Maxim tank stories about the war. From the memories of a tanker. Do not take prisoners! Victor Burtsev

The hero of this story met the war as early as 41m on the border.
There are fewer and fewer such people these days.
Remember them.

"YOU ARE PROTECTING YOUR HOMELAND ..."

Alekseev was called up to the ranks of the Red Army in 1939, at the age of 19. Until this year, they called upon to serve in 20-21, and then the government decided to "rejuvenate" the army. Prior to the call, Veniamin Mikhailovich worked as a mechanic at Saransk TPP-1, so he got to serve with twelve fellow countrymen in the 450th separate tank brigade, in the Kiev Special Military District. In a tank school (the city of Bar, Vinnytsia region), a cadet Alekseev studied the materiel of BT, T-34 and KV tanks for six months, after which, having received the profession of a driver, he left for the 450th separate brigade to serve. Young soldiers were given a stunningly beautiful uniform: leather overalls, helmets and leggings. Each shoulder strap has a Nagant in a holster.
In 1940, the team participated in the liberation campaign in Western Belarus and Western Ukraine. That is what he was called then, although now pseudo-historians adhere to a different point of view, so that we leave the legal side of this military operation without comment. Veniamin Mikhailovich himself recalls that the “Westerners” greeted our troops quite friendly, only the old people at first did not believe that the tanks were real: “Pans said that the Muscovites had plywood tanks.”
After reaching the new border, the brigade was disbanded, and the personnel were transferred to the 8th Panzer Division, which was based in Lviv and was soon recognized as the best part of the Red Army armored forces. In 1940, new equipment entered the division, and Sergeant Alekseev moved from BT-7 to the new T-34. As an excellent student, he was appointed a driver-mechanic on the tank of the commander of the battalion, a participant in the war in Spain, Major Abakumov.
The call of Veniamin Mikhailovich was supposed to be demobilized in November 1941, so the guys from early spring began to buy "civilian" suits. The fact is that, starting with the Soviet-Finnish war, soldiers were not allowed to go home in military uniform. So, at the beginning (!) Of 1941, the division commander said to the future "demobilization": "Guys, send your costumes home, you have to protect your homeland."

WAITING FOR WAR

On May 1, the last prewar parade took place in the troops. The 8th Panzer Division was marching on foot: KV and T-34 tanks were considered secret weapons and stood in boxes masked by tarps. In May 1941, all exercises, except for live shooting and driving, were canceled in the division. The commanders, foreseeing the complex development of events, were preparing tankers for foot marches, for leaving the encirclement. In practice, it looked like this: tankers were transported by car for one and a half hundred kilometers from the unit, then they gave the commanders of the groups a compass and a map, after which they ordered them to go back on their own, and it was strictly forbidden to move on roads.
Starting June 5th (!), Readiness No. 1 was announced in the division. Tankers were sleeping in full combat gear (they were only allowed to take off their boots), and training alarms were carried out every now and then. Rumors circulated about the detained German scouts, that the Germans were concentrating their forces on the other side of the border.
On June 17, the battalion went to the firing range to conduct training firing. Before they had time to take a few shots, a new order came: to urgently return to the regiment. Another indication was awaiting the tank division: burn all personal letters.
The next morning, at 4 o’clock, the division was raised on alert, the commander Fomchenko ordered the crews to take full ammunition into the tanks (the T-34 had 150 shells, fifty grenades and several dozens of machine gun disks), set the norm for the products, refuel the vehicles to the eyeballs "And go to the border at a speed of 50 km / h. After a few hours, the division concentrated near Brody, near the Polish border. They dug in, disguised tanks and began to wait. The regime of secrecy was observed the most complete. Smoking was allowed only in the trenches. Even the instruction came not to knock spoons on the pots with food.
The night of June 20-21 finally put everything in its place. The roar of tank engines was clearly heard across the border. It was not necessary to be a great strategist to understand - the enemy is concentrating his units for the offensive.
Veniamin Alekseevich clearly remembers the moment the war began. At four in the morning the Germans began artillery training. Shells flew over the heads of tankers and exploded somewhere far in the rear. This went on for about forty minutes, and then came the approaching clang of tank tracks. At the same time, the first combat order was received from the division authorities: “Do not shoot, this is a provocation!”
The battalion commissar suddenly decided to hold a meeting of personnel in order to clarify the line of the party. He got up, took several steps and was killed on the spot with a single shot of a German sniper. Then the battalion commander took responsibility and ordered to open fire. From the very first shots several enemy tanks were knocked out. True lung Pz.Kpfw.II, but still knocked out.

RETREAT. BATTLES WITH "SS" TANKS

At the turn of Brody, Alekseev’s battalion fought for two days with battles. Then the order came: to leave for Lviv. One of the most successful operations was carried out in the Berdichev area. Having learned that a column of German tanks was following, the battalion commander ordered the tanks to be dug into the ground between the swamp and landing. Having erased his hands with crowbars and shovels in the blood, each crew dug out a position measuring 6 by 2.5 meters (and 1.5 meters deep) for their car.
Soon, German tanks appeared on the road. Letting them come closer, our tankers, according to all the canons of military strategy, opened fire first on the first machine, then on the last, blocking the enemy’s movement. While the Germans understood where they were hitting them, while the towers were being deployed, our tankers managed to slap several shells into each of the 18 German tanks. The figures in smoking black overalls did not have time to run away from the burning cars and fell, slanted by machine-gun bursts.
After that battle, almost all tankers acquired captured German assault rifles (which for some reason they called us Schmeissers), and one SS crew was captured. Our commander tried to interrogate them, but the very first German tankman, to whom he asked a question, spat in his face in response. The lieutenant already turned white with rage, gritted his teeth, pulled the TT out of his holster and without further ado slammed a German bullet in the head. The rest immediately lost their arrogant appearance and began to respond, but were still shot a few minutes later. And what else was there to do with them, not to drag with you to the headquarters, which is unknown where?

UNDER THE FIRE OF OUR GUNS

Having received the order to withdraw, the battalion went east. We approached the bridge over some river, prepared to cross, when suddenly the crossing flew into the air. The most annoying thing is that our sappers blew up the bridge.
Here it is worth making a small digression. The KV and T-34 tanks were considered secret before the war and did not have any identification marks on board. Here are the Soviet sappers and overlooked, mistaking them for the German.
The blown up bridge - nothing yet, crossed the river ford, but in another case, due to the same misunderstanding, our tanks came under fire from their own artillery. They cut Alekseev’s tank with a blank, but, thank God, the armor survived.
At the end of July, we reached the old border, and then the battalion received an order to transfer the tanks (there were only four left by that time) to another unit, and ourselves to leave the encirclement on foot. Head towards Donetsk.

FROM THE ENVIRONMENT ON THE DRIVEN FIAT

They came out of the encirclement practically without fighting, because they moved away from the large highways, and the Germans rushed forward only along the freeways, not paying the slightest attention to the encirclement. Hearing about the huge number of soldiers of the Red Army who were captured in the summer of 1941 (and their number amounted to more than a million), Veniamin Mikhailovich categorically declares: “At the very beginning of the war, whoever wanted to get out of the encirclement, he left!”
Autumn wind drove German leaflets along the roads, on which a painted Soviet soldier was standing in paints, standing in an embrace with a girl at a neat house, next to which well-fed cows and goats grazed. Say, surrender, a Russian soldier and you will have it all. The encirclement did not pay much attention to this campaign, but some soldiers, passing through their native places, went to their homes. They were released and not reproached.
35-40 kilometers per day passed, they tried not to enter the villages, but the need forced them. NZ has long been eaten, and hunger, as you know, is not an aunt. Approaching the village, they sent one of the crew to the reconnaissance. If there were no Germans in the village, they went through the huts for feeding.
And once the scout returned with unpleasant news. There is a passenger car and several motorbikes with machine guns at the hut, and the Germans get drunk nearby in the garden, they didn’t even put out any guards. Ours would pass by, away from sin, but Alekseev decided at least a little, but to annoy the Germans.
He crawled to the Fiatu passenger car, carefully opened the door. The key is in the lock, here are several cans of gasoline. Jumped into the car, started, shouted his. Those flew into the car and go. The Germans came to their senses, got on motorcycles and chased. Cinema, and only.
The chase ended in the best traditions. Having let the drunken Germans get closer, our tankmen shot them all out of the captured Schmeissers and drove east to the front. On the captured Fiat we drove two hundred kilometers, until some battalion commissar requisitioned the car in an orderly manner. Had to walk again.
In the Donbass region, Alekseev was wounded for the first time, with a splinter in his leg. There were no medicines, no bandages either, the leg was swollen so that it was impossible to step on. In one village, he directly said to his comrades: I, for you men, are just a burden, go on without me, otherwise everything will be lost. The crew left, but he stayed. And after a couple of hours the shooting began. That's all, Benjamin decided, now captive.
But, apparently, it was not fate: out of nowhere, a nurse girl from her native regiment came running. I cut a wound with a small knife, washed it and bandaged it. Relying on an unexpected savior, Sergeant Alekseev hobbled east like a wounded hare. It is unlikely that they would have managed to go far, but then a lorry with the wounded passed by. In her body, our hero got out of the encirclement, having walked 600 kilometers along German rear.

KIEV, KHARKIV, STALINGRAD

In Krasnoarmeysk, they surrounded the encircled people, took them to the bathhouse, gave them a day to sleep, and then began to form crews from the surviving tankers into the 90th tank brigade. Crews of three people, therefore, hinted at Veniamin Mikhailovich, on BT-7 tanks. After that, the tankers were taken to Priluki, there they were given repaired tanks. Alekseev did not even get BT-7, but the older BT-5, all in patches after repair. After the “thirty-four” it was even scary to get into this box: the armor was two fingers thick.
During the battle for Kiev, the brigade lost almost all the cars and Alekseev again became "horseless." The mechanics-drivers were assembled, and sent to the Kharkov Tractor Plant to collect tanks for themselves (together with the workers, of course). The city is on fire, and work is in full swing in the shops. After receiving tanks, the 90th brigade received orders to defend the city, supporting infantry with fire.
Near Kharkov fought until November, and again the retreat. On Chuguev. A real defense was already occupied there, and the Germans had weakened the onslaught by that time. Until May 1942, they were on the defensive, and then the brigade in the 16th Army went on the offensive.
The Germans built up fortifications fairly well during these six months, so the tankers immediately began to suffer losses. Alekseev’s tank crashed, and the whole crew was shell-shocked. We lay down for a week in Valuyki and almost again fell into the environment.
Again a business trip, to the Stalingrad Tractor, to assemble a tank. And right from the factory floor - into battle.
Dozens or even hundreds of books have been written about the battles in Stalingrad, so it’s hardly worth talking about. We only note this fact: after six months of fighting, the brigade became a guard, and Veniamin Mikhailovich Alekseev himself lost three tanks and was awarded three orders (one order of the Red Banner and two of the Red Star) and the badge “Excellent Tanker”. In 1942, believe me, the awards just did not give.
I had hardly lost my fourth car, but this case, perhaps, is worth telling specifically. Once, the crew received orders to participate in reconnaissance in battle. The infantry company rushed forward, but immediately after reaching an open area it was pressed by fire to the ground. The tank also got it: first a direct hit burst the track, and then the crew smelled smoke. Everything is burning. You have to get out.
Veniamin Mikhailovich got out through the hatch of the driver and hid in an infantry trench, since the tank stood directly above it. The rest of the crew rushed to the rear, but after a second they were covered with mortar fire. Alekseev took a closer look at the tank and realized that it was not the tank itself that was burning, but only spare tanks in the stern. Therefore, the car is practically not damaged. I crawled to the tank, sat down at the levers, and, under a curtain of smoke from the burning solarium, quietly, maneuvering on one track, began to take back. The Germans noticed that the tank came to life, only at the very last minute and opened frantic fire, but late: the car was already hidden in a hollow.
Alekseev got out of the tank, crossed himself, mentioned the thirty-four designers with a kind word, with the help of the infantrymen he pulled on a caterpillar and went to report to the brigade commander. However, as it turned out, there was no need for the report: the whole team, with bated breath, watched the feat of the driver, who was taking the tank out of the fire.
And one more thing to remember. In Stalingrad, the crew of the tank Veniamin Mikhailovich several times included the cameraman of the military newsreel, in place of the shooter-radio operator. Of course, it was simply impossible to shoot while sitting on the armor during the battle, so I had to remove the machine gun from the turret. In the hole formed, the operator stuck out the camera lens and went into battle along with the tankers.

BATTLE UNDER PROCUREMENT

After Stalingrad, the 41st Guards Tank Brigade was taken to camps near Tambov, where preparations for the Oryol-Kursk battle began. Veniamin Mikhailovich also participated in the famous tank battle near Prokhorovka. Of course, the driver-driver sees little in the viewing gap, but these impressions are also remembered for a lifetime. It was hell, real hell, when thousands of tanks and self-propelled guns came at each other with a steel wall. Armor melted and the earth burned. Those who survived after all this could consider themselves lucky.
Some time later, when the driver mechanics were once again sent to take tanks, this time to the Chelyabinsk Tractor Plant, Alekseev and his friends specially decided to drop into that field near Prokhorovka. The picture, which was presented to their eyes, could not be called a cemetery. A huge cemetery of wrecked and burned cars, ours and German.

ONE DAY FROM THE LIFE OF TANK DRIVERS

For all the time while they were at the forefront, Veniamin Mikhailovich does not remember a single night that his crew would have spent outside the tank. A tanker’s car is both a bedroom and a dining room. So, in the morning, at five o’clock, a radio call woke up the tankers. The tank commander, barely awakening, immediately received the task of supporting one or another rifle unit. There was no time for breakfast, it’s good if you had time to wash yourself.
The task of the tank in battle is to suppress firing points that interfere with the advancement of infantry. The crew sees that the infantry lay under machine-gun fire, so you need to find these firing points and destroy them with the fire of their guns or crush them with caterpillars. When the infantry goes forward, the tanks follow it to the next center of enemy resistance. And so the whole day, and even night. Well, at night they fought only during the big offensive, but usually the “working” day ended at eight in the evening.
No matter how tired one day, after returning to base, the crew’s first task is to refuel the tank, eliminate minor breakdowns, and replenish ammunition. Maintenance took a couple of hours, after which it was possible to relax, especially since there was practically no strength left. Then everything is simple: crawled into the tank, turned on the light, laid out on a tarpaulin two or three cans of canned food, bread, a flask of alcohol. The radio operator gunner, having twisted the verniers, finds some funny tune on the air, and after “stopping” the front-line dinner begins. Sometimes a small concert was arranged, the accordion and guitar were always carried along with us, although sometimes we had to keep them on our knees, even in battle. And what to do - there is not enough space in the tank.
Usually near the tank there was a rifle unit, and several soldiers crawled under the tank. And it is warmer and you can take shelter from the rain. Tankers are not greedy people: they fed infantry than they could through the open landing hatch (located at the bottom of the tank). Seeing such splendor: light, music, alcohol and canned goods, the infantrymen were naturally foolish: they somehow starved, interrupting from rusks to water.
Since the crew was supposed to guard their car in shifts, the infantry volunteered to guard the tank all night. Only, they say, men, throw a cup of grubs, little tartlets and alcohol, and we won’t close our eyes for a second. Such was the interaction of the combat arms in combat conditions.
The lights out in the tank came closer to midnight. We slept right on the battlefield. Anyone who has not experienced all the charms of a military camping life, simply will not understand how this is possible at all: to sleep sitting for months without being able to stretch to the full height. Nothing, they’re used to it over time. And so on until five in the morning, until the next "working day."

AND IN LATER AND IN ASBESTOS

In the tank, a well-known thing, during the battle the stuffiness is incredible. There are fans, of course, but to be honest, they are of little use. At one time, tankers near Stalingrad fought in body shirts, but soon they began to scatter leaflets from German planes in which this fact was described in all colors under the motto: "Russian tankers do not even have a military uniform." At first everyone laughed at Goebbels propaganda, and then the command issued an order: do not remove overalls in any circumstances. The order is an order; I had to bathe in full uniform, mother of linguistic German propagandists.
And that's nothing. In 1943, special asbestos jackets were delivered to the tank units, which were supposed to protect tankers from burns. Big ones, two fingers thick. They, perhaps, also protected from fire, but to fight in them was by no means impossible. In short, they were thrown out after the first battle.

PRESSED EVERYTHING

During the war, the driver-mechanic Alekseev had to destroy with tanks and machine-gun nests, and enemy soldiers with caterpillars. The machine gun for the tank is a trifle: it crunched under the tracks and that’s all, but to push the gun, this also needs to be known. If you run right onto the shield, you can break the tracks. One acquaintance ran over, lost speed and was shot by German guns at point blank range. It is necessary to run into the gun on the side to distort the frame and crush the lock.
Well, the German infantry for the tank is a trifling matter. I ran over, turned on the spot, and further. The engine roars so that even dying screams are not heard. It was only later, during the repair, when it was necessary to dig out from the caterpillar tracks bone fragments and pieces of rotting meat, it became a little uneasy. During the war, Alekseev crushed dozens of three German cannons and more than a hundred enemy soldiers with caterpillars of his tank. And nothing, no emotions.

FIRST THROUGH DNIPER

When our troops were already entrenched in the Dnieper bridgeheads, the time had come to transfer heavy weapons to that shore. It just so happened that the tank brigade in which Veniamin Mikhailovich fought was supposed to be transported the very first. And I must tell you that the driver Alekseev was considered the best in terms of (this, incidentally, is confirmed by the author of the book "Notes tank technology"). So, they called him and ordered him to cross the pontoon bridge to the west bank of the river, which, according to Gogol, not every bird will fly.
Alekseev sat at the leverage, and the surface of the bridge about twenty centimeters under water so that the German bombers would not notice, only a rare chain of bulbs glows for orientation. And the width of the river is more than two kilometers. Moved in any direction, and to the bottom. Nothing, crossed at a slow speed, but suffered fear during this time.

BROTHERS-SLAVES

In Europe, our troops were greeted with all possible hospitality. In Romania, however, poverty was terrible at that time, so little fell for the soldiers. In Hungary, of course, the people lived richer, but they looked askance at the Red Army. But in Bulgaria and in Yugoslavia, the tankers felt for themselves what Slavic solidarity is.
At the entrance to each Bulgarian village there were two barrels: with wine and beer. Brothers-Bulgarians stood nearby, holding in their hands huge, not less than a liter, circles, which needed to be drained without fail to the bottom. And if they lead home, then all the best was put on the table: fried chickens, meat, other homemade food. In short, they were really met as deliverers, and not as occupiers.

Petty Officer Alekseev met the war on May 11 in Prague, much later than the official Victory Day. To celebrate, one of the Czechs called the crew of his tank to his house to mark such a thing. He buried a clay bottle of wine, which the owner put up for refreshments, on the day when his son was born. In fact, such wine is supposed to be served on the table during the wedding of his son, but the Czech apparently decided that the arrival of Soviet soldiers was a more joyful event.
Before our guys had time to "take communion," a messenger came running from the chief of staff of the brigade. At headquarters, Alekseev heard a short order:
- Get ready!
- Where to?
- There you will find out.
He put on awards, collected non-sophisticated belongings, and "jeeps" at the airport. And there is already a complete Douglas soldier. Everyone has whole breasts in orders, men are tall, respectable. Where we fly - no one knows. Only when they took off, the navigator said: "Happy you guys are going to the parade in Moscow."
While flying, Moscow had already reported that the front-line soldiers were arriving. Half of the capital took to the streets to see the heroes. Everyone cries, they give flowers.
The parade participants at the airport were built in a convoy of four and led on foot march right up to Sokolniki. The group where Alekseev was was placed at the Frunze Military Academy. They immediately led to the hairdresser, and then to the studio, where the tailors took their measurements. A week later, new uniforms were brought, guards. The first of the entire army, the parade participants received medals "For the victory over Germany."
Life was - God forbid everyone. Fed, by front standards, to the dump. In the morning you wake up, your boots are polished to a shine, the doorway on the uniform is hemmed - fresh fresh, and on the table near the bed there is already a menu. Note what you want for breakfast and lunch, including vodka with cognac and other wines.
After lunch in Sokolniki Park, drill. But how, in the Parade everything should be perfect. For six hours the guys "pulled the leg", exhausted so that they unanimously refused excursions to Moscow.
On June 22, the issuance of the drug was stopped, so the Parade would soon be. On the 23rd, a dress rehearsal took place on Red Square. Tankers had to go in tank helmets and overalls, in leggings, with holster weapons.
On the morning of June 24, everyone was given a bottle of cologne, and ordered to pour on themselves before the start of the parade, so it smelled of parade columns per kilometer. At 10 o’clock Rokossovsky drove out to the square and gave a command. Then, on the platform of the Mausoleum, a government led by Stalin appeared.
The second Ukrainian front was built right in front of the Mausoleum, so that the Supreme Commander-in-Chief Veniamin Mikhailovich saw from about thirty meters. The weather on this day was a bit mild: the sky was overcast, the nasty rain fell. They immediately threw Stalin a cloak over his shoulders, but he looked cheerful, talking animatedly with Marshal Budyonny, who was standing next to him.
In total, the parade lasted more than three hours, after which the tankers, thoroughly wet, returned to the hotel. They were given an hour to change clothes, then they were ordered to gather in the Assembly Hall, where tables from booze and snacks were already breaking.

At first, the soldiers and junior officers sat at the same tables with the generals, but they soon got up, raised another toast, and explained that the Commander-in-Chief himself was waiting for them in the Kremlin. Then we walked without senior commanders.
Now it’s hard to remember what was on the festive tables, but the fruit was there, unprecedented for many soldiers. The caviar was red and black, sausages are different, and other delicacies. Well, of course, the sea of \u200b\u200bhot drinks: vodka, cognac, beer. All evening, jazz played military songs. Drink as much as you like, front-line soul, celebrate Victory.
And the veterans, I must say, drank. For all four years of the war, soldiers took their souls, pumping up alcohol to the utmost. And what is surprising: the waitresses walk between tables, and in their hands are cotton swabs moistened with some kind of medicine. As they will notice, the war hero begins to fall into insensibility, they come up, they are smeared with cotton wool under his nose, and a person again, like a cucumber, can still drink without even having a bite. As soon as our soldiers did not beg them to reveal a secret, they only joked.
Well, the morning after the banquet, having come to the dining room, the heroes saw in front of themselves only plates with cabbage soup and porridge. The beautiful life, as they say, is over. However, the grief did not last long: at noon they were taken to the airfield and sent to the Far East. Everyone already knew that war would soon begin with Japan. Well, that’s another story that we’ll tell some other time.

"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 every boy, he dreamed that suddenly, if enemies attack, he would shoot, and fight, and he would drive everyone away.

The shortest summer night was coming to an end. A small tank peacefully sniffed at the training ground. 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 did not hum at all 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 older tanks fought mercilessly. Suddenly on the right there was a roar and a column 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 was riding and driving forward - right on 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 fight was over. The motor died out, and Tanchik watched bitterly as the enemy tanks passed by, ignoring him.

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 allow the enemies to go far and drive them back, but they would release him.

But summer passed, and autumn began. Drizzled by rain, it slowly began to rust, and his hope was melting.

The tank stood in the field all winter. 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 appeared again 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 grown to 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 my fault 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!

September 22nd. Slowly moving forward, fighting for each village. And so, knocking the enemy out of another stronghold, my tank company is chasing the enemy infantry, rolling north along a country road through a small potato field. The Matild caterpillars are difficult to turn, and we are moving at the speed of pedestrians - we must already stop and clear the chassis of the dirt. To everything else, either because of someone’s malice, or due to an oversight of the supplymen, only armor-piercing shells — “blanks” —were brought to the Matild’s 40-mm guns. Fragmentation shells in the ammunition was not. That is, the tank could successfully fight against armored targets and the infantry with a machine gun at the actual range of its fire. However, the distance between the "Matilda" and the enemy increased to 800-900 meters, which made his fire ineffective.
  A group of a dozen Nazis paced the field to the left of the road. Seeing that we weren’t shooting, the two jockeys from this group stopped and, lowering their trousers, began to show us their asses. Say - on, bite! The German - to the Kolomna verst in height - even managed, bending over, to poke his head between his legs apart and rather, with a choke, laugh ...
  In Ukraine, where I come from, such a “show” is an insult to the highest degree. Maybe they just became insolent and believed in their impunity, or maybe they knew from Orlov that I was Ukrainian, and decided to "get" to the liver? I do not know…
  My gun commander, sergeant Yuri Sloboda, repeatedly asked me:
  - Company, let me plant them! I reassured him:
  “You won’t beat each asshole with armor piercing, and there are 15-17 of them left.” And when the replenishment of ammunition is brought up, it is unknown. Be patient…
  Encouraged by impunity, the "artists" went into a rage. What "rings" they did not give out! And back and front ... My patience finally burst:
  - Yura, hit!
  At the next "performance" of the Germans, in which three "artists" had already participated, Sloboda ordered the mechanic-driver:
  - Short!
For a second, the Matilda froze in place. Yuri grabbed at the crosshairs of the sight of the highest fascist with a fairly voluminous bread box. An armor-piercing shell hit exactly the "bullseye", tearing the "actor" to shreds. The shapeless pieces of his body scattered in different directions. The surviving Fritzs scattered all over the place ... How could they, slipping away, pick up their pants? Amazing

Manchuria 1946, after the victory over Japan

With the entry of units and formations of the 6th Guards Tank Army into the territory of Manchuria, we were faced with the fact that all Japanese land transport did not work on gasoline, but on ethyl alcohol. Preparing for the upcoming battles, we should have known about this feature of providing the Japanese army! Our cars were not adapted to such fuel. But this liquid quickly found another application - it began to be diluted to the desired strength and poured into mugs and glasses. They drank and praised. We stocked up barrels! When they returned to their homeland, and I stocked up two or three two-hundred-liter containers for all future celebrations. However, by the twentieth of December, the exported alcohol stocks had run out. But here, to the great joy of lovers of alcohol, the last military echelons began to arrive from Manchuria, carrying, among other things, barrels of alcohol. Everything would be fine, but among them there turned out to be a certain amount filled with methanol, in color and taste no different from ethyl alcohol [further on mass poisoning by methanol in the Red Army is described]

A few words about the development and use of American Lend-Lease technology.

  Pe-2 "

As I said, the B-25 came to us with a 75 mm gun. The regiment commander Usachev decided to personally test it. Tells me: "Get ready, let's go flyby." Soared. We went to sea. Instead of a navigator, who is supposed to charge a gun in combat conditions, a mechanic flew. The commander gave the command: "Charge!" The mechanic charged. The pilot shied! The whole fuselage in the smoke! The plane almost stopped! It is good that the commander was experienced, immediately transferred the car to a dive. He says: “Immediately to the airfield!” Come back, sit down. Usachev says: “Take her out!” They took off this gun. But since they did not reach, again into the air. They took off, but the guns didn’t! Instead, they did not put anything to compensate for the mass. The alignment changed, and the plane began to fall on its tail. The commander shouts: "Kravets, climb into the hole!" I climbed, and there is a direct stream of air. I started to freeze and I can’t say that I’m freezing. The commander nevertheless realized that the plane was falling, landed. So they pulled me out already, I myself could not get out. He looked at me, realized that he had done stupidity. That was a curiosity. Soon he gave this plane to the north, and the second who arrived next used it as a transport one.

Once again about alcohol

From the book of Artem Drabkin "I fought on Pe-2"

Kravets recalls Naum Solomonovich:

The fighter aircraft appeared "aerocobra", "kingcobra" and "thunderbolts." The last was three pieces. Ordinary pilots refused to fly on it. To operate the engine in afterburner, he had a fifty-liter tank with pure alcohol. Although it was sealed, but still ours found a way to merge. Why what ?! Big tank - enough for everyone. The first to think Lesha, the mechanic of this aircraft. We look, he began to come later than everyone and in a good mood. His subordinate minders say: "Something our mechanic always sends us for lunch, but he himself is delayed." And he disconnects the feed hose, is pumped and goes. This plane did not take root, and the commander allowed him to drive north.

About how American grease was used to lubricate torpedoes

From the book of Artem Drabkin "I fought on Pe-2"

Kravets recalls Naum Solomonovich:

We talked with torpedoes. They always had an American lard - grease for torpedoes and equipment, white, sparkling like snow. Pure chemistry. You take a piece of black bread, smear this lard, sprinkle with salt - real fat!

From the book of Artem Drabkin "I fought on Pe-2"

Kravets recalls Naum Solomonovich:

Most of the time we walked through our territory and the territory of the Baltic republics. I must say that they were not our friends. There have been cases of killings of our soldiers and officers. True, we looted ourselves. There was nothing in the stores. Where to get? On the farm. You come to the hostess to the farm; milk, cheese, sausage, ham - they always had it. If she says no, how did we act? While I was talking to her, another was rummaging around the house - we knew about where everything was stored. They took and carried away. In Prussia, shops began to open quite quickly. One hundred grams was rarely given to us and only for sorties. Mostly they drank alcohol, which was prescribed for washing radio contacts, devices. Naturally, it quickly ended. These stalls sold refined denatured alcohol, which we called Blue Night for its beautiful pale blue color. It was intended to kindle stoves, and a skull with bones testified that it was forbidden to drink it, but when we tried it, it was fine vodka, it was easy to drink. In one of the shops, Pan Casimir traded. At first he was terrified when we came, asked for a bottle and glasses - we drank a glass of this “Blue Night” and took a couple of bottles with us. They paid him what they had to - there was no money. Sold trophy weapons, uniforms. When this swipes ended, we switched to the "liquor chassis." A liquid was drained from the shock absorbers, which was a mixture of alcohol with glycerin. They took the horn, started to twist it. What was wound on a stick was thrown away, and the remaining turbid liquid was filtered through two peakless caps. After that, you could drink.

About how to learn to fly

From the book of Artem Drabkin "I fought on Pe-2"

Kabakov Ivan Ivanovich recalls:

I was enrolled in the 3rd squadron of this regiment. The training went the same way as in the Crimea - there were no sparks. The regiment commander took it out. He is flying, I am sitting on the chart seat, watching. They sat down, he asked me: "Do you understand?" - "Understood nothing". - "Nothing, son, want to live, sit down." I took off. The speed is 350 kilometers per hour in a circle, the roll is not more than 15 degrees, such a radius turned out that I almost lost the airfield, especially since it was already in the winter and it was extremely difficult to navigate the snow-covered open spaces. I decided to go to the second round and landing, sat down. In the evening, the regiment commander builds a regiment: "Sergeant Kabakov, fail." I went out. “I thank you for the excellent mastery of the new technology.” - “Serving the Soviet Union!”

The invasion of Denmark

From the Blitzkrieg book in Western Europe: Norway; Denmark; author Patyanin Sergey Vladimirovich

Landing (of the Germans) in Korsor passed quickly and without opposition. Orientation was facilitated by the fact that all nautical signs, as well as street lamps, were brightly lit. Interestingly, on the eve of the Danish garrison conducted exercises to repel amphibious assault.

From the book of Cyril Mal Civil War in the United States 1861-1865.

The following episode occurred during the Battle of Spotsilveyney:

Several feds meanwhile deployed the captured guns and began to shoot from them with everything that came to hand. Even broken guns went into action, and since there were no artillerymen nearby and infantry fired, these objects flew everywhere, but not in the southerners advancing on the trenches. So, when one Irish soldier was already loading a cannon and was about to pull the cord, his fellow regiment noticed that the barrel was pointing too high and the shell would simply fly over the rebels' heads. “It's nothing,” the amateur artilleryman replied. “He will fall on someone’s head anyway.”

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
walk shoes. "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 slain 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
besides 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 chief of artillery of the regiment, 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 full length.
And I asked him in bewilderment: "Comrade Lieutenant Colonel, where are you going?" -
"Ahh, such and such. 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 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
belly 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 that I have earned in captivity
consumption and I barely live with them at all ... 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, there was some kind of alarm, either the intelligence of the Germans acted, then
or 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 the wounded have not yet had time, but here
order - “Forward!” ... We went through this mess. After the battle, when together
with the mechanic. they removed the tire from the trucks and you don’t understand whose meat. I
i thought. that my nerves can’t stand it. You see, the wounded were ...

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 received the officers
doppayka, 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, supposedly, some kind of slop
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. Because of the 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 into the trench! Now the Germans will “take you off”! He replies - “Everything in
okay, 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 of 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 suddenly stopped suddenly, 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 is with 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 it! "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, 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, they’re beyond 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, and 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, not a 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 had not yet acted, 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 up, 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 went to her - nobody wanted to mess with intelligence. A
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 proposals 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 noise - “Why battery
leads a non-partisan? How can this happen? ”And I was ordered
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 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 they were 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
rum. Well, then it began, you know. New Year after all. And that was with
i remember a case in my “first” regiment. The whole regiment got drunk, and
germans launched a counterattack ...

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 locality and firmly in
him entrenched. But you are already a “grated kalach”, and you know perfectly well what is
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!" In our
the battalion, for example, there was only one girl-medical officer, two elderly
an orderly, and just one medical cart. Well, how many people could they
to rescue? Therefore, mainly those wounded who could themselves survived
get to the 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?” How could i
showed the direction, they transmitted it by walkie-talkie and .... turned around 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 I for
it won't be anything, ”I still had a rifle with me. The 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
in 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 in power
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, the 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
oil fry, 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 there? 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 politician. 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
The hero did not count, but he awaited the order. Suddenly the commander himself calls me
regiment and is interested in - “What is your story with the political officer there?” He is yours
i tore the award sheet to shreds. " I show him the 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, "set him up in full." And when after
Zhytomyr, the regiment commander left our unit, then took me with him to
army reserve, knowing full well 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 happened 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 have survived 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 girls-signalmen from the regiment headquarters. Everyone knew that Joseph
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,
he pulled a pistol out of its holster and shot a company shot at point blank range at
his head ... He was jealous ... Dmitriev was disarmed, shoulder straps were torn off him,
and ... they left to serve as privates at the headquarters of the regiment. 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, the nits, 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 a guy on a stretcher for 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.