Glug-glug.

The fighting in Stalingrad continues unabated. The Nazis are rushing to the Volga.

Some fascist made Sergeant Noskov angry. Our trenches and those of the Nazis ran side by side here. Speech can be heard from trench to trench.

The fascist sits in his hiding place and shouts:

Rus, tomorrow glug-glug!

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

The fascist sits, does not stick out. Only a voice from the trench comes:

Rus, tomorrow gurg-glug. - And he clarifies: - Bul-gur at Volga.

This “glug-glug” gets on Sergeant Noskov’s nerves.

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

Eka, damned Fritz! Show yourself. Let me at least look at you.

The Hitlerite just leaned out. Noskov looked, and other soldiers looked. Reddish. Ospovat. Ears stick out. The cap on the crown miraculously stays on.

The fascist leaned out and again:

Glug-glug!

One of our soldiers grabbed a rifle. He raised it and took aim.

Don't touch! - Noskov said sternly.

The soldier looked at Noskov in surprise. Shrugged. He took the rifle away.

Until the evening, the long-eared German croaked: “Rus, tomorrow glug-glug. Tomorrow at Volga's."

By evening the fascist soldier fell silent.

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

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

But someone said:

Brothers, they are crawling back.

The second confirmed:

That's right, they are coming back.

The soldiers looked closely - right. Friends are crawling, hugging the ground. Just not two of them. Three. The soldiers took a closer look: the third fascist soldier, the same one - “glug-glug”. He just doesn't crawl. Noskov and Turyanchik are dragging him. A soldier is gagged.

The screamer's friends dragged him into the trench. We rested and continued to headquarters.

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

Glug-glug, glug-glug! - Turyanchik shouts mischievously.

Bubble-bulb, - the fascist blows bubbles. Shaking like an aspen leaf.

“Don’t be afraid, don’t be afraid,” Noskov said. - Russians don’t hit someone who is down.

The soldiers handed over the prisoner to headquarters.

Noskov waved goodbye to the fascist.

“Bul-bull,” said Turyanchik, saying goodbye.

Evil surname.

The soldier was embarrassed by his last name. He was unlucky at birth. Trusov is his last name.

It's war time. The surname is catchy.

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

Surname?

Trusov.

How how?

Trusov.

Y-yes... - the military registration and enlistment office workers drawled.

A soldier got into the company.

What's your last name?

Private Trusov.

How how?

Private Trusov.

Y-yes... - the commander drawled.

The soldier suffered a lot of troubles from his last name. There are jokes and jokes all around:

Apparently, your ancestor was not a hero.

In a convoy with such a surname!

Field mail will be delivered. The soldiers will gather in a circle. Incoming letters are being distributed. Names given:

Kozlov! Sizov! Smirnov!

Everything is fine. The soldiers come up and take their letters.

Shout out:

Cowards!

The soldiers are laughing all around.

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

As part of his 149th separate rifle brigade, Private Trusov arrived at Stalingrad. They transported the soldiers across the Volga to the right bank. The brigade entered the battle.

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

Trusov doesn’t want to disgrace himself. Trying. The soldiers are going on the attack. Suddenly an enemy machine gun started firing from the left. Trusov turned around. He fired a burst from the machine gun. The enemy machine gun fell silent.

Well done! - the squad leader praised the soldier.

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

Now it's on the right. Trusov turned around. I got close to the machine gunner. Threw a grenade. And this fascist calmed down.

Hero! - said the squad leader.

The soldiers lay down. They are skirmishing with the Nazis. The battle is over. The soldiers counted the killed enemies. Twenty people turned out to be at the place from which Private Trusov was firing.

Ooh! - the squad commander burst out. - Well, brother, your last name is evil. Evil!

Trusov smiled.

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

The medal “For Courage” hangs on the hero’s chest. Whoever meets you will squint his eyes at the reward.

The first question for the soldier now is:

What was he awarded for, hero?

No one will ask for your last name now. No one will giggle now. He won’t drop a word with malice.

From now on it is clear to the soldier: the honor of a soldier is not in the surname - a person’s deeds are beautiful.

Stories by Sergei Alekseev

Fascinating and interesting war stories. Stories about events taking place during the Great Patriotic War.

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 climbed up 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 all over the 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.

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 if you 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 into different sides. 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.

Sergei Alekseev's stories about the war. Stories: Balloon and Shock. These are stories about the exploits of the military detachment of balloonists and about the heroes of the 1st Shock Army.

AEROSTATIC

Among the defenders of Moscow there was a detachment of balloonists. Balloons rose into the Moscow sky. With the help of metal cables they created barriers against fascist bombers.

Once the soldiers were lowering one of the balloons. The winch creaks monotonously. The steel cable, like a thread, crawls along a reel. With the help of this cable the balloon is lowered. He's getting lower and lower. There are ropes hanging from the shell of the balloon. These are halyards. The fighters will now grab the balloon by the halyards. Holding the halyards, they will drag the balloon to the parking area. They will strengthen it and tie it to the supports.

The balloon is huge, huge. Looks like an elephant, like a mammoth. The colossus will obediently follow people. This is the rule. But sometimes the balloon gets stubborn. This is if there is wind. At such moments, the balloon, like a restive horse, breaks and breaks from its leash.

That memorable day for the soldier Veligura turned out to be windy.

The balloon descends. Standing there is Private Veligura. There are others standing. Now they'll grab you by the halyards.

He grabbed Veligur. Others didn't have time. The balloon exploded. Veligur hears some kind of cotton. Then Veliguru jerked. The earth moved away from my feet. The fighter looked, and he was already in the air. It turned out that the cable used to lower the balloon with a winch had broken. Veliguru dragged the balloon behind him into the sky.

Drop the halyards!

Drop the halyards! - Veligura’s comrades shout from below.

Veligur didn’t understand what was going on at first. And when I figured it out, it was too late. The ground is far below. The balloon is getting higher and higher.

The soldier is holding a rope. The situation is simply tragic. How long can a person hold on like this? A minute more, a minute less. Then his strength will leave him. The unfortunate man will fall down.

The same would have happened with Veligura. Yes, apparently the fighter was born wearing a shirt. Although, more likely, Veligura is simply a resourceful fighter. He grabbed the rope with his feet. It's easier to hold on now. I caught my breath and took a breath. He is trying to make a noose on the rope with his feet. A soldier of fortune has achieved. The fighter made a noose. He made a loop and sat down in it. The danger has completely disappeared. Veligur cheered up. It’s interesting even now for a fighter. For the first time I rose so high. Soars like an eagle over the steppe.

The soldier looks at the ground. Moscow floats beneath it in a labyrinth of houses and streets. And here is the outskirts. The city is over. Veligura flies over the countryside area. And suddenly the fighter realizes that the wind is carrying him towards the front. Here is the battle area, here is the front line.

The Nazis saw a Soviet balloon. They opened fire. Shells explode nearby. The balloon fighter feels uncomfortable.

The same would happen, of course, with Veligura. Yes, apparently, the fighter was indeed born wearing a shirt. They don't touch you, explosions pass by.

But the main thing is that suddenly, as if on command, the wind changed direction. Veliguru was carried away again to Moscow. The fighter returned almost to the same place from where he left. I went down safely.

The soldier is alive. Unharmed. Healthy.

So it turned out that Private Veligura flew to the enemies in a balloon almost in the same way as the famous Baron Munchausen in his time flew to the enemy fortress riding on a cannonball.

Everything is fine. There's only one problem. Few people believed in this flight. As soon as Veligura starts telling his story, his friends immediately shout:

Well, well, lie, bend, twist!

Veligura is no longer Veligura. As soon as the poor fellow opens his mouth, he immediately rushes:

Baron Munchausen!

War is war. Anything can happen here. It happens that they later consider it a fairy tale.

SHOCK

Ivan Kharlov served as a machine gunner in the 1st Shock Army.

On November 28, 1941, the Nazis attacked the city of Yakhroma with a tank attack. Yakhroma is located exactly north of Moscow, on the banks of the Moscow-Volga canal. The Nazis burst into the city and went to the canal. They captured the bridge over the canal and crossed to its eastern bank.

Enemy tank formations bypassed Moscow from the north. The situation was difficult, almost critical.

The 1st Shock Army received orders to stop the enemy.

Shock was drawn into the battle. Kharlov is in battle with others. He is experienced in battle. A rifle company went on the offensive. Kharlov fell to the machine gun. Protects Soviet riflemen with fire from his machine gun. Acts like Kharlov. Take your time. In vain he doesn’t let bullets into the field. Saves ammo. It hits right on target. Fires in short bursts. Kharlov feels somewhat responsible for the lives of the infantrymen. As if every extra death was on his account.

It’s good for the fighters to be under such protection.

And suddenly, a fragment of a fascist mine distorted the barrel of Kharlov’s machine gun.

It broke off and the fire died out.

And the enemy goes on the attack again. Kharlov looked - the Nazis took advantage of the fact that his machine gun had died down and moved the cannon forward. The cannon is about to hit our company. Kharlov’s hands clenched into fists from resentment. Then he stood there and suddenly fell to the ground, pressed himself and somehow crab-like, sideways, taking a slight detour, crawled towards the enemy cannon.

The soldiers saw it and froze.

“Fathers, certain death!”

The soldiers glared at Kharlov. Here it is closer to Kharlov’s gun, here it is closer. It's very close. He rose to his height. Swung it. Threw a grenade. Destroyed the fascist crew.

The soldiers could not restrain themselves:

Hurray for Kharlov!

Well, Ivan Andreich, now run.

As soon as they shouted, they saw: fascist tanks had come out from behind the hill and were heading straight for Kharlov.

Run! - the soldiers shout again.

However, Kharlov hesitates. Doesn't run back.

The soldiers looked more closely.

Look, look! - one shouts.

The soldiers see - Kharlov turns the fascist cannon towards the tanks. Unfolded. Crouched down. He took aim.

Shot. A fascist tank caught fire. The hero knocked out two tanks. The rest turned aside.

The battle lasted until the evening. The Shock Army pushed the fascists back across the canal. I restored the situation here.

Happy soldiers:

How else! That's why Shock!

How could it be otherwise, since there are people like Kharlov.

The story of Sergei Alekseev, Berlin Celebrity, is a story about the famous Soviet sniper during the Great Patriotic War, about Vasily Zaitsev.

BERLIN CELEBRITY

There were many famous snipers on the Stalingrad front: Viktor Medvedev, Gilfan Avzalov, Anatoly Chekhov... The most famous is Vasily Zaitsev. The famous sniper has almost three hundred killed fascists.

The Nazis decided to destroy the marksman. They offered a big reward to whoever killed the Soviet sniper. Zaitsev is only cautious and experienced. The Nazis are unable to determine from where the soldier is shooting. The fighter changes positions. Today he is sitting in a trench. Tomorrow he will hide behind the stonework of the basement. On the third day he shoots from the windows of a broken house. Climbing under the belly of a burnt tank, he hits the enemy on the fourth.

The promised reward does not help. There is no shooter among the Nazis at Stalingrad who would be equal to Vasily Zaitsev.

The Nazis increased the reward. Hunters are prowling everywhere. But no one has any luck. There is no shooter among the Germans at Stalingrad who could overpower Zaitsev.

It's a shame for the fascists. Hitler's commanders remembered that in Berlin there was a famous German marksman, Major Konings, the head of a school of fascist snipers. Konings was urgently summoned to Stalingrad. A Berlin sniper arrived on a special plane.

Konings learned the name of the Russian craftsman.

Zaitsev? Ho-ho! - laughed.

A resourceful man was found among the German soldiers:

Mister Major, Medvedev is among them!

And Viktor Medvedev is really after Vasily

Zaitseva was the most accurate shooter at the front.

The Berlin guest got the joke:

Ooh!

Konings is tall and broad-shouldered. On the neck is an Iron Cross.

The German soldiers are looking at Konings - that's who will finish off Zaitsev. And at the same time with Medvedev, Avzalov, Chekhov...

And then Major Konings and Vasily Zaitsev came together in a sniper battle.

Be careful, Konings is very careful. Zaitsev is even more careful.

Eye-catcher Konings. Zaitsev is even smarter.

Konings is patient. Zaitsev is even more patient.

For four days the shooters sat in front of each other. They were waiting to see who would be the first to give themselves away, who would be the first to make a mistake.

Konings uses various tricks. Everyone is trying to make sure that the Soviet sniper sticks out from behind cover at least for a second. And Zaitsev is thinking about the same thing: how to force Major Konings to leave his hiding place for a second.

Heather Konings. Zaitsev is even more cunning. He called soldier Nikolai Kulikov over to him and instructed him: sit next to me. Take a stick, put the helmet on the stick, stick it out of the trench a little. If a shot rings out, throw up your hands, scream and fall.

Clear?

Clear! - the soldier answered.

Kulikov stuck his helmet out of the trench, and immediately a bullet hit the helmet. Kulikov threw up his hands as agreed, screamed and fell to the bottom of the trench. Konings is glad of his luck. I'm sure I hit Zaitsev. He was curious to look: he stuck his head out from behind the cover and looked. He looked, and immediately Vasily Zaitsev’s bullet killed Major Konings.

A Berlin celebrity lies motionless on Stalingrad soil. On the neck the Iron Cross sticks out like a tombstone.

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 saw kind soul, during a battle on the street, a little German girl. 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 west bank, from the side of Leningrad, cars left for cargo on 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.

There were the most hard days 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 over the diary for a long time. 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.

From different places the guys gathered. 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 to far-far path. 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 authorities 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 if you 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. Eyebrows over blue eyes 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 sarcastically:
-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 attack. 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 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.

Chapter first
THE END OF THE BLITZKRIEG

BREST FORTRESS

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

The Nazis were unable to take the Brest Fortress by storm. We walked around her left and right. She remained behind enemy lines.

The Nazis are coming. Fights are taking place near Minsk, near Riga, near Lvov, near Lutsk. And there, in the rear of the Nazis, the Brest Fortress is fighting, not giving up.

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

There is water all around - the Bug River, the Mukhovets River, branches, channels. There is water all around, but there is no water in the fortress. Water is under fire. A sip of water here is more valuable than life.

- Water! - rushes over the fortress.

A daredevil was found and rushed to the river. He rushed and immediately collapsed. The soldier's enemies defeated him. Time passed, another brave one rushed forward. And he died. The third replaced the second. The third one also died.

A machine gunner was lying not far from this place. He was scribbling and scribbling the machine gun, and suddenly the line stopped. The machine gun overheated in battle. And the machine gun needs water.

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

- Eh, it was not.

He crawled towards the water. He crawled on his bellies, pressing himself to the ground like a snake. He is getting closer and closer to the water. It's right next to the shore. The machine gunner grabbed his helmet. He scooped up water like a bucket. Again it crawls back like a snake. Getting closer to our people, closer. It's very close. His friends picked him up.

- I brought some water! Hero!

The soldiers look at their helmets and at the water. His eyes are blurred from thirst. They don’t know that the machine gunner brought water for the machine gun. They are waiting, and suddenly a soldier will treat them now - at least a sip.

The machine gunner looked at the soldiers, at the dry lips, at the heat in his eyes.

“Come closer,” said the machine gunner.

The soldiers stepped forward, but suddenly...

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

The fighters stopped.

- Of course, wounded!

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

The soldiers sent the fighter to the basement. He brought water to the basement where the wounded lay.

“Brothers,” he said, “water...

“Here,” he handed the mug to the soldier.

The soldier reached out to the water. I already took the mug, but suddenly:

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

The soldier brought water to the children. But it must be said that in the Brest Fortress, along with adult fighters, there were also women and children - the wives and children of military personnel.

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

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

The guys look - there is water in the helmet.

The children rushed to the water, to the soldier.

The fighter took the mug and carefully poured it to the bottom. He's looking to see who he can give it to. He sees a baby about the size of a pea nearby.

“Here,” he handed to the baby.

The kid looked at the fighter and at the water.

“To daddy,” said the kid. - He's there, he's shooting.

“Yes, drink, drink,” the fighter smiled.

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

And others refused to follow him.

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

The machine gunner looked at the water, then at the soldiers, at the fighters, at his friends. He took the helmet and poured water into the metal casing. It came to life, started working, and built a machine gun.

The machine gunner covered the fighters with fire. There were brave souls again. They crawled towards the Bug, towards death. The heroes returned with water. They gave water to the children and the wounded.

The defenders of the Brest Fortress fought bravely. But there were fewer and fewer of them. They were bombed from the sky. The cannons were fired directly. From flamethrowers.

The fascists are waiting, and people are about to ask for mercy. The white flag is about to appear.

We waited and waited, but the flag was not visible. Nobody asks for mercy.

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

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

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

LIEPAJA

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

The Nazis advanced in three directions at once: towards Moscow, Leningrad and Kyiv. They released a deadly fan.

The city of Liepaja is a port of the Latvian Soviet Republic. One of the fascist attacks was directed here, on Liepaja. Enemies believe in easy success:

– Liepaja is in our hands!

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

– Liepaja is in our hands!

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

They fight and fight, but they can’t get through. Enemies from the south cannot break through to Liepaja.

The Nazis then changed direction. They are now going around the city from the east. We went around. The city is smoking in the distance.

– Liepaja is in our hands!

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

The Nazis stopped. The Nazis entered the battle.

They fight and fight, but they can’t get through. The Nazis will not advance here, from the east either.

– Liepaja is in our hands!

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

Days pass.

The second ones pass.

Third. The fourth ones are running out.

Liepāja does not give up, it holds on!

Only when the shells ran out and there were no cartridges did the defenders of Liepaja retreat.

The Nazis entered the city.

– Liepaja is in our hands!

But the Soviet people did not resign themselves. They went underground. They joined the partisans. A bullet awaits the Nazis at every step. The Nazis have an entire division in the city.

Liepāja is fighting.

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

- Liepaja!

We haven't forgotten Liepaja either. If someone stood steadfastly in battle, if someone fought their enemies with extreme courage, and the fighters wanted to note this, they said:

- Liepaja!

Even after being enslaved by the Nazis, she remained in the fighting ranks - our Soviet Liepaja.

CAPTAIN GASTELLO

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

The plane left for the intended target. Bombed out. Completed the combat mission. Turned around. I started to go home.

And suddenly a shell exploded from behind. It was the Nazis who opened fire on the Soviet pilot. The worst thing happened: the shell pierced the gasoline tank. The bomber caught fire. Flames ran along the wings and along the fuselage.

Captain Gastello tried to put out the fire. He sharply tilted the plane onto the wing. Made the car seem to fall on its side. This position of the aircraft is called sliding. The pilot thought he would go astray and the flames would subside. However, the car continued to burn. Gastello dropped the bomber onto the second wing. The fire doesn't go away. The plane is on fire and is losing altitude.

At this time, a fascist convoy was moving below the plane: tanks with fuel in the convoy, cars. The Nazis raised their heads and were watching the Soviet bomber.

The Nazis saw how a shell hit the plane and how the flame immediately broke out. How the pilot began to fight the fire, throwing the car from side to side.

The fascists are triumphant.

– There is one less communist!

The fascists laugh. And suddenly…

Captain Gastello tried and tried to knock down the flames from the plane. He threw the car from wing to wing. It’s clear – don’t put out the fire. The ground is running towards the plane with terrible speed. Gastello looked at the ground. I saw fascists below, a convoy, fuel tanks, and trucks.

And this means: tanks will arrive at the target - fascist planes will be refueled with gasoline, tanks and cars will be refueled; Fascist planes will rush to our cities and villages, fascist tanks will attack our soldiers, cars will rush, carrying fascist soldiers and military cargo.

Captain Gastello could have left the burning plane and bailed out.

But Captain Gastello did not use the parachute. He gripped the steering wheel more firmly in his hands. The bomber aimed at a fascist convoy.

The Nazis are standing, looking at the Soviet plane. The fascists are happy. We are happy that their anti-aircraft gunners shot down our plane. And suddenly they realize: a plane is rushing right at them, towards the tanks.

The Nazis rushed in different directions. Not everyone managed to escape. A plane crashed into a fascist convoy. There was a terrible explosion. Dozens of fascist vehicles with fuel took off into the air.

Soviet soldiers performed many glorious feats during the Great Patriotic War - pilots, tank crews, infantrymen, and artillerymen. Many unforgettable feats. One of the first in this series of immortals was the feat of Captain Gastello.

Captain Gastello died. But the memory remains. Everlasting memory. Eternal glory.

Audacity

This happened in Ukraine. Not far from the city of Lutsk.

In these places, near Lutsk, near Lvov, near Brody, Dubno, large tank battles broke out with the Nazis.

Night. The column of fascist tanks changed their positions. The cars are coming one after another. They fill the area with motor noise.

The commander of one of the fascist tanks, Lieutenant Kurt Wieder, threw away the turret hatch, climbed out of the tank waist-deep, and admired the night view.

Summer stars look calmly from the sky. To the right is a narrow strip of forest. On the left the field runs into a lowland. The stream rushed like a silver ribbon. The road twisted and went slightly uphill. Night. The cars are coming one after another.

And suddenly. Veeder doesn't believe his eyes. A shot rang out in front of the tank. Vider sees: the tank that was walking in front of Vider fired. But what is it? A tank hit its own tank! The damaged one burst into flames and was enveloped in flames.

Vider's thoughts flashed and rushed one after another:

- Accident?!

- An oversight?!

-Are you crazy?!

- Are you crazy?!

But at that second there was a shot from behind. Then the third, fourth, fifth. Veeder turned around. Tanks are firing at tanks. Those who walk behind follow those who go ahead.

Veeder descended quickly into the hatch. He doesn’t know what command to give to the tankers. He looks left, looks right, and right: what command to give?

While he was thinking, a shot rang out again. It was heard nearby, and the tank in which Veeder was immediately shuddered. It shuddered, clanged and burst into flames like a candle.

Veeder jumped to the ground. He threw himself like an arrow into the ditch.

What happened?

The day before, in one of the battles, Soviet soldiers recaptured fifteen tanks from the Nazis. Thirteen of them turned out to be completely serviceable.

This is where our people decided to use fascist tanks against the fascists themselves. Soviet tank crews got into enemy vehicles, went out to the road and waylaid one of the fascist tank columns. When the column approached, the tankers quietly joined it. Then we slowly reformed so that each fascist tank was followed by a tank with our tank crews.

There is a column coming. The fascists are calm. All tanks have black crosses. We approached the slope. And here they shot our column of fascist tanks.

Veeder rose from the ground to his feet. I looked at the tanks. They burn out like coals. He turned his gaze to the sky. The stars from the sky are pricking like needles.

Our people returned home victorious and with trophies.

- Well, is everything in order?

- Consider it full!

The tankers are standing.

Smiles glow. There is courage in the eyes. There is insolence on their faces.

THOROUGH WORD

There is a war going on across Belarusian soil. Conflagration fires rise from behind.

The fascists are marching. And here in front of them is the Berezina - the beauty of the Belarusian fields.

Berezina is running. Either it will spread into a wide floodplain, then suddenly it will narrow to a channel, it will make its way through the swamps, through the swells, it will gurgle along the forest, along the forest, along the field, it will rush to the feet of good-quality huts, it will smile at bridges, cities and villages.

The Nazis came to the Berezina. One of the detachments to the village of Studyanka. Battles rumbled near Studyanka. The fascists are happy. Another new frontier has been captured.

Studyanka has hilly areas. Both the right and left banks are humped here. The Berezina flows in the lowlands here. The Nazis climbed the hill. The district lies in the palm of your hand. Goes through the fields and forest to the sky. The fascists are marching.

- A song! - the officer commands.

The soldiers sang a song.

The Nazis are walking, and suddenly they see a monument. At the top of the hill, near the road, there is an obelisk. The inscription is at the bottom of the monument.

The fascists stopped, stopped chanting the song. They look at the obelisk and the inscription. They don't understand Russian. However, I wonder what is written here. Address one to another:

- What's it about, Kurt?

– What is this about, Karl?

The Kurts, Karls, Fritzes, Frantzes, Adolfs, Hanses are standing, looking at the inscription.

And then there was one who read Russian.

“Here, in this place...” the soldier began to read. And further that here, on the Berezina, near the village of Studyanka, in 1812, the Russian army under the command of Field Marshal Mikhail Illarionovich Kutuzov finally defeated the hordes of the French Emperor Napoleon I, who dreamed of conquering our country, and expelled the invaders from Russia.

Yes, it was in this exact place. Here, on the Berezina, near the village of Studyanka.

The soldier read the inscription on the monument to the end. He looked at his neighbors. Kurt whistled. Karl whistled. Fritz grinned. Franz smiled. The other soldiers made noise:

- So when did this happen?

– Napoleon didn’t have the same strength then!

Just what is it? The song is no longer a song. The song is getting quieter and quieter.

- Louder, louder! - the officer commands.

Can't get anything louder. So the song stopped altogether.

The soldiers are walking, remembering about 1812, about the obelisk, about the inscription on the monument. Although this was a long time ago, it’s true, although Napoleon’s strength was not the same, but somehow the mood of the fascist soldiers suddenly deteriorated. They go and repeat:

- Berezina!

The word suddenly turned out to be prickly.

ESTATE

Enemies are marching across Ukraine. The fascists are rushing forward.

Ukraine is good. The air is fragrant like grass. The lands are as fat as butter. The generous sun is shining.

Hitler promised the soldiers that after the war, after victory, they would receive estates in Ukraine.

Soldier Hans Mutterfather walks, selects an estate for himself.

He liked the place. The river is murmuring. Rockets. Meadow next to the river. Stork.

- Fine. Grace! This is where I’ll probably stay after the war. I’ll build a house here by the river.

He closed his eyes. A beautiful house has grown. And next to the house there are stables, barns, sheds, a cowshed, a pigsty.

Soldier Mutterfather broke into a smile.

- Great! Wonderful! Let's remember the place.

- Perfect place!

I fell in love with it.

This is where I’ll probably stay after the war. Here, on the hill, I will build a house. He closed his eyes. A beautiful house has grown. And next to the house there are other services: stables, barns, barns, cowshed, pigsty.

Stop again.

The open spaces lay like a steppe. There is no end to them. The field lies like velvet. Rooks walk across the field like princes.

The soldier is captured by the boundless expanse. He looks at the steppes, at the earth - his soul plays.

“This is where I am, this is where I’ll stay forever.”

He closed his eyes: the field was earing wheat. There are mowers nearby. It's his field that's making ears. These are his mowing fields. And there are cows grazing nearby. These are his cows. And turkeys are pecking nearby. These are his turkeys. And his pigs and chickens. And his geese and ducks. And his sheep and goats. And here is a beautiful house.

Mutterfather firmly decided. Here he will take the estate. No other place needed.

- Zehr gut! - said the fascist. - I will stay here forever.

Ukraine is good. Generous Ukraine. What Mutterfather had so dreamed about came true. Hans Mutterfather remained here forever when the partisans opened battle. And right there, right on his estate.

Mutterfather lies on his estate. And others are walking past. They also choose these estates for themselves. Some are on the hill, and some are under the hill. Some are near the forest, and some are near the fields. Some are by the pond, and some are by the river.

The partisans look at them:

- Don't crowd. Take your time. Great Ukraine. Generous Ukraine. There's enough room for everyone.

TWO TANKS

In one of the battles, a Soviet KB tank (KB is a brand of tank) rammed a fascist one. The fascist tank was destroyed. However, ours also suffered. The engine stalled due to the impact.

Driver-mechanic Ustinov leaned over to the engine and tried to start it. The engine is silent.

The tank stopped. However, the tankers did not stop the battle. They opened fire on the Nazis with cannon and machine guns.

The tankers are shooting, listening to see if the engine starts working. Ustinov is fiddling with the engine. The engine is silent.

The battle was long and stubborn. And then our tank ran out of ammunition. The tank now turned out to be completely helpless. Lonely, silently standing on the field.

The Nazis became interested in the lonely tank. Come over. We looked and the car was apparently intact. We climbed onto the tank. They hit the manhole cover with forged boots.

- Hey, Russian!

- Come out, Russian!

We listened. No answer.

- Hey, Russian!

No answer.

“The tank crews were killed,” thought the Nazis. They decided to steal the tank as a trophy. We drove our tank to the Soviet tank. We got the cable. Attached. The cable was stretched. The colossus pulled the colossus.

“Things are bad,” our tankers understand. They leaned towards the engine, towards Ustinov:

- Well, look here.

- Well, pick around here.

– Where did the spark go?!

Ustinov puffs at the engine.

- Oh, you stubborn one!

- Oh, you, your soul of steel!

And suddenly he snorted and the tank’s engine started working. Ustinov grabbed the levers. He quickly engaged the clutch. I stepped on the gas harder. The tank's tracks were moving. The Soviet tank stopped.

The Nazis see that a Soviet tank has stopped. They are amazed: he was motionless - and came to life. Turned on the strongest power. They cannot budge a Soviet tank. Engines roar. The tanks are pulling each other in different directions. Caterpillars bite into the ground. The earth flies from under the caterpillars.

- Vasya, press! - the tankers shout to Ustinov. - Vasya!

Ustinov pushed to the limit. And then he overpowered the Soviet tank. He pulled the fascist along with him. The fascists and ours have now switched roles. Not ours, but the fascist tank is now among the trophies.

The Nazis rushed about and opened the hatches. They started jumping out of the tank.

The heroes dragged the enemy tank to their own. The soldiers are watching:

- Fascist!

- Completely intact!

The tankers spoke about the last battle and what happened.

“They overpowered me, then,” the soldiers laugh.

- They pulled it!

“Ours, it turns out, is stronger in the shoulders.”

“Stronger, stronger,” the soldiers laugh. - Give it time - or it will happen, brothers, to the Krauts.

What can I say?

- Shall we drag it?

- We'll pull it over!

There will be battles. To be victorious. But not all of this at once. These battles are ahead.

FULL-FULL

The battle with the Nazis took place on the banks of the Dnieper. The Nazis came to the Dnieper. Among others, the village of Buchak was captured. The Nazis settled there. There are many of them - about a thousand. We installed a mortar battery. The shore is high. The Nazis can see far from the slope. The fascist battery is hitting our people.

The defense on the left, opposite bank of the Dnieper was held by a regiment commanded by Major Muzagik Khairetdinov. Khairetdinov decided to teach the fascists and the fascist battery a lesson. He gave the order to conduct a night attack on the right bank.

Soviet soldiers began to prepare for the crossing. We got boats from the residents. We got the oars and poles. We immersed ourselves. We pushed off from the left bank. The soldiers went into the darkness.

The Nazis did not expect an attack from the left bank. The village on a steep slope is covered from ours by the Dnieper water. The fascists are calm. And suddenly the Soviet soldiers fell upon their enemies like a fiery shooting star. They crushed it. Squeezed. They threw me off the Dnieper steep. They destroyed both the fascist soldiers and the fascist battery.

The soldiers returned victorious to the left bank.

In the morning, new fascist forces approached the village of Buchak. A young lieutenant accompanied the Nazis. The lieutenant tells the soldiers about the Dnieper, about the Dnieper steeps, about the village of Buchak.

- There are plenty of us there!

He clarifies that the mortar battery is located on a steep slope, the entire left bank is visible from the steep slope, the Nazis are covered from the Russians by the Dnieper water like a wall, and the soldiers in Buchak are positioned like in Christ’s bosom.

The Nazis are approaching the village. Something is quiet all around, soundless. Empty all around, deserted.

The lieutenant is surprised:

- Yes, there were plenty of ours!

The Nazis entered the village. We went to the Dnieper steep. They see the dead lying on the steep slope. We looked to the left, looked to the right - and sure enough, it was complete.

Not only for the village of Buchak - stubborn battles with the fascists broke out in many places on the Dnieper at that time. The 21st Soviet Army dealt a strong blow to the Nazis here. The army crossed the Dnieper, attacked the Nazis, Soviet soldiers liberated the cities of Rogachev and Zhlobin, and headed for Bobruisk.

The fascists were alarmed:

- Rogachev is lost!

- Zhlobin is lost!

– The enemy is coming to Bobruisk!

The Nazis had to urgently withdraw their troops from other areas. They drove huge forces to Bobruisk. The Nazis barely held Bobruisk.

The blow of the 21st Army was not the only one. And in other places on the Dnieper the fascists suffered a lot then.

Stories by Sofia Mogilevskaya, Arkady Gaidar, Andrei Platonov, Konstantin Paustovsky.

Sofia Mogilevskaya. The Tale of the Loud Drum

The drum hung on the wall between the windows, just opposite the bed where the boy slept.

It was an old military drum, much worn on the sides, but still strong. The skin on it was stretched tightly, and there were no sticks. And the drum was always silent, no one heard its voice.

One evening, when the boy went to bed, his grandparents came into the room. In their hands they carried a round package in brown paper.

“He’s asleep,” said the grandmother.

- Well, where should we hang this? - Grandfather said, pointing to the package.

“Over the crib, above his crib,” grandmother whispered.

But grandfather looked at the old war drum and said:

- No. We will hang it under our Larick's drum. This is a good place.

They unwrapped the package. And what? It contained a new yellow drum with two wooden sticks.

Grandfather hung it under the big drum, they admired it, and then left the room...

And then the boy opened his eyes.

He opened his eyes and laughed, because he was not sleeping at all, but pretending.

He jumped off the bed, ran barefoot to where the new yellow drum hung, moved a chair closer to the wall, climbed onto it and picked up the drumsticks.

At first he quietly hit the drum with only one stick. And the drum responded cheerfully: tram-there!

Then he hit with the second stick. The drummer answered even more cheerfully: tram-tam-tam!

What a glorious drum it was!

And suddenly the boy looked up at a large military drum. Previously, when he did not have these strong wooden sticks, he could not even touch the bass drum from his chair. And now?

The boy stood on tiptoes, reached up and hit the big drum hard with his stick. And the drum hummed in response to him quietly and sadly...

It was a long, long time ago. Then my grandmother was still a little girl with thick pigtails.

And my grandmother had a brother. His name was Larik. He was a cheerful, handsome and brave boy. He was the best at playing gorodki, the fastest at skating, and he was also the best at studying.

In early spring, the workers of the city where Larik lived began to gather a detachment to go fight for Soviet power.

Larik was thirteen years old at the time.

He went to the detachment commander and told him:

- Sign me up for the squad. I will also go fight the whites.

- And how old are you? - asked the commander.

- Fifteen! — Larik answered without blinking.

- As if? - asked the commander. And he repeated again: “As if?”

“Yes,” said Larik.

But the commander shook his head:

- No, you can’t, you’re too young...

And Larik had to leave with nothing. And suddenly, near the window, on a chair, he saw a new military drum. The drum was beautiful, with a shiny copper rim and taut skin. Two wooden sticks lay nearby.

Larik stopped, looked at the drum and said:

— I can play the drum...

- Really? — the commander was delighted. - Try it!

Larick threw the drum straps over his shoulder, picked up the sticks and hit the tight top with one of them. The stick bounced back like a spring, and the drum answered in a cheerful basso:

Larik struck with another stick.

- Boom! - the drum answered again,

And then Larik began drumming with two sticks.

Wow, how they danced in his hands! They simply could not hold back, they simply could not stop. They beat such a beat that you wanted to stand up, straighten up and step forward!

One-two! One-two! One-two!

And Larik remained in the detachment.

The next morning the detachment left the city. When the train started moving, Larik’s cheerful song was heard from the open doors of the vehicle:

Bam-bara-bam-bam,

Bam-bam-bam!

Ahead of everyone is the drum,

Commander and drummer.

Larik and drum immediately became comrades. In the mornings they woke up earlier than everyone else.

- Great, buddy! - Larik said to his drum and lightly spanked it with his palm.

- Great! - the drum hummed in response. And they got to work.

The detachment did not even have a bugle. Larik and the drum were the only musicians. In the morning they played wake-up calls:

Bam-bara-bam,

Bam-bam-bam!

Good morning,

Bam-bara-bam!

It was a nice morning song!

When the detachment was marching, they had another song in store. Larik's hands never got tired, and the voice of the drum did not stop all the way. It was easier for the soldiers to walk along the muddy autumn roads. Singing along to their drum, they walked from stop to stop, from stop to stop...

And in the evening, at the rest stops, the drum also had work. Of course, it was difficult for him alone to cope.

He was just getting started:

Eh! Bam-bara-bam,

Bam-bara-bam!

More fun than everyone else

Drum!

They immediately picked up the wooden spoons:

And we also hit deftly,

Bim-biri-bom,

Bim-biri-bom!

Then four scallops entered:

We won't leave you behind

Beams-bams, beams-bams!

And the last ones started playing harmonicas.

Now that was fun!

One could listen to such a wonderful orchestra all night long.

But the drum and Larik had one more song. And this song was the loudest and most necessary. Wherever the fighters were, they immediately recognized the voice of their drum from thousands of other drum voices. Yes, if necessary, Larik knew how to sound the alarm...

Winter has passed. Spring has come again. Larik was already fifteen years old.

The Red Guard detachment returned again to the city where Larik grew up. The Red Guards walked as scouts ahead of the big strong army, and the enemy ran away, hiding, hiding, striking from around the corner.

The detachment approached the city late in the evening. It was dark, and the commander ordered us to stop for the night near the forest, not far from the railroad bed.

“I haven’t seen my father, mother and little sister for a whole year,” Larik told the commander. “I don’t even know if they are alive.” Can I visit them? They live behind that forest.

“Well, go,” said the commander.

And Larik went.

He walked and whistled faintly. Water gurgled underfoot in small spring puddles. It was light from the moon. Behind Larik’s back hung his comrade in arms—a military drum.

Will they recognize him at home? No, my little sister, of course, won’t find out. He felt two pink gingerbread cookies in his pocket. He had been saving this gift for her for a long time...

He approached the edge. It was so good here! The forest stood very quiet, all silvered with moonlight.

Larik stopped. A shadow fell from a tall spruce tree. Larik stood covered by this black shadow.

Suddenly a dry branch quietly clicked.

One on the right. The other one is on the left. Behind the back...

People came out to the edge. There were many of them. They walked in a long line. Rifles at the ready. The two stopped almost next to Larik. On the shoulders are White Guard shoulder straps. One officer said to the other very quietly:

— Some of the soldiers are coming from the direction of the forest. The other is along the railway line. The rest come from the rear.

“We will encircle them and destroy them,” said the second.

And, stealthily, they passed by.

These were enemies.

Larik took a deep breath. He stood in the shadows. They didn't notice him.

Larik rubbed his hot forehead with his palm. All clear. This means that some of the soldiers are coming from the forest. Others come from the rear. Part of it is along the railway track...

The Whites want to encircle their detachment and destroy them.

We need to run there, to our own people, to the Reds. We need to warn you, and as soon as possible.

But will he have time? They can get ahead of him. They might catch him on the way...

And Larik turned his war drum towards himself, took out wooden sticks from his belt and, waving his arms widely, hit the drum.

It sounded like a shot, like a thousand short rifle shots.

The whole forest responded, hummed, drummed with a loud echo, as if a small brave drummer stood near each tree and beat a war drum.

Larik stood under a spruce tree and saw enemies rushing towards him from all sides. But he didn't move. He just pounded, pounded, pounded the drum.

This was their last song - a battle alarm song.

And only when something hit Larik in the temple and he fell, the drumsticks themselves fell out of his hands...

Larik could no longer see how the red soldiers rushed towards the enemy with rifles at the ready, and how the defeated enemy fled from the side of the forest, and from the side of the city, and from where the thin lines of the railway track glittered.

In the morning the forest became quiet again. The trees, shaking off drops of moisture, raised their transparent tops to the sun, and only the old spruce had wide branches lying completely on the ground.

The soldiers brought Larik home. His eyes were closed.

The drum was with him. Only the sticks remained in the forest, where they fell out of Larik’s hands.

And the drum was hung on the wall.

He hummed for the last time - loudly and sadly, as if saying goodbye to his glorious comrade.

This is what the old war drum told the boy.

The boy quietly climbed down from the chair and tiptoed back to bed. He lay for a long time with his eyes open, and it seemed to him as if he were walking along a wide, beautiful street and vigorously beating his new yellow drum. The drummer’s voice is loud and bold, and together they sing Larik’s favorite song:

Bar-bam for you,

You're welcome!

Ahead of everyone is the drum,

Commander and drummer.

Arkady Gaidar. Hike

Little story

At night, the Red Army soldier brought a summons. And at dawn, when Alka was still sleeping, his father kissed him deeply and went to war - on a campaign.

In the morning, Alka was angry why they didn’t wake him up, and immediately declared that he wanted to go hiking too. He probably would have screamed and cried. But quite unexpectedly, his mother allowed him to go on a hike. And so, in order to gain strength before the road, Alka ate a full plate of porridge without whim, and drank milk. And then he and his mother sat down to prepare their camping equipment. His mother sewed his pants, and he, sitting on the floor, whittled a saber out of a board. And right there, while they were working, they learned marching marches, because with a song like “A Christmas Tree Was Born in the Forest,” you can’t go anywhere. And the motive is not the same, and the words are not the same, in general, this melody is completely unsuitable for battle.

But then the time came for the mother to go on duty at work, and they postponed their work until tomorrow.

And so, day after day, they prepared Alka for the long journey. They sewed pants, shirts, banners, flags, knitted warm stockings and mittens. There were already seven wooden sabers hanging on the wall next to the gun and the drum. But this reserve is not a problem, because in a hot battle the life of a ringing saber is even shorter than that of a horseman.

And long ago, perhaps, Alka could have gone on a hike, but then a fierce winter came. And with such frost, of course, it won’t take long to catch a runny nose or a cold, and Alka patiently waited for the warm sun. But then the sun returned. The melted snow turned black. And just to start getting ready, the bell rang. And with heavy steps the father, who had returned from the hike, entered the room. His face was dark, weather-beaten, and his lips were chapped, but grey eyes looked cheerful.

He, of course, hugged his mother. And she congratulated him on his victory. He, of course, kissed his son deeply. Then he examined all of Alkino’s camping equipment. And, smiling, he ordered his son: keep all these weapons and ammunition in perfect order, because there will be many more difficult battles and dangerous campaigns ahead on this land.

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

The Nazis were unable to take the Brest Fortress by storm. We walked around her left and right. She remained behind enemy lines.

The Nazis are coming. Fights are taking place near Minsk, near Riga, near Lvov, near Lutsk. And there, in the rear of the Nazis, the Brest Fortress is fighting, not giving up.

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

There is water all around - the Bug River, the Mukhovets River, branches, channels. There is water all around, but there is no water in the fortress. Water is under fire. A sip of water here is more valuable than life.

Water! - rushes over the fortress.

A daredevil was found and rushed to the river. He rushed and immediately collapsed. The soldier's enemies defeated him. Time passed, another brave one rushed forward. And he died. The third replaced the second. The third one also died.

A machine gunner was lying not far from this place. He was scribbling and scribbling the machine gun, and suddenly the line stopped. The machine gun overheated in battle. And the machine gun needs water.

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

Eh, it was not.

He crawled towards the water. He crawled on his bellies, pressing himself to the ground like a snake. He is getting closer and closer to the water. It's right next to the shore. The machine gunner grabbed his helmet. He scooped up water like a bucket. Again it crawls back like a snake. Getting closer to our people, closer. It's very close. His friends picked him up.

I brought some water! Hero!

The soldiers look at their helmets and at the water. His eyes are blurred from thirst. They don’t know that the machine gunner brought water for the machine gun. They are waiting, and suddenly a soldier will treat them now - at least a sip.

The machine gunner looked at the soldiers, at the dry lips, at the heat in his eyes.

“Come over,” said the machine gunner.

The soldiers stepped forward, but suddenly...

Brothers, it wouldn’t be for us, but for the wounded,” someone’s voice rang out.

The fighters stopped.

Of course, wounded!

That's right, take it to the basement!

The soldiers sent the fighter to the basement. He brought water to the basement where the wounded lay.

Brothers, he said, water...

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

The soldier reached out to the water. I already took the mug, but suddenly:

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

The soldier brought water to the children. But it must be said that in the Brest Fortress, along with adult fighters, there were also women and children - the wives and children of military personnel.

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

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

The guys look - there is water in the helmet.

The children rushed to the water, to the soldier.

The fighter took the mug and carefully poured it to the bottom. He's looking to see who he can give it to. He sees a baby about the size of a pea nearby.

Here,” he handed it to the baby.

The kid looked at the fighter and at the water.

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

Yes, drink, drink,” the fighter smiled.

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

And others refused to follow him.

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

The machine gunner looked at the water, then at the soldiers, at the fighters, at his friends. He took the helmet and poured water into the metal casing. It came to life, started working, and built a machine gun.

The machine gunner covered the fighters with fire. There were brave souls again. They crawled towards the Bug, towards death. The heroes returned with water. They gave water to the children and the wounded.

The defenders of the Brest Fortress fought bravely. But there were fewer and fewer of them. They were bombed from the sky. The cannons were fired directly. From flamethrowers.

The fascists are waiting, and people will ask for mercy. The white flag is about to appear.

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

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

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

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

Dubosekov's feat

In mid-November 1941, the Nazis resumed their attack on Moscow. One of the main enemy tank attacks hit General Panfilov's division.

Dubosekovo crossing. 118th kilometer from Moscow. Field. Hills. Coppices. Lama meanders a little further away. Here, on a hill, in an open field, heroes from General Panfilov’s division blocked the Nazis’ path.

There were 28 of them. The fighters were led by political instructor Klochkov.

The soldiers dug into the ground. They clung to the edges of the trenches.

The tanks rushed forward, their engines humming. The soldiers counted:

Twenty pieces.

Klochkov grinned:

Twenty tanks. So this turns out to be less than one per person.

Less,” said Private Yemtsov.

Of course, less,” Petrenko said.

Field. Hills. Coppices. Lama meanders a little further away.

The heroes entered the battle.

Hooray! - echoed over the trenches.

It was the soldiers who first knocked out the tank.

“Hurray!” thunders again. It was the second one who stumbled, snorted with his engine, clanged his armor and froze. And again “hurray!” And again. Fourteen out of twenty tanks were knocked out by the heroes. The six survivors retreated and crawled away.

Apparently the robber choked,” said Sergeant Petrenko.

Eka, my tail between my legs.

The soldiers took a breath. They see that there is an avalanche again. They counted - thirty fascist tanks.

Political instructor Klochkov looked at the soldiers. Everyone froze. They became quiet. All you can hear is the clang of iron. All the tanks are getting closer, closer.

“Friends,” said Klochkov, “Russia is great, but there is nowhere to retreat.” Moscow is behind.

The soldiers entered the battle. There are fewer and fewer living heroes. Yemtsov and Petrenko fell. Bondarenko died. Trofimov died, Narsunbai Yesebulatov was killed. Shopokov. There are fewer and fewer soldiers and grenades.

Klochkov himself was wounded. He rose towards the tank. Threw a grenade. A fascist tank was blown up. The joy of victory lit up Klochkov’s face. And at that very second the hero was struck down by a bullet. Political instructor Klochkov fell.

Panfilov's heroes fought steadfastly. They proved that courage has no limits. They did not let the Nazis through.

Dubosekovo crossing. Field. Hills. Coppices. Somewhere nearby a Lama is meandering. The Dubosekovo crossing is a dear, holy place for every Russian heart.

House

Soviet troops were rapidly moving forward. The tank brigade of Major General Katukov operated in one of the sectors of the front. The tankers were catching up with the enemy.
And suddenly a stop. A blown-up bridge ahead of the tanks. This happened on the way to Volokolamsk in the village of Novopetrovskoye. The tankers turned down their engines. Before our eyes, the fascists are leaving them. Someone fired a cannon at the fascist column, only firing the shells into the wind.

Aufwiederseen! Farewell! - the fascists shout.
“Ford,” someone suggested, “ford, Comrade General, across the river.”
General Katukov looked - the Maglusha River meanders. The banks near Maglushi are steep. Tanks cannot climb the steep slopes.
The general thought.
Suddenly a woman appeared near the tanks. There's a boy with her.
“It’s better there, near our house, comrade commander,” she turned to Katukov. - There is a river there already. Lift up position.

The tanks moved forward behind the woman. Here is a house in a ravine. Rise from the river. The place here is really better. And yet... The tankers are watching. General Katukov is looking. Without a bridge, tanks cannot get through here.
“We need a bridge,” say the tankers. - We need logs.
“There are logs,” the woman answered.
The tankers looked around: where were the logs?
“Yes, here they are,” says the woman and points to her house.
- So it’s home! - the tankers burst out.
The woman looked at the house, at the soldiers.
- Yes, the house is made of small pieces of wood. Either the people are losing... Should we be sad about the house now,” said the woman. - Really, Petya? - turned to the boy. Then again to the soldiers: - Take it apart, my dears.
The tankers do not dare touch the house. There is a cold in the yard. Winter is gaining strength. How can you be without a home at a time like this?
The woman understood:
- Yes, we’re in the dugout somehow. - And again to the boy: - Really, Petya?
“True, mama,” Petya answered.
And yet the tankers are standing there, crumpled.
Then the woman took an ax and walked to the edge of the house. She was the first to hit the crown.
“Well, thank you,” said General Katukov.
The tankers dismantled the house. We made a crossing. They rushed after the fascists. Tanks are passing along a new bridge. A boy and a woman are waving their hands at them.

What is your name? - the tankers shout. - Who should we remember with a kind word?
“Petenka and I are Kuznetsovs,” the woman answers, blushing.
- And by name, first name and patronymic?
- Alexandra Grigorievna, Pyotr Ivanovich.
- Low bow to you, Alexandra Grigorievna. Become a hero, Pyotr Ivanovich.
The tanks then caught up with the enemy column. They crushed the fascists. Then we went west.

The war has died down. Danced with death and misfortune. Her flashes subsided. But the memory of human exploits did not erase. The feat at the Maglushi River has not been forgotten either. Go to the village of Novopetrovskoye. In the same ravine, in the same place, a new house flaunts. The inscription on the house: “To Alexandra Grigorievna and Pyotr Ivanovich Kuznetsov for the feat accomplished during the Great Patriotic War.”
The Maglusha River meanders. There is a house above Maglusha. With a veranda, with a porch, in carved patterns. The windows look out onto the good world.

Novo-Petrovskoye, the place of the Kuznetsov family’s feat. On December 17, 1941, they gave their house to the tankmen of the 1st Guards Tank Brigade for the construction of a bridge across the Maglusha River. Eleven-year-old Petya Kuznetsov led tanks through a minefield, receiving a severe concussion in the process. There is a memorial plaque on the Kuznetsovs' house.

Dovator

Cossacks also took part in the battles near Moscow, along with other troops: Don, Kuban, Terek...

Dovator is dashing and sparkling in battle. He sits well in the saddle. Cup cap on the head.

General Dovator commands the Cossack cavalry corps. The villagers look at the general:

Our blood is Cossack!

General Lev Mikhailovich Dovator

The fighters argue where he comes from:

From Kuban!

He is Tersky, Tersky.

Ural Cossack, from the Urals.

Trans-Baikal, Daurian, consider it a Cossack.

The Cossacks did not agree on a single opinion. Contacted Dovator:

Comrade corps commander, tell me, what village are you from?

Dovator smiled:

Comrades, you are looking in the wrong place. In the Belarusian forests there is a village.

And rightly so. Not a Cossack Dovator at all. He is Belarusian. In the village of Khotin, in the north of Belarus, not far from the city of Polotsk, this is where the corps commander Dovator was born.

Back in August - September, Dovator's equestrian group walked along the fascist rear. Destroyed warehouses, headquarters, and convoys. The Nazis suffered greatly back then. Rumors spread among the fascist soldiers - 100 thousand Soviet cavalry broke through to the rear. But in fact, there were only 3,000 people in Dovator’s cavalry group.

When Soviet troops near Moscow went on the offensive, Dovator’s Cossacks again broke through into the fascist rear.

The Nazis are afraid of Soviet horsemen. Behind every bush they see a Cossack...

The fascist generals set a reward for the capture of Dovator - 10 thousand German marks.

Like a thunderstorm, like spring thunder, Dovator moves through the fascist rear.

Gives fascists shivers. They will wake up hearing the whistle of the wind.

Dovator! - they shout. - Dovator!

They will hear the sound of hooves.

Dovator! Dovator!

The Nazis are raising the price. They assign 50 thousand marks for the Dovator. Like a dream, a myth for Dovator’s enemies.

Dovator rides on horseback. The legend follows him.

Fortress

The Nazis cannot take Stalingrad. They began to claim that Stalingrad was an impregnable fortress: they say that impassable ditches surround the city, they say that ramparts and embankments have risen around Stalingrad. Every step you take there are powerful defensive structures and fortifications, various engineering tricks and traps.

The fascists do not call city blocks neighborhoods, they write fortified areas. They don't call houses houses, they call them forts and bastions.

Stalingrad is a fortress, the fascists say.

German soldiers and officers write about this in letters to their homes. They read letters in Germany.

Stalingrad is a fortress, a fortress, they trumpet in Germany.

The generals are writing reports. Every line says the same thing:

“Stalingrad is a fortress. An impregnable fortress. Solid fortified areas. Invincible bastions."

Fascist newspapers publish articles. And these articles are all about the same thing:

"Our soldiers are storming the fortress."

"Stalingrad is the strongest fortress in Russia."

“Fortress, fortress!” - the newspapers shout. Even front-line leaflets write about this.

But Stalingrad was never a fortress. There are no special fortifications in it. The city is like a city. Houses, factories.

One of the fascist leaflets reached Soviet soldiers. The soldiers laughed: “Yeah, the fascists don’t write this because they have an easy life.” Then they carried and showed the leaflet to the member of the Military Council of the 62nd Army, Divisional Commissar Kuzma Akimovich Gurov; they say, look, Comrade Commissar, what fables the fascists write.

The commissioner read the leaflet.

“Everything here is correct,” he told the soldiers. - The fascists write the truth. And what about the fortress, of course?

The soldiers were confused. Maybe that's true. The boss always knows best.

“Fortress,” Gurov repeated. - Of course, a fortress.

The soldiers looked at each other. You won't argue with your boss!

Gurov smiled.

Your hearts and your courage - here it is, an impregnable fortress, here they are, insurmountable boundaries and fortified areas, walls and bastions.

Now the soldiers smiled too. The commissioner said clearly. It's nice to hear this.

Kuzma Akimovich Gurov is right. About the courage of Soviet soldiers - these are the walls on which the Nazis broke their necks in Stalingrad.

Twelve poplars

There were stubborn battles in Kuban. Once the commander of one of the regiments visited the rifle department. Twelve fighters in the squad. The soldiers stood frozen in line. They stand in a row, one to one.

Presented to the commander:

Private Grigoryan.

Private Grigoryan.

Private Grigoryan.

Private Grigoryan.

What is this, the regiment commander is amazed. The soldiers continue their report:

Private Grigoryan.

Private Grigoryan.

Private Grigoryan.

The regiment commander doesn’t know what to do - are the soldiers joking with him?

Leave,” said the regiment commander.

The seven fighters introduced themselves. Five stand nameless. The company commander leaned towards the regiment commander, pointed to the others, and said quietly:

All Grigoryans too.

The regiment commander now looked in surprise at the company commander - was the company commander joking?

All Grigoryans. All twelve,” said the company commander.

Indeed, all twelve people in the department were Grigoryans.

Namesakes?

The twelve Grigoryans, from the elder Barsegh Grigoryan to the youngest Agasi Grigoryan, were relatives, members of the same family. They went to the front together. Together they fought, together they defended their native Caucasus.

One of the battles for the Grigoryan squad was especially difficult. The soldiers held an important line. And suddenly an attack by fascist tanks. People got along with metal. Tanks and Grigoryans.

The tanks climbed, climbed, and howled to tear apart the area. They threw fire without counting. The Grigoryans survived the battle. We held the line until ours arrived.

Victory comes at a heavy price. There is no war without death. There is no fight without death. Six Grigoryans dropped out of the department in that terrible battle with the Nazis.

It was twelve, six remained. The brave warriors continued to fight. They drove the fascists out of the Caucasus and Kuban. Then the fields of Ukraine were liberated. Soldier's honor and family honor were brought to Berlin.

There is no war without death. There is no fight without death. Three died in battle. The lives of two were shortened by bullets. Only the youngest Agasi Grigoryan returned unharmed from the battlefields.

In memory of the brave family, the heroic warriors, twelve poplars were planted in their hometown of Leninakan.

The poplars have now grown. From meter-long seedlings they became giants. They stand in a row, one to one, like soldiers in formation - an entire squad.

Soldier Zhelobkovich walked with everyone. A soldier is walking along the Belarusian land, along the land of his father. Closer and closer to home. His village is Khatyn.

A soldier walks towards his company combat friends:

Don't know Khatyn? Khatyn, brother, forest miracle!

And the soldier begins the story. The village stands in a clearing, on a hill. The forest parted here and gave free rein to the sun. Like, thirty houses in Khatyn. The houses scattered across the clearing. The wells slid into the ground. The road plunged into spruce trees. And where the road pressed against the forest, where the spruce trees leaned their trunks into the sky, on the very hill, on the highest edge of Khatyn, he lives - Ivan Zhelobkovich.

And Zhelobkovich lives opposite. And Zhelobkovich lives on the left. And Zhelobkovich lives on the right. There are, as they say, a dime a dozen of them, the Zhelobkovichs, in this Khatyn.

The warrior was walking towards his Khatyn.

I remembered the house. Those who remained in the house. He left his wife. An old mother, a three-year-old daughter, Mariska. A soldier is walking, carrying a gift for Marishka - a ribbon in her pigtail, a ribbon red as fire.

The troops are moving quickly. Soon the warrior will see his old mother. The mother will hug the old woman. The soldier will say:

Soon the soldier will see his wife. The soldier kisses his wife. The soldier will say:

He will take Marishka in his arms. The soldier will give Marishka a lift. He will also tell her:

The soldier will take out a gift:

Here you go, Marishka!

The warrior was walking towards his Khatyn. I thought about friends and neighbors. Soon he will see all the Zhelobkovichs. He will see the Yatskevichs, Rudakovs, Mironovichs. The soldier of Khatyn will smile. The soldier will say:

They went to Khatyn. Very close, a kilometer from these places.

Soldier to commander. Like, there’s a village nearby. Here, they say, is a ravine, behind the ravine there is a forest. We passed through a small forest, and here was Khatyn. The company commander listened.

Well, - he said, - go.

A soldier is walking towards Khatyn. Here is the ravine. Here is the little forest. The huts are about to appear. Now he will see his mother. Now he will hug his wife. Marishka will be given a gift. He will throw Marishka to the sun.

He passed through a small forest. I went out to the clearing. He came out and froze. He looks, doesn’t believe - Khatyn is no longer in its place. Burnt pipes alone stick out from the ashes.

The soldier stopped and shouted:

Where are people?! Where are people?!

People died in Khatyn. Adults, children, old women - everyone. The fascists came here:

Partisans! Bandits! Forest robbers!

The Nazis herded the residents into the barn. They burned all the people in the barn.

The soldier ran up to his father's house. Collapsed into ashes. The soldier began to sob and groan. He flew off and the gift fell out of his hands. The ribbon fluttered and began to beat in the wind. Soared with red flame above the ground.

Khatyn is not alone. There were many such Khatyns on Belarusian soil.

Sea on the right, mountains on the left

Far Soviet North. Kola Peninsula. Barencevo sea. Arctic Circle.

And here, beyond the Arctic Circle, there are battles. The Karelian Front is fighting.

Here you turn to face the front - mountains on the left, sea on the right. There, further behind the front line, lies the state of Norway. The Nazis captured the country of Norway.

In 1941, the Nazis broke into the Soviet Arctic. They tried to capture the city of Murmansk - our northernmost seaport.

Our troops did not allow the Nazis to reach Murmansk. Murmansk is not only the northernmost port, it is an ice-free port in the north. All year round, both in summer and winter, ships can come here. Important military cargo came to us by sea through Murmansk. That is why Murmansk is so important for the Nazis. The Nazis tried, but did not break through. Our heroes held Murmansk. And now the time has come to defeat the fascists here too.

The places for battle here are extremely difficult. Mountains. Cliffs. Rocks. Chilling winds. The sea is always knocking on the shore. There are many places here where only a deer will pass.

It was autumn. It was October. The long polar night is about to begin.

In preparation for the defeat of enemies in the north, the commander of the Karelian Front, Army General Kirill Afanasyevich Meretskov, turned to the Headquarters of the Supreme High Command in Moscow with a request to allocate KV tanks for the front. Their armor is thick, durable, and their weapons are powerful. KB are good tanks. However, by this time they were outdated.

General Meretskov asks at KB Headquarters, and they tell him:

Why KV. We will provide you with more advanced tanks.

No, please KB,” says Meretskov.

We were surprised at Headquarters:

Why is KB in the North? In many places only deer will pass by.

Wherever a deer passes, Soviet tanks will pass,” Meretskov replies. - KV, please.

Well, look - you are the commander! - they said at Headquarters.

The front received these tanks.

The Nazis did not import tanks or heavy weapons to the Far North.

“Mountains, cliffs, rocks. Where can we bother with heavy tanks,” they reasoned.

And suddenly Soviet tanks appeared, and also KVs.

Tanks?! - the fascists are perplexed. - KB? What's happened! How? Why? Where?! Only a deer will pass through here!

Soviet tanks attacked the Nazis.

On October 7, 1941, the offensive of Soviet troops in the Far North began. Our troops quickly broke through the fascist defenses. We broke through and went forward.

Of course, not only tanks played a major role here. The attack came from land. The attack came from the sea. On the left is the infantry, on the right is the Northern Fleet. Soviet pilots attacked from the air. IN general series Sailors, infantrymen, tank crews, and aviators fought here. The overall result was victory.

The battles for the liberation of the Soviet Arctic ended the year 1944 - a combative and decisive year. 1945 was approaching - a victorious year.

The war is counting the last meters

The storming of the Reichstag began. Together with everyone else in the attack, Gerasim Lykov.

The soldier never dreamed of such a thing. He's in Berlin. He's at the Reichstag. The soldier looks at the building. Columns, columns, columns. A glass dome tops the top.

The soldiers fought their way here. In the last attacks, in the last battles, soldiers. The war is counting the last meters.

Gerasim Lykov was born in a shirt. He has been fighting since 1941. He knew the retreats, he knew the surroundings, he has been moving forward for two years. The fate of the soldier was guarded.

“I’m lucky,” the soldier joked. - There is no bullet cast for me in this war. The projectile is not machined for me.

And it’s true that the soldiers’ fate was not touched by their fate.

His wife and parents are waiting for a soldier in a distant Russian land. The soldier's children are waiting.

They are waiting for the winner. Are waiting!

In an attack, in a dashing fit of a soldier. The war is counting the last meters. The soldier does not hide his joy. The soldier looks at the Reichstag, at the building. Columns, columns, columns. A glass dome tops the top.

The last sound of the war.

Forward! Hooray! - the commander shouts.

Hurray! - repeats Lykov.

And suddenly a shell hit next to the soldier. He raised the earth with the ninth shaft. She shot down a soldier. The soldier is covered with earth.

Anyone who saw it just gasped:

That's how the bullet wasn't cast for him.

This is how the projectile is not machined.

Everyone in Lykov's company knows him - an excellent comrade, an exemplary soldier.

He should live and live. I would like to return to my wife and parents. It's a joy to kiss children.

And suddenly the shell hit again. Near the first place. A little out of the way. This one also jerked with enormous force. He raised the earth with the ninth shaft.

The soldiers look and don’t believe their eyes.

The soldier turned out to be alive. He fell asleep - his shell fell asleep. That's how fate happens. To know, the bullet really wasn’t cast for him. The shell for it is not machined.

Victory Banner

- Sergeant Egorov!

I am Sergeant Egorov.

Junior Sergeant Kantaria.

I, junior sergeant Kantaria.

The commander called the soldiers to him. Soviet soldiers entrusted with an honorable task. They were presented with a battle flag. This banner had to be installed on the Reichstag building.

The fighters left. Many looked after them with envy. Everyone now wanted to be in their place.

There is a battle going on at the Reichstag.

Bent down, Egorov and Kantaria run across the square. Soviet soldiers are closely watching their every move. Suddenly the Nazis opened furious fire, and the standard bearers had to lie down for cover. Then our fighters begin the attack again. Egorov and Kantaria run further.

Now they are already on the stairs. We ran up to the columns supporting the entrance to the building. Kantaria sits Egorov down, and he tries to attach the banner at the entrance to the Reichstag.

“Oh, it would be higher!” - breaks out from the fighters. And, as if hearing their comrades, Egorov and Kantaria take down the banner and run on. They burst into the Reichstag and disappear behind its doors.

The battle is already going on on the second floor. Several minutes pass, and the Red Banner appears again in one of the windows, not far from the main entrance. Appeared. It swayed. And it disappeared again.

The soldiers became worried. What about your comrades? Aren't they killed?!

A minute passes, two, ten. Anxiety grips the soldiers more and more. Another thirty minutes pass.

And suddenly a cry of joy breaks out from hundreds of fighters. Friends are alive. The banner is intact. Crouching, they run at the very top of the building - along the roof. Here they are straightened up to their full height, holding the banner in their hands and waving greetings to their comrades. Then they suddenly rush to the glass dome, which rises above the roof of the Reichstag, and carefully begin to climb even higher.

There were still battles in the square and in the building, and on the roof of the Reichstag, at the very top, in the spring sky above defeated Berlin, the Victory Banner was already confidently fluttering. Two Soviet soldiers, the Russian worker Mikhail Egorov and the Georgian youth Militon Kantaria, and along with them thousands of other fighters of different nationalities brought it here through the war, to the very fascist lair, and installed it to the fear of their enemies, as a symbol of the invincibility of Soviet weapons.

Several days passed, and the fascist generals admitted that they were finally defeated. Hitler's Germany was completely defeated. The great liberation war of the Soviet people against fascism ended in our complete victory.

It was May 1945. Spring thundered. The people and the land rejoiced. Moscow saluted the heroes. And joy flew into the sky like lights.