The feat of Alexei Maresyev is widely known, thanks to the remarkable book by B. Polevoy and the excellent movie. True, the book is now excluded from the school curriculum, and the film is shown very rarely, for major anniversaries. Young people already know almost nothing about him ...
There was another combat pilot, the “Stalinist Falcon”: Zakhar Artyomovich Sorokin. In 1941, he fought in a fighter aviation Northern fleet. Managed to shoot down 4 German aircraft. October 25, 1941 during the battle Sorokin made an air ram and his plane crashed into the tundra. The pilot, 6 days (!!!), reached his own, crawled along the tundra for about 70 km, freezing his legs. Both feet were amputated, but he found the strength to return to duty, in his regiment. Continued to fly and beat the enemy. In total, he shot down 7 aircraft, for courage he was awarded the Order of the British Empire and became a Hero of the Soviet Union in August 1944.
These are the three fates ... What made these young, wounded guys rush to the front to their comrades. To strive to become a combat force again? Money, benefits, apartments, thirst for glory ?! Of course not. They understood that they were waiting for them at the front, and with ANY enemy there they would again have to fight. But still, at any cost, they sought to get to the front, to their own regiment, to their own.
Only the strength of the spirit, love for the Motherland, pride in her and hatred for the enemy could motivate people to do so ...
Ordinary people of flesh and blood, who love life and know what war is, pain, death.
Were all then such patriots ready to give everything for their country ?! Of course not. Many of our cultural and art workers, having got into evacuation in 1941, to Central Asia, quietly spent all the war years there, not at all striving to go to the front. They deserve their medals "For the Defense of Tashkent" in full. They are hard to condemn for it (each had some excuses for four years of stagnation in the rear), but how can you compare their young, healthy men with legless, burned Leonid Belousov, who left the quiet Almaty hospital to the front, to his own regiment Leningrad ?! Previously, those who sat behind the lines were ashamed of it and avoided talking about it. Now a lot has changed ...
(Not so long ago, a well-known film director with laughter (!!!) told a television interviewer why he was not called to the front during the Great Patriotic War: “It somehow happened that when I came from the recruiting office to take me into the army, I turned out to be far from Moscow, on the set. So I was not able to serve in the army. "
These amazing events, I repeat, occurred in the years of the terrible war, when millions of his peers rushed to the front. The future wizard of the screen, this thrust was unknown. What role, in these miraculous disappearances from being drafted into the army, was played by the mother of this “sovereign thinker”, who served in the NKVD, he did not specify. The interviewer didn’t bother the funny master either with unpleasant questions and comparisons).
Well, enough to remember about the "selfish". Let's talk more about Heroes.
The benefit of them in our country was a huge number.
Wonderful memory of the war was left by one of the best fighter pilots of the Baltic Fleet, Hero of the Soviet Union, Lieutenant General Aviation Vasily Golubev. He called his book "In the name of Leningrad."
During the war, Golubev went from a pilot to the commander of the 4 Guards Fighter Aviation Regiment. He was repeatedly shot down in aerial combat, wounded, drowned in Lake Ladoga in the fall of 1941 of the year ...
Golubev shot down 39 enemy aircraft personally and 12 in group battles. In his memoirs there are many striking stories about fighting friends, their courage, valor, sufferings and exploits.
One of his military friends was George D. Kostylyov, a man of amazing fate. Here is what VFGolubev told about him (I will give his story with small abbreviations and comments):
“The commander of the Baltic Fleet aviation commanded me on the regiment's command post. After the usual questions, the general said:
- You are the first to be entrusted to develop the La-5 aircraft, fight on it properly. - Then, after a pause, he added: - You know Captain Kostylev, the third Guards pilot?
“I know perfectly well, we fought together many times, and together we received Golden Stars,” I replied.
- So, he is not a captain now. This ace, who shot down more than thirty aircraft, at the end of February got drunk and beat a senior officer. For this, we have degraded him. He is now an ordinary sailor. They sent him to the Oranienbaum bridgehead in the penal battalion. He smelled gunpowder there in the trenches on the front line. Fought on earth, as in the sky, great. And now he asks to be a pilot on any aircraft, even on the U-2.
- I see.
- The commander and deputy political director of the third GIAP was categorically refused from him. They say: let him still fight on the ground. And the pilot is first class, right? Maybe you will take it? It is a pity if there, in the trenches, such a pilot will die. Here he stands before me and swears that he will not take a drop of vodka in his mouth.
I answered without hesitation:
- Comrade general! Ready to take him into our battle family. Just ask you to send it for a week to the rear airfield. Our squadron is being retrained there. Let it fly to La 5 ...
Egor, as his close friends called him, really possessed exceptional flying abilities. The next day, he began to fly on the "shop". Having completed a dozen and a half error-free flights in five days, he asked the commander of the 2 squadron to send him with a passing plane to Kronstadt.
In the evening of April 18, a tall blond man entered the regiment's command post. He was dressed in a worn leather raglan and the tightly fitting cap on his head that was stuck on his head. Long black ribbons with gold anchors at the ends hung on the chest at the right shoulder.
- Comrade commander! The Red Navy pilot Kostylev arrived at your disposal for service.
I was glad to meet with a battle friend whom I had not seen for exactly three months.
- Hello, Egor!
We stepped forward to meet each other and hugged tightly. Tears glittered in his always cheerful eyes. And, in order to hide them, he went to the hanger, which was standing in the corner, and began, without haste, to remove the raglan, putting his cap on the bedside table carefully.
“I thought, and you, Vasily, refuse me,” said Yegor. He came up and hugged me again.
Those present at the KP observed our meeting sympathetically. ”
(Now there are different idiotic fictions about our penal battalions "in vogue" and "in fashion". That criminals, right from the camps, will be pushed into them by idle filmmakers and screenwriters, then the priests will be determined, they will be equipped with ordinary soldiers. Once "Figures to see the documents in order to find out that the penal battalions were formed on the basis of Stalin's famous order No. 227 from 28 in July 1942 of the OFFICERS, who vexed in battle or committed other crimes. No felons, priests," lesson "from camps and fugitive filmmakers, (Yes back in the 1941 year) there could not be there by definition.
For rank-and-file soldiers and sergeants, who vexed or committed other crimes in a combat situation, separate penal companies were formed by the same order. In the penal battalions of the rank and file and sergeants were not sent. It seems to be - it's simple, the difference was understood even by illiterate fighters, but for some reason this does not reach our highly educated filmmakers).
Here is what his friend told about his stay at the Golubev penal battalion:
“The orders in the battalion are harsh. The tasks are difficult. Most often - this is intelligence, searches with the transition of the front line, taking "languages".
The junior lieutenant, a platoon commander who included Kostylev, a short, broad-shouldered sailor, asked briefly:
- For cowardice, or something, got here, flyer?
“No, I beat the senior officer,” Kostylev replied. - For the cause.
“It’s all right ... I don’t like cowards and send them to the thick of it without regret.” The guard said you were a Hero of the Soviet Union. It's true?
“But don't tell others about it,” Yegor asked the squad platoon.
- Okay, shut up. I assign you to the department, where the guys are seasoned, brave. Drag another two or three “tongues” and write a petition to fully include the period of your stay in the penalty box. Learn how to machine gun, learn how to crawl, throw grenades from a recumbent position, take two knives at the exit to the rear of the enemy, so that with any hand you can snatch from the sheath. This is necessary when you mate with a strong fascist ... Yes, do not go full-length on missions, pilot ... They will cut them off with a burst from a machine gun or a machine gun.
With such a kind farewell, Yegor began a new combat life - on the ground, in the marines. And although he soon became a skillful, brave scout, the same platoon commander, seeing Kostylev grieving for the sky, said: “At least ask the Red Navy to be in the air force. You are from that breed who is written to fly. And the service here is well ... will be counted. ”
So the former Hero returned to aviation, began to fly on combat missions in the rank of an ordinary sailor.
He broke, by the way, the rear major in besieged Leningrad - really "for the cause."
He met in the city of this major. He invited him to visit one of the apartments: “A pretty woman of about thirty - thirty-five, who apparently lived in a bloody Leningrad, met them. Getting acquainted, she called herself Jeanette and said that she was a former researcher, and now she is unemployed. The “unemployed” apartment of the three rooms was furnished with exquisite furniture, in the corner there was a mirror sideboard, huge to the ceiling, mirror and full-wall mirror filled to the brim with crystal - vases, glasses, glasses, decanters. The tiled stove, heated by good wood (a considerable supply of such firewood, neatly folded, lay along one wall), spread the caressing heat. All this struck Yegor, and he regretted that he had fallen into this corner of a stranger to Leningraders. Kostylev took out his modest daily ration from his small suitcase and put it on the table. Vadim Efimovich, Major, laughed out loud, said:
- Is it a hero ration? ..
He took three chocolate bars, sausage, cheese, butter, a few herrings and two half-liter bottles of medical - “clean” out of the gas bag.
- What hospital was robbed, comrade major? - without irony said Yegor.
Vadim Efimovich was silent, Jeanette responded defiantly for him:
- Vadim is not a robber, he is given everything he needs, but I don’t live for three hundred grams of a grain jumble.
“But my mother and sister in Oranienbaum live on this hodgepodge.” True, they don’t need a lot of strength, they don’t drag mirrors into the apartment, cabinets and crystal, ”remarked the Baltic hero.
Kostylev had a desire: to give the beefy lady to read the letter he received at the end of December 1941 from his mother, whom he kept and carried with him along with his party card. It is difficult to say - and Kostylev himself could not really explain - what impact the letter could have on a woman like this Jeanette. She could hardly have a conscience awakened. This Yegor could not understand. Still, he took a letter from his pocket and began to read aloud.
Mother George, like the absolute majority of Leningrad, experiencing unprecedented hardships, lived in hope for the future and wrote to her pilot son:
“My dear Egorushka! That's how we all live in the office of Peter III and have become accustomed to these royal choirs. The palace, like a wounded warrior, stands without leaving the front line, and we feel good in it. Stone though. We live well. Godfather lies, I'm still moving. Murku our we ate. Now we no longer hear how plaintively she mews, asking for food ... Yes, and the godfather was supported. The day will come - and the blockade will be broken. We believe in it. Fight, Egorushka. Bay these damned heroes. Do not worry about us, we will endure and not like that. Kiss. Mother, godfather, Zoe.
When Kostylev finished reading the letter, there was silence. He glanced at Jeannette and noticed that she was blushing - stained. The pilot thought it was a paint of shame. And cruelly wrong.
“You are not only a hero, but you are also an impudent one,” Jeannette said angrily and went into another room. ”
In general, Kostylev decided “to arrange a funny dinner for the dregs”. Yegor can be understood: the warrior who fought near Leningrad and constantly saw the sufferings of the population of the city was disgusting satisfaction and luxury, acquired, obviously, by dishonest means ...
And so that this did not happen, wincing, got up from the table, saying “thank you”.
- Wait leave, hero! Sit down If a senior officer pours ... - a purple man, in a rude tone, like an order, the major has filtered through his teeth.
It was still not too late to leave, without a word, to forget this apartment and these strange people crammed with expensive things. But Kostylev could not restrain himself:
“Such a senior should not be here, but in the penal battalion,” Egor calmly replied.
The major jumped up, came close, grabbed his breasts so that the Order of the Red Banner flew off the suspension.
- What do you say? For such words you will not fly out the door, but out the window, brave man.
He strongly pushed Yegor with both hands, he did not expect a jolt, plopped down on the edge of the sofa behind him. This was the drop that filled the cup.
Yegor had enough exposure just to raise the order, put it in his pocket, and then a Viennese chair fell into his hands, and he struck the elder by rank. He, without rising, began to get a pistol from his holster. It was impossible to wait for the shot, and Egor once again, however, not with full force, put a chair from which two legs flew off in different directions. With a cry, Jeanette, instantly sobering, darted into the second room and locked herself with a key.
The anger of the Baltic has reached a dangerous limit. In order not to pour it out on the Major who was lying down, he slashed his chair in a tall mirror, then in a sideboard. The ringing of the falling glass and the broken crystal scattering in different directions made Egor come to his senses. Throwing the remnants of the chair, he helped the victim up, put him on the sofa. On the head of the major a small wound was bleeding, a huge bruise on the left cheekbone was swollen. Wetting a handkerchief with alcohol, Kostylev applied it to his head, took the raglan and the helmet in his hands and, without saying goodbye, closed the door behind him ... In the morning he flew to his Ladoga airfield and by phone reported in detail to the aviation department’s political department about the emergency.
Three days later he was ordered to transfer the squadron to the deputy and appear at the naval aviation headquarters.
In the headquarters he read the material of the investigation.
“... 27 February February 1943, the captain GD Kostylev, late in the evening, intoxicated, burst into the apartment of citizen J.N. Krohal. On the request of Major V.Ye. Kravchuk, who was present in the apartment, to leave the apartment, he struck him several times with a chair. As a result, the senior officer suffered severe head and spinal injury. Continuing in a rampage, Kostylev smashed expensive items in the apartment: a large dressing table, a sideboard with crystal, precious vases, a mirrored wardrobe and many other furniture. ”
Other documents were read to him: the testimony of the victim and the witness, an act of inspecting the apartment by the duty attire of the military commandant of the city. Outfit caused, of course, a major. Everything was against Kostylev, and he himself was aware of his guilt. Moreover, it was absolutely impossible to prove the true course of events or, all the more, to explain the feelings that prompted him to commit an offense on Suvorovsky Avenue.
After five days at the garrison guardhouse, he took off his shoulder straps, folded the Gold Star, four combat orders into a handkerchief (mother’s gift), gave them to the guard chief, changed into a worn red navy uniform, took a duffle bag and escorted to his homeland - Oranienbaum bridgehead-penny, in the company of the Marine Corps of the penal battalion for a period of six months, or until injured, or until ... "
I apologize for such long quotes from the memoirs of V.F. Golubeva. But in this stories there is such a shrill truth of life and the tragedy of man that to retell it in your own words is impossible.
Kostylyov, returning from the penal battalion to aviation, fought well, showing the young pilots examples of skill and courage. He shot down a few more enemy fighters and, finally, the long-awaited day came:
“The building, which was attended only by pilots and officers of the regiment and squadrons, was held after dinner with electric lighting at the regiment command post. Guard Colonel Koreshkov, going to the middle of the system, gave the command:
- Pilot sailor Kostylev, come to me!
Kostylev, who was standing in the first row, started and, thinking that they were picking up a pilot to fly behind enemy lines to the partisans, went to the division commander with a clear step, reported:
- Sailor Kostylev is ready to carry out any combat mission.
- I never doubted that, Comrade Kostylev. Take off, combat eagle, cap and raglan! - said Koreshkov deliberately sternly.
Kostylev quickly removed the raglan and his cap, put it next to him on the ground, and took the position "quietly" in anticipation of orders.
At the command of the divisional commander, the adjutant, who was sitting in the passenger car, brought a new sea tunic and a cap. Captain shoulder straps, the Hero's Star, the Order of Lenin and four orders of the Red Banner gleamed on the tunic.
Yegor's eyes clouded with tears. Colonel Koreshkov, handing over his tunic and his cap to Kostylev, said to the whole system:
- Comrade Guards, in your family the sailor Kostylev again showed impeccable bravery, fighting skills and love for the motherland. He redeemed his guilt by mercilessly destroying the enemy. The command of the fleet removed from him a heavy punishment. Kostylev restored to the rank of captain. In your presence, I return to him the officer’s uniform and military awards and at the same time I appoint the fourth squadron of the first air regiment commander.
Kostylev hurriedly put on his tunic, his cap, fastened all the buttons with trembling hands, and sighed deeply, said:
- I serve the Soviet Union! Thank you, comrade colonel, for your trust! Allow me to stand in line ...
Friendly applause resounded in the evening silence. Koreshkov approached the happily excited captain, hugged him tight and then only said:
- Now be in operation, I wish you military success!
After the end of the official part of the construction, the system collapsed, but people did not disperse, everyone wanted to say spiritual words, to congratulate the faithful on the ground and in the air of a comrade with a happy turn in his fate. Having chosen the moment, I nodded to Egor in greeting and asked me to come to my room in about thirty minutes.
“I’ll come in, I’ll go in without fail, only I’ll tear down and close my cap in my suitcase - I will keep this relic for the rest of my life,” Egor happily answered ... "
This is the story ...
Georgy Dmitrievich Kostylyov continued to successfully fight, managed to shoot down 43 aircraft during the war years personally and 3 in a group battle. He became an inspector of the Air Force headquarters (!!!). It didn’t even prevent him from getting the “fine-battled” past.
That would be about what the former penalty box to shoot their "blockbusters" to our filmmakers !!!
Do not remove. Not interested. Neither the Oscars, the palm fronts, nor the bears will give them for such plots. And they know it very well. So they remove all rubbish, trying to pass it off as the "truth about the war."
And another document from the book VF. Golubeva bring here. A letter from the mother of the pilot who died in battle to his comrade in the regiment:
“Having unfolded the triangular envelope, with bated breath, I read a letter from Viktor Ostrovsky’s mother to my son’s comrades. It is stored now with me. Here it is:
“Hello, dear Kolya!
Kohl, received the sad news that my dear son Vitenka died. So heavy. There are no words for consolation, no measure to measure this grief. My sun has gone down, I no longer shine.
Kolya, dear pilot, glorious falcon, avenge your childhood friend, because you were chasing pigeons together, and you were exterminating the Germans. The combat engine's engine stopped beating, the heart stopped beating in my son's proud chest.
Kohl, dear! Write again in more detail how Vitenka died, I want to know everything about my falcon. Kohl, convey to Vitin comrades cordial greetings and wishes for a long life on the glory of your relatives, on fear of your enemies.
My dear falcons, avenge my beloved and only son. Dear, write. I am very sad, there is no one to write now and no one from whom to expect expensive lines. I will gladly replace the mother with those of the pilots who do not have her.
I embrace you and wish to be immortal, end the war and come to us with victory. I will meet you, my falcons, and accept as I received my son.
Good-bye, Kolenka, write, waiting for an answer.
Ostrovskaya M.A. ".
“Well, Nikolai, let's get all the Komsomol members of the regiment tomorrow night and read the maternal appeal.” After all, we have pilots who have the Nazis killed their relatives. Maybe one of them will become the foster son of Maria Alekseevna ...
- Thank you, comrade commander. I will now talk to Sasha Kovshov, his Germans shot his father and mother, he is going through, a kind guy ... I will also write to Maria Alekseevna, even if she feels me to be loved ones.
At the meeting, besides the youth, there were komes and regiment command. Instead of a report, Komsomol Lieutenant Khlystov read a letter from his mother, Maria Alekseevna.
In the crammed dugout — the flight canteen — there was silence, occasionally interrupted by someone's sympathetic sigh — the grief of the mother was shared by people who did not know it at all.
"... I will meet you, my falcons, and I will receive, as I received my son."
The first silence was broken by Lieutenant Arkady Selyutin, one of the best combat pilots who arrived in the regiment in 1943 year. For ten months he shot down seven enemy aircraft, two of them - after the death of Ostrovsky.
“Selyutin takes revenge on the fascist pirates without sparing their strength,” said the Komsomol, “so let’s inform my mother Victor ...”
After him, the pilots Stolyarsky, Polkanov and Alpatov performed. The Komsomol member Sasha Kovshov spoke very excitedly; he looked like a boy, with a blond whirlwind and blue eyes.
- Dear friends! You know my grief. Fascists right on the square in the middle of the village killed my father and mother just because I am a pilot. Parents accepted death proudly without dropping their heads. In each of my flights, I remember this, and let the Germans remember ... As long as I live, I will beat them, reptiles ... Well, I consulted with my orphaned heart, with battle friends and declare to the meeting: I will be happy to become the adoptive son of Maria Alekseevny . Of course, Victor is no substitute, but I will do everything to ease her fate.
The dugout shuddered at the applause. Friends approved the decision of the young guards.
The Komsomol reported that the bureau, together with Kovshov and Shestopalov, prepared a response letter from Ostrovskaya, and read it to the newly quieted meeting.
“Hello, dear Maria Alekseevna! The members of the Komsomol - the fellow soldiers of Viktor Ostrovsky send you a Baltic greeting and together with you share the grief that has befallen us all - the loss of a comrade.
Dear Maria Alekseevna, we, Komsomol Guardsmen, heard your letter in the name of Nikolay Shestopalov at the meeting.
Which of us did not bring German grief? Many more of our fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, and beloved girls groan in a fascist hell. With great hope, they are waiting for hours of liberation. And with our merciless strikes on the German fascist invaders, we are bringing this desired hour, our victory, closer.
Maria Alekseevna, you write that you are ready to be the mother of one of the pilots who does not have it. The pilot of the Komsomol Kovshov Alexander Fedorovich has no parents. Sasha expressed an ardent desire to become your son. With this letter we will send you his photograph.
Maria Alekseevna, we, Komsomol members, will respond to your call to avenge Viktor, with even more blows to the fascist beast. The first to open an account of revenge for a friend was pilot Nikolay Shestopalov. In aerial combat after the death of your Victor, he shot down an enemy aircraft "Junkers-88". Pilots-Komsomol members Selyutin, Stolyarsky, Polkanov and Alpatov, revenging for your son, shot down five German aircraft in air battles. Not knowing we are tired, we will multiply every day through our revenge to the enemy.
Komsomol guardsmen assure you, dear Maria Alekseevna, that in the decisive battles they will forever bury the fascist kites in the Baltic waters.
Goodbye, Maria Alekseevna. On behalf of all the guards in our unit, we wish you a long life and good health.
Komsomol pilots Selyutin, Stolyarsky, Kovshov, Shestopalov, Komsomol Khlystov.
You cannot comment on these letters. Words are powerless here ...
These documents, by the way, are a good test for the state of mind and conscience of a person. If you were able to read them and remain indifferent, if your heart did not tremble, and did not roll a lump to your throat, then everything is in order.
It means that you have already fully mastered the “new political thinking” and have known all the “universal human values”.