Military stories about tankers and tanks. The stories of infantrymen, artillerymen, tankmen, pilots and many other Soviet soldiers of different clans. Dmitry Zakrevsky and the stolen German tank

They called me at the beginning of the 42nd, when I was already married. And I came safely to the end of the war only because I fought in heavy tanks. In the beginning there was KV - Klim Voroshilov, and then moved to IS, which means Joseph Stalin. Clearly, the infantry was the hardest, and the T-34s burned like matchboxes. They are always in battle, all the time under fire. But our business was not to accompany the infantry, but to break into the enemy’s defenses and storm the cities. As soon as we appear at the front line, the Germans are in a commotion - wait for our advance.

Yes, the crew of the combat vehicle, and even Maroussia. Who is she? Yes, you hand over the cards and do not interrupt me. Maroussia is our heavy tank. Until the middle of the war, HF, and then IP and both Maroussia. On it we reached Balaton, where she died. Beautiful car, how many times a shell hit her forehead - and nothing! Only you stall and the smell of dross inside the tank. And the crew was like that. I, then, the tank commander, nicknamed the Elder. Sakibzhan is a tower shooter. Just a young guy from the Siberian Tatars, a woman has never tried. The driver of the tank Sledgehammer. This is not a surname, this nickname was given for exorbitant power, but I already forgot what his name was. Still silent Mordvin radio operator Grisha.

And the tank was called Marusya because in the war the soldier longs for the female body. In any battle you can die and not try more female warmth. The point is not only to push some woman's thighs. No, all the curtains, tablecloths, home comfort are also feminine warmth, which the peasant is not given to create. Well, the body itself, of course. A sledgehammer was asking for every woman she met.

Will or will not, but I must ask!
  I missed my wife very much, I loved very much. And now in the forty-fourth on vacation after the breakthrough I dreamed about her. My wife, the late Maria Petrovna, had a noticeable mole on her pope. And so I can’t remember where she is - right or left. Why are you laughing? It turned out that I and the wife’s face no longer remember. And here it’s not surprising to forget your name. The Junkers are hunting us. You’ll get Ferdinand under the shot and - goodbye Motherland! And you can run into a land mine. In short, the soldier lives today, and what will happen tomorrow, then Zhukov and Stalin know. You, sixties jerks do not understand this.

In short, a soldier misses a woman to impossibility! All sorts of IDs - field wives - this is not for us. Their staff rats, but the big generals kept. And the soldier gets out of the situation. Everything happened on our earth, and when they entered those Europe.

For Smolensk, we entered one village. Lost the road, and even got dark. There were several houses left in the village, so they decided to get up until the morning and spend the night in different huts, so that there were no cramped spaces, so that the housewives washed our clothes, otherwise it would not last long. I was not in other houses, but in the place where the figured mistress of about thirty years stayed, and her chest and ass were strong. Two children with her on the stove. Poverty and the hungry are all impossible. Well, we pulled out our supplies and divided by the number of crew members, the number of overnight places, then. And the reserves were solid. This infantryman on his shoulders will not take much, and you can push anything into the tank, and even tie him up from behind the tower. The hat is the tank commander who does not have food in the car for ten days. And we had more, and even German overcoats, pants and uniforms and chintz a whole roll. Do not ask where we got chintz. I won’t even say it now. They divided everything and took it home. The kids pounced on food, but the woman does not eat.

All this let the children stay.
  I to her:
  “What good will it be for that stew if you yourself die of hunger.” Let’s eat, otherwise I’ll bind and forcefully push in my mouth.

They ate, but my piece in the throat did not reach. And the guys then said that they could not eat in that village.

The children fell asleep, and the mistress lay on my bench. Hugs, kisses, and she cries:
  “Let some woman sip my husband at the front.”
  True, she loved her deeply. In the morning, all the women saw us off to the tank, and the widow, Sakibzhanova’s mistress, hung herself on his neck, kisses us, not embarrassed.

Take care of yourself, come, I will wait!
So, for the first time, our Tatar fell in love with a female body. After that village, we felt like we were on a short vacation at home. You ask, didn’t the child be patched up for her? Maybe he patched it up, because after all, his will be Russian, and not a little girl. This was considered half the sin, and a woman and a young woman could be kicked out of the house in the cold in winter. And no matter what nationality that fascist was - a true German, Italian or the last Romanian. There is another difference: a German woman raped a woman or she threw her thighs in his bed in bed. If raped, then women will always help her to poison the unmarried woman. How did you find out? Yes, in the occupation everyone knew about everyone. Do you think SMERSH himself found traitors on the liberated territory? No, they all went to them and reported traitors that worked for the Germans.

What card do you cover? Do you think I'm completely blind? That knocked me off topic ...
  Would you like to know when I tried German for the first time? It was on the Kursk, after the battle of Prokhorovka. There were terrible fights. Tank armies came chest to chest. Many of our guys died there, but we were lucky. And even another star on the trunk of Marousi was drawn. And each asterisk is a destroyed tank, or self-propelled gun, or anti-tank gun. When Maroussia died at Balaton, there were seven stars on her trunk. This is not a ram sneezed at you!

After Prokhorovka, local battles began. The Germans are retreating, where is the front, where is the rear nobody can make out. Our car moved to connect with its regiment and rolled out a German T-III at us with a fool. The car against us is completely not serious. Sakibzhan shot and shot her right sloth and all the rollers. As they say, "Hitler Kaput"! The crew jumped out of the tank, and nowhere to run - we are just there, the gun is looking into the soul, the machine gun is leading with a blunt snout, and we also have machine guns. Raised their hands, bursting in their own way. And Sledgehammer knew German well, but hid it - he didn’t want him to be taken to the headquarters as a translator.

Sledgehammer transfers us that the German crew surrenders under the terms of the Convention on the Observance of the Rights of Prisoners of War. And they ask when they can send letters home so that they don’t worry there. The guys later said that I did not even become white, but some kind of blue. So angry. We already knew well how the Nazis acted with our. They examined their tank, and on its trunk two white rings are drawn. So, by their grace in the other world, two crews report their arrival.

Get to your tank, here we will shoot you.
He transferred the Sledgehammer, and then one tankman fell to our feet and bursts that she is a girl and asks to spare her. Have a closer look. All the tankers are in overalls, but this ass is clearly female, tight-fitting clothing. The guys immediately got a stake in their pants. They are looking at me.

Elder, what will be the solution?
  And it is simpler than steamed turnip:
  - To shoot men, to undress the woman.
  Well, it was easy to shoot, and the woman was holding onto her clothes, she was screaming. I say Sledgehammer:

Help the young lady undress.
  His strength is unmeasured. He grabbed the collar of the overalls with two hands and tore it to the very ass. Then he did not take off all his clothes, but directly tore them apart. The last on her panties tore. She stands naked, trying to cover herself with her hands. And we can see that her pubis is shaved, not a hairy triangle, but only a narrow path from the crack goes up. The forehead is smooth, which means it is often trimmed. The first time I saw such a disgrace. Comfortably fighting a woman. This is also a secluded place for panties to be removed and necessarily hot water for shaving, since the skin on the manda is soft. I don’t know who the commander of their tank was to her, husband or lover, but without his participation she could not have such comfort. I even regretted that they hurried to shoot him. It was necessary to wait a bit, let him see what we would do with his woman.

In general, women in the war had a lot of problems. A soldier will wipe with snow instead of toilet paper, and a woman every month needs cloth for pads. Or here's how to relieve the need of men. Then a friend told me, the composition of greenhouses in the open steppe stopped. Soldiers jumped out of need, but what about a nurse? The girl almost cries, but she is embarrassed to crouch in front of the men. Then one elderly soldier, from the last ages of conscription, stood up to the squad, widely spread the overcoat floors.
  - Marry me, daughter.

Well, so about that German. I ask the crew:
  - In what position will we put the young lady?
  The guys screwed her hands to the tank with a wire, she stands in a slope, holds her back horizontally. We let Sakibzhan first.

You are young, act, otherwise after us one skin will remain from her. And you can not rush, we will somehow tolerate.
Sakibzhan came up, stroking her white buttocks, saying something in Tatar. Then he began to feel her breasts. The German woman tried to wag her backside, sort of dodging his hands ... The boy lowered his jumpsuit, put it in her right place, began to swing. After him, Sledgehammer took up the German. All tankers are stunted, and he is large, even in the tank he was close. Therefore, for him, the Nemkin’s lye is a little low. He took her thighs and lifted her.

The young lady stood on tiptoe, and stood by herself while the Sledgehammer used it. Last I fucked her.

They unleashed the young lady, gave her a clean rag to wipe. And they sat down to smoke. She stands in front of us naked, keeps her legs up for a chop, we did not allow her to sit down. We thought we would rest, maybe there could be schnapps in a German tank, and we’ll repeat everything from the tankman over again. But no luck to us. A motorcyclist jumped at us, a major from our headquarters. It is clear: “The crew, humbly! Comrade Major, a German tank has been destroyed, I’m interrogating a prisoner ... ” What an interrogation, stands before us naked. Oh, and the major shouted at me, he threatened the tribunal. And then he put her, as is, naked in the cradle and drove off. I did not drive far, about six hundred meters.

I look through the binoculars, and the major, without getting off the motorcycle, pulled down his pants and put the tank on horseback. And she rides on it, she tries. I don’t know what he did to her later. Probably shot, not to bring her naked, repeatedly fucked at headquarters.

Then I dealt with the Germans when our border crossed. In almost all countries of Hitler's allies, many Germans lived. Goebels propaganda of these Volksdeutsche greatly scared us. You go into the house, drink water.

Geben Zee World Ain Glas Wasser.
  But the mistress does not give water, but lays on the bed and raises the hem above the navel. Or, even worse, his teenager’s daughter begins to sunbathe. The Germans were waiting for all kinds of atrocities, but, compared with what they did on our land, we were good guys. Babs of course used them, but with tastes, on a soft bed.

It was interesting in Romania. This people is the most trading. As soon as we entered the capital, immediately all the shops and restaurants opened. And among them there is one special one, “for gentlemen of officers”, with naked waitresses. I’m not lying, as if naked, in what mother gave birth! On the head there is a starch tattoo, high-heeled shoes and an apron only cover the navel. Nothing more - boobs, hairy all out. He walks around the hall, plays with his buttocks, shakes his hips. A very decent restaurant, our officers did not allow any disgrace there. We slipped in there, to look at the naked, because we began to forget what kind of woman was under her clothes. But the whole crew was not allowed. The entrance is open to me as an officer, but not to the guys. They went to the devil!

The most delicious case with the Germans was also in Romania. Then it turned out that they were not German, but Austrians. It all started with an accident. We drove into the abandoned farm owners, pour water into the radiator. And some German, paskuda, laid a mine at the entrance. It exploded beneath us, we thought the shell hit us, the gun in ambush. But everything is quiet. We examined the car - the caterpillar is torn, the skating rink is broken. I give the radio to the headquarters, but they answer me:

Repair fly will be in two days. While guarding the freeway.
  It turned out we did not have a planned vacation. Who repairs clothes, who belly warms in the sun. And we see a German bus rolling along the freeway. I command Sakibzhan:
  - Stop, the shell ahead of the course!

He shot amazingly accurately, on the go he hit a square meter with a shell. And it is at a decent distance. They say that the Siberians beat a squirrel in the eye with a bullet. I don’t know, I don’t know ... But our Tatar, for sure, was a sniper. The shell exploded ten meters in front of the bus - stop the car! We approach with machine guns, and a young woman is sitting on the bus, and there are three women in it, full of boxes of German-made stew. And, oh joy, a box with schnapps bottles! Note that all four women in the form of SS, skirts, uniforms, caps are all black, their uniforms have silver stripes and a dead head on the sleeve.

That's all, the butterflies were won! Each of them was loaded with a heavy box of canned goods and drove to our tank. Of course, it’s hard for a woman to drag such a box, the smallest of them just swayed under this load. The radio operator Grisha himself carried a box with schnapps so that these wet bugs would not be inadvertently smashed.

They stacked the boxes near our tank, and ordered them to remove the sledgehammer. They did not argue and are exposed, almost competing for speed. They were afraid that they would be shot, but since they ordered to undress, they would still be alive. And why shoot them, three privates and one corporal are insignificant. Although they are from the SS, but, judging by the documents, they were sitting in the headquarters and pounding on typewriters.

Fritsevka is undressed, clothes are folded neatly next to him, German Ordung is respected. And then, they stretched out naked before us, as if on a rack at attention. Everyone has a clean, well-groomed body, flat stomachs and pink nipples. So, women have not yet given birth. This is nonsense, as if girls have nipples that can be dark. A woman's nipples turn brown when she becomes pregnant for the first time. And by age, our trophy Fritsevs are almost girls, seventeen to eighteen years old.

I ordered them to put their hands behind their heads and began to examine their armpits. Yes, I was not looking for lice, fool! The SS men had the very first armpit calls and had a tattoo; their blood type was indicated. Our soldiers tried to finish them off immediately, without bringing them to headquarters. But our Fritzivka did not have such a tattoo, which saved their life. While I was digging in their hair, the corporal spoke. They, de do not consist in the army (Wehrmacht), which is at war with the Soviet Union, They are a peaceful SS and never visited the territory of the USSR.
  She is standing in front of me naked and discussing on the topic that they are not war criminals and, in fairness, we must let them go THEN. Understand this, they agree that the Soviet soldiers fuck them, but after that it will be fair to let them go. I put on this justice! He replied that the women should not wear SS uniforms, but give birth to children and cook strudel for lunch. But once put on a uniform, then answer with your asses.

The question arises here is how to distribute fritsovok between crew members. Us and them equally, but to whom? We decided to play cards. The two most wide-shouldered were placed side by side on all fours at position 69 and the table turned out. We sat down to play a point. At stake fritsevki in a queue. Grisha won the first one, but they didn’t immediately give her away, so you can’t destroy the cart table before time. Grisha, who dropped out of the game, moved closer to his German and pats her on the protruding backside.

I won the corporal’s sales, she’s almost a cut above me. The guys neigh, sort of like you are now. And at least for me! She is not skinny and not fat, but so meaty, muscular. A small priest is tightened, shrinks from fear. Looks like doing sports. In general, I noticed that Germans are most often fleshy and fat in moderation so that everything is tidy. Our woman, if fat, then she has everything hanging, and belly, and boobs, and ass.

I brought her onto a spread tarpaulin - here’s your bed, Frau — and I’ll start to undress myself. And the win I won fell on her knees and unzips my fly, tuned member to suck. At that time, not a single prowling did such disgrace in the USSR, not to mention decent women. Of course, I did not allow for the reason that I disdained such a perversion. He knocked her onto her back and she immediately spread her thighs wide. Just managed to insert it, Fritzivka put my legs on my back, put my arms around my neck and let's wave backwards.

And she keeps repeating: "Oh, Mine Gott!" Gott or not Gott, but tries his best. The boys fucked Fritzivka and wanted to exchange them, but I did not allow the carousel to be arranged. I lie, stroking a forgotten female body. He pressed only with one finger, as she was already turning on her stomach. Good, damn it. From wide shoulders, the body runs down to a narrow waist and again expands into a neat girl's ass. He pressed his finger once more, and she immediately lay belly up. The breasts are small (as hard as an apple!), The stomach is flat and tight. And between them is a shaggy triangle, which every soldier dreamed about during the war.

I squeeze it in all places and notice that the anger towards these fascists has disappeared somewhere. And, finally, I realized that this was not an enemy soldier, but a very young girl who gave me her body, and now she is waiting for a decision of her fate and the fate of her friends.
  Responsive Russian people, even after a terrible resentment. And we also felt that the war was about to end. And isn’t it better to let these Fritz women go home? In order to encourage good behavior under the Soviet tankmen. The girls are very young, let them go "nah house1" to give birth to children and cook strudel.

In a good way, we need to transfer them to the headquarters, with a repair team, which is about to come to us. But another question is, what will the repairmen do with them? Will they be taken to headquarters? And from the headquarters they have a direct road to the prisoner of war camp. What are Soviet camps, we all knew well. Our girls are not generals who are cherished in the camp.

I went to a sledgehammer to consult. He immediately understood everything, agreed with me. Okay, we’re calling my father a corporal, she comes to us as if she were naked, and there is a dumb question in her eyes. Sledgehammer transferred that we would let everyone go, they would be given civilian clothes, but before that, for service in the SS, they would be flushed - they would receive 50 rods.

The girls themselves piled their uniforms, doused with diesel fuel from a canister and set it on fire. They left only a linen for themselves, and shoes. I also threw their soldier's books into the fire.

The girls went to their "jobs" and lay upside down. But it’s immediately obvious that they don’t know how to lie under the rods - one hand spread out to the sides, the other legs spread, does not protect the shrine. It’s such a pain if it gets into the firing pin! My turn was the smartest. I collected all the little things in a heap and lay on them with my stomach so that the priest would rise higher. She extended her arms forward, her thighs closed tightly. And we, too, never had to beat women with rods. The talnik does not grow here; they replaced it with rods of hazel. They cut them larger, stood up in combat readiness for the SS men to polish their asses, drive them into the head through the backside.

He went to his corporal. She laid her head on the tarpaulin with her cheek, looks at me piteously. The ass rises even higher towards the rod, but also squeezes the buttocks with all their might - now the pain will fall on them. Yes ... a young naked girl lies in front of me. She is very guilty, and now substitutes her two tidy knolls under the rod to someone who has the right to punish her. I smashed it from the heart. The first rod deeply dug into tight buttocks and left a red mark on them. She gasped, but did not lower her ass. She did not scream, did not roar in her voice, but after the tenth rod she began to sob quietly. If you fifty times fasten on the pope, then chop it into meat. Therefore, it flogged both in the thighs and in the place where the legs grow from the priests.

They finished flogging. “Alles, end”! They get up, everyone’s faces are sobbed. Wide-shouldered, which Grisha smashed, clings to his buttocks and does not stop crying. It is understandable, for a wide, plump back, the scar from the rod is longer and the pain is stronger. My dylda, a corporal, stroked her painted ass, then came up to me, bent down and kissed her on the lips.
  - Danke! - He speaks.

Well, guys, finish the game. It's time to go for the procedures, and there is lunch. Who knows, there will be movies in our sanatorium today?

"As part of the marathon" Boomerang of kindness”, Fairy tales from mothers, participants of the marathon, began to come to us. Extraordinary tales saturated with kindness and love! We are very grateful to everyone who sends us their works, and, as promised, we begin to introduce you to these tales.

Today's tale is written Ekaterina Gavrilova (blog “ Promotion”) , the mother of the boy Styopa, 3.5 years old, a wonderful man with a sensitive and kind heart. Katya, thank you so much for your tale! The tale is very unusual, it will make you think not only of children, but also of their parents. And this fairy tale will be the preface to our meeting today about children of war .

A story about   small tank

Once upon a time there was a small tank. He was young and inexperienced, but served on the border as an adult. Like any boy, he dreamed that suddenly, if enemies attack, he would shoot, and fight, and he would drive everyone away.

The shortest summer night was drawing to a close. A small tank peacefully sniffed at the landfill. Suddenly there was a terrible roar, as if the sky had fallen to the ground. Bomber planes buzzed in the sky, only some completely unfamiliar.

And then the small tank realized - it seems that these are enemies ... And the sky over the city of Brest turned red - as if the sun suddenly decided to rise in that place that day ... - a fire started in the city.

Suddenly Tanchik heard the commander's voice: “To all tanks. Attention! We take a position in an ambush - in a ravine near the forest. " With a sinking heart, Tanchik realized that his dream had come true - real enemies had attacked, and now adults would see how brave he was! Only for some reason, the engines of the elders buzzed completely not joyfully, and the tanks quickly crawled into an ambush. Baby Tanchik did not lag behind and definitely took his position.

On the horizon, where the morning sky met the earth, enemy tanks appeared. It turns out that at night they secretly crossed the Southern Bug River and crossed the border. Like black cockroaches they crawled across the field, and more and more appeared over the horizon. Tanchik was able to count only to ten, and he was charged in his eyes, he lost count - there were much more tanks ... They crawled slowly ... But very quickly.

And then the long-awaited command sounded: “Choose a target right in front of you! Fire! ”, And then there was a roar of shots. Several tanks stood up in their tracks and smoked, but the rest crawled and crawled. The tanks rushed forward from the ambush. Tanchik shot indiscriminately, not having time to really aim. Around the senior tanks fought mercilessly. Suddenly, there was a roar on the right and a pillar of black earth rose into the air. In place of the old familiar tank there was only a black hole - a funnel. Tanchika was shaken by a blast wave, and her head was spinning with anger! How dare they! And he rushed forward, and shot, shot, until suddenly ... It became quiet in his head - this was the end of the shells.

But all the same, it is not clear why he rode and rode forward - directly to the enemy tank. And suddenly a shell crashed his right caterpillar, but he tried to drive everything forward, but strangely and helplessly spun in one place .... His battle was over. The motor died out, and Tanchik watched bitterly as, without paying attention to it, enemy tanks passing by.

Thus began a long terrible war. The small tank is not dead. His caterpillar was damaged and the motor stalled. But when the enemies came, they could not repair it, and so they threw it in the middle of the field. Tanchik simply did not believe that war would last. He knew that his friends would not let the enemies go far and drive them back, but they would release him.

But summer passed, and autumn began. Rain dripped, it slowly began to rust, and his hope was melting.

All winter the tank stood in the field. And suddenly in the spring, in the early morning, a boy from a neighboring village came running to him. He walked around, stroking Tanchik's tracks and cried. He told Tanchik that his tankman folder had left that morning, and still is not there. And suddenly the boy wiped away his tears and saw that the tracks had rusted at Tanchik. He stroked Tanchik and said:

Do not be sad! I will come to you tomorrow, - and ran, sparkling with bare heels.

The next morning, he reappeared with a stiff iron brush in his hands and a can of engine oil.

- The folder will definitely come back and fix you, and together you will drive these enemies back to where you came from. Do not be afraid! I will not let you rust. Tolerate a little, I will clean the rust and oil your tracks. The folder will be back, and you're like new.

Since then, as many as 4 years have passed. Four springs were met together by a boy and his tank. They saw each other almost every day early in the morning, and long ago learned to talk. And they waited, they waited. ... They waited as we could not wait alone.

And then one day at dawn, tanks appeared in the morning haze. Our friends were terribly scared at first, but they realized by the red stars on board that it was ours who were returning! And all will be well!

Well, what else to tell. Both the engine and the caterpillar were quickly repaired, and he went with his friends to drive the enemies from our fields. The boy really asked for them, but Tanchik did not take it, because his legs had not yet reached the pedals.

But very soon Tanchik returned, and with him, the boy’s folder returned! The war is over. Enemies left for their country.

Once, a boy ran to the training ground to his friend Tanchik and started excitedly saying:

- My folder is a hero! He was given a big red star for his exploits! And I am just like him - strong and brave! When I grow up, I will also drive out the enemies!

Then Tanchik suddenly became sad, and said so quietly:

“You know, friend, and it’s because I’m a little to blame for the fact that the war happened.”

- Like this? - dumbfounded the boy.

- I was small and really dreamed of really fighting real enemies. And when the war began, I realized that it was very scary, and I did not want this at all. Do not dream like me, please. And there will be no war!

Catherine, thank you very much for this tale.

May there always be peace on earth!

Tales of foot soldiers, artillerymen, tankmen, pilots and many others
soviet soldiers of various arms. Just stories, dozens of stories
about the war - how they remembered it. One paragraph - one's story.

My soldiers always received boots, but at one time they suddenly issued
shoes with windings, and the guys went on strike: "We are not infantry, we will not be in
walking boots. "And that was just after the Kursk Bulge. Heavy fighting
passed, and we quickly moved forward, almost without stopping. And in one
the place turned out to be so many killed Germans that all my soldiers took off
with them boots for themselves. I even looked at the technique that I taught them
trophy team. A stick was inserted between the legs for emphasis, and at the same time
ripped off boots from a corpse. So then I didn’t directly know where to go from
this shame. For example, somehow we were moving in a marching column, and suddenly
one of the familiar officers is catching up with me: "You don’t feel cadaveric
smell? "-" It seems not. "-" But you know, I'm like past your battery
i walk through, I feel right away, "it’s kind of like these German boots. But
in general, we almost never took German boots, and that’s why. I drew
attention to the fact that almost all of our soldiers had a high leg lift, and
the Germans for some reason almost all the boots were designed for low rise, and
that is why they did not suit us. When near Stalingrad we
captured the German airfield, then in the warehouse found a large supply of chic
chrome boots. But how many I did not measure them there, and even the size
more, but not a single pair came up to me. I still dress them somehow
he could, but very much they were stinging in the ascendant.

Why were people so afraid of being captured and were ready to fight before
last, and even commit suicide? Because captivity is a shame, to
in addition to shame, relatives could also be repressed
- It was also a very significant factor. Patriotism, belief in victory,
romance is all, of course, good, and so it really was. we
were ready to die for the salvation of the homeland, but the fear factor is not
it is impossible to consider too ...

And suddenly, with surprise, I see that they are walking in our direction at full height
regiment commander, followed by the regiment artillery chief, PNS - 2, commandant
the regiment’s headquarters, in general, there are probably seven people in all. And when I am all
saw, then I already felt uneasy. Because we are constantly there
annoyed by the sniper. And after that I suddenly see that our regiment commander,
the truth is, I later realized that they were all tipsy, going to their full height.
And I asked him in bewilderment: "Comrade Lieutenant Colonel, where are you going?" -
"Ahh, such and such. You are afraid of three lousy Fritz", and went forward, through
our trench right in the direction of the Germans ... But I shouted to them: "There
germans! "But no, he still went to the neutral strip at full height,
and everyone else after him. And on the neutral side of them all from a machine gun and
put ...

Russians have the best password. They give you a password when
you go to the task, and if you are late, the password is changed. You come back and
begin to shell their. The only thing that helped was the mat. how
start to cover it, so immediately the fire stops.

Regarding those of our people who were captured, I then believed, and
now I think that in each case it was necessary to deal separately.
Find out how he got under what circumstances, how he showed himself in
captive. After all, I had one classmate who was captured, and on
an example of his tragic story, I saw all the injustice of such
general attitude to our prisoners. His name was Anvar Nigmatulin, before the war.
he was a student at the Polytechnic Institute, but at the beginning of the war his
drafted into the army, he went to the front, and already in the summer of 1941 was wounded in
stomach and captured. And when I returned after the Yaroslavl hospital
home, then my friend and I went to visit him, and we had a very
hard meeting ... He lived in some kind of hut, and during our conversation
i noticed that he is very sad, and even our appearance is not very
pleased. But then we started talking a little, he told us
terrible things that he happened to survive in captivity, and then he says: "Here
i see from you that the Motherland has awarded you and treats you like relatives
children, but I was treated like a stepmother ... You know that I
week have to be celebrated in the MGB? And the fact that I earned a prisoner
consumption and I barely live them at all to the bulb ... Well, you know me,
am I a traitor? And then I have two shoots, and there are people who
they can confirm it all, but no, they don’t even want to figure it out ... "He
almost cried when he told all this ... This sad meeting
left a very heavy residue on my soul ... And soon I found out that he
dead ...

The first time it was when I still served in the tribunal of the 175th division.
At night, some kind of alarm occurred, either the German intelligence acted, then
perhaps something else, but in general one rifle company left its position.
Naturally, they began to look for the culprit who raised the panic. Finally,
pointed to one guy, but even then it was clear that he was just
appointed switchman, because everyone ran and he too. Also, I remember
it turned out that he was a Komsomol member, but ... Read the verdict, there it was
very quickly ... And when he was already standing in front of the machine gunners, then suddenly
shouted: "Long live Stalin, long live the Motherland!" But its all
shot equally ...

In the Kuban made a passage in the minefield for tanks, and was received
an order without stopping to enter a breakthrough. Before us, through this passage
cavalrymen passed under strong German fire. The whole passage was littered
the corpses of people and horses. Yes, and have not yet managed to endure the wounded, but here
order - “Forward!” ... We went through this mess. After the battle, when together
with the mechanic. they removed the tire from the trucks, you don’t understand whose meat. I
i thought. that my nerves can’t stand it. You see, they walked along the wounded ...

Usually the infantry was fed standardly - pea or millet soup,
pea porridge from a concentrate, American stew was also given to us.
Other former officers say they got the officers
doppayke, so in all the war I have never seen any doppayk in my eyes and
did not receive. He ate, like my fighters, from a battalion boiler, but maybe
the company foreman in the bowler threw me thicker more like an officer and
to your commander, and nothing more. Trophies rescued, "pasture".
We marched, and the battalion chef dug up potatoes in the field, threw it in
uniform in the boiler, although he fed the soldiers, there was nothing else. But the march
walked non-stop, on the go he did not look, all the potatoes boiled and
turned into porridge, cut in half with sand. In the halt, he began to distribute
potatoes, but it was already impossible to eat, the fighters began to resent, and how
once a commander walked by. They complained to him, they say, some kind of slop for lunch
given. He went to the field kitchen, picked up a pot of potatoes,
i tried, and ... began to smear hot potatoes on the face with my hand
unhappy, innocent cook ... Why be surprised, our
the regiment was a man of a sharp temper, sometimes to attack the battalion commanders with a stick
drove, could hit with his "club" or fist any officer ... At that
scuffle time by senior commanders and a constant rude obscene
no one was surprised by their subordinates, such, with permission
say, "officers with a high personal culture" were many ...

The order was given when it dawned, and we were already in sight. When departing from
there was one killed and three wounded. Due to stupidity, the authorities lost
people. But it rarely happened. That's why I fell in love with intelligence, because there myself
you think, not a drunk uncle for you.

I crawl to the house, I hear German speech, a drunken German hadej, near
a woman sits at home and cries. I point the revolver at her and say:
“Crawl to me” - “Yes, where did you come from my head ?! Yes, the Germans are in the house,
children in the forest, what will I do with you? "-" Crawl, I’ll kill you. "
She was somewhere around the same age as my mother, 37-38 years old. She crawled, I her
hugged "Crawl - I say - to ours." She knew where to crawl and the next morning we
went to the front edge, heard Russian speech. "Well - I say - stay
or will you crawl back? "-" Back, I have children there. "And to this day
i regret not saying thank you to her.

They quarreled with the Germans. You could see this too - Valentin Buts
crawls out on the parapet, sits down near the machine gun, lights a cigarette, and
talking to a German machine gunner! I tell him - “Buts, immediately
go down the trench! Now the Germans will “take you off”! He replies - "Everything in
ok, commander, I met one German here - and, clasping my hands
shouting, shouting - Karl! Charles!". From the German side comes - “The moment,
niht sprechen! Feldfebel com! " And so it happened - Valentine shoots from
machine gun on the enemy, from there they respond with fire, but it seemed to him that
this machine-gun duel is empty, but ammunition is wasted. Valentine
yells to the Germans - Hey! Fritz! What the hell are you shooting !? Unexpectedly from there
clearly heard - I'm not Fritz, I'm Karl! - Let's not shoot! -
Gut! ”Agreed Carl. But war is war. I'm fast buts to the side
pushed back, they say, you're still a natural fraternization, right in front of
"Special" device, and gave a long line in German positions. Karl yells
for its part - Neath Gut! But we agreed!

I remember that the convoy was on, and the soldiers were sleeping and snoring right on the go. AND
if you suddenly stopped, then the rear bounced on in front
going.

Already somewhere in Belarus, the infantry captured five Germans, but their
handed me because they had absolutely nowhere to keep them. And there
there was just such a situation that I could not send them to the rear. therefore
for two weeks they lived in the location of my training division. And what you
do you think? They seem to be friends with my soldiers, and no one to them
did not show any aggression ... And how glad they were that the war
for them already over.

At the railway station there were tanks with alcohol, the whole division
got drunk. Then it was necessary to attack further, so the Germans in a narrow aisle
between two lakes put two machine guns and the whole division in place more
days kept, reflecting the attacks of our drunken infantry ... The people there
put ... better not to remember ...

In our 3rd tank regiment there was a captain - a political instructor, sort of on
the posts of party organizer or regimental agitator, who with his courage and
selflessness made me radically change my mind about
commissars. This captain, could not calmly go into battle, he was not
included in a crew, but himself, in his personal
initiative, climbed into the "Sherman" the sixth, and at least, crouching in three
death in an indescribable cramped space, he could not help us in battle, but he
the fact that the political instructor with us, goes towards death, caused our
genuine admiration.

With us, a nurse went into reconnaissance, Muscovite Valya, the girl was on fire,
try not to take the wounded. She immediately pulls out a gun: "I am you
i’ll shoot! ”But Valya, the nurse, was unhappy, no matter what she met
an officer, he’ll kill him.

Somehow I was at my front line at the front line, there was a lull, so we
they decided to play chess with the company commander right in the trench. Right there in
trench put a board on a box from under the cartridges, play, and suddenly
artillery strike, the Germans often practiced this, and then we too. And this
the guy cut off the upper part of the head with a splinter, and, all this is the mass of the brain
i fell right on the chessboard ... Since then I have not played chess either
once, because when I see a chessboard, then before my eyes
this terrible picture immediately pops up ...

When they say that front-line brigades came to the front line, then
it always makes me smile. That's how much I was not at the front, but neither
i’ve never seen a single brigade of artists close by, they’re farther than the CP of the division
no no.

I had one familiar signaler. She was a very young girl
24th year, Stalingradka. And suddenly for something her commander took hold of her
platoon. Probably, after all, she did not justify any of his certain
hopes, because then I heard about him as a person about bad reviews.
And when we once planned reconnaissance in battle, then go with
he appointed her as advancing ... But it turned out that this
the conversation took place with me, and I saw how she almost tried crying
explain that it will be difficult for her to complete such a task. And he told her:
"Nothing, nothing, my dear. Get used to it, you're a soldier, but I have others
no people ... "

After the battles ended, I was lying in the dugout, but still could not
to fall asleep. It was so unusual for the front, some oppressive
silence from which it was really possible to deafen. Literally none
a single shot, no shell or mine burst. And suddenly I heard
machine gun, one, two, and I instantly fell asleep. And in the morning to me
they said that one of my soldiers, exhausted by lice, threw off the bottom
shirt and began to shoot her from a machine gun ... Everyone, of course, laughed,
and I even thanked him: "Thank you, brother, otherwise I would not have fallen asleep."

Twice a day, in the morning early and in the evening late Uncle Volodya and uncle
Andryusha will bring the kitchen. It happened differently when they fed well, and when
for eight days there is nothing. There was nothing to eat. And with mines and ammo
there were no problems, you can dial in the district as much as you want, and from German
machine guns were fired, and we used German mines, even German
mortars captured. But their weapons were better, more precisely, optics
good one.

They unloaded me and one wounded soldier, national leader, brought me to some
building, and laid on the bunk. And they put a sandwich on our chest with
oil, and something else. And I feel bad, I can’t and I don’t want to, besides
and the hand still did not act, like the leg, it was motionless. And so
i lay and watched him. He will sneak a glance at my ration, then
will turn away. Look again, turn away. And then he suddenly took it abruptly and
ate. And I do not blame him for this, he was apparently very hungry.

I understood the importance of education, and that’s why I always tried
pick up replenishment from young children with education. For example, on
Many Uzbeks sent us the Kursk Bulge, but I managed to choose a person
ten, eight of which were young guys who graduated from ten
classes. They were all literate guys with whom I was pleased. No wonder
they say that youth and tenth graders won the war, in particular
still, education means a lot.

Voenkov was 35-40 years old. He had his own tailor, hairdresser, chaise,
sledding. How the master lived. His bosses were bought dearly
trophies. He did not go on assignments. Once upon a time on this Gron
and decided to go in search. I agreed with the guys: "We are sailing on a boat. I'm on
i turn the boat over in the middle. You swim, and I drown him. "He is already in
entered the boat, and then changed his mind and ashore .... And we clashed with him
because of the nurse Nina. I once climbed to her. She says: "I still
girl. "I knew that they would kill me anyway and associate my fate with her
not going to, but decided to keep it. She came to me, we were sleeping
together. Nobody climbed into it - nobody wanted to mess with intelligence. BUT
the company commander laid eyes on her.

Once on our patrol out of four people jumped German
armored personnel carrier. The soldiers who were sitting in it threw a packet to the guys
cigarettes and drove on. Neither they nor we shot.

Throughout the war, I “kicked off” from offers to join the party. But
shortly after the war, “new rules of the game” appeared in the army. I have,
intensely celebrating our Victory, the battery commander went into a deep binge, and
he did not return from this binge. I had to command for some time
battery instead. The regiment's commissar made a fuss - “Why battery
is led by a non-partisan? How can this happen? ”And me in the clerk
order sent "to enter the Bolsheviks."

"Buyers" arrived in the reserve regiment to conduct cadet recruitment in
Tashkent Infantry School named after Lenin. I'm with my 7th grade
school was considered an educated, suitable student, and me
together with other "literate" led to the "selection committee". IN
a blackboard hung in the room and two lieutenant colonels recruited. I
came in, they give me chalk in their hands and say, “Write H2O,” wrote, “What
is it? ", I grinned -" Water "-" Well done, you're accepted to school. "

For “shooting at one’s own” in battle, there are no all under the tribunal
given. So there would be no officers left in the artillery units.
Show me at least one man who has won at least an infantryman
half a year who will say that he never received a “fire gift” from
their gunners, Katyushas or attack aircraft with IL-2. After all, on the battlefield
it is often impossible to understand anything.

On 31/12/1944, the division took the Polish village with battle. We managers
lingered a little while the connection was wound and so on. We drive to the village
and there all drunk "in the insole", they didn’t even put sentries ... In the village, fighters
captured German trucks packed to the brim with Christmas
gifts for the soldiers of the Wehrmacht. And in every gift box there was a check
roma. Well, then it began, you know. New Year after all. And it was at
i remember a case in my “first” regiment. The whole regiment got drunk, and
germans launched a counterattack ...

They give you an order, let's say - "By 12-00 to advance to the village
such and such, to occupy and equip the NP and begin the adjustment ”, and at the same time
they tell you that our infantry has already taken this settlement and firmly in
him entrenched. But you are already a “grated kalach”, and you know perfectly well what
at the front there is a “fake report”, and, as has often been the case, of our infantry
not in this village and in sight, and never was.

He managed to get into the tank. But he was frankly afraid of climbing into
tank, feared to burn alive. It came to a ridiculous but absurd
situation. He attacked after his tank, behind. Its almost by force
dragged into a tank. After two hundred meters a direct hit in the tank. To this
the senior lieutenant had his head torn off, but in the last dying
convulsions, his hands tightly grabbed the wounded mechanic’s leg -
tank driver. The mechanic barely pulled his leg out of his hands already
decapitated corpse of an officer.

I did not feel pain, but I realized that I was wounded in the lumbar region, as
then it turned out that the spine was also affected. I'm trying to get up and my legs aren’t
act. I’m lying, as they say “I miss”, and I clearly understand that I
"End": I can’t move, and there is absolutely nobody to help me, neither around
souls .... And in such situations, only in the cinema they shout: "Orderlies!"
battalion, for example, there was only one girl, a medical officer, two elderly
an orderly, and just one medical cart. Well, how many people could they
save? Therefore, mainly those wounded who could
get to medical battalion .... But I'm really lucky! Suddenly crashes due
turning open "jeep." It had a driver and two officers with a walkie-talkie.
They ask me: “Soldier, where are the Germans counterattacking?” I could
showed the direction, they transmitted it by walkie-talkie and .... turned around to
to leave ... I shouted: “Guys, take me away from here!” They looked at
deciding whether it’s worth it .... One of them says, “X .. with him,” and
true, then what was the life of a soldier? Nothing! But the second said:
"Let's take it." And they still picked me up and drove me to the rear. But
the medical battalion to which they brought me was almost ready for evacuation, and
they didn’t want to accept me .... And I was already very bad, and, having typed
of the last forces, I told that orderly: “Now I’ll shoot you, and for
it won't be anything, ”I still had a rifle with me. Threat
acted, and I was sent to the front-line hospital.

There were street fights in Lviv. Not the most fierce battles, but tolerant.
The weather was clear, and then, suddenly, streams flowed around the city. Yes, not simple,
and beer ... In the center of the city stood a beer factory, in its large cellars, in
huge oak vats, beer was kept. The fighters, learning about this, went down
into the cellars, in automatic bursts they shot through vats and drank beer,
gushing out of bullet holes, reaching the unconscious
condition. When the beer flooded the basement, there are a lot of people there just
choked ...

I remember that the episode, just near Moscow, was no longer possible
it was physically impossible for me. Already there is no time to search and dig graves,
you’ll put all of yours. But this pit. She was still stirring. Still alive. Like this
it was. And Stalingrad yet. Still moving in the pit. And we do not have other holes
harvested. To dig a hole, preparation needs appropriate. Here
i remember this thing. Then he went to Stalingrad to see how
there. Three people per regiment remained. In a regiment of three, four, five
man - and so three thousand! In general, when these holes were shut up, so much
there were people ... This is unpleasant. I’m thinking right now, maybe these pits
played a role. We took the scale, in a row, the amount we took. Not
fair. Because there was little technology. That's horrible. They also taught at the school:
Forward, yes Forward.

I had an orderly, an elderly man at the age of 55, a father of 4
children. I drove him out of our boat just before the crossing, I really don’t
i wanted his children to become orphans. So he told me several times
handed a fried mushroom pot to the bridgehead. How did he manage them without
fry the oils, I don’t know ... But it was the most delicious thing that I
once in a life ate.

And I got myself very beautiful that day from one German
nickel-plated Magyar pistol. Glory about this gun fast
spread out among our officers. Suddenly the commissioner himself comes to me
the regiment and asks - “What is so special about your gun? Give me
me him. ” No, I think, although I didn’t feel sorry for this “Magyar
toys ”, but it’s better to give this gun to the Germans than to the political leader. I did not like
commissars ... By this time, all my past enthusiasm for
communist Party disappeared into oblivion. And this political officer is already
was a lousy man. I tell him - “Yes, I don’t already have this
"Trophy". I exchanged it for "Nagan". " He frowned, left. But someone
apparently “reported” to the commissioner that I still had the gun ... It began
rewarding for the Dnieper bridgehead. All my guys were awarded orders
or medals “For Courage”, and I’m still waiting, like I should. In the neighboring
the regiment to the captain- signalman for simply fixing the broken connection was given
Hero of the Union, and I then twice laid the connection across the river to the bridgehead. On
The hero did not count, but he awaited the order. Suddenly the commander himself calls me
regiment and is interested - “What is your story with the political officer?” He is yours
i tore the award sheet to shreds. " Showing him a trophy gun, and
i tell you what's the matter. The regiment commander immediately warned me that in vain I
contacted this commissioner. And soon the politician began to crush me with everything
zeal that the officers in the regiment were arguing over what would happen before - or
the Germans will kill Boroka, or his political officer in the penal battalion will quickly determine.
We had an active commissar; he and the regiment commander "sat", without
shame of conscience, "framed him in full." And when after
Zhytomyr, the regiment commander left our unit, then took me with him to
army reserve, realizing perfectly what troubles await me
ahead if I stay to fight in a regiment next to this commissioner. Spas
in a word.

There was another episode that gave me a desire to live. When
we were only brought to the Ufa hospital, then we first washed the wounded.
This procedure took place as follows: in one well-heated room
a dozen young healthy girls, completely naked, only in
small oilcloth aprons, washed the wounded from trench mud,
cut off old dressings and washed the wounds. I got a young swarthy
ukrainian Oksana, I see her as of now. I still don’t know with intent or
no, this procedure was thought out, but the young, hot bodies of these
girls, their gentle hands, returned to many wounded the desire to live ...

Nobody was awarded with us, only mass graves. Gathered everyone
the dead, gave a three-volley, and move on .... After all, who then could
to reward? Someone who could stay alive for a long time,
those. staffers, gunners. And we, infantry, were brushwood, which
tossed into the fire of war.

A large group of officers celebrated New Year 1945 with us.
there were signalmen from the regiment headquarters. Everyone knew that Joseph
a beautiful voice, he sang beautifully, and after the war everyone predicted to him
career as an opera singer. We drank some toast. They began to ask Kaplan
so that he sang, Joseph was not opposed. One sergeant to whom the battalion commander
Dmitriev was not indifferent, sat down at Kaplan and took him by the shoulders,
listening to a song. But Dmitriev was already "ready", as they say, did not knit a bast.
And in the middle of the song a shot rang out. The battalion commander sitting opposite Kaplan,
pulled a pistol out of a holster and point-blank shot a company shot in
his head ... He was jealous ... Dmitriev was disarmed, shoulder straps were torn off him,
and ... left to serve as privates at the regiment headquarters. Not judged! .. The bosses
tried to blame everything on a "random shot." I went to several times
chief of Staff, Lieutenant Colonel Shutov and asked - "Why Dmitriev walks
free, but not in a penal battalion? He is the nits of his officer
killed! ", to which Shutov always answered me -" We will judge him after the war
will be. "

Somewhere in the Poltava region we were moving in a marching column and suddenly we
stopped, and built in a square. We look, they take out on a stretcher guy years
eighteen, frail such. Turns out he was a crossbow, and
shot himself in the leg. Frightened by the visible war. And his right lying, he
because he couldn’t get up or turn, he moaned loudly,
the back of the head and shot ... But this incident also didn’t affect us all
educational, but rather a negative impression ... Even pity for
he was, even though he was a crossbow.

Start

July 23, 1941 called up for service. Terrible, long. He came to the draft board in Kopievo, looked - a tractor driver, sent home to harvest. In the fall, they presented a new agenda and were called up to the 301 rifle division in Krasnoyarsk. In February 1941, in the Voronezh region he was enlisted as a machine gunner in the infantry troops. It was hard: equipment, weapons, ammunition, food - everyone pulled on themselves. Baptism of fire - the first battle with the Nazis took in the Kharkov direction. They threw us to replace the broken rifle division. At the village of Shibekino they saw stacks of corpses of our soldiers - there are too many - it’s scary to watch. We passed in painful silence. So many were seen for the first time ...

After several kilometers, three Messerschmitts appeared. Team: “Fire on planes!” They occupied firing lines. Killed the 2nd number. We stood on the defensive, the enemy was shooting, we often had to change positions. To replace the murdered, they gave me a boy from Taseevsky district.

Bullets cut each tubercle
The infantry choked again with blood
And jumped up. As if without boots,
Sasha help out his own company.
Found death - spat on her pupil
Is life tired of this ?!
In difficult times and the heart is just a scrap
Your homeland is a big body.

And my second assistant is killed. Well, I think it's my turn. All military equipment is used to destroy the soldier. I want to live and I must fulfill the order. Cling to the ground. All day (it was in March) rain and snow. Through and through wet, and at night the frost will pull and your wet clothes will freeze on you. If such a day or two, and then a week, a second. I am a Siberian. But could not stand it. Ill, taken on a wagon, can not find the hospital. I woke up in hospital No. 477 in Novy Oskol, for 12 days I was unconscious, like no wound. But hardly survived.

First reward

An order came: to send all specialists (machine operators) from hospitals to Moscow. They recruit a company in the third tank corps. For several months he was on the formation, very poorly fed, 400 grams of bread and water.

After picking sent to the Kalinin front. March 12, 1942 first battle on the tank. I remember one thing: the armor burned with fire, then with cold, a broken track shook out the soul. The offensive went west of Rzhev.

Memorable battle on the Kursk-Oryol direction. I happened to participate in one of the biggest battles of World War II. That was July 12, 1943. At the same time, 1,200 Soviet and fascist tanks collided in a formidable battle.

The battle lasted from July 5 to August 23. In this battle, ours, at the cost of heavy losses, defeated 30 Nazi divisions. I remember the morning before the fight. Clear sky, gentle sun, silence. And the nightingales are Kursk. I decided to write a letter home, I was nestled at the wing of the car, composed, I sent my regards to everyone. Then he uploaded the solidol to the points, checked the fuel, the ammunition. And after half an hour I did not see either the sky or the sun. Black haze overhead. From above - the pilots then told - it looked like a boil of buckwheat porridge. But it was the boiling of burning steel. The Nazis were eager, sparing neither soldiers nor equipment. Tanks went in an avalanche. From dust, nothing was visible even close. Mouth, eyes - everything is clogged with sand. Tanks were distinguished by silhouettes. There was a deafening roar, the mouth was opened so that the membranes in the ears did not burst. It was hard. There is no word that could define this condition.

The deaf earth is shaking
What a force!
Streams, and groves, and fields
Mixed up!

After the battle, losses were counted. Especially many were killed paratroopers who were on the tanks, and infantrymen that followed the tanks.

I did not know that my brother Michael participated in this battle and was seriously wounded in the head, but remained alive. It became clear after the war. For the battles of Kursk received the first award - the Order of the Red Star.

Then in the Sumy region reformation, rest. December 24, 1943 the offensive began in the Vinnitsa direction. From this, the Ukrainian fronts went to join 1 and 2. In the ring, enclosed south of the city of Korsun-Shevchenkovsky, there were ten divisions and one motorized brigade of the enemy. February 17, 1944 the German group was liquidated. For participation in this operation he was awarded the Order of the Patriotic War of the 1st degree.

Then there was a road to Poland. The fighting for Poland and its capital Warsaw lasted eight months. On February 3, they fought with Oder. For forcing the Oder, he received the third Order of the Red Star. I had a share in participating in the capture of Berlin, there I met a victory. Victory Day was greeted with universal glee. Salutes were given from all available weapons. But he did not put his signature on the Reichstag - there was nowhere to put it. The soldiers already scribbled under the dome.
BR<>Stronger than armor

After the war I was asked a question:

Was your tank Matvey Zinovievich never wrecked during the whole war?

I answered:

It was. He replaced three cars: near Kursk, Kiev, Darnitsa - this is also in Ukraine. Near Kiev, a shell hit the tank, anyway, with a stick over the head. It happened from one ear - the fragmentation exploded, from the other - armor-piercing. A tank caught fire near Kiev. But the whole crew managed to leave the car. And under Darnitsa they hit a mine. But nothing, I was only hit with a backrest as a sledgehammer, shell-shocked. He found himself, even did not go to the sanbat. He replaced three tanks, but he himself was never wounded.

In Brest-Litovsk, they crossed the bridge on foot in a column. A wire threw me down onto the railway. A little bit on the rail hit. On the sleepers beat off the lungs. Russian and Polish soldiers were taken to the hospital. Slightly departed, caught up with his in Lublin, and again into battle.

The war is over, I am 30 years old. I'm tired. So many lives lived. So many nerves burned out, so many comrades, friends lost. But I survived.

Peaceful life

After the war, he lived another 42 years. I'm not used to lying on my side, especially since you can benefit, no matter what job. When he returned, everything seemed beautiful: both the houses, not touched by the bombing, and the village, which had survived everything, and relatives, familiar faces. Every second man from the Oraks died. So it was necessary to work for everyone. He was the deputy chairman of the collective farm, the foreman of the integrated brigade, retiring, shepherd. The unchanging guard of five-year plans, the winner of the socialist competition in 1973, many diplomas and medals. He was awarded a radio and a car ticket. He transferred all the best that he knew in life to his son Alexei, grandchildren Sergey and Alexander, and great-grandchildren ..

Afterword

My great-grandfather Tarkhanov Matvey Zinovievich (1916 - 1988), unfortunately, did not write any front notes. Having studied his documents, memoirs, carefully kept in my family, interviewed by relatives, year after year she herself traced his front line. It was important for me to do such a job. I am proud of my grandfather, I will tell my future children about him. I realized how strong and moral my grandfather's generation was. Only such people could overcome the most aggressive, most terrible enemy, whose name is fascism. Thank you for your long patience, for the pain, for the fear that they have overcome. And let the hearts of future generations their deed not be wiped off the face of the earth!

My grandfather is a hero. All true heroes are united and related by one inherent feature - selflessness. Without dedication, there is no heroic deed or hero. After all, you will not call the hero of a man who bravely looked into the eyes of death for personal gain? First of all, each of us needs a feat, for, "revealing the face of a feat, you grow up to giants like that." Secondly, a feat is necessary in order to advance all the small, weak, and those who are at a low stage of development.

Why do we remember again and again about the past war? Because we are worried about the future. We must remember the past so that fascism does not recur. It is our duty to them who did not live to victory.

The last battle has long cooled down
In the ruins of the Reichstag.
But the honor of a fighter is always with me
Your rewards are with me.
Live soldier while you're alive
The memory of you.

Prusova Anastasia, Grade 9,

I usually pay more attention to naval issues, which is closer to me. It is impossible to grasp the immensity, but it must be admitted that it was difficult and full of dangers, death, walking nearby, perhaps, in all military branches. Now I’m reading a book of tanker memoirs - a very difficult share fell to them. Boys who had studied on the accelerated program, uncracked and unfired, were sent to formations and into battle, after which 70% of the tanks and personnel dropped out (most often irreplaceable). Almost all survivors changed tanks not one at a time, but 3-4, 5 or more times. If the tank was knocked out, then this does not mean that everything is over. But it was necessary to quickly get out of the burning car until the ammunition exploded or until it, immobilized, was shot at point blank range. To get out of the tank is not an easy task, and each crew member has his own chances of survival. For example, a radio operator or loader had more chances to die in battle when a projectile hit than a commander or driver. And got out - so that's half the story. It is necessary to survive further in battle. He left the battle - do not run into counterintelligence, which can be faulty both justified and completely nonexistent. Company commanders are required to fight to the last tank. So the boys ’dreams of heroic tank marches, beautiful cars didn’t materialize in many respects - hard and bloody work awaited them, taking their young lives in deadly meat grinders at a frantic speed.

Photo found on the Internet.

When they took Kharkov, we were transferred to the Poltava direction. There, under the village of Korotich, the first time I got into trouble. Our task was to cut the highway Kharkov-Poltava. To do this, it was necessary to cross the railway, which went along a high embankment parallel to the highway, about ten kilometers north. It was impossible to get around this embankment, and our battalion accumulated at the only crossing. As soon as the tank tried to slip through the crossing - slap, the car is ready. My tank turned out to be another victim. I was warned that after moving on the road you can’t go - it is mined, and I, having slipped the crossing, took to the left. He just walked forward - a shell hit me in the engine compartment. The fighting compartment was filled with smoke, the tank got up, and once it got up, it means you have to jump out, otherwise they will kill. He gave the command: "Leave the car through the top hatch." We jumped out and crawled to our own. The radio operator did not climb through the upper hatch - he decided to get out through the bottom. Then, when they got the tank, it turned out that he was killed. We went to the location of the battalion. The counterintelligence comes up to me: "Was the tank burned out or not?" - "What do you want?" - “We must send a tractor at night to pull it out. If it burned down, what the hell to drag it. If it didn’t burn out, you should be brought to justice because you left the car. What shall we do?” - "At night, I crawl myself, see how he feels." We climbed at night, prayed to God that the tank burned down, that the Germans finished it off. Finished off.

We had one Gorky resident, Sasha Beredin. He was escorted to the front by a young beautiful wife with an infant. His lucky   - he got on the commander’s tank with two radio stations, which became the tank of the brigade commander. But the brigade commander still a little behind the lines led the battle from this tank, using it as a command post. On this move, many tanks died, so there was no one to send. And then the brigade commander sent his tank. I say to Sasha: "Look, in no case should you move along the highway, although it is empty - you will explode. Better try it on the right, I tried on the left - they broke me." He went, yes, it’s obvious that he saw an open highway ahead and pulled ... but not far - he ran into a land mine, and the tank exploded. After the battles, we went to look for the body - there is such a flattened ...

I hang out in the reserve of a battalion without a tank: a platoon remained from the battalion, which was ambushed, apparently, the Germans were waiting for a counterattack. At this time, the commander of one of the remaining tanks went to recover. And this must happen so that the fragments of a mine that exploded next to him scratch his ass. He was sent to the hospital, and they told me to take the car.<...>   Soon, serviceable tanks were transferred to the 29th brigade, which was about five kilometers from us. For all my life I remembered the place of Barminvody, which we walked along the road to this brigade. There was a medical battalion - girls on the piano play, dance... We stopped, got out, danced. You know, as in the song: "Although I am not at all familiar with you ..."

While they were marching until the 29th brigade, it had already been defeated.   Some infantrymen stopped us in the area of \u200b\u200bValki - they have strong artillery, but no tanks. According to the law, we are not obliged to work with them, but they say: "Stay, we will throw you some alcohol." In general, they outwitted us, because three tanks of weather will not do it: the Germans have “tigers” in the landings disguised as artillery.

At dawn on September 2, our three tanks went into reconnaissance in battle - this is the military name, and actually - for slaughter. It’s good that before that I forbade my children to drink, although the infantrymen kept their word and poured alcohol (in our battalion there was a case when the crew, after drinking, suffocated in the tank when it was hit and smoked). We are going. The Germans opened fire. We also shot, but it is not clear where. I looked at the periscope, then leaned toward the sight. And when I looked at the sight, they slammed me. The shell pierced the tower above my head, it didn’t hit me, but pieces of armor hit my head, the helmet was torn, the skull was damaged. I fell on an ammunition pavement on a canvas mat, and then the fire went off, as they cut it into the engine compartment. After a lot of time, I found out that the loader had a headache, and he also fell. The driver and radio operator saw that the commander and loader were lying with their heads broken. It was not clear to them that I was only injured. They decided to roll up, they were lucky - the Germans, seeing that the tank was on fire, stopped watching us, and they jumped out. The rug that I fell on began to smolder. The fire reached the body - it burned, and I regained consciousness. First thought: "Fire can reach the shells, then the kayuk." I crawled out through the hatch of the driver, crawled back a bit and lost consciousness. Only when our infantry went on the attack, they found me, pulled out.<...>

<...> "What should I do? I don’t have a crew !?" - "Take the second lieutenant, you will shoot, he will charge. Go to the company of Kardaev, he is standing in ambush with two tanks. You join them."

We arrived in the company, dug up the caponier. Suddenly an armada of tanks came out of the village of Mitrofanovka. Up to fifty tanks went to us! And we have three tanks! No fuel! As seasoned in Novomoskovsk, that's all! They began to shoot. Something knocked out.<...>   They quickly surrounded us. We threw the tanks, threw gun locks and run. I fired a pistol until the cartridges ran out, then threw it away, left with one grenade. Decided: "Undermine, but I won’t get captured." I am overtaken by a German armored personnel carrier, shoots - by, the bullets passed nearby. I instinctively fell. Apparently, they thought that he was killed, or I ended up in the dead zone, because they shot almost point blank.<...>   So I was surrounded, and the guys managed to jump out. When the battle fell silent, I got up and went east. Towards night I went to the Chabanovka station, not far from it I saw a bonfire and went to it.

A Russian guy and his wife are sitting at the fire, preparing food. We met, the railway worker Ivan Pakhomov, this is the name of the guy, he says: "Why are you in uniform here? Let's go change clothes." He took me to the basement: "Take off all of yours. You are wearing a robe. You will say that you are a worker." Just changed, and the Germans drove on motorcycles. Ivan tells me: “We are going to the railway station, my wife’s sister lives there. You’ll come with us.” He had an Ausweis and a blue worker armband, which he gave to me. We got to the departure. the husband is women, Sasha Chaporev, told me: "You will say that you are my brother, you lived in Krivoy Rog, the Russians are advancing, and you had to flee." In the morning we all went together to work. Melnychuk, foreman, i felt that I was not the one I pretend to be, but covered me. That's how I worked on the railroad for six weeks. The Germans combed, caught surrounded. Sergeant Osipov, the adjutant of the brigade commander, was brought in with me. I managed to talk a little with him.<...>

Gradually the front was advancing. Once the Germans gave the command to all road workers to evacuate. We drove the trolley with TNT, blew up each rail on both sides, and cut the sleepers. Seeing that the Germans were running, we, six people, decided to take refuge in a dugout, not far from the junction, where the workers stored the tool. We hid, but, fools, talked in a voice, they heard us and pulled us out. Everyone except me had German documents that the guys presented, but I have nothing to show. Brigadier Melnechuk, who knew German well, helped me out - he said that he was on my extension.


They led us along the railway to the junction, where they drove into the booth of the switchman, in which there were windows on three sides. There was a bench near the wall on which our guards were stationed, and a deep trench was dug nearby in case of bombing. The escorts settled down and they cook in German. Melnechuk translates to us: “They think what to do with us. It’s far away to headquarters - twelve kilometers, suddenly the Russians will overtake. If you let go, then the Russians will immediately call us into the army. Must be shot". At that time, the attack aircraft flying over us, seeing the Germans, gave them a turn and flew on, and they jumped into the trench out of fear. We jumped out the window and run away. We hear after a while a select Russian mat - ours! I immediately wondered - guys in a few days will be taken into the army, and I i will never prove that I had nothing to do with the Germans. I went to counterintelligence<...>, explained everything, and they immediately put me in the basement. Then they drove from one village to another: “Well, you weren’t in the hands of the Germans - sign it. But still, what task did the Germans give you?” They purred me for about three weeks, in the yard winter was December, and I was very lightly dressed. With us sat a man with a full black beard in a chic casing. I would freeze to death if he did not take me by the side, under the casing. He was headman in the village, and when ours came, those who were dissatisfied with him immediately laid it. He told me: "Of course, I couldn’t follow the orders of the German command, but I tried to sabotage them as much as possible. I was connected with the partisans, but they are far away now. What should I do?" And then he was taken away and not brought. He asked the convoy - he said they were transferred to another place. And then they called me for interrogation - I go out, and he hangs. Can you imagine? I was already freezing, I thought maybe he would bring a casing ...

When my father found out that I had been found, he arrived in New Prague with a letter from Russiyanov about sending me to the 1st Guards Mechanized Corps for inspection. He arrived in Poltava, where the building was located. I was immediately released and assigned to the mechanized brigade as deputy commander of a rifle company.<...>

One day, returning from the medical battalion, an officer approaches me. "Comrade Junior Lieutenant, you are summoned by the President of the Tribunal, Lieutenant Colonel Grandfather." Dragged me there. The chairman tells me: "You will be a lay judge in court." - I’ve just left myself! "-" Nothing. "We caught another officer, the same as me, and here we were acting as lay assessors. They tried two - for nothing, for nothing. After the meeting, I said that I would not sign the protocols, because in the first case there were two sentries in the warehouses, and one of the sentries was killed, the other remained alive. Someone shot. So they accused him of killing. Moreover, there was no evidence of his guilt. They say to me: "Sign, we’ll send him to the penalty battalion." “No, I won’t sign it.” And the other guy was from Western Ukraine, and when the Germans were there, they drove the peasants: "Take a horse, carry a stone, do this." When ours liberated the territory, he was drafted into the army, and he told someone how the Germans forced him to carry something. He was told that he served with the Germans, and sentenced to death with the replacement of the penal battalion. There the whole population worked! He didn’t leave with the Germans! Why judge him ?! Because then and I must be judged! As a matter of fact, I myself worked for the Germans on the railway! <...>

And soon I was arrested again. This is what happened. Apparently, before our corps, which stood in Poltava for a year, was sent to the front, an encryption came to the division: send all the unreliable for inspection. Our counterintelligence chief and my father, the head of the political department, were called to Moscow. Kiselev, deputy head of the political department, remained in his place. We had agreed on one woman. We had Verochka Smirnova, to whom this wedges beat this Kiselev. Not to say that she was beautiful, but then for us all were beautiful. We met at the club, made friends, there was no intimacy. One evening he came to her, stayed to spend the night, and then he pinned down. She, to have a drink, says: "Here is my fiancé." - "Show me!". I went out. So, to get rid of me, he included me in the list of unreliable. On the night of November 12, 1944, I was in a hut. Not one - with a nurse. Knock. The owner opens: "Where is such and such?" They arrest me, and they say to her: "Run, don't tell anyone."

They shoved me a prison car and drove me to Kharkov. They placed us at a tractor factory, where the Germans had a prisoner of war camp, and ours adapted it for filtration. We did not stay there for long, and we were transferred to Shcherbinka, near Moscow, in the 174th special camp for checking officers who were held captive and surrounded. And from there there were only two exits - either in jail or in a penal battalionordinary. They treated, however, decently with us. They drove to the toilet. They didn’t intimidate, but the counterintelligence officers all the time tried to catch on contradictions. There were sixty-four of us in a small cell - who is on the bunk, who is under the bunk. On the floor, you could only lie sideways. Although it was winter, they didn’t drown the hut — it was still hot — everyone breathed and farted, fed only rotten cabbage. Once they call me to the investigator: “The documents came. Everything is in order, you need to be released. But you have already lost so much time while you are sitting, so you’ll go to the penal battalion. Are you a tanker? Do you know DT?<...>   And he is the same infantry, only with bipods. You will be a machine gunner in the rank of private. Redeem - return the title. "

  Excerpts from the memoirs of Semyon Lvovich Aria. Quoted from: Drabkin A. I fought on the T-34. - M .: Eksmo, Yauza, 2005.