- Dad, when will we go to grandpa?

- Early tomorrow morning. After all, tomorrow is grandpa’s most important holiday.

- Birthday?

- Almost. The second birthday. Day of victory in a terrible war. The day when he could breathe and believe that his enemies would no longer kill him.

- Oh, they told us about the war in kindergarten. So my grandfather fought?

- Grandfather - no, but my great-grandfather, to whom we will go tomorrow, fought. And only because he survived this war, your grandfather, me and you exist in the world. if he had died, we would not exist.

- Dad! Tell me about the war?

- About war? You better ask your great-grandfather tomorrow. He knows better, because he fought. And I can tell you those fairy tales about war for children that I was told as a child.

- Yes! Yes! Tell me a story!

- Sit down and listen.

Once upon a time there lived a young boy, Ivan, in a village. He loved to play the harmonica and walk in the evenings with his beloved girl Lyusya. We have already planned a wedding for the fall. Yes, there was a war. They took Ivan to the front. They gave me a rifle and boots. But they weren’t allowed to take the accordion.

Ivan spent the first month studying. There he and other guys were taught to shoot, load and clean rifles, and crawl on the ground without raising their heads so as not to be hit by a bullet. And other wisdom of military affairs.

They sang drill songs, played football and had fun, waiting for a mysterious adventure - war.

One day, the commander of the training unit ordered us to line up with our things. They were put on a train and taken to the front. Brave soldiers' songs sounded from the windows of the train. Everyone was ready to cheerfully end the war in one breath.

It wasn't as fun at the front as we had hoped. Singing was forbidden, as was talking loudly. To avoid getting shot in the forehead.

First, they dug trenches with shovels, then they sat in them, hiding from bullets and shells. The ground crumbled as a bomb fell and exploded nearby. My eyes were filled with sand and clay, I couldn’t breathe. But it was necessary not only to hide, but also to shoot back. Although it was very scary to get a bullet in the forehead, like a comrade who was just standing next to me.

There was no usual bathhouse at the front; there was nothing even to wash your face with in the morning. We went to the toilet in the corner of the trench, and even though we buried waste, in the summer heat there was still a strong smell and there were flies flying around.

Instead of songs and jokes, in moments of calm, when bullets and shells were not flying, the soldiers quietly whispered, remembering loved ones, peaceful life and their plans. They wrote and read letters.

There were fewer and fewer friends from the training unit.

The dead were buried next to the trenches during quiet hours. Their mother and even an acquaintance will never come to their graves. After the war, it is difficult to find numerous graves. After all, those who buried them also died and lay in a foreign land without gravestones.

The truly strong survived the war. Strong in spirit and confident of victory. Those who were afraid and cried usually died on the same day or the next. War does not like cowards.

There were also brave men who saved the lives of their comrades, threw themselves under an enemy tank with a grenade and died along with the tankers.

There was no quick victory. But it still came.

I had to sit in dirty trenches for 5 long years. In the burning summer heat and frosty winters, not washed, in dirty and torn clothes. Itching from insect bites and being unable to do anything to stop this horror.

Only the beauty of nature, the singing of birds and crickets in the hours of silence after the attacks helped the Russian soul to heal. Find the strength to continue killing enemies and survive yourself. After all, the belief is that someday this will stop. The fact that the world is in your hands, you just need not give up what you started, moved millions of people towards victory.

Ivan’s friend, Lyusya, over these 5 years learned to drive a tractor, plow and sow, and harvest wheat. Wives and brides, mothers and children of warriors helped the soldiers move towards victory. They grew and baked bread, which they then sent to the front lines. They made food that tired soldiers ate.

The hard work that men do in peacetime had to be done by young women and children.

And no matter what, they met. We celebrated the victory together. And they got married in the fall. Let it be 5 years later than planned. But it happened. Despite everything.

Since then, war has never come to our area. But we must remember the feat of our grandfathers and great-grandfathers. Remember how difficult and painful it is to fight. Try to prevent it. Learn to resolve any conflict through negotiations, not through gunshots and explosions.

- Dad, why do people fight?

- Why do wars happen?

- Yes, if people know that war is bad, why do they fight?

- The fact is that all people are different. Everyone has their own “cockroaches” in their heads, their own beliefs. Someone wants to get someone else's land to become richer. Someone is trying to make money selling weapons. Someone has simply been psychologically processed so that he believes that war is good. That killing specific people is good.

This is exactly what happened in the last war. A man with great ambitions, Hitler, came to power in Germany. He convinced everyone that the Germans and Aryans were the best race. And all other nationalities do not deserve to live next to them. And so he attacked all the countries that were nearby.

The Germans really believed that they were doing the right thing - killing everyone who was not like them. Anyone who doesn't have blond hair or blue eyes.

People for them were equal to animals. They were herded like herds of sheep into the ghetto. They bullied me in every possible way. Conducted medical experiments on living people. They poisoned, burned, shot... women, children, old people... Everyone who did not resemble the Aryan race.

But thanks to our soldiers, your great-grandfather and his comrades, these people were stopped. Hitler poisoned all his children, killed his wife and himself when he realized that he had been defeated.

Residents of Germany were forced to watch documentaries about what they and their fellow tribesmen did in ghettos and camps with other people. The country was divided into 2 parts and it was forbidden to have an army. So that they can't attack anyone anymore.

Thanks to this war, all people in the world know that one cannot consider any nation above all others. This is called Nazism and is prohibited in all countries.

Now you know what kind of holiday this is and you know what to thank your great-grandfather for.

- Yes, dad. I have a lot of questions for him. hurry up tomorrow!

What questions do you have, baby?

Stories by Sergei Alekseev about the Great Patriotic War. Interesting, educational and unusual stories about the behavior of soldiers and fighters during the war.

GARDENERS

This happened shortly before the Battle of Kursk. Reinforcements have arrived at the rifle unit.

The foreman walked around the fighters. Walks along the line. A corporal is walking nearby. Holds a pencil and notepad in his hands.

The foreman looked at the first of the soldiers:

— Do you know how to plant potatoes?

— Do you know how to plant potatoes?

- I can! - the soldier said loudly.

- Two steps forward.

The soldier is out of action.

“Write to the gardeners,” said the sergeant major to the corporal.

— Do you know how to plant potatoes?

- I haven’t tried it.

- I didn’t have to, but if necessary...

“That’s enough,” said the foreman.

The fighters came forward. Anatoly Skurko found himself in the ranks of skilled soldiers. Soldier Skurko wonders: where are they going to go, those who know how? “It’s too late to plant potatoes. (Summer is already in full swing.) If you dig it, it’s very early in time.”

Soldier Skurko tells fortunes. And other fighters are wondering:

— Should I plant potatoes?

— Sow carrots?

— Cucumbers for the headquarters canteen?

The foreman looked at the soldiers.

“Well,” said the foreman. “From now on, you will be among the miners,” and hands the mines to the soldiers.

The dashing foreman noticed that those who know how to plant potatoes lay mines faster and more reliably.

Soldier Skurko grinned. The other soldiers couldn't hold back their smiles either.

The gardeners got down to business. Of course, not immediately, not at the same moment. Laying mines is not such a simple matter. The soldiers underwent special training.

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

The miners are coming.

- How are you, gardeners?

- Everything is in perfect order.

UNUSUAL OPERATION

Mokapka Zyablov was amazed. Something incomprehensible was happening at their station. A boy lived with his grandfather and grandmother near the town of Sudzhi in a small working-class village at the Lokinskaya station. He was the son of a hereditary railway worker.

Mokapka loved to hang around the station for hours. Especially these days. One by one the echelons come here. They are bringing in military equipment. Mokapka knows that our troops defeated the Nazis near Kursk. They are driving the enemies to the west. Although small, but smart, Mokapka sees that the echelons are coming here. He understands: this means that here, in these places, a further offensive is planned.

The trains are coming, the locomotives are chugging. Soldiers unload military cargo.

Mokapka was spinning around somewhere near the tracks. He sees: a new train has arrived. Tanks stand on platforms. A lot of. The boy began to count the tanks. I took a closer look and they were made of wood. How can we fight against them?!

The boy rushed to his grandmother.

“Wooden,” he whispers, “tanks.”

- Really? - the grandmother clasped her hands. He rushed to his grandfather:

- Wooden, grandfather, tanks. The old man raised his eyes to his grandson. The boy rushed to the station. He looks: the train is coming again. The train stopped. Mokapka looked - the guns were on platforms. A lot of. No less than there were tanks.

Mokapka took a closer look - after all, the guns were also wooden! Instead of trunks there are round timbers sticking out.

The boy rushed to his grandmother.

“Wooden,” he whispers, “cannons.”

“Really?..” the grandmother clasped her hands. He rushed to his grandfather:

— Wooden, grandfather, guns.

“Something new,” said the grandfather.

A lot of strange things were going on at the station back then. Somehow boxes with shells arrived. Mountains grew of these boxes. Happy Mockup:

- Our fascists will have a blast!

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

But here’s something completely incomprehensible. The troops are coming here. A lot of. The column hurries after the column. They go openly, they arrive before dark.

The boy has an easy character. I immediately met the soldiers. Until dark, he kept spinning around. In the morning he runs to the soldiers again. And then he finds out: the soldiers left these places at night.

Mokapka stands there, wondering again.

Mokapka did not know that our people used military stratagem near Sudzha.

The Nazis are conducting reconnaissance of Soviet troops from airplanes. They see: trains arrive at the station, bring tanks, bring guns.

The Nazis also notice mountains of boxes with shells. They notice that troops are moving here. A lot of. Behind the column comes a column. The fascists see the troops approaching, but the enemies do not know that they are leaving unnoticed from here at night.

L. Cassil.

Monument to the Soviet soldier.

The war went on for a long time.

Our troops began to advance on enemy soil. The fascists have nowhere to run anymore. They settled in the main German city of Berlin.

Our troops attacked Berlin. The last battle of the war has begun. No matter how the Nazis fought back, they could not resist. The soldiers of the Soviet Army in Berlin began to take street by street, house by house. But the fascists still don’t give up.

And suddenly one of our soldiers, a kind soul, saw a little German girl on the street during a battle. Apparently, she has fallen behind her own people. And they, out of fear, forgot about her... The poor thing was left alone in the middle of the street. And she has nowhere to go. There is a battle going on all around. Fire is blazing from all the windows, bombs are exploding, houses are collapsing, bullets are whistling from all sides. He’s about to crush you with a stone, or kill you with a shrapnel... Our soldier sees that a girl is disappearing... “Oh, you bastard, where has this taken you, you wicked thing!..”

The soldier rushed across the street right under the bullets, picked up the German girl in his arms, shielded her from the fire with his shoulder and carried her out of the battle.

And soon our soldiers had already raised the red flag over the most important house in the German capital.

The Nazis surrendered. And the war ended. We won. The world has begun.

And now they have built a huge monument in the city of Berlin. High above the houses, on a green hill, stands a hero made of stone - a soldier of the Soviet Army. In one hand he has a heavy sword, with which he defeated the fascist enemies, and in the other - a little girl. She pressed herself against the broad shoulder of a Soviet soldier. His soldiers saved her from death, saved all the children in the world from the Nazis, and today he looks menacingly from above to see if the evil enemies are going to start a war again and disrupt the peace.

Sergey Alekseev.

First column.

(stories by Sergei Alekseev about Leningraders and the feat of Leningrad).

In 1941, the Nazis blockaded Leningrad. The city was cut off from the entire country. It was possible to get to Leningrad only by water, along Lake Ladoga.

In November there were frosts. The water road froze and stopped.

The road stopped - that means there will be no supply of food, that means there will be no supply of fuel, there will be no supply of ammunition. Leningrad needs a road like air, like oxygen.

There will be a road! - the people said.

Lake Ladoga will freeze, and Ladoga (as Lake Ladoga is called for short) will be covered with strong ice. The road will go on the ice.

Not everyone believed in such a path. Ladoga is restless and capricious. Blizzards will rage, a piercing wind will blow over the lake, and cracks and gullies will appear on the ice of the lake. Ladoga breaks its ice armor. Even the most severe frosts cannot completely freeze Lake Ladoga.

Capricious, treacherous Lake Ladoga. And yet there is no other way out. There are fascists all around. Only here, along Lake Ladoga, can the road go to Leningrad.

The most difficult days in Leningrad. Communication with Leningrad stopped. People are waiting for the ice on Lake Ladoga to become strong enough. And this is not a day, not two. They look at the ice, at the lake. The thickness is measured by ice. Old-time fishermen also monitor the lake. How is the ice on Ladoga?

Growing.

It's growing.

Takes strength.

People are worried and rushing for time.

Faster, faster,” they shout to Ladoga. - Hey, don't be lazy, frost!

Hydrologists (those who study water and ice) arrived at Lake Ladoga, builders and army commanders arrived. We were the first to decide to walk on the fragile ice.

Hydrologists passed through and the ice survived.

The builders passed by and withstood the ice.

Major Mozhaev, commander of the road maintenance regiment, rode on horseback and withstood the ice.

The horse train walked across the ice. The sleigh survived the journey.

General Lagunov, one of the commanders of the Leningrad Front, drove across the ice in a passenger car. The ice crackled, creaked, became angry, but let the car through.

On November 22, 1941, the first automobile convoy set off across the still-unhardened ice of Lake Ladoga. There were 60 trucks in the convoy. From here, from the western bank, from the side of Leningrad, trucks left for cargo to the eastern bank.

There is not a kilometer ahead, not two - twenty-seven kilometers of icy road. They are waiting on the western Leningrad coast for the return of people and convoys.

Will they come back? Will you get stuck? Will they come back? Will you get stuck?

A day has passed. And so:

They're coming!

That's right, the cars are coming, the convoy is returning. There are three or four bags of flour in the back of each car. Haven't taken any more yet. The ice is not strong. True, the cars were towed by sleighs. There were also sacks of flour in the sleigh, two and three at a time.

From that day on, constant movement on the ice of Lake Ladoga began. Soon severe frosts struck. The ice has strengthened. Now each truck took 20, 30 bags of flour. They also transported other heavy loads across the ice.

The road was not easy. There was not always luck here. The ice broke under the pressure of the wind. Sometimes cars sank. Fascist planes bombed the columns from the air. And again ours suffered losses. The engines froze along the way. The drivers froze on the ice. And yet, neither day nor night, nor in a snowstorm, nor in the most severe frost, the ice road across Lake Ladoga did not stop working.

These were the most difficult days of Leningrad. Stop the road - death to Leningrad.

The road did not stop. Leningraders called it “The Road of Life”.

Sergey Alekseev.

Tanya Savicheva.

Hunger is spreading deathly through the city. Leningrad cemeteries cannot accommodate the dead. People died at the machines. They died on the streets. They went to bed at night and didn’t wake up in the morning. More than 600 thousand people died of hunger in Leningrad.

This house also rose among the Leningrad houses. This is the Savichevs' house. A girl was bending over the pages of a notebook. Her name is Tanya. Tanya Savicheva keeps a diary.

Notebook with alphabet. Tanya opens a page with the letter “F”. Writes:

Zhenya is Tanya's sister.

Soon Tanya sits down again to her diary. Opens a page with the letter “B”. Writes:

“Grandmother died on January 25th. at 3 o'clock in the afternoon 1942." A new page from Tanya's diary. Page starting with the letter "L". We read:

Another page from Tanya's diary. Page starting with the letter "B". We read:

“Uncle Vasya died on April 13. at 2 am. 1942." One more page. Also with the letter "L". But it is written on the back of the sheet: “Uncle Lyosha. May 10 at 4 p.m. 1942.” Here is the page with the letter "M". We read: “Mom May 13 at 7:30 am. morning 1942." Tanya sits for a long time over the diary. Then he opens the page with the letter “C”. He writes: “The Savichevs have died.”

Opens a page starting with the letter “U”. He clarifies: “Everyone died.”

I sat. I looked at the diary. I opened the page to the letter “O”. She wrote: “Tanya is the only one left.”

Tanya was saved from starvation. They took the girl out of Leningrad.

But Tanya did not live long. Her health was undermined by hunger, cold, and the loss of loved ones. Tanya Savicheva also passed away. Tanya died. The diary remains. "Death to the Nazis!" - the diary shouts.

Sergey Alekseev

Fur coat.

A group of Leningrad children were taken out of Leningrad, besieged by the Nazis, along the “Dear Life”. The car set off.

January. Freezing. The cold wind whips. Driver Koryakov is sitting behind the steering wheel. It drives the lorry exactly.

The children huddled together in the car. Girl, girl, girl again. Boy, girl, boy again. And here's another one. The smallest, most frail. All the guys are thin, like thin children's books. And this one is completely skinny, like a page from this book.

Guys gathered from different places. Some from Okhta, some from Narvskaya, some from the Vyborg side, some from Kirovsky Island, some from Vasilievsky. And this one, imagine, from Nevsky Prospekt. Nevsky Prospekt is the central, main street of Leningrad. The boy lived here with his father and mother. A shell hit and my parents died. And the others, those who are now traveling in the car, were also left without mothers and fathers. Their parents also died. Some died of hunger, some were hit by a Nazi bomb, some were crushed by a collapsed house, and some had their lives cut short by a shell. The boys were left completely alone. Aunt Olya accompanies them. Aunt Olya is a teenager herself. Less than fifteen years old.

The guys are coming. They clung to each other. Girl, girl, girl again. Boy, girl, boy again. In the very heart is a baby. The guys are coming. January. Freezing. Blows the children in the wind. Aunt Olya wrapped her arms around them. These warm hands make everyone feel warmer.

A lorry is walking on the January ice. Ladoga froze to the right and left. The frost over Ladoga is getting stronger and stronger. The children's backs are stiff. It's not children sitting - icicles.

I wish I had a fur coat now.

And suddenly... The truck slowed down and stopped. The driver Koryakov got out of the cab. He took off his warm soldier's sheepskin coat. He tossed Ole up and shouted: . - Catch!

Olya picked up the sheepskin coat:

How about you... Yes, really, we...

Take it, take it! - Koryakov shouted and jumped into his cabin.

The guys look - a fur coat! Just the sight of it makes it warmer.

The driver sat down in his driver's seat. The car started moving again. Aunt Olya covered the boys with a sheepskin coat. The children huddled even closer to each other. Girl, girl, girl again. Boy, girl, boy again. In the very heart is a baby. The sheepskin coat turned out to be big and kind. Warmth ran down the children's backs.

Koryakov took the guys to the eastern shore of Lake Ladoga and delivered them to the village of Kobona. From here, from Kobona, they still had a long, long journey ahead of them. Koryakov said goodbye to Aunt Olya. I started saying goodbye to the guys. Holds a sheepskin coat in his hands. He looks at the sheepskin coat and at the guys. Oh, the guys would like a sheepskin coat for the road... But it’s a government-issued sheepskin coat, not your own. The bosses will immediately take off their heads. The driver looks at the guys, at the sheepskin coat. And suddenly...

Eh, it was not! - Koryakov waved his hand.

His superiors did not scold him. They gave me a new fur coat.

Stories by Sergei Alekseev

BEAR

In those days when the division was sent to the front, the soldiers of one of the Siberian divisions were given a small bear cub by their fellow countrymen. Mishka has gotten comfortable with the soldier's heated vehicle. It’s important to go to the front.

Toptygin arrived at the front. The little bear turned out to be extremely smart. And most importantly, from birth he had a heroic character. I wasn't afraid of bombings. Didn't hide in corners during artillery shelling. He only rumbled dissatisfiedly if shells exploded very close.

Mishka visited the Southwestern Front, then was part of the troops that defeated the Nazis at Stalingrad. Then for some time he was with the troops in the rear, in the front reserve. Then he ended up as part of the 303rd Infantry Division on the Voronezh Front, then on the Central Front, and again on the Voronezh Front. He was in the armies of generals Managarov, Chernyakhovsky, and again Managarov. The bear cub grew up during this time. There was a sound in the shoulders. The bass cut through. It became a boyar fur coat.

The bear distinguished himself in the battles near Kharkov. At the crossings, he walked with the convoy in the economic convoy. It was the same this time. There were heavy, bloody battles. One day, an economic convoy came under heavy attack from the Nazis. The Nazis surrounded the column. Unequal forces are difficult for us. The soldiers took up defensive positions. Only the defense is weak. The Soviet soldiers would not have left.

But suddenly the Nazis hear some kind of terrible roar! “What would it be?” - the fascists wonder. We listened and took a closer look.

Ber! Ber! Bear! - someone shouted.

That's right - Mishka stood up on his hind legs, growled and went towards the Nazis. The Nazis didn’t expect it and rushed to the side. And ours struck at that moment. We escaped from the encirclement.

The bear walked like a hero.

“He would be a reward,” the soldiers laughed.

He received a reward: a plate of fragrant honey. He ate and purred. He licked the plate until it was shiny and shiny. Added honey. Added again. Eat, fill up, hero. Toptygin!

Soon the Voronezh Front was renamed the 1st Ukrainian Front. Together with the front troops, Mishka went to the Dnieper.

Mishka has grown up. Quite a giant. Where can soldiers tinker with such a huge thing during a war? The soldiers decided: we’ll come to Kyiv and put him in the zoo. We will write on the cage: the bear is an honored veteran and participant in a great battle.

However, the road to Kyiv passed. Their division passed by. There was no bear left in the menagerie. Even the soldiers are happy now.

From Ukraine Mishka came to Belarus. He took part in the battles near Bobruisk, then ended up in the army that marched to Belovezhskaya Pushcha.

Belovezhskaya Pushcha is a paradise for animals and birds. The best place on the entire planet. The soldiers decided: this is where we’ll leave Mishka.

That's right: under his pine trees. Under the spruce.

This is where he finds freedom.

Our troops liberated the area of ​​Belovezhskaya Pushcha. And now the hour of separation has come. The fighters and the bear are standing in a forest clearing.

Goodbye, Toptygin!

Walk free!

Live, start a family!

Mishka stood in the clearing. He stood up on his hind legs. I looked at the green thickets. I smelled the forest smell through my nose.

He walked with a roller gait into the forest. From paw to paw. From paw to paw. The soldiers look after:

Be happy, Mikhail Mikhalych!

And suddenly a terrible explosion thundered in the clearing. The soldiers ran towards the explosion - Toptygin was dead and motionless.

A bear stepped on a fascist mine. We checked - there are a lot of them in Belovezhskaya Pushcha.

The war marches on without pity. War has no weariness.

Stories by Sergei Alekseev

STING

Our troops liberated Moldova. They pushed the Nazis beyond the Dnieper, beyond Reut. They took Floresti, Tiraspol, Orhei. We approached the capital of Moldova, the city of Chisinau.

Here two of our fronts were attacking at once - the 2nd Ukrainian and 3rd Ukrainian. Near Chisinau, Soviet troops were supposed to surround a large fascist group. Carry out the front directions of the Headquarters. The 2nd Ukrainian Front advances north and west of Chisinau. To the east and south is the 3rd Ukrainian Front. Generals Malinovsky and Tolbukhin stood at the head of the fronts.

Fyodor Ivanovich, - General Malinovsky calls General Tolbukhin, - how is the offensive developing?

“Everything is going according to plan, Rodion Yakovlevich,” General Tolbukhin answers General Malinovsky.

The troops are marching forward. They bypass the enemy. The pincers begin to squeeze.

Rodion Yakovlevich, - General Tolbukhin calls General Malinovsky, - how is the environment developing?

The encirclement is proceeding normally, Fyodor Ivanovich,” General Malinovsky answers General Tolbukhin and clarifies: “Exactly according to plan, on time.”

And then the giant pincers closed in. There were eighteen fascist divisions in a huge bag near Chisinau. Our troops began to defeat the fascists who were caught in the bag.

The Soviet soldiers are happy:

The beast will be caught again with a trap.

There was talk: the fascist is no longer scary, even take it with your bare hands.

However, soldier Igoshin had a different opinion:

A fascist is a fascist. A serpentine character is a serpentine character. A wolf is a wolf in a trap.

The soldiers laugh:

So what time was it!

Today the price for a fascist is different.

A fascist is a fascist, - Igoshin again about his.

That's a bad character!

It’s getting more and more difficult for the fascists in the bag. They began to surrender. They also surrendered in the sector of the 68th Guards Rifle Division. Igoshin served in one of its battalions.

A group of fascists came out of the forest. Everything is as it should be: hands up, a white flag thrown over the group.

It’s clear - they’re going to give up.

The soldiers perked up and shouted to the fascists:

Please, please! It is high time!

The soldiers turned to Igoshin:

Well, why is your fascist scary?

Soldiers are crowding around, looking at the fascists coming to surrender. There are newcomers to the battalion. This is the first time that the Nazis have been seen so close. And they, newcomers, are also not at all afraid of the Nazis - after all, they are going to surrender.

The Nazis are getting closer, closer. Very close. And suddenly a burst of machine gun fire rang out. The Nazis started shooting.

A lot of our people would have died. Yes, thanks to Igoshin. He kept his weapon ready. Immediately the response opened fire. Then others helped.

The firing on the field died down. The soldiers approached Igoshin:

Thank you brother. And the fascist, look, actually has a snake-like sting.

The Chisinau “cauldron” caused a lot of trouble for our soldiers. The fascists rushed about. They rushed in different directions. They resorted to deception and meanness. They tried to leave. But in vain. The soldiers squeezed them with their heroic hand. Pinched. Squeezed. The snake's sting was pulled out.

Mityaev A.V. A bag of oatmeal

That autumn there were long, cold rains. The ground was saturated with water, the roads were muddy. On the country roads, stuck up to their axles in mud, stood military trucks. The supply of food became very bad. In the soldier's kitchen, the cook cooked only soup from crackers every day: he poured cracker crumbs into hot water and seasoned with salt.
On such and such hungry days, soldier Lukashuk found a bag of oatmeal. He wasn't looking for anything, he just leaned his shoulder against the wall of the trench. A block of damp sand collapsed, and everyone saw the edge of a green duffel bag in the hole.
What a find! the soldiers rejoiced. There will be a feast on the mountain of Kashu sva-rim!
One ran with a bucket for water, others began to look for firewood, and still others had already prepared spoons.
But when they managed to fan the fire and it was already hitting the bottom of the bucket, an unfamiliar soldier jumped into the trench. He was thin and red-haired. The eyebrows above the blue eyes are also red. The overcoat is worn out and short. There are windings and trampled shoes on my feet.
-Hey, bro! - he shouted in a hoarse, cold voice. - Give me the bag here! Don't put it down, don't take it.
He simply stunned everyone with his appearance, and they gave him the bag right away.
And how could you not give it away? According to front-line law, it was necessary to give it up. Soldiers hid duffel bags in trenches when they went on the attack. To make it easier. Of course, there were bags left without an owner: either it was impossible to return for them (this is if the attack was successful and it was necessary to drive out the Nazis), or the soldier died. But since the owner has arrived, the conversation will be short.
The soldiers watched silently as the red-haired man carried away the precious bag on his shoulder. Only Lukashuk could not stand it and quipped:
-He’s so skinny! They gave him extra rations. Let him eat. If it doesn't burst, it might get fatter.
It's getting cold. Snow. The earth froze and became hard. Delivery has improved. The cook was cooking cabbage soup with meat and pea soup with ham in the kitchen on wheels. Everyone forgot about the red soldier and his porridge.

A big offensive was being prepared.
Long lines of infantry battalions walked along hidden forest roads and along ravines. At night, tractors dragged guns to the front line, and tanks moved.
Lukashuk and his comrades were also preparing for the offensive. It was still dark when the cannons opened fire. The planes began to hum in the sky.
They threw bombs at fascist dugouts and fired machine guns at enemy trenches.

The planes took off. Then the tanks began to rumble. The infantrymen rushed after them to attack. Lukashuk and his comrades also ran and fired from a machine gun. He threw a grenade into a German trench, wanted to throw more, but didn’t have time: the bullet hit him in the chest. And he fell. Lukashuk lay in the snow and did not feel that the snow was cold. Some time passed and he stopped hearing the roar of battle. Then he stopped seeing the light, it seemed to him that a dark, quiet night had come.
When Lukashuk regained consciousness, he saw an orderly. The orderly bandaged the wound and put Lukashuk in a small plywood sled. The sled slid and swayed in the snow. This quiet swaying made Lukashuk feel dizzy. But he didn’t want his head to spin, he wanted to remember where he saw this orderly, red-haired and thin, in a worn out overcoat.
-Hold on, brother! Don’t live in timidity!.. he heard the orderly’s words.
It seemed to Lukashuk that he had known this voice for a long time. But where and when I heard it before, I could no longer remember.
Lukashuk regained consciousness when he was transferred from the boat onto a stretcher to be taken to a large tent under the pine trees: here, in the forest, a military doctor was pulling out bullets and shrapnel from the wounded.
Lying on a stretcher, Lukashuk saw a sled-boat on which he was being transported to the hospital. Three dogs were tied to the sled with straps. They were lying in the snow. Icicles froze on the fur. The muzzles were covered with frost, the dogs' eyes were half-closed.
The orderly approached the dogs. In his hands he had a helmet full of oatmeal. Steam was pouring out of her. The orderly stuck his helmet into the snow to tap the dogs because it was dangerously hot. The orderly was thin and red-haired. And then Lukashuk remembered where he had seen him. It was he who then jumped into the trench and took a bag of oatmeal from them.
Lukashuk smiled at the orderly with just his lips and, coughing and choking, said:
-And you, redhead, haven’t gained weight. One of them ate a bag of oatmeal, but he was still thin.
The orderly also smiled and, stroking the nearest dog, answered:
-They ate the oatmeal. But they got you there on time. And I recognized you immediately. As soon as I saw it in the snow, I recognized it.
And he added with conviction: You will live! Don't be timid!

"The Tankman's Tale" Alexander Tvardovsky

What’s his name, I forgot to ask him.

About ten or twelve years old. Bedovy,
Of those who are the leaders of children,
From those in the front-line towns
They greet us like dear guests.

The car is surrounded in parking lots,
Carrying water to them in buckets is not difficult,
Bring soap and towel to the tank
And unripe plums are put in...

There was a battle going on outside. The enemy fire was terrible,
We made our way forward to the square.
And he nails - you can’t look out of the towers, -
And the devil will understand where he’s hitting from.

Here, guess which house is behind
He settled down - there were so many holes,
And suddenly a boy ran up to the car:
- Comrade commander, comrade commander!

I know where their gun is. I scouted...
I crawled up, they were over there in the garden...
- But where, where?.. - Let me go
On the tank with you. I'll give it straight away.

Well, no fight awaits. - Get in here, buddy! -
And so the four of us roll to the place.
The boy is standing - mines, bullets are whistling,
And only the shirt has a bubble.

We've arrived. - Here. - And from a turn
We go to the rear and give full throttle.
And this gun, along with the crew,
We sank into loose, greasy black soil.

I wiped off the sweat. Smothered by fumes and soot:
There was a big fire going from house to house.
And I remember I said: “Thank you, lad!” -
And he shook hands like a comrade...

It was a difficult fight. Everything now is as if from sleep,
And I just can’t forgive myself:
From thousands of faces I would recognize the boy,
But what’s his name, I forgot to ask him.

Story 1. Vitka

Vitka is a hot and heavy boy - like his father, silent - like his mother. Lived in Moscow. The father drank shamelessly, was rowdy and lived poorly with his mother. Sometimes, when he returns from work, you can hear him half the street away from home. Not just our own, but besides Vitka there was also Galka, a younger sister and older brother Tolik, but the neighbor’s kids from the yard were also molting. Don't fall under the drunken hand. The mother of the neighbors in the communal apartment was waiting for her husband to fall asleep. She endured it like a woman, as best she could. Children are common, after all. Galka fiercely hated her father for his cruelty to her and her mother - he beat both of them, the brothers perceived such a life as a normal state of affairs. Similar things were observed in neighboring families, although less frequently.
Every summer, my mother sent Vitka and Galka to the village of Verzilovo, near Kashira, to visit their grandfather and grandmother. At the beginning of July 1941, Vitka turned eleven. They knew that the war had begun, and my father had gone to the front. And at the beginning of August a funeral came for him: He died the death of the brave in an unequal battle with the fascist invaders. The grandmother, having learned about the grief, sat down to lament: “My orphans! The kids are unhappy." The brother and sister returned home and found the grandmother in tears:
- Grandma, what happened?! - they shouted out loud.
- Your dad is dead! My orphans! - Grandma cried.
- God bless! – Galka exhaled.
- Stupid! - the grandmother barked and slapped her on the back of the head.
Vitka silently climbed onto the stove. Fell asleep. And in the morning I woke up with a firm conviction: “We must take revenge for our father.” And he informed his sister about his decision. We agreed that he would leave the next evening, as soon as the grandparents fell asleep. At night, unnoticed, he will reach the railway station, which is eleven kilometers from the village, will board some military train, and then all that matters is getting to the front. And he will take revenge. At the same time, Vitka furiously clenched his fists.
The preparations have begun. In the afternoon I washed myself in a barrel, cut my nails, otherwise “how is it - a soldier’s dirty claws will tear his boots” - Galka suggested this. Vitka shaved his temples with his grandfather’s old penknife, this was for the sake of respectability, so that they would not be mistaken for a boy at the front. The jackdaw collected a bag: a piece of bread, a couple of boiled eggs, lard clothes, a head of sugar. And as the old men fell asleep, she put a jug of milk on the table for the future warrior. Vitka did not approve of the milk. He demanded that he be cleared. Galka waved her apron at her father, as her mother used to do, but immediately pressed it to her eyes and burst into tears, as usual. She crossed herself as best she could. We said goodbye with a kiss. You're supposed to shout, but you can't do that - your grandparents will wake up. Put the bag on your shoulders and behind the door as a shadow. The jackdaw stood there and waved her white handkerchief into the darkness...
A day later, Vitka was removed from the train. I managed to drive about thirty kilometers from the station.
At home, the grandfather walked around the soft spot with a belt and buckle, saying:
- These are for my grandmother’s tears, these are for my sciatica, these are for Galka and for her bruises on her ass, these are for the mother who received a funeral for her husband. You are her helpers and joy in life, but what are you thinking, you bastard!
- Grandfather, why does Galka have bruises on his butt? – Vitka asked through tears not of pain, but of resentment at being caught.
- So, I asked her where you ran off to! Eh, stubborn girl, what an ass!
After the first failure, Vitka ran to the front three more times with the same outcome. Until I saw the Germans in my native village.

Story 2. Germans in the village

From mid-November, nearby shell explosions could be heard. Fascist planes flew by. They hit mainly in strategic places, in Kashira.
In the twentieth of November, a rumor spread through the village: “The Germans are coming, they’re already in Venyovo.” Venyovo is a town thirty kilometers from Verzilovo, where Vitka and Galka live. My mother and older brother are in Moscow at a military factory making shells for the front. And the younger ones at least help their grandparents. There is a lot to do in the village. All summer they dug bomb shelters and trenches. They worked in the fields, collecting hay and tying it into sheaves. They dug holes in which they hid bread, flour, cereals - millet, rye - everything that they received for their workdays and grew in their gardens. And as the Germans began to approach, the grandfather and other villagers drove the livestock - sheep, pigs and cows to Kashira. Only they didn’t have time to drive the horses away. Grandfather Dimitri himself “hid” a herd of 30 heads in the forest.
Once Vitka and Galka were sitting with another child on the porch of the house. Suddenly a wedge comes along. When I reached the porch, a man in an unfamiliar military uniform took out a pistol. The guys, as if on command, fell to the ground and covered their heads with their hands. At the same moment, enemy planes took off. The wedge man shot into the sky. A rocket launcher was in his hands. Apparently, he made it clear to the pilot that his people were here. The planes were flying towards Kashira. The tankman left. A powerful explosion of a bomb thrown from an airplane was heard nearby:
- Wow! The bomb has dropped! – the boys shouted, “let’s run and see what kind of funnel it turns out to be!”
Then Vitkina-Galkina’s grandmother, Anna Rodionovna, came running:
- Hey, what did you think?! - and drove everyone into a bomb shelter dug behind a neighboring garden.
There were about twenty people there. While waiting out the raid, the women agreed to set up a “kindergarten.” Away from sin, so that children don’t run around on their own and jump on unexploded mines and shells. We decided to take the children to one house every morning and leave everyone there under the supervision of the village teacher.
And a few days later the Germans came to the village. We were distributed to our homes. Grandma drove Vitka and Galka onto the stove, which stood in the middle of the hut, and pulled the curtain over them. A tall man in an officer's uniform entered.
- Is Rousseau a soldier? - He asked and went to the stove and pulled back the curtain.
From there, two pairs of eyes narrowed in hatred stared at him.
- There are Russo children here! - Vitka barked.
The grandmother hastily closed the curtain and stood between the officer and the stove with a belligerent look.
- I-I! Gut! - the officer said and left.
A few minutes later German soldiers entered the house. They brought in the hay and spread it throughout the house, then they stored all their weapons at the door and... went to bed.
Grandma Anna did not sleep that night. She was afraid to breathe. And she kept looking at the soldiers - that’s what they are, Germans, like ordinary people... And then she sees Vitka’s legs hanging from the stove. The boy quietly got down, went to the door, grabbed all the weapons and left the house. Anna could barely contain herself not to scream. She sneaked between the sleeping soldiers, slipped out the door, out of the house through the gate. Vitka, bending to the ground from the weight of the weapon, quickly walked towards the forest. Grandmother ran after him. She caught up, grabbed him by the shoulders, and shook him:
- What are you doing?! After all, they will put everyone under a machine gun, they will not regret it, they will not look at them as “Russian children”! - she mimicked Vitka, grabbed the weapon from him and dragged him home. Vitka was ordered to stay outside.
The weapon was returned to its place. Anna woke up Galka, putting her finger to her lips and showing - be quiet, they say. They quickly got out and ran to the bomb shelter, where they sat for the next four days.
These days there were battles. Grandfather Dimitri remained in the house. German soldiers returned between actions and not all alive. They brought the dead with them, loaded them into a large car, and the car drove away.
One day my grandfather heard wild screams and looked out the window. A German soldier was carrying a wounded man. He had a huge wound on his head. Blood left a black stream behind the people. The soldier brought the wounded man to the “corpse wagon,” threw him inside and shot. The screams stopped.
On the fourth day after the battle, two German soldiers returned without an officer. Grandfather Dimitri watched them from the stove. They washed, sat down at the table, took out biscuits and some canned food. Then a hefty fellow, blond and red-cheeked, entered the hut. In the village they said that he was Finnish by nationality. The fascist pulled the grandfather by the collar from the oven and began to shout, showing with his hands that he needed round bread. Grandfather throws up his hands, saying, there is nothing. He pulled out a revolver and put it to his grandfather's head. At that moment a German officer entered the hut. Realizing what was going on, the officer let out a long tirade in his own language and swung at the Finn. The soldier flew out of the house like a bullet. And the grandfather climbed back onto the stove.
On the fifth day, Soviet soldiers entered the village. But for a long time, villagers watched the Katyusha salvos and heard explosions. The Germans were never seen again. But the whole war was still ahead.

Story 3. The whole war is ahead

After the German part left the village, people gradually came out of the air-raid shelters. They saw something terrible. No, the houses stood still, the villagers, even those who were not hiding, were alive, but the former fields had turned into one continuous pit of craters. The suffocating smell of death hung in the air. The ground was littered with shells and rotting corpses of soldiers. Soviet soldiers.
On Bugre, at the highest point of the village, the residents built a mass grave. Someone said that three of “ours” tried to knock out a German machine gunner from Bugr, who had settled there the day before the capture of the village. Two soldiers were killed on the approaches by machine-gun fire. Only the third managed to get to the height from the forest, but he also died. He shot at the fascist while receiving bullets in himself. All three were buried there. The monument was built. They died defending every village, every house...
The women brought domestic animals that had survived the bombing from Kashira and restored the destroyed barns and stables. Gradually they began to return to normal life.
The surrounding area was “infected” with iron disease. There were weapons lying around everywhere, which the village boys were very interested in. Everyone wanted to know what it consisted of and how it worked. Unexploded shells and mines posed a particular danger. To prevent misfortunes, villagers sent their children and grandchildren to a “kindergarten” during work. But…
This happened in the spring, when the sun was shining, when the trees and bushes turned green, and the first grass began to emerge, hiding the bloody horror of the earth. The fields had to be leveled and plowed for sowing. The oldest children, who were already eleven to twelve years old, were taken from the “kindergarten” to do field work. Three friends - Vitka, Zhenka and Kolka were walking behind horses with a plow when a whole mine was discovered on the way. Curiosity took precedence over caution. The boys pulled the mine out of the ground and tried to dismantle it. It didn't work out. Then they dragged her into the barn while the adults weren’t looking. Zhenya, the eldest of all, suggested:
- Let’s hit it with a stone to open this lid. But here's the thing, if there's an explosion, you fall. And I’ll run to the “kindergarten” for help.
And so they did. They hit the mine with a stone. There was a deafening explosion. Vitka and Kolka fell to the ground, and Zhenya ran...
The next day Zhenya and Kolya were buried. Vitka was wounded in his hand and survived.

School in the partisan region.

T. Cat. ,From the book “Children-Heroes”,
Getting stuck in a marshy swamp, falling and getting up again, we went to our own - to the partisans. The Germans were fierce in their native village.
And for a whole month the Germans bombed our camp. “The partisans have been destroyed,” they finally sent a report to their high command. But invisible hands again derailed trains, blew up weapons warehouses, and destroyed German garrisons.
Summer is over, autumn is already trying on its colorful, crimson outfit. It was difficult for us to imagine September without school.
- These are the letters I know! - eight-year-old Natasha Drozd once said and drew a round “O” in the sand with a stick and next to it - an uneven gate “P”. Her friend drew some numbers. The girls were playing school, and neither one nor the other noticed with what sadness and warmth the commander of the partisan detachment Kovalevsky was watching them. In the evening at the council of commanders he said:
“The kids need school...” and added quietly: “We can’t deprive them of their childhood.”
That same night, Komsomol members Fedya Trutko and Sasha Vasilevsky went out on a combat mission, with Pyotr Ilyich Ivanovsky with them. They returned a few days later. Pencils, pens, primers, and problem books were taken out of their pockets and bosoms. There was a sense of peace and home, of great human care, from these books here, among the swamps, where a mortal battle for life was taking place.
“It’s easier to blow up a bridge than to get your books,” Pyotr Ilyich flashed his teeth cheerfully and took out... a pioneer horn.
None of the partisans said a word about the risk they were exposed to. There could have been an ambush in every house, but it never occurred to any of them to abandon the task or return empty-handed. ,
Three classes were organized: first, second and third. School... Pegs driven into the ground, intertwined with wicker, a cleared area, instead of a board and chalk - sand and a stick, instead of desks - stumps, instead of a roof over your head - camouflage from German planes. In cloudy weather we were plagued by mosquitoes, sometimes snakes crawled in, but we didn’t pay attention to anything.
How the children valued their clearing school, how they hung on every word of the teacher! There were one textbook, two per class. There were no books at all on some subjects. We remembered a lot from the words of the teacher, who sometimes came to class straight from a combat mission, with a rifle in his hands, belted with ammunition.
The soldiers brought everything they could get for us from the enemy, but there was not enough paper. We carefully removed birch bark from fallen trees and wrote on it with coals. There was no case of anyone not doing their homework. Only those guys who were urgently sent to reconnaissance skipped classes.
It turned out that we only had nine pioneers; the remaining twenty-eight guys had to be accepted as pioneers. We sewed a banner from a parachute donated to the partisans and made a pioneer uniform. Partisans were accepted into pioneers, and the detachment commander himself tied ties for new arrivals. The headquarters of the pioneer squad was immediately elected.
Without stopping our studies, we built a new dugout school for the winter. To insulate it, a lot of moss was needed. They pulled it out so hard that their fingers hurt, sometimes they tore off their nails, they cut their hands painfully with grass, but no one complained. No one demanded excellent academic performance from us, but each of us made this demand on ourselves. And when the hard news came that our beloved comrade Sasha Vasilevsky had been killed, all the pioneers of the squad took a solemn oath: to study even better.
At our request, the squad was given the name of a deceased friend. That same night, avenging Sasha, the partisans blew up 14 German vehicles and derailed the train. The Germans sent 75 thousand punitive forces against the partisans. The blockade began again. Everyone who knew how to handle weapons went into battle. Families retreated into the depths of the swamps, and our pioneer squad also retreated. Our clothes were frozen, we ate flour boiled in hot water once a day. But, retreating, we grabbed all our textbooks. Classes continued at the new location. And we kept the oath given to Sasha Vasilevsky. In the spring exams, all the pioneers answered without hesitation. The strict examiners - the detachment commander, the commissar, the teachers - were pleased with us.
As a reward, the best students received the right to participate in shooting competitions. They fired from the detachment commander's pistol. This was the highest honor for the guys.