Collection of articles and materials dedicated to the village of Lyuboshch and the places around it

LITTLE STORIES 0 BIG WAR

The world has died down for a long time,
not one, even two world.
But, closing the textbooks,
I do not grieve for the dead, but for the living.

I believe that the medical genius will cope
with cancer, with an ulcer of any pestilence.
But will someone write a textbook
after World War III?

Much has been written about the war. Much has been written against the war. But the wars continue. Maybe because they continue in our hearts, in our thoughts?

In any war, one way or another, everyone is always involved. Especially in world wars. Especially in the last second world war, most of all it is written about the second world war. Many children of this war are still alive. It still continues in them, in their deep memory. It continues in me. I dedicate these little stories to the children of World War II.

Oryol region. An occupation. Places that we associate with the Battle of Oryol-Kursk. Big village. Now she is gone. It was not destroyed by the invaders, it was destroyed by the Russian reformers of the 60s-80s. I am 5 years old. Our house is extreme. It stands on a big (so it seemed in childhood) mountain. The hut is made of two halves, on one side there are animals, on the other - we. Doors (through) in the middle of the hut. I return in the afternoon from somewhere under the mountain. I approach the hut from the human side. A German stands at the front door. He raises his rifle. And aim at me. Now he will shoot. In a second. And I won't be anymore. I'm running away. Around the corner, and I go out from the opposite side of the hut. The German is already standing there and aiming at me again. If it aims, it will shoot. I have no exit. End! But there is no shot. I run downhill and huddle under the mountain into a deep dark hole, from where the clay was taken. And in front of my eyes is a German aiming at me ... I don’t remember how long I sat in this clay pit, not moving. Grandfather found me there already dark.

When this picture pops up in my memory, I always think - how many children were there at that time all the guns and weapons of war were aimed at! And how many triggers were pulled! And how many murder weapons are now aimed specifically at children! In principle, it is directed to the childhood of humanity, because humanity begins from childhood. Kill childhood - kill humanity! How many children are being killed every day now? Is there such a statistic? Maybe the UN knows these statistics? If someone's childhood is being killed, then they are killing me. I get killed daily. Keep killing the childhood in me.

I'm walking through the summer meadow. If you knew how beautiful the meadows in the Oryol region are at the time of the herbage. What many herbs, what many colors, what smells, what colors! I'm walking through this beautiful meadow. I am a carefree kid. Childhood is characterized by carelessness, that is, freedom, carelessness. Childhood is always drawn with its attention, first of all, to beauty, to the beauty around itself. It's so natural.

I walk, carefree, through a beautiful meadow. And from somewhere, from some heavenly space, an airplane appears. First comes the sound of this aircraft. Already in this very sound - hostility. I turn around. The plane is flying low. He approaches me. He is above me. In the whole expanse of the sky and the meadow there are two of us - the plane and I. The plane needs me. My whole being understands why the plane needs me. And it fills me with dread. The plane is so big, and I am so small, helpless. I run to the mountain where the bomb shelter is dug. It is my salvation. I run with all my might, but it seems that I stay in place, as it happens in a dream. Above me is a plane. He covers me. He roars. It seems that the plane is above the very top of my head. I run with all my might. And I don't remember anything else. I'm just alive...

When I watch TV and constantly see how modern planes are bombing various beautiful countries, I feel that I am running through the meadow again, and above me there are planes (many, many) with their deadly cargo. And I have nowhere to hide.

Already during the battle on the Oryol-Kursk Bulge, the entire village: the elderly, women, children were loaded into freight cars at the Komarichi station along with all our village belongings, even horses and carts, and taken away. Where? Did I know then - where? I now know this - we were taken to Ukraine to work in the Junker farms being created there. The wagons were moving, from time to time planes roared over the wagons, as once above me, running through the meadow, but, I remember, they never bombed. We were brought to the station in the city of Smolensk. There we were supposed to be reloaded.

We settled down with all our village encampment right next to the station. It was summer. They lay down to sleep under the carts. The horses were tied to carts. And at night the station began to bomb. Along with our camp. Our Russian bombers bombed. "You don't know your own." They bombed, as it seemed then, for a long time and terribly. It was the worst thing in my life. Dark night. Sudden pillars of fire. In sequence. Right next to you. The horse rears up, breaks. It rips and groans all around. Tearing and groaning all in me. Inside, there is one desire that is tearing me apart: to jump up and run without looking back, run, run, run. But my grandmother lay down on me and pressed her senile, also defenseless body to the ground. And that made it even scarier...

This night crushed me. In the morning, when dawn broke, the vision was deadly: everything was torn apart. And among this torn chaos wandered those who yesterday were still people. Half of the village remained forever at the station of the city of Smolensk.

When I think of Hell, I remember this night and this morning. Hell is not somewhere far away, it is here on Earth, it is next to us, it is also in us. We, the people, gave birth to this hell on earth...

We are not only children of war, we are children of Hell.

Then we, the survivors, were brought to the right place. And then we were liberated by our advancing army. In fact, we have freed ourselves. During the battle, apparently by agreement, we ran across under the bullets whistling around and under the explosions of shells, or rather, moved to ours. Carried on our old-fashioned ancient-pre-ancient carts. We (we are grandfather, grandmother and I) had a gig, a cart with two wheels. And a handsome horse, a shiny black horse named Voronok. I don't know how fast we were flying. And when they flew over some railways, one wheel of our gig crumbled. But the Raven did not stop. and couldn't stop. Grandfather whipped our beautiful Funnel without ceasing ... One wheel was spinning, and a fragment of the other furrowed, plowed the ground. When we stopped, already liberated, Funnel was covered in soap. He became white-white. So people turn gray in an instant or in one night ...

Do you know how many gray-haired children there are in the world?

son of the regiment

And then there was the return of the entire remaining village to their native places on their own. Unforgettable pictures: on both sides of the road broken and abandoned military equipment, trenches, corpses that were not removed in some places, the smell of gunpowder and some kind of burning. An empty bucket tied to the back of a cart rattled. And it was very empty around. And empty stomach.

We passed through some villages. I remember a well on one of the streets. A well with a crane. The fence around the well and the inscription: "Minated!" As read by grandfather.

Sometimes they stopped to rest. I remember parking in a pine forest. I remember her beauty. Unusual warmth emanated from the pines. Some kind of love was spilled in a pine forest and filled the body and soul ... There are many, many pine cones on the ground, and warmth also emanated from them. They looked like little living hedgehogs.

And she settled down there, obviously, also for some kind of rest tank unit. And there was a girl there, very beautiful, slender, in uniform. She liked me. And she asked her grandparents to give me to her. So that I become the son of a regiment. But they didn't give me away. Whether I regret now that they didn’t give me to the sons of the regiment, I don’t know. I only know that on that day I experienced my first love: for the sun, for pines, for cones, for this unknown girl ...

Already after the war, I ran countless times with my peers to the film "Son of the Regiment" based on the story by Valentin Kataev. And each time we lived one life with Vanya Solntsev, participating with all our being in that big war.

And at the technical school, I then studied with the real ex-son shelf. And we were friends for a very long time.

This is very short story. Once we stopped somewhere right in open field. And somewhere in the middle of our caravan, the boy Vanechka, Vanechka Shcherbakov, was sitting on a cart. He was younger than me, very small. And so everyone affectionately called him Vanechka-Snotty. And Vanechka saw something attractive and shiny on the side of the road. And he asked for it to be served to him. It was an egg, but not a simple one, but ... a toy one. And they gave it to Vanechka. Vanechka was delighted with the unexpected toy. And he began to play with her. And there was an explosion. And Vanya was gone. Childhood ended as soon as it began.

And then we rode in our gig alone, more and more lagging behind everyone. This is why it happened. We always rode ahead of our wagon caravan. One day we were passing through the forest. And some people came out of the forest. They said they were partisans. And they took the Funnel from us. But they took pity on us and instead gave us some kind of exhausted horse. So we ended up at the tail of the caravan, and then completely lagged behind. But it was close to home. Here is the city of Orel. All in ruins, in ruins. The bridge over the Orlik River was blown up. He was restored. And they moved to the other side on a temporary pontoon bridge. We also moved. We climbed to the high bank. Grandpa stopped the horse. He saw a well not far away, untied the bucket and went to it. And from the bridge being restored, they began to shout: “It is mined!” They waved their hands and shouted and shouted. And grandfather was walking, he was deaf. Heard and saw it all, me and my grandmother. They shouted from the bridge, my grandmother shouted, my grandfather went to the mined well, and I was numb. I already had an explosion. And there was no grandfather. End of everything. And already some kind of endless sobbing was rising in me, and it was ready to burst. And grandfather is already next to the well ... But, not reaching literally one step to the well, he stopped. Looked around. I saw screaming and waving from the bridge. Probably understood everything and returned. What force stopped him, I do not know. I often recall this terrible situation, and lines from a poem by Alexander Blok come to mind:

Go through dangerous years.
You are being watched everywhere.
But if you come out intact - then
You will finally believe in a miracle.

Ivan Oblique

And here we are at home. We arrived during the day. And in the evening the horse, which grandfather, I remember, called Gray, died. They say about the horse - she died. But Gray is dead. Drove us and died. What a man who did his duty well.

And then there was a hungry autumn. And a hungry winter. And even more hungry spring. Potatoes were planted in the spring. And in the fall, this life-saving harvest was already harvested with my grandfather. I still remember this great miracle: digging out of the ground a beautiful potato bush, the roots of which are densely covered with potatoes. All potatoes are alive, resembling some kind of fabulous creatures, with a head, torso, arms and legs. And all potatoes are different. Like people. Then I never saw such wonderful potatoes anywhere ...

We are digging potatoes with grandfather. And Ivan Zaitsev comes up to us. He is a year older than me, but as a child, the difference of one year is very noticeable. Ivan - the ringleader in all our childish affairs. The Zaitsevs' hut is not far from ours. Ivan has something in his hands. He shows this to his grandfather and says: "Here I found an airplane." Grandfather immediately understood what kind of toy it was: “This is not an airplane, Vanechka, this is a mine.” Before grandfather had time to do something, Ivan, frightened, turned away from us and threw this terrible toy on the ground. And a pillar of fire went up. And, maybe, a second before the explosion, grandfather knocked me to the ground and fell on me himself, covered me with himself. And when the explosion thundered, Ivan turned to us. His face was covered in blood. I thought he was covered in blood. They called him later in the village - Ivan Oblique. His eye was knocked out by fragments of a mine, one fragment pierced his lung, another touched internal organs; and there were many small wounds on the body.

I am reading the Ecology and Life magazine (No. 5, 2002): “According to experts, there are more than 100 million anti-personnel mines in the ground all over the planet” (p. 64). And how many mines exploded! And behind every mine I see a boy who looks like Ivan Kosoy. And those who stuff the earth with mines are detonaters, child-killers!

The story is not the last

And a peaceful life began. But she was not peaceful. Cows exploded on mines, tractors were blown up. The war continued. It continued in our children's games. We found a lot of live ammunition. His favorite pastime was to kindle a fire, quickly throw cartridges into the fire and quickly take cover, lie down behind a hillock. And with bated breath to hear the shots and the whistle of bullets. Like in a war. A lot of linear gunpowder was left everywhere. We wrapped it in paper, fastened it together and set fire to one end. It turned out a small rocket - a snake, it flew through the air in unpredictable ways, flopped to the ground, took off again, and we dodged it.

And homemade pistols! Primitive, wooden. Trigger - elastic band, impact striker-nail. One of these pistols exploded in the hands of my friend.

But the biggest tragedy happened in the summer, before Vanya Zaitsev found the mine. The boys found a warehouse with shells in one of the large dens. The adults weren't told about it. Someone came up with the idea to unscrew the heads from all the shells, pour the gunpowder into one pile and set it on fire. It was in the evening. I watered the lower garden, in a hurry to run to play with the guys. And suddenly there was a powerful explosion from that log, where the boys were fiddling with shells. The whole village rushed there ... None of the boys were alive, relatives gathered their own pieces, recognizing them by some signs. My cousin also died in this log ...

When I wrote this, a message sounded on the radio: the guys found a live grenade, it exploded, two boys were killed, eight were injured. The war continues. What has man produced the most on earth? Bread, potatoes, apples, boots, hats? Most of all weapons on earth, the most diverse - from gas pistols to more and more new models of weapons of mass destruction. Back in the 60s of the XX century, the following figure was announced: so many weapons have been accumulated on earth that they can hit all life on the planet 10 times. And how much now? ..

Go to children's stores, what are the most toys there? Weapons! The war continues! Any war is a war against childhood. Two films by the great American director Stanley Kramer involuntarily come to mind: It's a Mad, Mad, Mad World and On the Last Shore.

But childhood is always childhood. Childhood is characterized by joy. The child is given joy, or he finds it himself, invents it, or the joy itself finds the child. And in our military childhood, of course, there were joys, small and large. With a story about one such joy, I will end my little story ...

In the first year after returning from Ukraine, we were very poor. They just begged. We went with my grandmother to the surrounding villages, near and far cities and asked for alms. We went a lot. There are many memories left in my heart. But one thing was especially imprinted, remembered forever. After several unsuccessful trips of ours, my grandmother decided to go begging for alms in the neighboring Bryansk region. There, in one of the villages, lived her old good friend.

We left early in the morning. And for dinner they came to that village. Grandma's friend met us cordially. She fed me soup. It was a great joy to eat a real soup, which I heard something about, but did not know the taste ... However, the greatest joy was ahead. After dinner, my grandmother's friend's granddaughter and I were sent out into the yard to play in the garden. The garden was big. And there were many apple trees in the orchard. It seemed that the whole sky was filled with apples. I was struck by the beauty of these apples, they were like magic, with different shades of blush on the sides. The girl was my age, somehow unusually clean, light, airy. A warmth and kindness emanated from her. It was so new after my grandmother and I spent many months of humiliating wanderings in search of a piece of bread.

I don’t remember what we did in this Garden of Eden, what we played. I only remember the feeling of happiness very well. And I wanted it not to end ... And when we left this hospitable house, the girl picked apples into our knapsack, these same paradise apples. I carried this bag of apples as the greatest treasure and secret.

At home, I put the apples in a large ammo box. Several times a day he opened the magic box and admired the apples. And I saw this girl in front of me. I never ate a single apple, I could not even think that such apples can be eaten.

V.A. Zhilkin

S.V.Kochevykh, 2011

(17.03.1908 - 12.07.1981)

Pseudonym of Boris Nikolaevich Kampov.
Great Soviet Encyclopedia: Polevoy (pseudonym; real name - Kampov) Boris Nikolaevich [b. 4(17).3.1908, Moscow], Russian Soviet writer, public figure, Hero Socialist Labor(1974). Member of the CPSU since 1940. He graduated from an industrial college in Tver (1926). Member of the Soviet-Finnish war of 1939-40. During the Great Patriotic War of 1941-1945 war correspondent for Pravda. The first essay story - "Memoirs of a lousy man" (1927). Author of the story "Hot Workshop" (1939). The book "The Tale of a Real Man" (1946; State Prize of the USSR, 1947; film of the same name, 1948) won wide popularity in the country and abroad, based on the real feat of the Hero Soviet Union pilot A.P. Maresyev. The themes of the heroism of Soviet people during the war years and post-war construction were embodied in the collection of essays and short stories We Are Soviet People (1948; State Prize of the USSR, 1949); in the novels Gold (1949-50, film of the same name, 1970), Deep Rear (1958), On the Wild Bank... (1962; film of the same name, 1966), Doctor Vera (1966; film of the same name , 1968) and others. Collections of essays are devoted to trips abroad: "American Diaries" (1956; International Peace Prize, 1959), "In the Wide World" (1958), "30 thousand li in China" (1957), etc. 1962 editor-in-chief of the magazine "Youth", since 1967 secretary of the board of the Writers' Union of the USSR. Member of the Bureau of the World Peace Council and the Presidium of the Soviet Peace Committee. Vice-President of the European Society of Culture (since 1952). Awarded 2 Orders of Lenin, Order October revolution, 6 other orders, as well as medals, the Gold Medal of the World (1968), foreign orders and medals. Many of P.'s works have been translated into foreign languages.

The Brest Fortress stands on the border. The Nazis attacked it on the very first day of the war.

The Nazis could not take the Brest Fortress by storm. Passed her left and right. She remained with the enemies in the rear.

The Nazis are coming. Fights are going on near Minsk, near Riga, near Lvov, near Lutsk. And there, in the rear of the Nazis, he does not give up, the Brest Fortress is fighting.

It's hard for heroes. Bad with ammunition, bad with food, especially bad with water for the defenders of the fortress.

Around the water - the Bug River, the Mukhovets River, branches, channels. There is water all around, but there is no water in the fortress. Under fire water. A sip of water here dearer than life.

- Water! - rushes over the fortress.

There was a daredevil, rushed to the river. Rushed and immediately collapsed. The enemies of the soldier were killed. Time passed, another brave rushed forward. And he died. The third replaced the second. The third one did not survive.

A machine gunner lay not far from this place. He scribbled, scribbled a machine gun, and suddenly the line broke off. The machine gun overheated in battle. And the machine gun needs water.

The machine gunner looked - the water evaporated from the hot battle, the machine gun casing was empty. He looked to where the Bug, where the channels are. Looked left, right.

- Oh, it wasn't.

He crawled towards the water. He crawled in a plastunsky way, snuggled up to the ground like a snake. He is closer to the water, closer. It's right next to the coast. The machine gunner grabbed his helmet. He scooped up water like a bucket. Snake crawls back again. Closer to their own, closer. It's quite close. His friends took over.

- Bring water! Hero!

The soldiers are looking at the helmet, at the water. From thirst in the eyes of muddied. They do not know that the machine gunner brought water for the machine gun. They are waiting, and suddenly a soldier will treat them now - at least a sip.

The machine gunner looked at the fighters, at the withered lips, at the heat in his eyes.

“Come on,” said the machine gunner.

The fighters stepped forward, but suddenly ...

“Brothers, it would not be for us, but for the wounded,” someone’s voice rang out.

The soldiers stopped.

- Of course, the wounded!

- That's right, drag it to the basement!

The soldiers of the fighter were detached to the basement. He brought water to the basement where the wounded lay.

“Brothers,” he said, “voditsa ...

“Take it,” he handed the mug to the soldier.

The soldier reached for the water. I already took a mug, but suddenly:

“No, not for me,” said the soldier. - Not for me. Bring the children, dear.

The fighter carried water to the children. And I must say that in the Brest Fortress, along with adult soldiers, there were women and children - the wives and children of military personnel.

The soldier went down to the basement where the children were.

“Well, come on,” the fighter turned to the guys. “Come, stand,” and, like a magician, he takes out his helmet from behind his back.

The guys look - there is water in the helmet.

The children rushed to the water, to the soldier.

The fighter took a mug, carefully poured it on the bottom. See who to give. He sees a baby with a pea next to him.

“Here,” he said to the kid.

The kid looked at the fighter, at the water.

“Papka,” said the kid. He's there, he's shooting.

- Yes, drink, drink, - the fighter smiled.

“No,” the boy shook his head. - Folder. “I never took a sip of water.

And others refused him.

The fighter returned to his own. He told about the children, about the wounded. He gave the water helmet to the machine gunner.

The machine gunner looked at the water, then at the soldiers, at the fighters, at his friends. He took a helmet, poured water into the metal casing. Came to life, earned, zastrochit machine gun.

The machine gunner covered the fighters with fire. The daredevils have been found again. To the Bug, towards death, they crawled. The heroes returned with water. Drink the children and the wounded.

The defenders of the Brest Fortress fought bravely. But there were fewer and fewer of them. Bombed them from the sky. Cannons fired direct fire. From flamethrowers.

The fascists are waiting - just about, and people will ask for mercy. That's it, and the white flag will appear.

They waited and waited - the flag was not visible. Nobody asks for mercy.

For thirty-two days the battles for the fortress did not cease. “I am dying, but I do not give up. Farewell, Motherland! one of her last defenders wrote on the wall with a bayonet.

These were words of goodbye. But it was also an oath. The soldiers kept their oath. They did not surrender to the enemy.

The country bowed to the heroes for this. And stop for a minute, reader. And you bow low to the heroes.

The war is on fire. The earth is on fire. A grandiose battle with the Nazis unfolded over a vast area from the Baltic to the Black Sea.

The Nazis attacked in three directions at once: Moscow, Leningrad and Kyiv. Unleashed the deadly fan.

The city of Liepaja is the port of the Latvian Soviet Republic. Here, on Liepaja, one of the fascist strikes was directed. Enemies believe in easy success:

Liepaja is in our hands!

The Nazis are coming from the south. They go along the sea - a straight road. The fascists are coming. Here is the village of Rutsava. Here is Lake Papes. Here is the river Barta. The city is getting closer and closer.

Liepaja is in our hands!

They're coming. Suddenly a terrible fire blocked the road. The Nazis stopped. The Nazis entered the battle.

They fight, they fight, they never break through. Enemies from the south cannot break through to Liepaja.

The Nazis then changed direction. Bypass the city now from the east. Bypassed. Here the city smokes in the distance.

Liepaja is in our hands!

As soon as they went on the attack, Liepaja bristled again with a flurry of fire. Sailors came to the aid of the soldiers. Workers came to the aid of the military. They took up arms. Together with the fighters in the same row.

The Nazis stopped. The Nazis entered the battle.

They fight, they fight, they never break through. The Nazis will not advance here, from the east either.

Liepaja is in our hands!

However, even here, in the north, the brave defenders of Liepaja blocked the way for the Nazis. Fights with the enemy Liepaja.

Days go by.

The second pass.

Third. Fourth is out.

Don't give up, keep Liepaja!

Only when the shells ran out, there were no cartridges - the defenders of Liepaja retreated.

The Nazis entered the city.

Liepaja is in our hands!

But the Soviet people did not reconcile. Gone underground. They went to the partisans. A bullet awaits the Nazis at every step. A whole division is held by the Nazis in the city.

Liepaja fights.

The enemies of Liepaja were remembered for a long time. If they failed in something, they said:

- Liepaja!

We did not forget Liepaja either. If someone steadfastly stood in battle, if someone fought with enemies with great courage, and the fighters wanted to celebrate this, they said:

- Liepaja!

Even having fallen into slavery to the Nazis, she remained in combat formation - our Soviet Liepaja.

CAPTAIN GASTELLO

It was the fifth day of the war. Pilot Captain Nikolai Frantsevich Gastello with his crew led the aircraft on a combat mission. The plane was large, twin-engine. Bomber.

The plane left for the intended target. Bombed off. Completed the mission. Turned around. Started going home.

And suddenly a shell burst from behind. It was the Nazis who opened fire on Soviet pilot. The most terrible thing happened, the shell pierced the gas tank. The bomber caught fire. Flames ran along the wings, along the fuselage.

Captain Gastello tried to put out the fire. He banked the plane sharply on its wing. Made the car seem to fall on its side. This position of the aircraft is called slip. The pilot thought he would go astray, the flames would subside. However, the car continued to burn. Dumped Gastello bomber on the second wing. The fire does not disappear. The plane is on fire, losing altitude.

At this time, a fascist motorcade was moving under the plane below: tanks with fuel in the column, motor vehicles. The Nazis raised their heads, watching the Soviet bomber.

"MONUMENT TO THE SOVIET SOLDIER"

L. Kassil

The war went on for a long time.
Our troops began to advance on enemy soil. The Nazis are already farther and have nowhere to run. They settled in the main German city Berlin.
Our troops hit Berlin. Has begun last Stand war. No matter how the Nazis fought back, they could not resist. The soldiers began to take Soviet army in Berlin, street by street, house by house. But the Nazis don't give up.
And suddenly one of our soldiers, a kind soul, saw a little German girl during a battle on the street. Apparently, she has fallen behind her. And they forgot about her out of fright ... The poor fellow was left alone in the middle of the street. And she has nowhere to go. There is a fight all around. Fire blazes from every window, bombs explode, houses collapse, bullets whistle from all sides. It’s about to crush it with a stone, knock it down with a fragment ... He sees our soldier - the girl disappears ... “Oh, you, miserable woman, where did this bring you, something was wrong! ..”
A soldier rushed across the street right under the bullets, picked up a German girl in his arms, covered her with his shoulder from the fire and carried her out of the battle.
And soon our fighters have already raised the red flag over the main building of the German capital.
Fascists surrendered. And the war is over. We won. The world has begun.
And now a huge monument has been built in the city of Berlin. High above the houses, on a green hill, stands a hero made of stone - a soldier of the Soviet Army. In one hand he has a heavy sword, with which he defeated the Nazi enemies, and in the other - a little girl. She pressed herself against the broad shoulder of the Soviet soldier. He saved her soldiers from death, saved all the children in the world from the Nazis, and looks menacingly today from a height, whether the evil enemies are going to start a war again and disturb the peace.

"FIRST COLUMN"

S. Alekseev

(Sergey Alekseev's stories about Leningraders and the feat of Leningrad).
In 1941, the Nazis blockaded Leningrad. Cut off the city from the whole country. It was possible to get to Leningrad only by water, along Lake Ladoga.
Frosts set in in November. It froze, the waterway stopped.
The road has stopped, which means there will be no delivery of food, which means there will be no delivery of fuel, there will be no delivery of ammunition. Like air, like oxygen, Leningrad needs a road.
- There will be a road! people said.
Lake Ladoga will freeze, will be covered hard ice Ladoga (this is the abbreviated name for Lake Ladoga). Here the road will pass through the ice.
Not everyone believed in such a path. Restless, capricious Ladoga. Blizzards will rage, a piercing wind will sweep over the lake - siverik - cracks and gullies will appear on the ice of the lake. Ladoga breaks his ice armor. Even the most severe frosts cannot completely bind Lake Ladoga.
Capricious, insidious Lake Ladoga. And yet there is no other way out. Nazis around. Only here, along Lake Ladoga, the road to Leningrad can pass.
The most difficult days in Leningrad. Communication with Leningrad was cut off. People are waiting for the ice on Lake Ladoga to become strong enough. And this is not a day, not two. Look at the ice, at the lake. Ice thickness is measured. Old-timer fishermen also watch the lake. How is the ice on Ladoga?
- Grows.
- It's growing.
- Takes power.
People are worried, time is running out.
“Faster, faster,” they shout to Ladoga. - Hey, don't be lazy, frost!
Hydrological scientists arrived at Lake Ladoga (these are those who study water and ice), builders and army commanders arrived. The first decided to go through the fragile ice.
Hydrologists passed - the ice withstood.
The builders passed - the ice withstood.
Major Mozhaev, the commander of the road maintenance regiment, rode on horseback and withstood the ice.
The horse-drawn cart marched across the ice. The sleigh survived on the road.
General Lagunov, one of the commanders of the Leningrad Front, drove across the ice in a passenger car. It crackled, creaked, the ice got angry, but let the car pass.
On November 22, 1941, the first automobile column went on the still not fully strengthened ice of Lake Ladoga. There were 60 trucks in the convoy. From here, from the western shore, from the side of Leningrad, cars left for cargo on the eastern shore.
Ahead is not a kilometer, not two - twenty-seven kilometers of an icy road. They are waiting on the western Leningrad coast for the return of people and convoys.
- Will they return? Get stuck? Will they return? Get stuck?
Days passed. And so:
- They're coming!
That's right, cars are coming, the convoy is returning. In the back of each of the cars there are three, four bags of flour. Haven't taken more yet. Fragile ice. True, sleds were pulled by cars in tows. The sleigh also contained sacks of flour, two or three.
From that day on, constant movement began on the ice of Lake Ladoga. Soon severe frosts hit. The ice is strong. Now each truck took 20, 30 bags of flour. Transported on the ice and other heavy loads.
The road was not easy. There were not always good luck here. The ice broke under the pressure of the wind. Cars sometimes sank. Fascist planes bombed columns from the air. And again we suffered losses. Motors froze on the way. Drivers froze on ice. And yet, neither day nor night, neither in a snowstorm, nor in the most severe frost, the ice road through Lake Ladoga did not stop working.
The most hard days Leningrad. Stop the road - death to Leningrad.
The road didn't stop. "Dear life" Leningraders called it.

"Tanya Savicheva"

S. Alekseev

Hunger death goes through the city. Leningrad cemeteries do not accommodate the dead. People were dying at the machines. They died in the streets. They went to bed at night and didn't wake up in the morning. More than 600 thousand people died of starvation in Leningrad.
Among the Leningrad houses, this house also rose. This is the Savichevs' house. Above the sheets notebook the girl bowed. Her name is Tanya. Tanya Savicheva keeps a diary.
Notebook with alphabet. Tanya opens a page with the letter "Zh". Writes:
“Zhenya died on December 28 at 12.30 pm. morning. 1941".
Zhenya is Tanya's sister.
Soon Tanya again sits down at her diary. Opens a page with the letter "B". Writes:
“Grandma died on Jan 25. at 3 o'clock in the afternoon 1942. A new page from Tanya's diary. Page on the letter "L". Reading:
"Leka died on March 17 at 5 am 1942." Leka is Tanya's brother.
Another page from Tanya's diary. Page on the letter "B". Reading:
“Uncle Vasya died on April 13. at 2 am. 1942". One more page. Also the letter "L". But written on reverse side sheet: "Uncle Lyosha. May 10 at 4 p.m. 1942. Here is the page with the letter "M". We read: “Mom May 13 at 7:30 am. morning 1942. Tanya sits over the diary for a long time. Then opens the page with the letter "C". He writes: "The Savichevs are dead."
Opens the page to the letter "U". Clarifies: "Everyone died."
I sat down. I looked at the diary. Opened the page to the letter "O". She wrote: “There is only Tanya left.”
Tanya was saved from starvation. They took the girl out of Leningrad.
But Tanya did not live long. From hunger, cold, loss of loved ones, her health was undermined. Tanya Savicheva was also gone. Tanya passed away. The diary remains. "Death to the Fascists!" the diary screams.

"FUR COAT"

S. Alekseev

A group of Leningrad children was taken out of Leningrad besieged by the Nazis "Dear Life". The car took off.
January. Freezing. The cold wind is whipping. The driver Koryakov is sitting at the steering wheel. Leads exactly one and a half.
Children hugged each other in the car. Girl, girl, girl again. Boy, girl, boy again. And here is another one. The smallest, the most puny. All the guys are thin, thin, like children's thin books. And this one is completely skinny, like a page from this book.
Guys gathered from different places. Some are from Okhta, some are from Narva, some are from the Vyborg side, some are from Kirovsky Island, some are from Vasilyevsky. And this one, imagine, from Nevsky Prospekt. Nevsky Prospekt is the central, main street of Leningrad. The boy lived here with his father, with his mother. A shell hit, there were no parents. Yes, and others, those who are now traveling in the car, were also left without mothers, without fathers. Their parents also died. Who died of starvation, who was hit by a fascist bomb, who was crushed by a collapsed house, whose life was cut short by a shell. The boys were all alone. Aunt Olya accompanies them. Aunt Olya herself is a teenager. Less than fifteen years old.
The guys are coming. They hugged each other. Girl, girl, girl again. Boy, girl, boy again. In the very middle is a crumb. The guys are coming. January. Freezing. Blows children in the wind. Aunt Olya wrapped her arms around them. From these warm hands it seems warmer to everyone.
There is a lorry and a half on the January ice. Ladoga froze to the right and left. More and more, stronger frost over Ladoga. Childish backs stiffen. Not children are sitting - icicles.
Here would be a fur coat now.
And suddenly... She slowed down, the lorry stopped. The driver Koryakov got out of the cab. He took off his warm soldier's sheepskin coat. He threw Olya up, shouting: . - Catch!
Olya picked up a sheepskin coat:
— Yes, how are you... Yes, really, we...
- Take it, take it! shouted Koryakov and jumped into his cabin.
The guys look - a fur coat! From one kind it is warmer.
The driver sat down in his driver's seat. The car started up again. Aunt Olya covered the children with a sheepskin coat. The children huddled closer to each other. Girl, girl, girl again. Boy, girl, boy again. In the very middle is a crumb. The sheepskin coat turned out to be big and kind. Warmth ran down the children's backs.
Koryakov took the guys to the eastern shore of Lake Ladoga, delivered them to the village of Kobona. From here, from Kobona, they still had distant - distant path. Koryakov said goodbye to Aunt Olya. I started saying goodbye to the guys. He is holding a sheepskin coat. He looks at the sheepskin coat, at the guys. Oh, if the guys had a sheepskin coat on the road ... So, after all, it’s official, not your sheepskin coat. The authorities will immediately remove the head. The driver looks at the guys, at the sheepskin coat. And suddenly...
- Oh, it wasn't! Koryakov waved his hand.
I went on sheepskin coat.
He was not scolded by his superiors. Got a new coat.

"BEAR"

S. Alekseev

The soldiers of one of the Siberian divisions in those days when the division went to the front, fellow countrymen gave a little bear cub. Mishka got used to the soldier's car. Importantly went to the front.
Toptygin came to the front. The teddy bear turned out to be extremely smart. And most importantly, from birth he had a heroic character. Not afraid of bombings. It did not clog into corners during artillery shelling. He only grumbled with displeasure if the shells were bursting very close.
Mishka visited Southwestern Front, then - as part of the troops that smashed the Nazis near Stalingrad. Then for some time he was with the troops in the rear, in the front-line reserve. Then he got into the 303rd rifle division to the Voronezh front, then to the Central, again to the Voronezh. He was in the armies of generals Managarov, Chernyakhovsky, again Managarov. The teddy bear grew up during this time. It resounded in the shoulders. The bass cut through. It became a boyar fur coat.
In the battles near Kharkov, the bear distinguished himself. At the crossings he walked with a convoy in an economic column. So it was this time. There were heavy, bloody battles. Once the economic column came under a strong blow from the Nazis. The Nazis surrounded the column. The forces are unequal, it's hard for ours. The soldiers took up defense. Only the defense is weak. The Soviet soldiers would not leave.
Yes, but suddenly the Nazis hear some kind of terrible roar! "What would it be?" the fascists say. Listened, watched.
— Ber! Ber! Bear! someone shouted.
That's right - Mishka got up on his hind legs, growled and went to the Nazis. The Nazis did not expect, they rushed to the side. And ours hit at that moment. Escaped from the environment.
The bear walked in heroes.
“He should be rewarded,” laughed the soldiers.
He received a reward: a plate of fragrant honey. Ate and growled. I licked the plate to a shine, to a shine. Added honey. Added again. Eat, eat, hero. Toptygin!
Soon the Voronezh Front was renamed the 1st Ukrainian. Together with the troops of the front, Mishka went to the Dnieper.
Bear grew up. Quite a giant. Where are the soldiers during the war to mess with such a bulk! The soldiers decided: if we come to Kyiv, we will put him in the zoo. We will write on the cage: the bear is a well-deserved veteran and a participant in the great battle.
However, the road to Kyiv passed. Their division passed by. The bear was not left in the menagerie. Even the soldiers are happy now.
From Ukraine Mishka got to Belarus. He took part in the battles near Bobruisk, then ended up in the army, which was going to Belovezhskaya Pushcha.
Belovezhskaya Pushcha is a paradise for animals and birds. The best place on the entire planet. The soldiers decided: this is where we will leave Mishka.
- That's right: under his pines. Under the fir.
- That's where he expanse.
Our troops liberated the area of ​​Belovezhskaya Pushcha. And now the hour of parting has come. Fighters and a bear are standing in a forest clearing.
Farewell, Toptygin!
- Play freely!
- Live, start a family!
Mishka stood in the clearing. He got up on his hind legs. Looked at the green bushes. The smell of the forest inhaled through the nose.
He went with a rolling gait into the forest. From paw to paw. From paw to paw. The soldiers look after:
— Be happy, Mikhail Mikhalych!
And suddenly a terrible explosion thundered in the clearing. The soldiers ran to the explosion - dead, motionless Toptygin.
A bear stepped on a fascist mine. We checked - there are many of them in Belovezhskaya Pushcha.
The war moved further west. But for a long time here, in Belovezhskaya Pushcha, wild boars, handsome elks, and giant bison exploded on mines.
The war goes on without mercy. War has no weariness.

"THE STING"

S. Alekseev

Our troops liberated Moldova. The Nazis were pushed back beyond the Dnieper, beyond Reut. They took Floreshty, Tiraspol, Orhei. We approached the capital of Moldova, the city of Chisinau.
Here two of our fronts advanced at once - the 2nd Ukrainian and the 3rd Ukrainian. Near Chisinau, Soviet troops were supposed to surround a large fascist group. Fulfill the fronts of the indication of the Rate. To the north and west of Chisinau, the 2nd Ukrainian Front is advancing. East and south - the 3rd Ukrainian Front. Generals Malinovsky and Tolbukhin were at the head of the fronts.
“Fyodor Ivanovich,” General Malinovsky calls General Tolbukhin, “how is the offensive developing?”
“Everything is going according to plan, Rodion Yakovlevich,” General Tolbukhin answers General Malinovsky.
Troops march forward. They bypass the enemy. Ticks begin to squeeze.
- Rodion Yakovlevich, - General Tolbukhin calls General Malinovsky, - how is the environment developing?
“The encirclement is proceeding normally, Fyodor Ivanovich,” General Malinovsky answers General Tolbukhin and clarifies: “Exactly according to plan, on time.”
And then the giant pincers closed. Eighteen fascist divisions turned out to be in a huge bag near Chisinau. Our troops began to defeat the fascists who fell into the bag.
Satisfied soviet soldiers:
- The beast will be slammed again with a trap.
There was talk: now the fascist is not terrible, at least take it with your bare hands.
However, the soldier Igoshin had a different opinion:
A fascist is a fascist. The serpentine character is serpentine. A wolf and a wolf in a trap.
The soldiers laugh
- So it was at what time!
“Now there is a different price for a fascist.
- A fascist is a fascist, - again Igoshin about his own.
That's because the character is harmful!
Everything is more difficult in the bag for the Nazis. They began to surrender. They also surrendered at the site of the 68th Guards Rifle Division. Igoshin served in one of her battalions.
A group of fascists came out of the forest. Everything is as it should be: hands up, a white flag is thrown over the group.
“Obviously, they’re going to give up.
The soldiers revived, shouting to the Nazis:
- Please, please! It is high time!
The soldiers turned to Igoshin:
- Well, why is your fascist terrible?
Soldiers are crowding, they are looking at the Nazis going to surrender. There are newcomers in the battalion. For the first time, the Nazis are seen so close. And they, the newcomers, are also not at all afraid of the Nazis - after all, they are going to surrender.
The Nazis are getting closer, closer. Close at all. And suddenly burst burst. The Nazis began to shoot.
A lot of ours would have died. Yes, thanks to Igoshin. He kept his weapon at the ready. The retaliatory immediately opened fire. Then others helped.
The firing went off on the field. The soldiers approached Igoshin:
- Thank you brother. And the fascist, look, with a snake indeed, it turns out, a sting.
The Chisinau “cauldron” brought a lot of trouble to our soldiers. The fascists rushed. They rushed in different directions. Went to deceit, to meanness. They tried to leave. But in vain. Soldiers clamped them with a heroic hand. Clamped. Squeezed. The snake's sting was pulled out.

"BAG OF OATMEAL"
A.V. Mityaev

That autumn there were long cold rains. The ground was soaked with water, the roads became muddy. On the country roads, bogged down along the very axis in the mud, there were military trucks. With the supply of food became very bad. In the soldiers' kitchen, the cook cooked only cracker soup every day: in hot water sprinkled cracker crumbs and seasoned with salt.
On such and such hungry days, the soldier Lukashuk found a sack of oatmeal. He was not looking for anything, just leaned his shoulder against the wall of the trench. A block of damp sand collapsed, and everyone saw the edge of a green duffel bag in the hole.
Well, what a find! the soldiers rejoiced. There will be a feast with a mountain Let's cook porridge!
One ran with a bucket for water, others began to look for firewood, and still others had already prepared spoons.
But when it was possible to fan the fire and it was already beating at the bottom of the bucket, an unfamiliar soldier jumped into the trench. He was thin and red. Eyebrows above blue eyes are also red. Overcoat worn, short. On the legs are windings and trampled shoes.
- Hey brother! he shouted in a hoarse, cold voice. “Give the bag over here!” Do not put do not take.
He simply stunned everyone with his appearance, and the bag was given to him immediately.
And how could you not give up? According to the front-line law, it was necessary to give. Duffel bags were hidden in trenches by soldiers when they went on the attack. To make it easier. Of course, there were bags left without an owner: either it was impossible to return for them (this is if the attack was successful and it was necessary to drive the Nazis), or the soldier died. But since the owner has come, the conversation is short to give.
The soldiers watched in silence as the redhead carried the precious sack over his shoulder. Only Lukashuk could not stand it, he quipped:
- He's skinny! They gave him an extra ration. Let it pop. If it doesn't break, it might get fatter.
The cold has come. Snow. The earth froze, became solid. The delivery has improved. The cook cooked cabbage soup with meat, pea soup with ham in the kitchen on wheels. Everyone forgot about the red-haired soldier and his oatmeal.

A big offensive was being prepared.
Long lines of infantry battalions marched along hidden forest roads and ravines. At night, tractors were dragging guns to the front line, tanks were moving.
Lukashuk and his comrades were also preparing for the offensive. It was still dark when the guns opened fire. Airplanes hummed in the sky.
They threw bombs on Nazi dugouts, fired machine guns at enemy trenches.
The planes took off. Then the tanks roared. Behind them, the infantrymen rushed to the attack. Lukashuk and his comrades also ran and fired from a machine gun. He threw a grenade into the German trench, wanted to throw more, but did not have time: the bullet hit him in the chest. And he fell. Lukashuk lay in the snow and did not feel that the snow was cold. Some time passed, and he stopped hearing the roar of battle. Then the light ceased to see him, it seemed to him that a dark, still night had come.
When Lukashuk regained consciousness, he saw an orderly. The orderly bandaged the wound, put such plywood sledges in Lukashuk's boat. The sleigh slid and swayed in the snow. Lukashuk's head began to spin from this quiet swaying. And he didn't want his head to spin, he wanted to remember where he had seen this orderly, red-haired and thin, in a well-worn overcoat.
- Hold on, brother! Do not be shy to live! .. He heard the words of the orderly.
It seemed to Lukashuk that he had known this voice for a long time. But where and when he heard it before, he could no longer remember.
Lukashuk regained consciousness when he was transferred from the boat to a stretcher to be taken to a large tent under the pines: here, in the forest, a military doctor was pulling out bullets and shrapnel from the wounded.
Lying on a stretcher, Lukashuk saw the sled-boat on which he was taken to the hospital. Three dogs were tied to the sled with straps. They lay in the snow. Icicles are frozen on the wool. The muzzles were overgrown with frost, the eyes of the dogs were half closed.
The nurse approached the dogs. In his hands was a helmet full of oatmeal. Steam poured from her. The orderly stuck his helmet into the snow to cool the dogs harmfully hot. The orderly was thin and red-haired. And then Lukashuk remembered where he had seen him. It was he who then jumped into the trench and took the bag of oatmeal from them.
Lukashuk smiled at the orderly with his lips, and, coughing and panting, said:
-And you, redhead, never got fat. One ate a bag of oatmeal, but still thin.
The orderly also smiled and, stroking the nearest dog, answered:
- They ate oatmeal. But they got you on time. And I recognized you right away. As I saw in the snow, I recognized it.
And he added with conviction: You will live! Don't be shy!

"TANKER'S TALE"

A. Tvardovsky

It was a difficult fight. Everything now, as if awake,


What's his name, I forgot to ask.
Ten or twelve years old. troublesome,
Of those that are the leaders of children,
Of those in the front-line towns
They greet us like honored guests.
The car is surrounded in parking lots,
Carrying them water in buckets is not difficult,
They bring soap with a towel to the tank
And unripe plums stick ...
There was a fight outside. The fire of the enemy was terrible,
We broke through to the square ahead.
And he nails - do not look out of the towers -
And the devil will understand where it hits from.
Here, guess what house
He perched - so many holes,
And suddenly a boy ran up to the car:
- Comrade Commander, Comrade Commander!
I know where their gun is. I unraveled...
I crawled up, they are over there, in the garden ...
- Yes, where, where? .. - Let me go
On the tank with you. I'll bring it straight.
Well, the fight doesn't wait. "Get in here, buddy!" -
And here we are rolling to the place four of us.
There is a boy - mines, bullets whistle,
And only a shirt with a bubble.
We drove up. - Here. - And from a turn
We go to the rear and give full throttle.
And this gun, along with the calculation,
We sank into loose, greasy black soil.
I wiped off the sweat. Suffocated fumes and soot:
There was a big fire going from house to house.
And, I remember, I said: - Thank you, lad! -
And shook his hand like a friend...
It was a difficult fight. Everything now, as if awake,
And I just can't forgive myself
Of the thousands of faces I would recognize the boy,
But what's his name, I forgot to ask him.

"THE ADVENTURES OF THE RHINO BEETLE"
(Soldier's Tale)
K. G. Paustovsky

When Pyotr Terentyev left the village for the war, his little son Styopa
did not know what to give his father as parting, and finally gave the old
rhinoceros beetle. He caught him in the garden and planted him in a matchbox. Rhinoceros
got angry, knocked, demanded to be let out. But Styopa did not let him out, but
I slipped blades of grass into his box so that the beetle would not die of hunger. Rhinoceros
I gnawed at the blades of grass, but still continued to knock and scold.
Styopa cut a small window in the box to let in fresh air. Bug
stuck out his shaggy paw at the window and tried to grab Styopa by the finger - he wanted to
must be scratching with anger. But Styopa did not give a finger. Then the beetle began
so buzzing with annoyance that Styopa Akulina's mother shouted:
- Let him out, you goblin! All day zhundit and zhundit, head from him
swollen!
Pyotr Terentyev grinned at Stepin's gift, patted Styopa on the head
with a rough hand and hid the box with the beetle in a gas mask bag.
“Just don’t lose him, save him,” Styopa said.
- Somehow you can lose such goodies, - answered Peter. - Somehow
save.
Either the beetle liked the smell of rubber, or Peter smelled pleasantly of his overcoat and
black bread, but the beetle calmed down and drove with Peter to the very front.
At the front, the soldiers were surprised at the beetle, touched its strong horn with their fingers,
listened to Peter's story about his son's gift, they said:
What was the boy thinking! And the beetle, you see, is combat. Straight corporal, not
beetle.
The fighters were interested in how long the beetle would last and how he was doing with
food allowance - what Peter will feed and water him. He is without water, although
beetle, but can not live.
Peter smiled embarrassedly, answered that if you give a beetle some spikelet - he
and eat for a week. Does he need a lot?
One night, Peter dozed off in the trenches, dropped the box with the beetle out of his bag. Bug
tossed and turned for a long time, parted the slot in the box, got out, wiggled his antennae,
listened. The earth rumbled in the distance, yellow lightning flashed.
The beetle climbed onto the elderberry bush at the edge of the trench to get a better look around. Such
He hasn't seen the storm yet. There were too many lightning. The stars didn't hang still
in the sky, like a beetle in their homeland, in Peter's village, but they took off from the ground,
illuminated everything around with a bright light, smoked and went out. Thunder rumbled continuously.
Some bugs whistled past. One of them hit the bush like that
elderberry, that red berries fell from it. The old rhinoceros fell, pretended to be
dead and was afraid to move for a long time. He realized that with such beetles it is better not to
contact, - there were a lot of them whistling around.
So he lay until the morning, until the sun rose.

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

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

"No one is forgotten and nothing is forgotten"

Dedicated to the Great Victory!

BUTsecond: Ilgiz Garayev

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

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

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

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

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

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

Millions of people rose to defend the country.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The enemy spared neither women nor children.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

party dress

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

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

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

Nazi planes bombed Sevastopol from the air without ceasing.

Sevastopol went underground, into the rocks.

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

Sevastopol residents also organized two military factories underground.

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

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

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

For one:

There is no natural silk.

On the second:

There is no natural silk.

Went to the third, fourth, fifth.

There is no natural silk anywhere.

And suddenly... Katya appears. Ask Katya:

Well, did you find it?

Found, - answers Katya.

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

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

That's it Katya!

Thanks, Kate!

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

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

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

bul bul

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

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

The fascist sits in his shelter, shouting:

Rus, tomorrow bul-bul!

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

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

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

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

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

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

The fascist leaned out and again:

Bool-boo!

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

Don't touch! Noskov said sternly.

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

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

By evening, the fascist soldier fell silent.

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

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

But someone said:

Brothers, crawl back.

The second confirmed:

That's right, they're coming back.

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

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

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

Bool bool, bool bool! - shouts mischievously Turyanchik.

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

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

The soldiers handed over the prisoner to the headquarters.

He waved goodbye to the fascist Noskov.

Bull-bull, - said Turyanchik, saying goodbye.

Special mission

The assignment was unusual. It was called special. brigade commander Marines Colonel Gorpischenko said this:

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

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

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

Get ready. We had a special task.

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

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

Maybe a raid on the Nazi headquarters?

Take it higher, - the foreman smiles.

Maybe we'll capture the general?

Higher, higher, - the elder laughs.

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

Scouts again:

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

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

Look at the elder. The elder smiles.

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

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

Good?

Good, say the scouts.

I saw another one nearby.

This one is better?

It seems better, - the scouts nodded.

Fluffy?

Fluffy.

Slim?

Slim!

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

Here they are, - escaped from the scouts.

The next day, the scouts were released into the city, Christmas tree to children in a preschool underground garden.

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

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

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

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

gardeners

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

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

The foreman looked at the first of the fighters:

Can you plant potatoes?

The fighter was embarrassed, shrugged his shoulders.

Can you plant potatoes?

I can! the soldier said loudly.

Two steps forward.

The soldier is out of order.

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

Can you plant potatoes?

Haven't tried.

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

Enough, said the sergeant.

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

The soldier Skurko is guessing. And other fighters wonder:

Plant potatoes?

Sow carrots?

Cucumbers for the staff canteen?

The foreman looked at the soldier.

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

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

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

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

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

The miners are coming.

How are you, gardeners?

Complete order in everything.

Evil last name

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

Military time. Surname catchy.

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

Surname?

Trusov.

How how?

Trusov.

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

The fighter got into the company.

What's the last name?

Private Trusov.

How how?

Private Trusov.

Y-yes ... - the commander drawled.

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

Looks like your ancestor was not a hero.

In a wagon train with such a surname!

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

Kozlov! Sizov! Smirnov!

Everything is fine. Soldiers approach, take their letters.

Shout out:

Cowards!

Soldiers laugh all around.

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

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

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

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

Well done! - praised the fighter squad leader.

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

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

Hero! the squad leader said.

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

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

Trusov smiled.

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

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

The first question for the soldier is now:

What is the award for, hero?

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

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

Unusual operation

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

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

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

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

The boy rushed to his grandmother.

Wooden, - whispers, - tanks.

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

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

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

The boy rushed to his grandmother.

Wooden, - whispers, - guns.

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

Wooden, grandfather, guns.

Something new, - said the grandfather.

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

Great pour our fascists!

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

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

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

Mockapka is standing, guessing again.

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

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

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

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

Vyazma

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

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

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

Surrounded?

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

Did you lay down your weapons?

The generals are silent.

Did you lay down your weapons?

Here's a brave one.

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

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

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

Again Hitler calls from Berlin:

Surrounded?

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

Did you lay down your weapons?

The generals are silent.

Did you lay down your weapons?

Terrible abuse rushed from the tube.

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

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

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

In anger the great Fuhrer. Another call from Berlin.

Did you lay down your weapons?

The generals are silent.

Have you laid down your weapons?

No, the brave is responsible for all.

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

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

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

Listening to Hitler:

Well, well, what did our Friedrich say?

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

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

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

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

Remember!

Keep the bright memory of them!

General Zhukov

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

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

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

Officers are found on the map of Yukhnov.

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

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

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

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

The officers continue to report the situation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Moscow sky

It was before the start of the Moscow battle.

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

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

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

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

Descendants will remember me!

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

Wait?!

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

Destroy now! This minute!

Hitler thought, and here is the order:

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

He threw his hand forward like a sword:

Destroy! Flatten to the ground!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Bolsheviks will be punished!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

the Red Square

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The chimes struck time.

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

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

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

The soldiers froze in the ranks.

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

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

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

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

Crossing case

We had one soldier in our company. Before the war, he studied at a music institute and played the button accordion so wonderfully that one of the fighters once said:

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

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

And in front of everyone, he dismantled the instrument.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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