We were lined up, the foreman went around everyone, took away all the documents, all the papers. This is very sad and scary. This is very depressing for a person, but nothing should be in the pockets - this is the law of intelligence. Instead of a day, we were behind the front line for five days! Dug out a perimeter defense. We had nothing but grenades and a machine gun! There is nothing to eat! Our scout, a healthy guy, at night, hiding from everyone, went to the highway, killed two Germans and took their duffel bags. They were canned. That's what they lived for. True, the platoon commander almost shot this soldier because he went without permission. If he had been captured, we would all be lost. We found out that the Germans did not pull up the forces, but pulled them back, retreated and received an order to return.

On the way back we stumbled upon the Vlasovites. We didn't contact them. There are only seven of us! What could we do? Come on, get rid of them! And they shout obscenities to us in Russian: "Surrender!" They ran and ran and stumbled upon a German warehouse in the forest. There were chrome boots, raincoats. We changed. Let's move on. Road ahead. Behind the L-shaped turn, some sounds are heard. The platoon commander tells me: “Smoked (that’s what they called me in the platoon), get out, look, what’s that sound? I went out to the turn to look and at that time the Fritsev sniper caught me ... The bullet hit my thigh ... The guys carried me out "They wanted to cut off my leg in the hospital, but next to my bed lay one old man, a Siberian. We called him Uncle Vasya. When the head of the hospital, Lieutenant Colonel, came, this Uncle Vasya grabbed a stool and A letter to Stalin that instead of following his order, do not cut off your arms and legs, cut them off for nothing. You are going to perform an operation on him, and he is only 18 years old, who will need him without legs?! And if you do everything right, he will still fight!" This lieutenant colonel: "Okay, okay, you don't need to write anywhere ...". They were still afraid! They prepared me for the operation. They did it for almost 6 hours. Only on On the second day I came to my senses somewhere around lunchtime. I had white boots on my feet, four wooden planks, the whole thing was pulled together. I was wounded on April 26, after 13 days the war ended, and I was in the hospital for another six months. After 6 months it began to stink, the leg festered, the lice started up. The doctors were happy - it means it is healing. They took off the plaster. The leg does not bend. They put me on my back, they hung weights on the stretch, 100 grams, then 150, 200 grams. She slowly bent, but does not unbend. They put me on my stomach, and again in the same way.Gradually, the leg developed.

I returned from the hospital to my unit, my friends-front-line soldiers greeted me well. The commission wrote me off as unfit for military service. Thus, I found myself at home. I did not want to go home - I was sorry to leave my friends. We went through the whole war together. They considered themselves brothers. They got used to each other, they could not live without each other. When everyone was lined up, they began to say goodbye, I began to cry - I don’t want to leave! They tell me: "Fool, leave!"

It must be said that immediately after the war, the participants in the Great Patriotic War, the wounded, the crippled were not paid attention. You look, without both legs, he will make himself like a sled or a carriage, pushes off, moves around ... Only after 1950 did they begin to understand a little, to help.

Was it easier to live before the war?

Yes. Collective farmers even refused to take the wheat they earned - they had enough of their own. They dressed and ate well.

When you were called, did you know Russian well?

I studied at a Russian school. And he was an excellent student. When I studied in the 5th grade, my dictation was worn in the 10th grade, they showed: "Look how a student of the 5th grade, the Kazakh writes." I was gifted, God helped me in this matter.

What did they teach at the Frunze Infantry School?

I was a mortar. We studied the 82-mm battalion mortar. The plate is 21 kilograms, the trunk is 19 kilograms, the biped is also 19 kilograms. As the smallest, I carried wooden trays with mines. I could not carry parts of the mortar.

When you got to the front, what weapon did you have?

First they gave carbines. Then the paratroopers were given a PPS machine gun. Three horns. Lightweight, with a folding butt. Good machine. We loved it, but the carbine is better. Carbine with bayonet. I loaded five rounds, you shoot - you know that you will definitely kill. And sand got into the machine - it got stuck. He may refuse, he may let you down. The carbine will never let you down. In addition, everyone was given a finca and three grenades. Cartridges stuffed into a duffel bag. Pistols who wanted - had, but I did not have.

What was usually in the duffel bag?

Crackers, bread, a little lard, bacon, but mostly cartridges. If we went to the rear, then we didn’t think about food, we took as much as possible more ammo and pomegranate.

Did you have to take "language"?

I had to. In the Carpathians, I had to take it during the day. The platoon commander was given the task to urgently take the "language". Send the whole platoon. The Germans did not have a solid defense. We wanted to go straight ahead, cross an open place at a run, go to the rear of the Germans and look for whoever comes across. When they began to run across, a German machine gun started to work. And we all went to bed. They came back and went around the forest, around. We went to the same clearing, only from the other, German, side. We looked - a trench, in it two machine gunners are looking towards our defense. I went and Nikolay Lagunov. We weren't afraid of shit because they couldn't see us. Came from behind: "Halt! Hyundai Hoch!" They grabbed their pistols. We fired a couple of bursts from machine guns, but did not kill them - we needed them alive. Then the rest of the guys came running. They took away from these boys... they are also young guys... they took away the pistols, the machine gun and took them away. So, within two hours, they carried out the instructions of the headquarters. That's how I had to take it ... There were other cases ... Fritz dug in on such and such a hill. We must catch and bring. Moreover, it is desirable not to be a private, but an officer ... A scout crawls all his life in a plastunsky way. Others walk on their feet, pilots fly, gunners stand 20 kilometers away and shoot, and a scout crawls on his belly all his life ... And now, crawling, we help each other out ...

When they went on a search, what were they wearing?

There were masks. White in winter and spotted in summer.

Did you use German weapons?

The only time. In Hungary, we climbed a hill. On it stood a rich villa. We stopped there - we were very tired. No guards or guards were posted, and everyone fell asleep. In the morning one of ours went to recover. I looked into the barn - a German soldier is milking a cow! He runs into the house. Raised the alarm. They jumped out, but the German had already fled. It turned out that the Germans were not far away. There were only 24 of us, but we went on the attack, opened automatic fire, and began to surround them. They started squirming. In 1945 they were draping be healthy! Nikolai Kutsekon picked up a German machine gun. We began to descend from this hill. The descent ended in a cliff. And under him sat about fifty Hungarian soldiers. We threw a grenade there and Kutsekon at them with a machine gun ... He shoots very quickly, ours is ta-ta-ta, and this one is labor-trouble ... Nobody ran away.

What trophies did you take?

The clock was mostly taken. You take a cap, put it on, shout: "Urvan - do you have a watch ?!" Everyone carries, puts. And then you select which ones are better and throw away the rest. These hours are rapidly running out. They played the game "we wave without looking": one holds a watch in his fist, the other something else or the same watch and change.

How were the Germans treated?

Like an enemy. There was no personal hatred.

Were the prisoners shot?

It happened ... I killed two myself. At night, they captured the village, while we were liberating this village, four of our people died. Jumped into one yard. There the Germans harnessed the horse to the cart, they wanted to run away. I shot them. Then on the same britzka we went further along the road. We kept chasing them all the time, and they scrambled non-stop.

Was it harder to fight with the Finns?

Very hard. The Germans are far from the Finns! Finns are all two meters, healthy. They don't talk, they're all silent. Moreover, they were cruel. We thought so at the time.

Magyars?

Cowardly people. As soon as you take him prisoner, they immediately shout: "Hitler, kaput!"

How did you develop relationships with the local population?

Very well. We were warned that if we treat the local population as the Germans treated ours, they would be judged by the court of the Military Tribunal. Once I almost got judged. We stopped in the village. The reconnaissance platoon was fed from its boiler. We cooked and ate for ourselves. In the morning, when we got up, we see such a pockmarked little pig running around. The guys wanted to drive him into the barn, catch him, kill him, but they did not succeed. I just went out onto the porch, and Kutsekon shouted to me: "Zeken, let's get a machine gun!" I took a machine gun and shot him. And nearby was washing the captain from the neighboring unit. We didn't pay attention to it. And he reported to the headquarters and the deputy commander of the regiment for political affairs came, we, six people, were arrested, and we took the pig with us. The hostess stood by and cried. Either she felt sorry for the pig, or for us. Don't know. They interrogated us, found out that I shot. They said: "You will go to the 261st penal company." Captain Bondarenko, head of intelligence of the regiment, says: "Well, what kind of scout are you, damn it?! Such a scout should be imprisoned! Why did you get caught ?!" He bonfired me on what the light stands. Five were released, and I was put in the cellar. And then the Germans went on the offensive near Balaton. We need to move forward and solve problems. The command released me. I came, the guys cooked food, but I had to eat on the go. On the go and gave the belt.

Are there any awards for the war?

I received the medal "For Courage" and the Order of the Patriotic War, I degree.

Were there lice at the front?

Vshi life did not give us. We were in the forest in winter or summer, kindling a fire, taking off our clothes and shaking over the fire. The crack stood!

What was the scariest episode?

There were many of them ... I don’t remember now ... After the war, for five or six years, the war was constantly dreamed of. And for the last ten years I have never dreamed, it's gone ...

War is for you significant event in life, or after it were more significant events?

During the war there was such friendship, trust in each other, which never existed again and probably never will. Then we felt sorry for each other so much, we loved each other so much. In the reconnaissance platoon, all the guys were wonderful. I remember them with such a feeling... Respect for each other is a great thing. They didn’t talk about nationality, they didn’t even ask what nationality you were. You are your own person and that's it. We had Ukrainians Kotsekon, Ratushnyak. They were two or three years older than us. Healthy guys. We often helped them. I am small, I could quietly cut a passage through the barbed wire. They understood that they were stronger than me, but I had to be there to help. This is an unwritten law, no one taught us this. When we returned from the task, we ate and drank 100 grams, remembered who helped whom, how they acted. There is no such friendship anywhere now, and it is unlikely to be.

In a combat situation, what did you experience: fear, excitement?

Before attacking there is some cowardice. Afraid to stay alive or not. And when you advance, you forget everything, and you run and shoot and don't think. Only after the fight, when you figure out how everything happened, sometimes you can’t give an answer to yourself what and how you did it - such excitement in battle.

How did you deal with losses?

At first, when we saw our dead for the first time on the banks of the Svir River, then, you know, our legs gave way. And then, when they attacked thoroughly, they went in the second echelon. We saw the corpses of the enemy lying on the road. Cars had already passed over them - a crushed head, chest, legs ... We looked at this cheerfully.

But the losses in the platoon were experienced very hard. Especially in Karelia... We walked through the forests... Soldiers stepped on mines or were killed by a bullet. Dig a hole under the tree. Half a meter is already water. Wrapped in a cape and in this hole, in the water. They threw the earth, left and no memory of this man. How many people have been left like this ... Everyone is silent, they don’t talk, everyone experiences it in their own way. It was very hard. Of course, the severity of the losses gradually subsided, but it was still hard when someone died.

Smoked?

Smoked for 42 years, but rarely drank. I grew up as a homeless child, I didn’t eat sweets, and I had a friend at the front who liked to drink vodka. We changed with him - I give him vodka, and he gives me sugar.

Were there any superstitions?

Yes. They prayed to God, but to themselves, in their souls.

Could you refuse to go on a mission?

No. This is already treason. It was impossible not only to talk about it, but also to think about it.

In the moments of rest, what did you do?

We didn't have any rest.

Do you think you'll survive the war?

We knew for certain that we would win. We did not think that we might die. We were boys. Those who were 30-40 years old, of course, they lived and thought differently. At the end of the war, many already had golden spoons, more manufactory, some trophies. And we don't need anything. During the day we throw the overcoat, we throw everything, the night comes - we are looking for.

Did you personally live for today, or did you make plans?

They didn't think about it.

Thought you might die?

Was it difficult for you to return?

Very hard. In part, they gave 5 kilograms of sugar, two footcloths and 40 meters of manufactory, a letter of thanks from the commander and goodbye. The echelon has been formed, and it must separate us from Soviet Union. When they entered Russia, on their own land, everyone fled - the train remained empty. The head doesn’t work a damn thing - there was also a food certificate for us! Everyone left! They boarded passenger trains, but they didn’t let them in, they asked for a ticket, they asked for money. But we have nothing, and besides, I'm on crutches.

He came to his native collective farm. He was Russian with us - 690 Russian households and only 17 - Kazakh. At first he was a watchman - he could only walk on crutches. Then he went to the field-farming brigade. There they gave a kilogram of bread a day and prepared hot broth. They plowed and sowed on bulls. And then, when the bread is ripe, they mowed with a hay mower. Women knitted in sheaves. These sheaves were piled into piles. And from the heaps they put them in stacks. Only in late autumn this bread was threshed on a threshing machine. I am a basement. It's hard, the sheaves are very large, but I still have one leg ... I walked all ragged. Front trousers of a patch on a letka. After some time, he became the secretary of the Komsomol organization of the collective farm. I was offered to go to the KGB. At that time, a Kazakh, a nationalist, who knew Russian well was a rarity. I agreed. They applied for a year, but in the end they refused because I am the son of a bai. They wanted to take him to the Ministry of Internal Affairs, but they also refused - the son of a bai. They made me a librarian. I worked, and the secretary of the party organization received the salary of the head of the reading room. True, I was charged half a workday a day. And then they didn’t give a damn thing for a workday ... The secretary of the party organization was an illiterate person. I did all of his work. He needed a person to write protocols, and in order to write protocols, you need to sit at a party meeting. And to attend a party meeting, one must be a member of the party. So in 1952 he became a member of the party. In the same year, he was taken as an instructor of the district committee. He worked for a year, became the head of the organizational department. And then they began to check, they established that I was the son of a bai - a strict reprimand with entry on the registration card for hiding my social origin, to be relieved of my post. The secretary of the district committee was Lavrikov from the city of Apsheron, Krasnodar Territory. And so he says to me:

You will go to herd pigs in the collective farm "World October".

Let's go to my native collective farm.

No, you will not go to your native collective farm. Go herd the pigs.

I'm not going to herd pigs.

Somehow he got drunk drunk, came to his office and cursed him: “I didn’t see my father! I was a year old when he died! I didn’t use his wealth. If you do this, you would go to the Germans." He called him a fascist ... It’s good that at that time they didn’t put him in jail for 15 days, otherwise he would definitely have been hit. The deputy head of the general department and my friend pulled me by the hand... With difficulty, I managed to get a job as the head of the state insurance of the district. This is how I had to make my way...