1. Cave life blockade.
Before the war, air defense exercises were often arranged. We have become accustomed to the fact that people carry bags with gas masks and were only afraid to get on stretchers during these exercises - as if they were injured or wounded - it was fraught with a waste of time until the end of the exercises.
22 June 1941 of the year began with sunny, warm weather. My father, elder brother and I went to the city for a regular excursion. Dad usually drove us around the city and showed us interesting places.
We listened to Molotov's message at the beginning of Bolshoi Prospect VO. Everyone who was standing nearby had some kind of concern, the majority was shocked. I remember for the rest of my life, as my father said sadly: "What an interesting time we live in!"
Since July, they began to collect non-ferrous metals, shovels. This was done in our house management and we, the boys and teenagers, were on the sidelines.
On the roof of our house installed quad anti-aircraft machine gun. The calculation was from the elderly (from our point of view - the elderly). They were allowed to help us and we enthusiastically dragged boxes of cartridges to the attic. Well, they didn’t quite carry them around - the boxes were small, but very heavy, so the two had to turn the boxes from one step to another together.
I can only imagine how hard it was for the soldiers to drag a quad Maxim onto the roof, and even with a heavy supporting pedestal. Our house was a seven-story, pre-revolutionary building - 'Pertsevsky Dom' - it still stands on Ligovsky Avenue near the Moscow railway station. Actually, this is not even a house - it is a whole block built by the Pertsev brothers in 1917, and it was planned to have shops, hotels, a theater and different categories of apartments for rent. Hefty profitable home-complex. He was in charge of the Oktyabrskaya and Kirov railway departments and there lived families of railway workers, and after a wave of repression at the end of 30, NKVDshniki, who entered the rooms vacated after arrest, lived there. The life they saw was also interesting - at the very beginning of the war one of them shot himself from a hunting rifle right on his balcony - so that it was visible from our kitchen. So much krovischi leaked out of it - I did not even see this after the shelling.
Judge for the size of the house yourself if there were about 1941 people in the house in 5000 year. Apartments naturally were communal. During the construction of a house on 1, the middle-income family of the room settled down along the 3-4 family. High ceilings in the blockade played a role - it was very difficult to carry everything up the stairs - with large marches.
Then we dragged sand to the attic. They also saw how all the wooden parts were carefully smeared with some kind of liquid. They said it would save fires if they bombed our house with incendiary bombs.
Sand was easier to carry than cartridges, but not so interesting. We did all this voluntarily. The danger that was in the air, spurred us to help adults.
Every day it became more alarming. In the city there were many refugees, with bags, knots, some with cows. Everyone's look was stuck.
Products disappeared instantly, cards appeared.
The bombing began. The Badayev warehouses burned down, and the Germans also hit the places where there were markets. Not far from us was a flea market - got it too.
I remember, it was evening, the sun was shining, and at half the sky there was a giant train of black smoke, from burning Badayevsky warehouses. Terrible and wild sight. From this kind of getting scary.
Very disturbed by the rapid advance of the Germans. The Soviet Information Bureau was laconic, but anxiety grew, the farther, the more. It seems that there was no power to stop this fast-moving avalanche.
Dad was sent to the construction of fortifications.
Occasionally he would call home and bring with him either wheat or lentils.
(It’s funny now to see the sale of high-priced lentils in the store - at that time lentils were considered fodder for horses, and the fact that we began to eat it was also a sign of trouble.) that our situation is awful. It somehow dried up, turned black, was all in itself. The visits were very short, sometimes I slept for a couple of hours and left again.
At the end of June, our school was evacuated to the village of Zamost, kilometers in 10 from Verebe station. Oct. Railway
No matter how my mother resisted this, I had to go. Mom asked a neighbor, who went along with her twin sons, so that the neighbor and looked after me. It seems to me that in this evacuation I spent the strength of the week 3, or even less. I'm not saying that the household side was poorly prepared. We slept in the huts on the straw. The food was also miserable and wanted to eat.
The neighbor got a better job, and she bought food for her children, and she prepared them herself.
One fine evening, when we returned from the work of weeding the beds from the colza, a remarkable event happened - the German plane quickly flew along the main village street very low, on a low-level flight. Well seen him. I immediately wrote about this in a letter home. A few days later my brother came for me and we went home together with our neighbor and her twins. The school administration, which was there in the village, did not particularly oppose this.
They went to the station at night - during the day German aviation already with might and main shot all that moved on roads. Patrols stopped through certain sections of the track — they checked the documents. A neighbor sat down with the children in carts with hay, who were also going to the station, and my brother and I went and sang a comic song about 10 black children who went swimming in the sea and for some reason drowned one after another.
The next day, we traveled by train to Leningrad. At the station Malaya Vishera saw from a window a German plane sprawled on an embankment. As he fell, he knocked down a dozen telegraph poles.
Being back home was a bliss. All the time of evacuation, I never washed in a bath, and I was fed poorly, all the time I wanted to eat. We worked on weeding colza. Powerful flower - the size of us. Beautiful such, but on the weeded beds of something there was nothing, except for this colza ...
Miraculously, the Germans captured 21 August. So, we slipped with my brother a couple of weeks before. What happened to the rest of the children under the German - I do not know. But it is unlikely that many of them survived, with those classmates that I remained there later, I did not meet ..
Dad was in defense work, mom was also at work, brother was doing some tasks for the house management. And I played with the guys in the yard, next to the work of my mother. (When a bomb hit this house, fortunately we were not around.) Dad returned for a while. He told that on the road a lot of broken equipment, German aircraft rampant, literally walk on their heads, chasing even singles and shooting refugees without mercy, although it is perfectly clear from a strafing flight that they are not military men. On the road along the verges, many corpses - women, children, especially he remembered the students 'handicrafts' - teenage boys from vocational schools were joining each other - their bodies lay literally in piles. For some reason, this shocked him especially.
He was depressed, we had never seen him like this, he was a very discreet person. However, he did not have to rest for a long time - defenses continued to be done - already at the nearest approaches, and as a specialist he was valued (he did not have a higher education, but had extensive experience in engineering positions, before the war he worked in the accident management department on the Kirov railroad, just before the war, he moved to another job quieter, because they put many people in the department, and he was already 55 years old.)
At this time, regular shelling began already. Mostly, the area of Labor Square was subjected to blows, and the boys and I ran to collect fragments there. Why the hell we needed them - it is not clear, but silly collectors were proud of the collected torn iron. Then it quickly passed, the novelty ended very soon.
One evening (late August - early September) I was at the corner of Gogol and Gorokhovaya. The traffic was regulated by a short, fat girl in uniform and some kind of flat helmet. As soon as the air-raid alarm sounded, something shrilled shrill — I managed to notice how something glanced across the air. The bomb hit the mansion of the famous Countess next to the wall of the neighboring house (there was then a hefty gap). I managed to notice how the controller ducked dullly.
It is interesting that a trolleybus was passing by this place during the explosion - there it remained. I quickly retreated to the nearest air-raid shelter, and after the end of VT at the site of the explosion, a large cloud of smoke and dust swirled around. They said that the Germans dropped some combined bombs. This bomb was screaming.
It's funny that now they claim that this building was not damaged in the blockade - I read it recently in a book - and I had a bomb in front of my eyes ... There was a word for the NKVD medical unit ...
At this time there were continuous bombings at night. Several times we went down the dark stairs to the basement, where we were allowed to stand in the corridor by those who lived there. So we went down several times during the night. And then we also climbed the dark stairs back to our 4 floor (the height corresponds to the 6 floor of modern buildings - so that it would be clearer.)
Then we refused such a pleasure, deciding what was destined - that will be. Yes, and dad appreciated the protective properties of our basement is very low.
They did not react to the alarms, both slept and continued to sleep.
The raids were made by a large number of aircraft. If there was any resistance, I did not see him. Several times I went out into the courtyard during the air alarms - these were moonlit clear nights and at the height the characteristic sounds of the engines of the German bombers sounded - at the same time some boring and alarming.
I did not hear or see anything of our fighters. Anti-aircraft guns - those rattled and sometimes 'our' machine gun fired ...
Then there was a comic imitation of the dialogue between anti-aircraft guns and bombers:
- I carry, I carry, I carry ...
- To someone to someone?
- Wammm ... Wammm ... Wammm
Rumors at that time went very different, but the fact that there were many wounded also aggravated the situation. It was difficult to hide such quantities. Many schools urgently engaged under the hospital. There was no talk of schooling - there was a refugee camp in our school, and a hospital was also deployed in the next one, and there were a lot of our wounded there. True, several schools - apparently unsuitable for such purposes, and in the blockade worked as schools.
There were also many refugees, but due to the blockade they had nowhere to go. The bulk of them were from rural areas, and they had a hard time in the city. I believe that for the most part they died in the blockade - on non-working rations, without the support of neighbors and relatives in frozen schools, it was almost impossible for them to survive.
Another category is almost completely lost - there were boys from 'handicrafts'. Mostly they were nonresident, lived in boarding schools and by and large were not interesting to anyone - for work-dropouts, and by age they are no longer children. And umishki something else baby. Yes, and the leadership of them, too, was different - I heard that there were several processes with firing results, because the management of 'handicrafts' dealt with colossal machinations of products intended for students.
One of the typical features of the blockade is a crazed teenager artisan.
Even our family faced this ...
Every day brought new - and all the time bad news. And I went with my mother to work and was looking forward to the time when we go to the dining room (corner of Pea and Moika) - there is a so-called yeast soup. Liquid turbid chowder with solid particles of unknown origin.
I still remember with pleasure. When we stood in line - for the most part on the street - we, of course, were in danger of being hit by shelling, but we were lucky; the shells fell at that time in another area.
Every day more and more houses destroyed by bombs were added on the way to work. Engelhardt House smashed. A direct hit destroyed the house opposite the Beloselsky-Belozersky Palace ... I was very depressed by the destroyed building at the corner of Gogol and Kirpichny Lane. The whole building collapsed, except for one wall.
Due to the fact that she was very unstable, she was flooded right in front of me, hooked with a hand winch. The winch was in the entrance of the Bank. There was a building - and no. There was no talk of any rescue work - there were a half dozen girls from the local anti-aircraft defense working behind a liquid wooden fence during disassembly. Yes, and they worked for several days. And upstairs - on some stub of an overlap the bed remained standing.
In the evening, returning home. The brother by this time already bought something on cards. We had dinner together. The condition was such that the German would inevitably capture the city.
I had two steel balls from a ball mill, diameters 60-70 mm. I wondered as soon as the Germans appeared in the courtyard — I would throw these balls at them ...
Still, in 10 years old boys are silly ...
And at mom at work, I was engaged in solving problems in arithmetic for the 3 class - using an adding machine. It was very entertaining! I read something. Nothing was remembered, probably because all thoughts were about a piece of bread.
It is interesting that when a person just got hungry - he dreams of something tasty, some dishes of complex preparation, but when he is already hungry for serious - here all thoughts about bread - he was convinced by many blockaders. My neighbor, Borka, dreamed to death of how he would be bought a “togtik” (he was burry) after the war, and then, only as a bullshit, and until his death in December, he dreamed only of bread.
And in the family of my future wife - the same thing happened.
Still no information on the situation at the front. The Soviet Information Bureau has sparingly reported the surrender of cities. And what happened near Leningrad was completely unknown. Although the roar of the cannonade sounded all the time and it was clear that this and the city were being fired at (which was loudly thundering) and a terrible thresher was going on under the city.
Messages like “On the Leningrad front, the N part carried out a successful operation. 500 was killed by soldiers and officers of the fascist invaders, the 1 tank was destroyed; they did not give any clarity.
In the city, everything was transmitted in whispers from mouth to mouth. Here was both true and fiction, but no matter how hard our leadership tried, it was clear to everyone - the situation is very difficult, maybe even catastrophic.
New problems started at home - since November, it suddenly became very cold. Dad took care of it beforehand, bringing us a stove - a tin oven and pipes. We were one of the first to install this stove and could both warm up and boil the kettle and heat the food. The fact is that before the war, food was cooked on kerosene and primus. For this, kerosene was used. But in the autumn kerosene ran out.
There was a question - where to get firewood? The brother armed himself with a crowbar — a short crowbar — and during his campaigns he mined some kind of wood — most often he dragged boards that had been torn from somewhere. On the shoulders of his brother - he was five years older than me - the main burden fell. I think now with a shudder how hard it was for him, he literally pulled the family, collecting firewood, buying bread, food. How did he have the strength? With me he was stern and demanding. He was generally exemplary. And I was a slob.
Stood plumbing in November. Heating naturally also absent ...
Here we are convinced - the more benefits of civilization, the harder it is to refuse them. We are rapidly slipping literally into the cave level of life.
It should be noted that the more primitive people lived before the war - the easier it was for them to blockade. Recently I saw the memories of the actor Krasko - his family lived on the outskirts in a village house on the part of the Finnish part of the blockade. So they entered the blockade with a toilet, a well, firewood, their normal stove, a vegetable garden and a supply of food from this vegetable garden. At first they even had milk.
Well, the German long-haul and aviation didn’t bother them, and the Finns didn’t have the opportunity to fire and bomb there - they were already exhausted by that time.
Also it was a little easier for those who lived in houses with stove heating. There are a lot of such houses in the center now. And our house was advanced - with central heating. Plumbing. Electricity. Drainage.
And it all ended.
The only good thing is that the bombings are almost over. From the fall of the bombs, our domina rocked like a ship on the waves (I never would have thought that this was possible, and it would not fall apart). Opposite our house fell three hundred bombs. The first smashed a beer stall. The second flew into the six-story building opposite. The third is through the house. They said that a German woman pilot allegedly threw them, they shot her down and captured her.
But the shelling became more frequent and lasted longer.
I had to carry water and dispose of the sewage in the parasha bucket. For me, it was also a decent load, I was very weak from hunger and cold and weakened more every day. Hunger did not let go to sleep, insomnia tormented. Although I went to bed dressed and covered with several blankets and a coat, it was very difficult to warm up. Neither the bombing, nor the constant shelling did not exhaust the cold and hunger. Sleep as such was not. There was a dotted oblivion.
Very oppressed by the lack of light. On the day of the blackout opened a piece of the window. But in November our day is short and mostly overcast. I soon had a funny phenomenon - when I looked at the source of light - the smoke lamp, the stove - everything was with a rainbow halo. We quickly got used to the crash of a break - when it was quiet - it was surprising, but the Germans were constantly digging around the city, so that it thundered somewhere.
But it was impossible to get used to hunger and cold. It hurt and ached inside and all the time there was some kind of nasty exhausting shiver. I wanted to chew something, suck.
In our family, each ration was divided into three parts. (Three meals a day). When he received the next third, he cut it into thin plastics and applied these plastics to the red-hot wall of the stove. Immediately formed a crust. Such a slice did not even chew - sucked, and the crust allowed to prolong the action, deceive yourself - it seemed like eating for a long time - it means eating a lot. With a few such slices, a mug of boiling water was drunk, and if it was possible, then some kind of "mess".
All that could be eaten in the house — and inedible by peaceful standards — was all eaten.
We ate a lot of jelly out of carpentry (casein) glue for a long time, since dad made a supply of 10 tiles. Mom cooked jelly with bay leaf and those spices that were found in the house. When mom was preparing the next portion of jelly, it was a holiday. Jelly was distributed in small portions. I can not say that even at that time was delicious. But all ate with pleasure.
We tried to cook the belts, but nothing came of it - then I learned that only rawhide can be eaten.
For firewood was furniture. I was surprised that my brother cried when he chopped and sawed our furniture. I had no pity for things, just to warm up for a while.
When you read books about the blockade, you will find out that the battle for the city went on all the time, without ceasing, regardless of the losses. Our frenzied Germans tried to gnaw the German defense, the Germans, also ignoring the losses, tried to strangle the city. We practically lived without knowing what was happening on the walls of the city. Only rumbled all the time.
Every morning, while I was strong, I got up with everyone. The task to bring water - I dragged in a three-liter can - was very hard for me. The main thing is that the bread rate of issue for soldering all the time decreased, and the strength decreased. We decided earlier that I should not go to work with my mother anymore. I began to stay at home.
First, water was taken in a column in the yard. Each time it was getting harder and harder to haul the can upstairs, at least the column was in the yard. Here it was easier to carry the sewage - firstly, you carry the burden down, and secondly, the sewage became less and less every day, in strict accordance with the old medical saying: “What is the table - the chair”. The table was extremely poor - respectively, and the chair shrunk to a minimum.
Recently I read memories of the blockade of a Hermitage employee. His friend, who had evacuated before the blockade, then told him that they had torn up all the books in the library and spoiled heaps of shit, almost a layer of torn books ... It is somehow strange - and the fact that the books were torn up, not burned and the main thing - where so much shit took ...
We poured sewage into a storm well in the backyard behind the house.
The colder it became, the more time I spent in bed - my legs did not obey, and there was nothing to do, in general.
The stove was heated twice a day - boil water. There was no firewood. The furniture was burned almost all, and my brother could not bring much.
One day he came in the evening terribly agitated. I went for bread, there was always a line, it was impossible to leave it, there were interruptions in bread, and therefore with rations, he walked in already complete darkness. (It was dark everywhere — in the streets, in the courtyard, in the stairwell, on the stairs, in the apartment — there was no light. Many wore special badges smeared with phosphoric paint and glowing dimly so that they would not stumble on each other.)
Says mom: 'I probably killed a man. A craftsman attacked me at the entrance, wanted to take away the bread. ”The brother struck the assailant on the head and he fell. Even I felt the seriousness of the moment.
After some thought, my mother went to check.
Joyful returned - there was no artisan in the stairwell!
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.
The room from our smoke box and stoves soon all smoked. Yes, and we, too. Water began to freeze. It was not at all up to washing, and the column, having worked intermittently, which made it necessary to walk more often and wait in the cold, died altogether. I had to look for other sources of water - and this is the path longer and go more, spend more strength.
Has the most troubled column in the alley of the school? 205, that on Kuznechny Lane. Even in extreme cold it was possible to get water there. I am writing to 'get it' not by chance - weakened people and splashed out water and poured their vessels, falling on the mounds of ice around the column - and the ice grew more and more. And it was difficult to approach the column, and it was especially difficult to take out the water without spilling it.
Several times we had to collect snow, but the melt water had a nasty taste of soap.
It’s also difficult to walk the stairs. After all, I was not the only one who dragged water and sewage. And they poured and dropped ... And it all froze on the steps.
The frost was unheard of. True, thanks to this frost earned the 'Road of Life'. I think that they would not have survived without it - it would not be possible to bring so much on barges.
With age, the longer I live, the more I feel guilty in front of my brother, because during the terrible famine I hated my brother because he, by decision of his mother, cut off his bread a little more - by several millimeters - than me and my mother. I sat beside me and looked at the slices of bread like a hunted animal. And he always had a slice more - a few millimeters !!!
Inside, everything was boiling and indignant, although I knew perfectly well that if something happens to my brother, we are finished.
After all, they are saving you with the last strength, risking their lives, and you hate your savior. Although you - without this savior - nothing.
How much is the brother stretched out on his shoulders ....
I could not drag the water to the fourth floor without helping myself with my hands, pulling up the body, holding onto the railing. It was impossible to go, the legs were wadded and somehow seemed to go numb, practically drawing myself into each step. Whenever I went to fetch water - I was passing by a burning house - the bombed out mission on the corner of Razezzaya Street burned for almost a month. Slowly, measuredly - from top to bottom ... There was a library downstairs - and the librarians pulled out books on the street, they asked passers-by to take what they could - so that the books did not burn down. The brother said that Gostiny Dvor was also burning for a very long time. There was nothing to put out and there was no one - due to the efforts of the Fritz fires in the city there was so much that the firefighters worked only on strategically important objects. Hands already did not reach residential buildings.
One day, I endured impurities - and fell. I don’t remember whether I slipped or stumbled, but fell head first. The bucket jumped down the march, my legs were taller than my head, and I realized that I could not get up. No matter how hard I tried to get up, it didn’t work. My hands broke, and my legs didn’t work too. After a long agonizing fuss, he somehow got up, clinging to the fence, completely exhausted. The contents of the bucket spilled on the steps ... Terribly upset, but no one 'caught me' returned home.
Before the new 1942 year dad brought into the house. His colleagues saw that he was no longer a tenant and did everything they could to at least die at home.
Dad told me that if we meet New and Old New Year, everything will be fine.
He came down right away and got up only once - to the 'holiday table'. Because of the holiday burned and stove and smokehouse, we gumbled. (Electric lamps when turned on gave such a heat that in the dark it was barely visible a reddish filament)
On the table was a bottle of beer, which was issued on the cards, I do not remember anything in return.
Dad began to insist that his brother share a carrot, which he bought for rations — they were given such an opportunity to get gingerbread instead of bread — he asked me beforehand, but I refused to accept such an exchange — I got more bread.
My brother refused, dad was offended, began to resent ...
There was naturally no festive mood.
Dad was unrecognizable ...
When they poured beer for everyone, and I drank it, I immediately disconnected ...
Mom told me that I immediately slipped under the table like a rag doll. I woke up in the morning.
After the New Year, my dad and I were at home. He could not get up, I was caring for him as best I could ... I did something about the housework, my brother gave me assignments and I tried to fulfill them — I was afraid of my brother, he was strict with me ...
On January 13, exactly at noon, my father called me, tried to tell me something, but spoke so quietly and incoherently that I could not understand him at all. I even got on his bed, brought his ear to his lips, but could not make out anything.
Suddenly he fell silent, convulsions came over his face, and I realized that Dad was dead.
He did not reach the 12 hours before the old New Year.
The night before, my mother fed him 'soup' - crumbs soaked in boiling water - and he told her that he had never eaten such a tasty soup and that she always cooked such soup ...
Mom came home from work and was somehow not surprised that her father died ...
Looks like she understood everything then.
When his colleagues brought him ...
Or maybe already there was no strength for emotions ...
He stayed in our room until February 1. We used his food card. And then they wrapped his body around with a clean sheet that was better, put it on the two sleigh hitch and dragged these sleighs along the flight of stairs ...
I tried to help, but I was left at home - I, it seems, was already too bad ...
It was sad and empty without dad. And it is very cold ...
He was taken to the assembly point - at the hippodrome, where now the Theater for Young Spectators.
I must say that my dad was wonderful. Kind and very caring. He always brought something to the house - to us. Taking this food away from myself to share with us either fodder lentils, or casein glue, or cake. But how many cases were completely different behavior.
Mom thought when he dragged the stove and began to install it, which is no good, to which he firmly replied: 'Winter will be hard. The stove is needed '
Soon I fell ill. For some time, I somehow crawled around the house, and then I didn’t have any strength left. Just the legs did not hold, I could not not that walk, just stand. He lay under several blankets and a coat, dressed in a winter fashion. In the earflaps. There was no sleep, there were spasms of hunger and round-the-clock dotted oblivion and lying in the dark with open eyes. This time I remembered as very dark. Sometimes an oil lamp was lit, sometimes a stove burned - but it was dark all the time. The windows were covered with blankets for blackout and heat, and only a small piece was opened.
I was already not a lodger and I knew it. But this is not scary. He lay in complete indifference with the twisting pains in his belly and when there was light - he looked at his nails. Mom and brother were angry with me and scolded me - so that I would not do this. They heard from neighbors that this is a sure sign of a quick death.
On our happiness, the glass we were knocked out only in the 1943 year. At the same time, a huge splinter carried a window sill in our room with a piece of wall and a radiator. But many still had windows broken in 1941 ...
There were no attacks, and shelling was either far away, or I already perceived them ...
Once I hear a neighbor come in - Elena Ludvigovna, my mom's friend. Asks: "What is Alik dying?"
- Yes - Mom answers.
For me it was not a secret, I very sensibly understood my doom.
- Here one speculator offers oats, mustard oil and granulated sugar. Maybe buy?
I was struck like lightning - hope appeared!
Mom bought this whole 'grocery set' for valuables we had ...
It was no joke for me out of the ordinary moment of resurrection. Yes, and rations began to increase.
For two months I learned to walk, as long as the silenok was enough, leaning with the whole body on the table.
And when I was able to take the first independent steps on the cotton “not on my own” legs - this was also a very joyful moment.
After that, there were some good, joyful moments in my life (and I remember them) and terrible, absolutely hopeless situations (and I remember them all the more), but I didn’t have a stronger emotional level that happened during the blockade. ..
It’s no joke - to be born a second time and learn how to walk independently a second time ...
As I began to walk - I started my duties again. True, the three-liter can was too heavy - dragged water into a smaller canister. Well, the more impurity was at the bottom. They froze. Therefore, a piece of iron was hidden in my yard - it beat off from the bottom ...
It was very hard - every climb, even without a can, was difficult. And breathing lacked and silenok ...
And I still wanted to.
By the spring of supply it has improved, it has become stable - happened during the most difficult months as the bread was not brought in and could not get into the number of those who got it. And the rates have increased, and products have become a variety of issue.
By this time two of my moral fall for that and now ashamed, but words can not erase from the song. The first time my brother bought candy. They were such spindles centimeter three lengths each. Some.
I was alone at home. Give, I think, I will try from each candy on a tip. I tried. Incredibly delicious! Sweet From this taste already weaned.
We had a strict order - each ration was in a certain place. And no one had her right to touch, except to whom she belonged.
So it was with bread and with everything divided. Never rule is not violated. And then these few chocolates have been no matter how distributed.
So I am to them and apply as long as they have not turned out veretenets in bochonochki. For me, it was very unexpected - and did not understand when the time to grind their way, tried a few times ...
In the evening, when my mother came home from work and saw it all, just said: 'Do you think we do not need sweet? You acted very badly towards us. ”
No more, she or her brother did not cover this topic. A 'barrels' that evening shared. Perhaps I never again in my life was so ashamed ...
The second time a similar incident occurred with the meat. Brother bought meat - on - I think it was the end of March - beginning of April. The piece was small, gram 300. And again, not division. It let me down.
I cut tonyusenkoy clear plastic from him. It hurt a bit of meat looked delicious. Cut, good in the room was as cold as a freezer. Ice cream was cut easily.
Raw meat was very tasty. I even wondered why it is boiled. It is also raw delicious!
I don't remember, but it looks like I cut off more plastic and more ...
When a job came my mother and I told her duties, she said that, firstly, to calculate make soup twice and only stayed for a time, and secondly, in raw meat may be the larvae of worms and therefore there is so very dangerous . The second argument was very effective - I never ate raw meat again.
With the onset of spring, we began to swing teeth and gums were very painful sores. Scurvy. And my mother had ulcers on her legs.
She even took to her bed for several weeks.
But the movement of trams resumed. It was a holiday! We even with the guys several times went to Rzhevka - for gunpowder. After all, I barely dragged my feet and went for gunpowder.
The Germans intensified the shelling. Now the city is particularly hard-shelled in the morning and in the evening - when people were traveling and went to work and went to work. Gunners worked professionally - counted and have targeted tram stops, crowded places, queues in shops. For other objects - markets, hospitals, clinics, schools - also continued to work.
Brother once ran in shock, covered in blood - a shell hit the car in which he was riding and splinters mowed faced passengers brother - they covered him with their bodies (from the Moscow railway station in the morning it happened).
His clothes had to be washed - it was covered in blood, and for this purpose, and it took a lot of water, and my mother lay sick. Troubles were many, but the main thing - it is not hooked lucky.
At about the same time, I, too, came under fire and also in the area of Vosstaniya Square. To my luck I had not reached Ligovka angle and managed to perch oneself at the curb on the pavement Avenue 25 October (now - Nevsky Prospect). And around the corner just standing people - all apparently - and all of them safely by the first break, so oshmetya vyhlestnulo because of this angle. I would go faster - to accurately hit by the gap. And because he saw it - and lay down.
I was not injured, but so many bloodied, torn bodies stunned me. I remember a piece of the skull and severed woman's hand on the tram stop - there is also hit by a shell ...
Shelling was conducted usually bursts with pauses.
It seems everything is over, people start to move and then again with a dozen shells. Fire strikes interspersed with disturbing the fire - when exploded one by one - two rounds at irregular intervals.
Obviously, someone developed a fire schedule, counted on the districts. Tied to specific goals. Taking into account working time, psychology and so on ...
For example, when it became clear that the tram stop is zeroed - our transferred it to the side. It all started again.
I do not know how the Germans adjust fire, but, in my opinion, they knew where to stop and other objects accurately. And if the hospital from a place not budge, then that's where they learned about the movement of the stops?
However, we are with the Pope - in the autumn - during a raid seen as someone ran green rockets - just in the direction of a military site, next to which we just walked. The Pope then dragged me away - that and a bomb does not fall and the NKVD not be explained ...
By this time we were alone in the apartment - who died, who left.
For example, the Jewish family that lived in the neighborhood died out almost entirely - in December. Only two were evacuated to the road of life. And his daughter had died there - from malnutrition so easy you will not escape, and at the beginning of the great sympathy and experience of small evacuated from the city met with abundant food. And it was often deadly.
In general, it was possible to die for many reasons. Somewhere in December 41 dad brought a slice of sunflower meal - after the pomace oil is left. On the strength - almost stone, but with an amazing smell and taste of sunflower, sunflower seeds.
Mom began to soften it. I do not remember what she did to him, but it was busy for a long time. They gave me a small piece, and I was completely busy with it.
The next day my mother made this cake softened tortillas, though generally a brownish paste. She fried it on the remains of fish oil, which was found in the family first aid kit.
Delicacy stretched for two days. No longer came to our sadness. There was even a thought that after the war, not a bad thing to cook is often a tasty dish.
And here appeared the urge to to ease after the second meal. It was then, and have a problem - you bursting, tearing literally, but nothing comes out.
It was a terrible constipation. Only after the terrible suffering and even manipulation able to get rid of 'toxins from the cake. " Well, that tile cake was small and divided it at all, and ate for two days and had not eaten at one time. And how much effort has been spent to get rid of these toxins ...
Yes, what to say - any action - even go to the toilet - a blockade was a serious test. Cases where people froze to death in the pot were frequent ... Painfully forces were few people - and vice versa - is too powerful forces were against ...
And all this was arranged for us by the civilized Germans. I am surprised by the talk that we had to give up - especially after the repeated publication of documents about what the fate of us to prepare the German leadership. Surprising is the laying on a same board of our soldiers - and German.
Allegedly, they were all miserable unfortunates herded them to fight, and they almost did not want to ...
What nonsense ... They fought with ohotku, inventive and fun. And diligently killed us. And the prisoner did not surrender. I wanted them there piece of land, wealth and slaves.
And all these cries about raped German women ...
About our fault ...
And the screaming that's just not the Germans, and our seemingly journalists. Amazing.
Very amazing ...
And it’s a pity, it’s a pity that the parents of these journalists didn’t end up here - in the blockade ...
2. Gunpowder from the station Rzhevka.
In the spring of the year 1942 scurvy greatly exasperated. Teeth swung, small, but very painful sores appeared on the gums. My mother had ulcers on her legs.
Somewhere in the month of June, my mother and I received food. I am in a school where I studied the first two classes, and my mother is in a cafe, next to her work.
In order to get this food, you had to be examined by a doctor in his clinic. Issued a certificate on hand, which stated that you distrofik such extent and in need of supplementary feeding. After a couple of weeks I had to undergo a re-examination. It is ridiculous to assume that in a couple of weeks dystrophic can be cured, but this was the order.
I remember the quiet place of the boys and girls to the doctor's office. In appearance it can be said that all looked like old men and women, but only a very quiet and sedentary.
Power is - that my mother, that I - represent two cakes of soya meal and a glass of milk or soy or soy yogurt.
I can not understand why my brother did not have food. We brought flat cakes to him - we couldn't chew them ourselves, it was very painful. The structure of the cakes was very similar to sawdust, but sawdust that could be chewed and eaten.
At about 12, we came to the school yard. Basking in the sun and waiting for when we call in the dining room.
In the spring I was accepted into the pioneers. They built us on the outer stairs of the school. Below, the pioneer leader read the words of the oath, and we repeated their word for word. This also raised the spirits - like other signs that the city is coming to life little by little. Yes, even then we were treated to soy soufflé. Rare pleasure.
Only here are very few classmates left. We gathered all of the other classes - and there was plenty of room on the stairs.
In the spring, people continued to die. In winter, mostly men died. But in the spring of long-standing women surrendered. I remember very much, as somewhere in the end of April - the beginning of May, I found myself on Mayakovsky Street, almost opposite to the Maternity Hospital of them. Snegireva.
There was a collection point for the corpses. Butt end there - to the street. Mayakovsky left one of the buildings of the Kuibyshev Hospital (now the Mariinsky Hospital). This building was heavily destroyed by a bomb, and further along the street was the building of neurosurgery. That's just the bombed out building and there were piles of corpses. The bodies were in different poses, some in 'packaging', others as they were picked up on the street or dragged from dead apartments - in the spring the girls from the MMPO and sandpuffers did an enormous job of cleaning the city from corpses, from where only their forces were taken ...
While I was translating the spirit before moving on, it was just the girls — the warriors loaded the dead on the Krupp five-ton. Then in the city went these hefty cars, which differed sharply from the usual three-ton and one and a half. They were from before the war.
Loading just ended. The girls closed the tailgate, the whole team was placed in the back right on the corpses. The body was packed full with riding. The corpses on top are not covered with anything. The car pulled out on the street and drove away from the avenue to them. October 25 (So called Nevsky Prospect then), and at the assembly point there was some noise.
This was especially audible, because the moment was rare in silence - the Germans did not shoot. To the checkpoint a woman pulled the sled, with an old woman sitting on them. I still wonder how this dystrophic woman was pulling the sled with a load - the asphalt was almost everywhere clean. The snow melted. It seemed to me that this woman was already insane. The old woman was still alive and occasionally weakly moved.
The woman demanded from the orderlies to put her mother to the corpses, since she would die in the evening or in the morning, but she would die anyway. (This is when the old woman is still alive!) The altercations with the attendants ended in that the woman left the sleigh with the old woman at the gate and wandered away uncertainly. It was evident that she herself was very bad.
The sun was shining, it was already warm in spring, and most importantly - it was very quiet and peaceful.
This happened infrequently.
Now I think that that old woman on a sled could be quite a few years. And the woman who dragged on a bare asphalt sled, too, could be completely unattractive. Dystrophy scary ages ...
And we quietly oklevalyvatsya. Some of the boys brought gunpowder — such greenish macaroni — and scared the girls when we once again waited for the opening of the dining room. The burnt macaroni was hissing, whistling and even flying, and if it fell to the ground, it crawled along it. The girls were scared and screaming. Quietly, weakly, but still ...
It turned out that powder could be used at Rzhevka station. During the blockade it was the main railway junction in Leningrad. Somewhere in March, the Germans managed very successfully with an artillery attack to cover there a pair of ammunition. But the main catastrophe was due to the fact that several wagons with explosives were jerked - like tetryles. As one railroad worker said, who saw this, “the fire flashed over the wagons — that was all scattered.” The blast wave was such that a kilometer and a half of whole houses remained.
As I heard, the head of the station was threatened with a very severe punishment - these ill-fated cars did not evacuate at the beginning of the shelling and did not even seem to be extinguished when they caught fire. So they thundered so that half the city heard these explosions. The boss was wounded and a contusio hard, but the fact that he showed himself heroically would hardly have saved him.
It was saved by the fact that the documents for these cars survived in the destroyed station building. Railway workers do not need to know what exactly is in the wagons - therefore, the documents were marked with a flammable cargo. So in the accompanying documents, instead of the highest fire risk category, the lowest one was mistaken.
As if instead of tetryl there were cast iron pigs. Therefore, the chief remained at his post - inaction in relation to the ultra-hazardous cargo was found to be explainable. But I believe that the shippers of the goods did not get off so easily.
So in the vicinity of the station and it was possible to get hold of gunpowder. Sacks of gunpowder - lay right on the ground. The shells were piled up - some shells, without shells.
So we went to Rzhevka several times. Then they cooled down to this fun - the girls stopped being scared, and the station was cleaned. And shells somewhere delhi.
Son's note: Well, everything is clear with the sleeves - in the blocked city, the sleeves for the art shots were worth their weight in gold and reloaded more than once - there were special equipment shops. It seems that the shells also reloaded, changing the fuses - they were made in Leningrad.
3. Museum of Defense of Leningrad.
On the warm summer day of 1942, the children and I went to school for lunch with us. We found out that a shot down German plane was shown on Solyanny lane for viewing and decided to look at this wonder.
Before Foundry with Ligovka arrived by tram, the benefit of us no one demanded payment for travel. In general, after the first blockade winter, the survivors had some kind of special relationship to the children - they did not charge us for the tram (although it was inexpensive), they also cut their hair at the hairdressers for free ... Although now, when you watch TV shows about the blockade, the whole city he was literally overrun by cannibals, who only tried to devour every child. Bullshit nasty.
It was difficult to climb the tram, a very difficult task to climb the stairs - everyone had no strength. But the tram itself - it was a miracle, a sign of Victory, no matter how pathetically it sounds now. When they were let in - people were crying with joy, and the motorcar drivers rang the bell all the time, and this, before the war, a rather unpleasant sound seemed beautiful. It meant that we not only survived, but survived and now everything will be fine.
To Salt from Foundry traveled on foot. I have never been to this corner of Leningrad before. The alley was paved with a cobblestone with a slope in the middle of the alley. At the end of it, a German fighter lay flat on the ground near Gangutskaya Street.
I do not know what brand it was. The plane struck with its forms, it was very elegant and at the same time was predatory and sinister. Swastika and the cross on the fuselage complement the impression. Death emanated from him and, despite the warm weather, it seemed to be drawn by cold.
It was nice to climb on the wing rattling under the feet and walk along the plane. I really wanted to kick this car from the heart, but no one had the strength to do it. Everyone was very happy that they were able to cope with such deadly monsters. Even by the look of this fighter, it was clear that it was a dangerous and well-made deadly technique.
Of course, they put this trophy car on display in order to lift the spirit of the inhabitants of Leningrad. Interestingly, this exhibit was at the walls of the building, in which the Museum of the Defense of Leningrad was opened in 4 of the year.
Perhaps already then - while the city was still in blockade - the project of organizing this necessary museum was being worked out.
In my opinion, the Museum of the Defense of Leningrad was opened in 1946, and the entrance to it was free. They entered it through the front door - from Gangutskaya Street. Right in front of the entrance stood a huge padded 'Tiger'
Guys climbed this tankclimbed in - hatches were open. I didn’t climb, although I really wanted to, but the guys said that everything inside was messed up.
At this time, the public garden, located between Market Street and the building of the old gymnasium, was literally clogged with trophy military equipment. Bit, close friend to the friend and let no one in there. And outside it was very difficult to disassemble something, there was too much of everything - different.
Inside it hit a huge hall with metal trusses holding a roof. To the right of the entrance to the entire end of the building, a grandiose picture was performed depicting the storming of the Pulkovo Heights after the most powerful artillery preparation. In the forefront to the spectator region, life-size figures of our attacking fighters and dead Germans lying in various poses were performed. Using real clothes weapons the impression was strengthened and, by the way, even the corpses were made very naturally - there was no impression that they were dolls, they lay just like the bodies lie - somehow, in a special way, flattened as they cannot lie alive. The shredded, bent German weapons in the plowed positions reinforced the impression of credibility and gave a special feeling of the power of hitting the enemy ...
A bomber was suspended from the farms, taking part in the bombing of Berlin, like in August 1941. It was a bold and unexpected for the Germans raid, they did not expect it.
Believe me - this is a very big difference - to live peacefully, and not observing the blackout, knowing that you will sleep peacefully in your bed at night, and in the morning, stretching, go to the window and look through the glass into the yard - or seal the windows with paper stripes - then they said that supposedly it will protect the glass when a blast wave hits, but this is nonsense. (But what was useful was that the glued glass didn’t fly so far into the rooms and didn’t hurt so much - newspaper papers really helped here.) Carefully close the windows with a cloth so that the slits were left for the light and every minute to wait for an air-raid to run to the basement, where a primitive air-raid shelter hastily been built ... And to understand that every bomb can be yours. Exactly - yours. And what bombs with houses do is every Leningrad citizen saw with his own eyes.
Of course, the destructive power of our bombers was not serious - but the fact that the Germans were treated to what they fed us, the moral impression from this bombardment was tremendous. And for us and for the Germans.
It is a pity that later this magnificent exhibit disappeared without a trace after the destruction of the museum.
In the same hall on the right side were our wedges, guns, armored cars and tanks, and on the contrary - the same, but German. Of course, there were portraits of Stalin, Kuznetsov, Zhdanov.
Opposite the entrance to this hall was a pyramid of German helmets. The height of this pyramid was 4 meters. At the base of the pyramid, German small arms were piled in piles - and it seems to me that it was all from different samples, that is, not the same rifles and machine guns, but different models. This pyramid made a very powerful impression.
This room is generally great, primarily because of the very competent design and presentation of exhibits. He was very skillfully and with soul decorated. When I was in it - the mood became joyful and upbeat, proud for our soldiers, who were able to protect and avenge us for all our troubles.
The next hall - located in the same industrial type of hangar - was dedicated to the feat of the naval fleet Leningrad Front. The torpedo boat that distinguished itself in hostilities immediately attracted attention. In my opinion, landing craft were also represented there. There were beautifully and carefully made mock-ups of the water area of military operations with mining zones, many samples of mines, torpedoes, and other naval weapons.
In the two-storey building 'A' in the halls the remaining elements of the defense of Leningrad were represented. I had the impression that there was too little space for everything that was exposed. In my opinion, there was such a moment in the work of the Museum of Defense of Leningrad that it was closed for a period, and when it was opened again, the exposition was significantly expanded and became additionally framed in the 'B' building.
Heavy impression remained from the hall, the exhibits of which told about the shelling of the city. A gap was made in the wall of the hall - as if hit by an artillery shell - and through it a part of the Nevsky Prospect (intersection with Sadovaya) was visible. The shells were exploded and people were hit by shelling.
In my opinion, in the same hall, a piece of tram car was put into which a shell hit. At that time, many people were killed and maimed in this car at once ... (German artillerymen tried to fire at the stops of trams, and fired at the beginning and end of work shifts and during lunch breaks. Accordingly, as part of the civil defense, the stops were transferred to other places and by time tried to prevent clusters of people. But several times the Germans managed to cover both people at bus stops and trams).
The museum was also interesting because all aspects of life, all phases of the struggle were presented with exhibits and photographs, superbly made models and paintings.
There was, for example, a period when torpedoes were dropped on a city with parachutes. In one of the halls such a torpedo with a parachute lay on the floor - from among those who managed to defuse it. It was immediately indicated: in what places of the city such gifts were dropped and right there were photos of the destruction from them.
The overall exposure was both extensive and interesting. I was very tired from what I saw, but I wanted to come again and again. The decoration was made with taste and soul. Painters and sculptors tried their best.
Probably because everything that was done was very close to the performers.
And recently I visited the new museum of the defense of Leningrad. He wanted to see the exhibition 'Battlefield - Propaganda' and was inspired to complete notes about the museum.
Of course, hot on the heels, and even with the huge selection of equipment and weapons left on the fields of the battles that had just been fought, that one — the museum destroyed in 1949 had much more incomparable exhibits.
There were several dozens of large-sized samples of our and captured equipment. Small arms were not hundreds or thousands of units (this, incidentally, served to accuse Leningraders of preparing an armed uprising against the Kremlin leadership). Thousands of exhibits, photos, documents. There was not enough space.
It is difficult to compare that museum - and modern. It was certainly a feat - to create from scratch 8 September 1989, from scratch, a new museum. But it turned out more like a memorial exhibition on the perished museum.
However, all significant blockade events have very few exhibits that would fully reflect the feat ... The feat of the defense of Leningrad is unique. I do not know what it could be compared with.
I am afraid of the old-time grumbling "everything was better before," but of course the modern museum does not have a part of the technology that was in the past. Not to mention the 'Tigre' and airplanes, but others were also impressive - for example, the French long-range cannon with half-ton shells. In the hall with the pyramid of helmets there were many artillery systems — and ours and the enemy and the counter-battery struggle were therefore very clearly covered. Even the collection of captured small arms struck - any, from all over Europe from all countries. Our systems were much smaller.
Each exhibition hall was dedicated to a separate service - MPVO, the Road of Life, Medicine, provision of the population with bread, SMERSH Service, Counter-battery struggle, breaking the blockade in 1943, I do not remember the lifting of the blockade.
And each of these halls was packed, just packed with objects related to this topic.
Many windows 1,5x1,5 meter with layouts, where it was shown how events developed.
I remember the mock-ups of the bridge, set on stilts in the level of the ice cover of the Neva. In May 1943, the bridge began to collapse due to the movement of the ice cover. Then the piles immediately began to remove and install a new wooden surface bridge. But in the bridge building detachment there were almost only women.
The whole hall was dedicated to this feat. And in each room there was a feeling of a terrible burden carried on their shoulders by people. Almost physically felt.
Of course, the role of the head of the museum played a role - Rakov was a very competent leader and the team picked up a wonderful one. Of course, money is also needed ... But still, artistic flair, a clear position, and skill are also necessary.
Grieved the following. In that - the first museum I remember the ceremonial uniform of a German officer, intended for a parade on the occasion of the capture of Leningrad and a pass to the Astoria restaurant on this occasion. I remember this showcase, although then German uniforms came across often.
Now the museum has several shop windows with uniforms and equipment of German, Finnish, our military personnel. Why all this? Perhaps this is interesting, but what does this have to do with the feat of Leningraders, our soldiers and workers? Yes, and uniforms are located side by side ...
I do not understand why this is necessary — such parallel dispositions of ours — and enemy equipment. It seems to me that it is more important to present now in what conditions of cold, darkness, famine were both the defenders and the residents of our city. The enemy's living conditions were much better, their life with ours and can not be compared. I saw a photo of German artillery truckers. Laughing. Well-fed young guys. They were having fun, when from their large-caliber guns they dabbled around the city. After all, without much effort and effort — and at first — before the development of the counter-battery struggle — in complete safety, they sent shell after missile and — everybody — hit the target. Each projectile - in the goal! How cool - this can be happy.
We were the only target. According to us they hollowed day and night. Diligently, conscientiously killed people and tore the city. Few people know that not only the houses collapsed - the soil of our city was also wounded from such attacks - after a long time all communications were permanently damaged - because even the land in the city was damaged and therefore it sank in places, tearing both cables, sewers and water supply. ..
In that perished museum of enemy soldiers was the enemy. The enemy had no moral right, even with his uniform, to stand next to something ours. He held his due stories place - under the feet of the winners. In the current exhibition - the soldiers of the Wehrmacht, Finn - some kind of doll, presented in one or the other outfit ...
Of course, they were more uncomfortable in the frozen trenches than at home, but they wanted our death without exception, they were eager to seize new lands and without hesitation would have razed the city to the ground, plundering it first, as they did with the suburbs of Leningrad . What was created there, we saw with our own eyes.
Therefore, the nonsense about humanism and the culture of the Nazis cause physical nausea.
They came to kill us, they did it with pleasure - and therefore there can be no respect and admiration for the Nazis. And the current fuss with the remains of enemy soldiers, the creation of memorials to them is nonsense. The corpses of criminals, murderers, and terrorists are now buried without honor, without extradition to relatives. Wehrmacht, SS - it was the army of criminals. Therefore - there should not be any honors.
No need to pretend that they were with some rules of the game, in the manner of a joust. No need to lure the next conquerors of the same and deceive themselves. We had no mercy then and if something happened - it will not be now.
It is clear that in two halls you cannot deploy such a brilliant exposure that it was before.
The enfilade of the halls led visitors from the beginning of the defense - to the lifting of the blockade ...
And the colossal construction of defensive lines and the protection of the Luga line and the terrible evidence of blockaded cave life, and the barbarity of the invaders ...
The general feeling was like a glass man - there were such exhibits at the Museum of Hygiene - the intertwining of the most complex interdependent defense systems of the city created an entire body - just like the human organs and systems visible through the glass make up the human body ... This immersion into horror and pride of the blockade in the modern museum there is no ...
And the exhibition about propaganda turned out to be toothless and none. Well, German and Finnish flyers. Well, our stuff.
But in terms of propaganda, the occupiers lost the war. Our propagandists wrote such nonsense that the German and Finnish soldiers frankly enjoyed themselves reading our leaflets. Several times I heard that here near Leningrad, these leaflets were read by German officers before the formation of soldiers, and only iron German discipline did not allow Reich soldiers to roll on the ground with laughter. At the same time, German leaflets, who promised milk and honey and dairy rivers for our population and surrendered to captivity, happened and believed. So at the beginning of the war, German propaganda won the same victories as other branches of the army.
But later - our propaganda changed the record and was able to hook the Germans for living. In 1943, the Germans were no longer satisfied with group fun with the reading of the stupid Bolshevik leaflets in front of the line — on the contrary, the soldier who found such a leaflet received a penalty. Our people, in fact, seeing that the Germans and the Finns are getting up, stopped believing in their propaganda.
As the familiar young artist said: "But the transition from the slogan" is a German soldier, you are shooting at your brother the proletariat! ", On the slogan" while you are here
die, SS men are sleeping with your wives', gave their results. And what to do, the guys who came here for gratuitous land and slaves, it was closer to class consciousness. By the way, the German agitators who have not switched from the “beat the Jew political commissar” recognized that they had lost this fight completely, and she didn’t say that the unimportant was, yeah.
This and close in the exhibition is not visible. It's a pity. For some reason, we should be ashamed of our success, wagging a tail and apologize ... And even more a pity that Goebbels propaganda lost during the war - won now. It is very sad to see it.
It was just as bitter to watch when the museum was smashed. It was one of the details of the general pogrom, which Moscow arranged for our city. I don’t know how fair the accusations were that Leningrad was going to become the capital of the RSFSR, that the Leningrad party elite were going to create a separate country from Moscow, and so on ... Some of the charges were absurd even then - for example, that the weapons in the museum were for the march on Moscow and rebellion. That the bomber hanging in the hall was supposed to be used for the bombing of either the Smolny, or the Kremlin ...
Malenkov, who led the pogrom, tried. In connection with the liquidation of the museum, the buildings were transferred to another institution, so a group of construction technicians was seconded to conduct measurements and check drawings. I got into this group ...
The impression was terrifying. When they let us into the museum, chaos reigned there. However, the museum attendants were in their seats and watched so that no one took anything out.
We watched as strangers trash their brainchild. Worked some people, like coming from Moscow.
In the courtyard were heaps of ash and burned documents there. Priceless unique papers - diaries, letters, official different forms and sheets. The famous diary of Tanya Savicheva - by chance then survived ...
How many of the same piercing, tearing soul records burned - is unknown.
The halls have already cut the 'meat' technique. It was still incomprehensible and incomprehensible to me now - why was it necessary to destroy unique samples. The same semi-tracked motorcycle, a half-meter French cannon, thrashing half a ton in shells ... Airplanes, tanks ...
Across the hall were scattered those same helmets from the pyramid and the figures were lying with a diorama. Then they stripped the clothes from the figures and raked them all up in heaps, otherwise it was very difficult to walk through the littered halls. Because everything was broken - in all the halls.
The museum was destroyed. Usually, if a museum ceases to exist, its funds are distributed to other museums or collectors. Here only pitiful crumbs went to the Artillery Museum, Naval and Zheleznodorozhny. Everything else was eliminated, so that the spirit was not.
So the museum perished, doing a noble cause, causing pride and respect for those who defeated the horde of murderers and robbers. He raised pride in his country, in his hero-city.
This is not in the current exhibition. But it's good that at least there is one. At least something...
In the winter of 1945, I went to school, which is opposite the San Galli plant. It was a time when it was both hungry and cold. The war ended, it was already clear that our victory was inevitable and everyone was waiting for it with impatience, but it was very difficult to live.
There was no heating at home - in the blockade all radiators froze and burst. All heating boiled down to the heating of several irons designed for charcoal. (Mom somewhere got it in small quantities). We didn’t have potbelly stoves - someone stole it from us, all the furniture could be burned into the blockade. So the irons were heated when there was coal, in the manner of Japanese braziers. The sense of it was quite a bit, but still warmer ...
My clothes were not so hot, but footwear - the highest class! Wadded cloaks in galoshes. Warm and dry. This wonderful footwear - burkas - was made by my mother.
Study was not easy. It was very difficult to concentrate - I was hungry all the time. (What a fool said that a full belly to study is deaf! The hungry is much more deaf.)
Mom at work was buying potatoes from familiar conductors. When mom brought it, all thoughts were that this potato was boiled and eaten faster. It happened that you stuffed potatoes with a belly, it's hard, but you still want to eat.
In our class, one of my classmates suddenly had an entertaining, previously unseen thing - small, very elegant gear. Just toys. Very beautiful.
A schoolboy forsil - right in front of us, sorting out such a shell into its component parts - and on the palm these parts - from a brilliant detonator to shaybochek explosives looked very seductive. And then, just as elegantly and quickly, he collected the shell again and hid it in his bag. It all looked like a circus trick.
I don’t know how to others - although a small crowd was always going to look at this trick, but a crowd of fools - and I damnly wanted to do the same sort of disassembly and assembly of such a wonderful toy. I don’t know why it struck me so much - other military things didn’t hit me that way. After one incident, there was no interest in the pistols that the other guys had boasted of, and there was a fire on other military tricks too.
I learned from my classmate that he had gotten him from one of the damaged "Shermans" who had been unloaded at the Moscow-Commodity - there was a cemetery of armored vehicles.
Literally the next morning, the benefit of studying in the second shift, I went for the 'toys'.
The morning was gray and raw. Rare passersby walked past the beaten tanks. I make a breakthrough when there is no one around, it is not without difficulty that I climb onto a tank that has a tower hatch open. Nearby there is still no one. Diving into the hatch. Heart pounding.
In the tank, although the walls are painted white, it is a bit dark. I am trying to find the desired shells - but all the nests for ammunition are empty ...
People walk outside, talk. Fearfully!
I found a machine gun mounted in armor. Totally whole. Blued blue steel. A little thing you need! Walks smoothly when you turn them. Obedient such. I want to take it with you. Then I understand that I did not take any tools. Search in the tank again did not give anything. Bare hands to remove the machine gun did not work ... It's a shame ...
And as we would like!
(Now it’s ridiculous to remember. It would be nice if I was walking along Ligovka with a machine gun at the ready ... Not to mention that the dystrophic for the dystrophic who had not fully recovered after the blockade was far too heavy. But I wanted to take it off and carry it home ...)
He waited until there was no one around and, without giving it a hardie, went back.
There was no strength to climb into other tanks. Yes, and their hatches were closed. I was afraid of getting caught. I would have nothing, and my mother would be in trouble.
The hike ended with a fuck ...
And soon, having come to school, I learned from the guys that our classmate, whom I envied, was sent to the hospital! His hands were torn off, his eyes were knocked out and his face was severely torn. I don’t know if it was the shell that he so famously sorted out and assembled in our crowd ...
It would seem that after the incident, it would be necessary to forget about such games, but probably at this age a person lacks something in his head ...
5. How to heat the stove tolom.
Our housemates were offered a garden plot at Art. Thais. Zinaida Grigorievna took her son Yura - and me together - Yury and I were friends. In order to look at the areas allocated to the workers of the October Railway under the gardens, a special train was organized and, on a newly laid branch, they reached the site.
Although it was already late spring 1945, the place was bare, almost without vegetation. It was the impression that everything was dug over here and the grass was kind of ragged and the bushes were thin. The railroad workers who had arrived dispersed to look at their plots - probably there were some landmarks or other signs.
When we passed the 20 meters from the mound, I found a very beautiful projectile - all in rings with numbers and divisions. Zinaida Grigorievna took him away right away, and gave me such a kick that I flew a few meters away and plopped down to the ground.
Right on the RGD.
Brand new. Green Without a fuse. I immediately cleaned it in my bosom. Zinaida Grigorievna did not notice this, but somehow became alarmed. She sent Yuri and me back to the embankment, told us not to leave anywhere, but she herself went even further.
While we were waiting for her, I found a German shoulder strap at the embankment — black with a wide silver edging, a human skull without a lower jaw with black slush inside, and a pair of German forges on a heel, neatly tied with a string. Yurku was more impressed by the skull - obviously a young man, with excellent teeth, and I was happy with the horseshoes - for some reason my heels were quickly worn out, and with such horseshoes this problem was removed. And indeed, pinning the horseshoe house, I did not think about heels anymore. Is that walking was very noisy, and on excursions in the Russian Museum had to walk on tiptoe.
Zinaida Grigorievna is back. Something she didn’t like much there, and she refused the plot. Probably, it is right, because then from those who were there caring for the gardens, there were explosions and victims.
And I have dismantled the RGD at home. Tol decided to usefully burn in the stove - due to lack of firewood. That's where I got in trouble. Instead of calm, even melancholic burning, the explosive literally flared. The burning was accompanied by an ominous howl, the kitchen was filled with acrid black smoke, which crawled through the apartment. Cook stove red hot. In a word - horror!
After this experiment, I could not come to my senses for a while. For about a month the smell of burning tola was kept in the apartment, which caused sharp remarks from the neighbors in the communal apartment. Well still the neighbors did not understand what stinks of explosives ...
I didn’t burn in the kitchen stove anymore.
6. Prisoners of war.
From my house to school there were 300 meters. In the winter of 1945, the trams rarely went and were jammed in the morning. Therefore, I adapted myself to ride on the 'sausage' of often-traveled freight trams - just like any self-respecting boy of Ligov.
It is difficult to say where such a name came from for this method of driving - maybe because of a hose for compressed air protruding from the end of the car. And maybe because of the threshold on the bottom of the butt ... The principle was simple - to jump on the move on this parish and hold on to the hose to go where necessary. They looked at the boys through their fingers, a similar ride of adults - was condemned.
In the morning, freight cars transported German prisoners to work. They demolished the rubble and built new houses - and now these houses are in the city. The Germans were standing on open platforms close up, probably, it was warmer - they had some useless clothes - caps, overcoats. And the winter was not so fierce as in 1941, but in -20 it happened, especially in the morning.
For some reason, it seemed to me that if I came up, jumping from the sausage on the go, they would be happy about it. I categorically did not want to please them — the enemies — and I applied all the strength and all the skill so as not to disgrace in the eyes of the fascists.
At the same time, the prisoners were sorry. Doubtful they evoked a feeling.
And apparently not with me alone. Colleagues who visited the German captivity, told that to get a stone from a German boy - it was quite commonplace. And the beatings and glaum on the part of the guards was even more trivial.
I once saw a scene when a German was lying prone at the entrance to the barracks, and three escorts shouted to him that he would get up and go into the room, kicking him with his boots - not kicking, but shoving. The Germans were kept in stables - before the war on the square, where now the Theater for Young Spectators was the hippodrome. In the blockade there was a collection point - they brought corpses there. My brother and mother took my deceased father there. In the same place after the blockade, prisoners were placed in the stables.
From this scene, there was also some kind of twofold feeling ... On the one hand, I understood that this German was an accomplice of the blockade and if he were a convoy of our prisoners, I would not hesitate to kick from the heart without conscience, or simply shoot on the other hand, I didn’t approve of ours ... It’s somehow bad ...
In the spring of 1945, a march of prisoners of war was arranged before Victory in Leningrad - not so huge, of course, like in Moscow, but impressive ... They walked past the Vitebsk railway station. The Germans walked in silence. Squabbled. The guards rather protected them from the population - and hardly any of the Germans would have thought to run. The people who looked at the Fritz were mostly silent. Those who cursed and cursed were disabled. If it were not for the exemplary performance by the convoy of their functions, the Germans would definitely have received crutches by the neck. But the convoy guarded the prisoners so much that later they cursed more of them than the Germans.
At that time I thought that the lucky Fritz were lucky - they killed ours, received rewards for it, but now they are healthy, alive and for their exploits do not bear any punishment ...
With clothes and shoes then it was very difficult. Mom gave me her uniform black shirt with a stand-up collar, and I had nothing to gird me. Without a belt the look was clumsy, and it blew. But there were no belts left after the blockade, they were welded, and it was awkward to gird with a rope like Count Tolstoy - they laughed b. Someone from Chubarovskiy has advised - to barter a German belt for prisoners' bread.
I started to collect bread and bakery pieces, which I received in the school cafeteria. When I had accumulated from a half a loaf, I went to Moskovskaya Ulitsa (very close to the present metro station Vladimirskaya). There, a team of prisoners of war dismantled the rubble of the bombed-out building.
Having walked around the convoy, I went deep into the ruins and faced a young German there. I was worried scared. All German grammar disappeared and I just blurted out the only thing that kept in my head: "Rimen?" Nevertheless, the German understood me perfectly, I received a nod of agreement and a belt with a badge taken off right there with me. I gave a bag of bread.
Perhaps he had this half a loaf on one tooth, but the time was hungry for everyone and even that amount of food was highly valued.
And I began to walk taut, with a great belt. And with a badge 'Gott mit uns', which somehow lost sight of. Well, as soon as I got the head teacher at school, I was immediately presented with an ultimatum - so that nobody could see this badge. Leningradertsu is not to wear such a person.
I had to change the badge on the buckle I got in a roundabout way ... I sewed it ugly, but firmly. And the belt served me for a very long time.
Meanwhile, the Courland group surrendered, and the prisoners became much more. Apparently the capitulation was honorable - because the rank and file had the right to wear all kinds of tzatskis. And the officers had the right to cold arms, as the adults said. True, I personally did not see officers with dirks on their side, but the Germans wore awards for the first time. Then they stopped - it makes no sense to carry awards to work on disassembling broken houses or at a construction site.
The difference between the soldiers and the officers was clearly visible. I did not see the officers working - they only commanded, and the soldiers worked. And on the dirty, swamped background of the soldiers, the officers stood out with some kind of well-groomedness, smoothness, force and respectability. And I treated them with particular dislike, like real arrogant fascists. And this feeling remains.
The further - the less the Germans guarded. The guards at them became less and less. In my opinion it happened that the Germans went without a convoy, under the command of their elder. In any case, I saw, just on Nevsky Prospect, opposite the House of Creativity of Theater Workers, as two prisoners of war who were walking without a convoy, greeted our senior officer with gold shoulder straps — and he saluted in response.
It is possible, of course, that these Germans were from the anti-fascist committee or from where else, but what they saw, saw, and it was in the autumn of 1945 of the year. We just returned from the farm, which was located on the site Shcheglovo that Vsevolozhsk. School children were sent there to work. We were placed in the number of 20 man boys over the stable - where hay was stored. The first morning was bright, excellent and we — a few people climbed out into the sun — there was just such a balcony for loading hay.
And then from around the corner three Germans unexpectedly turned out - with signs of distinction and awards. We were somewhat taken aback, but the brightest of us immediately blurted out, standing at attention “Heil Hitler!”
And he immediately received in reply a short bellow in pure Russian: "What are you yelling, you fool!" from one of the Germans. We were taken aback!
It turned out that Germans from Kurland work with us in the village ... And this guy is a Baltic German, a translator.
Working practically together, of course we communicated. The Germans learned a little Russian (most of all they didn’t like the word tafay-tafai), we did German.
Once my friend boasted a new word - 'fressen' - to eat.
That laid out when we went to work, saying that he really wants to eat. The German who was walking alongside immediately explained in a teacher's tone that this was a pferde fressen, aber manner was Essen. And he continued further that it was the beasts that were eating. And people - eat.
In this way, communication took place with people who, if they had not been captured, would have ruined us with great pleasure ...
The Germans lived in a barn that stood in a clean field. There were about fifty prisoners. The shed was surrounded by a very wretched fence with symbolic barbed wire. At the same time, rushing through this fence was the simplest thing, but the Germans surprisingly walked us only through the gate. Another of the cultural events was a perch perched in a prominent place over a pit - to accommodate the relevant needs. For some reason, the Germans most of all liked to sit there at sunset, exposing their bare asses to the last rays of the sun. Mostly they worked with us on weeding cabbage. Who knew how to do something - worked in the workshops.
They worked diligently, very slowly and thoroughly. We tried to make the norm as quickly as possible - before lunch, then to run to swim. We thought that the Germans are specially working so hard - saving energy, or do not want to give all the best in captivity ...
(When my son was digging and hesitated, I always told him that he was working as a German prisoner of war.
And he had seen enough in Germany how they work in the wild - it turned out to be just as carefully and terribly slow ... It seems that such a mentality ...)
There were other incomprehensible - I had a good relationship with two carpenters who worked in the carpentry workshop. Once I brought a slyatny nice head of cabbage. There was only one German in the workshop, and I told him that he was two for two; he was half to him and half to his partner.
I was very surprised to hear the answer: “no, this cabbage is mine!”
What the hell is "Meine" - I brought both of them! But he still answered my statements, and then he ended the discussion by hiding the head out of his locker.
I really did not like this trick, and there was some squeamish attitude towards a man who did not want to share with a partner. There was no famine anymore, especially since the prisoners were given what was left of our breakfasts, lunches and dinners.
After that, I did not go to the carpentry workshop. The Fritz working in her became disgusting to me. The blacksmiths, however, were friendly and loved to show photos that they had in their purses.
Stunning houses and cars and numerous relatives, who smiled and laughed in all the pictures, were also surprising. For us, who had devoured children, it was wild and new and it was thought - why the hell did they get to us - what did they lack?
True, judging by the fact that when one of them wanted to sell his overcoat to local people, he attracted me as a translator, and not his camera-Balts, they also had all kinds of relations with each other there.
And in the 50 years, the Germans began to return to Germany. At the Moscow railway station, I often saw teams of prisoners of war ready for dispatch.
What surprised me. So this is the fact that their clothes (mostly uniform) are all patched-turned over, but were perfectly cleaned and ironed. It inspired respect.
I note that there was no hatred when communicating with living people. But to be friends with them is not drawn. Subconsciously, all the evil that they and their comrades caused to us was felt.
And did not disappear.
7. Execution 05.01.1946g.
In early January, 1946, near the Kondratievsky market, was installed on the square gallows. The trial of 11 by German war criminals went on for a long time. Detailed reports were made in all the newspapers, but my mother and I did not read them — what to list, who and how they killed ... But we saw with our own eyes how the Germans dealt with the civilian population and did not tell us anything new. Well, we were shot from airplanes and long-range guns, and the peasants in the Pskov region - from rifles and machine guns - just the difference. The Germans were the same.
But I went to look at the penalty, especially since the affairs were in the area. The crowd gathered decent. They brought the Germans. They stayed calm - in general, they had no choice. There was nowhere to run, and practically all the people who were gathered were blockaders and the Germans wouldn’t shine anything good if they got into the crowd. Yes, and they did not have to rely on sympathy.
Announced: what and how these convicts committed. I was surprised by the captain - a sapper, who killed several hundred civilians with his own hands. It struck me - it seemed to me that the sapper was a builder, not a murderer, and here he himself - without any compulsion to hunt with his own hands, killed people, and defenseless, unarmed - and there were few men there - in the main Mass - women and children ... Well, infantry - well, but so that the sapper ...
Machines in which the Germans stood in their backs drove back down under the gallows. Our soldiers, the escorts, deftly, but without haste, put loops on their necks. The cars went slowly this time ahead. The Germans swayed in the air - again, somehow very calmly, like dolls. At the last moment, the same captain-sapper insisted a little, but the escorts kept him on hold.
The people began to disperse, while the sentry set up a sentry. But despite this, when I went there the next day, the Germans already had boots on the backs at the seams, so that the tops turned and the boys threw ice hangers at the hangers. The watch did not interfere.
And then the sentry was removed from his post, and someone removed his boots from the gallows. So hung in socks ...
I recently watched on TV the memories of the artist Ivan Krasko. He turns out to be there too. But the impression was made by his story that we were on different executions - he said that the Germans were screaming and screaming, were rolling on the ground and their guards were dragging under the whiskers and hurriedly awkwardly stuck their heads in the loops, and the people were terrified of this terrible sight Krasko himself was also terrified ...
Where did he get all this from? No one was terrified. Practically everyone who stood in the crowd due to the mercy of such Germans lost some of their friends and relatives. Yes, there was no fun, there was no jubilation. There was grim bitter satisfaction - that even these were hanged.
And the Germans died with dignity. True, some pissed off - it was clear, especially when they were already hanging. But I heard that this is often the case with gallows ...
But what exactly is - no one in their background was filmed with joyful faces. And they are very often imprinted on the background of the vistils with our people. They liked it.
I should also add that my friend - she was older than me and stood closer in the crowd (definitely Leningrad - a big village!) - later said that they wanted a Pskov woman who had suffered from one of these Germans from the people.
She survived, but it took a long time to butcher her, cut off her breasts, and then fired and didn’t really finish, and she survived. But when she saw her executioner, she literally pounded and it became clear that she was not able to speak. So it seems that one person from the crowd was really terrified. Only not from execution, from the sight of a German who civilized it ...
I decided to go to the Public Library and delve into the newspapers of that time. Yes, almost every day — until the execution — newspapers posted reports from the courtroom. Read it stuffy. Anger is choking. And even with the cloth language of the judges and the same cloth language of journalists.
Year after year we are blamed for the 24 killed devils who knows the Germans and Germans in the village of Nemmersdorf ... We only had hundreds of such Nemmersdorfs in the Pskov region ... And burned to the ground ... Together with the women. Over whom they mocked at first, raping those who are younger and more beautiful, economically taking what is more valuable ...
And also the children were there. In short, what is there.
Here is a list of the hanged:
1. Major General Remlinger Heinrich, born in 1882, in Poppenweiler. Commandant of Pskov in 1943-1944.
2. Captain Karl Struffing, born in 1912 in the city of Rostock, commander of the 2 company of the 2 company of the “special purpose” battalion of the 21 airfield division.
3. Oberfeldwebel Engel Fritz was born in 1915 of r. Gera, the platoon commander of 2 of the company 2 of the battalion of the “special purpose” 21 of the airfield division.
4. Oberfeldwebel Böhm Ernst was born in 1911 in the city of Oswieleben, the platoon commander of the 1 battalion of the “special purpose” 21 airfield division.
5. Lieutenant Sonnenfeld Edward was born in 1911 in the city of Hanover, a sapper, commander of a special engineering group 322 infantry regiment.
6. Soldier Janike Gergard was born in 1921 in the township of Kappa, 2 of the company 2 of the battalion of the “special purpose” 21 of the airfield division.
7. Soldier Gerer Erwin Ernst was born in 1912, 2 of the company 2 of the battalion of the “special purpose” 21 of the airfield division.
8. Skotki Oberefreytor Erwin was born in 1919, 2 of the company 2 of the “special purpose” battalion of the 21 airfield division.
Sentenced to capital punishment - hanging.
The other three are the obrieutenant of Wiese Franz 1909, born, and the 1 2 battalion of the “special purpose” 21 airfield division battalion .;
And Feldwebel Vogel Erich Paul, his company squad platoon, is 20 years in prison.
Soldier Dure Arno 1920 d. Birth from the same company - 15 years of hard labor.
Total judged 11 Germans. They were shitting in the Pskov region, and they were tried and hanged in Leningrad.
The meetings were thoroughly covered by the entire Leningrad press, (then the journalists worked more responsibly, but it is clear that the censorship worked seriously, therefore the descriptions of the meetings and the testimony of the witnesses are tedious and devoid of particularly roast facts. It is also clear that the volume of material was enormous and the journalists were tearing at all.
And I hit it off from a journalist, because the array is very large and, in fact, it does not make much sense to paint everything from my bell tower - it will bother to read. All sorts of trivialities, such as beatings, harassment, torture, indiscriminate robbery of property, theft of cattle and the rape of women who accompanied the liquidation of settlements, I omit.
Briefly about the hanged:
1. Major General Remlinger organized 14 punitive expeditions during which several hundreds of settlements in the Pskov region were burned, about 8000 people were destroyed - mostly women and children, and his personal responsibility was confirmed by documents and testimonies of witnesses - that is, giving appropriate orders for the destruction of settlements and the population, for example - 239 people were shot in Karamyshevo, 229 were driven and burned in wooden buildings, in Utorgosh - 250 people were shot, on the Slavkovichi - Isle of About 150 people, the village of Pikaliha, are driven to their homes and then burned to 180 residents. I omit every little thing like a concentration camp in Pskov, etc.
2. Captain Karl Struffing - 20-21.07.44 in the region of the island 25 people were shot. He gave orders to subordinates to shoot 10 and 13 boys for years. In February, 44 - Clasps - 24 man shot with a machine gun. During the retreat of fun for the sake of shot across the road from the Russian carbine. Personally destroyed about 200 people.
3. Oberfeldwebel Engel Fritz - with his platoon burned 7 settlements, and 80 people were shot and about 100 burned in houses and sheds, the personal destruction of 11 women and children was proved.
4. Oberfeldwebel Böhm Ernst - in February 44 burned Dedovichi, burned Krivets, Olkhovka, and a few more villages - just 10. About 60 people were shot, 6 - personally to them ..
5. Lieutenant Sonnenfeld Edward - from December 1943 and until February 1944 burned the Strashevo village of the Plyus region, killed 40 people, der. Zapol'e - about 40 people killed, population of village Seglits, evicted in the dugout was thrown grenades into the dugout, then finished off - about 50 people, der. Maslino, Nikolaevo - killed about 50 people, der. Rows - about 70 people killed, der. Bor, Skoritsy. District, Island and others. The lieutenant took a personal part in all executions, he himself killed an order of 200 people.
6. The soldier Janike Gergard - in the village of Malye Luzi, 88 residents (mostly residents) were banished to the 2 bathhouse and shed and burned. Personally killed more than 300 people.
7. Soldier Gerer Erwin Ernst - participation in the elimination of 23 villages - Volkovo, Martyshevo, Detkovo, Selishche. Personally killed more than 100 people - mostly women and children.
8. Cattle Erwin Oberefreytor - participated in the shooting of 150 people in Luga, burned down 50 houses there. Participated with the burning of the villages of Bukino, Borki, Troshkino, Housewarming, Podborovye, Milyutino. Personally burned 200 houses. He participated in the liquidation of the villages of Rostovka, Moromerka, state farm 'Andromer'.
I repeat - not everyone wrote journalists, and I, too, nadergal, but in general, the picture is Bole - less clear. Moreover, the punctual Germans pretty much inherited - orders, reports on execution (son of a bitch Sonnenfeld clearly disgraced the title of German - he wrote, apparently rounding off, not bothering to count the dead to one.).
I recalled the Tolkien competition of the dwarf Gimli and the elf Legolas - who stuff more orcs. The Germans also sinned with this, and here they were greatly disappointed - it is dangerous to advertise such things. Well, and if you keep a diary in Pichuzhkin's manner and you scrupulously write down: who killed you and how, and even to confirm the feat, don’t blame me if the investigation takes advantage of your writing. With their love of order in the documentation, the Germans drowned themselves. Undoubtedly half-timid - they left unfinished witnesses and those appeared as hell out of the snuffbox during the sessions.
Also the bad service was their habit of nodding at the command. They laid each other in black. Neither of which partnership and mutual assistance was out of the question. And starting from subordinates - and to the commanders. It is ridiculous that before the appointment of the commandant in Pskov, General Remlinger was the head of the prison in Torgau - and Sonnenfeld at this time he was a prisoner. And he was not the only one in Sonderkommand.
It is noteworthy that the Fritz were lawyers, and they tried. For example, the lawyer of the general rested on the fact that part of the punitive divisions did not obey the commandant of Pskov.
But the commandant and without extraneous gopoty worked well.
However, three of the eleven managed to get away from under the gallows. Well, these three - some children, at the most productive of all 11 personally killed. Just think, just a dozen Russian ...
Personally, I got the impression that these units were not suitable for the front because of weakness, but the villages could be burned. So they overcome the inferiority complex. And then — after the war you start talking to a front-line soldier — how many Ivanov did you kill — six? Ha! And I 312 - and the soldier turns blue from shame ...
The execution itself took place on 11 in the morning on 05.01.1946 on the square in front of the Giant cinema (now the Conti casino). A lot of people gathered. Judging by the documentary newsreel, my father is more accurate (although he has an infantry captain stuck with a lieutenant sapper) - there was a gallows 4 (letter P), two loops each.
The Germans at the time of the execution were without belts and overcoats, without hats and awards. They were placed in the back of large trucks and their cars drove back to the gallows. Then the convoy put the loops on the neck and the cars slowly went forward. The Germans took a couple of steps - and the body ran out. Both the Germans and the convoy behaved calmly, like the public. No horror, screams, screams ... The Germans also did not jerk their legs. Well, they didn’t show about the removed boots there ... Father told me - To be continued. I was born in 1931 year. Therefore, all my childhood falls into the thirties of the twentieth century.
It's funny to imagine that this was more than 70 years ago. My dad was an employee of the Kirov Railway Department, his department was engaged in the elimination of the consequences of accidents on the Murmansk branch. He died of hunger in January 1942. Mom - was engaged in children (me and my brother), household, from time to time got a job in clerical work (she graduated from the gymnasium) Brother, older than me by 5 years, died at the front in 1943 year. I do not remember the rest of the relatives, many have fallen under repression, maybe that's why. The father’s grandfather, grandmother, and aunt were exiled north during the period of collectivization and died there. My mom's grandfather died of typhus after he was in prison and got sick with typhus there, was exchanged for a piano. So he died at home, the day after his release, 1918 year. He was arrested as the minister of some white government, then such people bred like mushrooms, so he was offered, as an honorary citizen of Oryol, to take part in self-government. I didn’t remember what he was a minister, the government seemed to be functioning for a couple of weeks, then the Reds came to Eagle.
Uncle from the mother was the commander of the red armor (some armored cars), was missing after his arrest in 1938 year. The other after the exile in 1920 suffered from long tuberculosis. The first vivid impression. The first bright impression - I'm in a hospital bed. Next mom. I recover after suffering typhoid fever. I remember the doctor. He says that I can already be given kefir. What could be more delicious than kefir? However, they spoiled me with kefir, only while I was sick, it was evident that it was not too easy to get it. After all, it was a hungry year. I remember that the kefir did not spill out of the bottle, and had to shake it out, tapping it on the bottom with a hand. I watched as if spellbound, and when I poured this divine drink into the cup. House Pertseva, (Ligovka, 44) All my childhood was spent in this unique at that time house. Entrepreneur Pepper made a gift to the Soviet authorities, 'having passed on a turnkey basis' this gigantic residential community in 1918 year. This house, located next to the Moscow railway station, was immediately placed at the disposal of the October and Kirov railways. About 5000 people lived in it with me. It was mostly railroad workers who lived with their families and a certain number of NKVD employees. They differed sharply from the railway people with their bright form and plump appearance. In Ligovka, funeral processions often passed by our house. They were heading towards the Volkovsky cemetery and were always different - from the modest, when the coffin was carried in a truck with an open body to the rich, when the coffin stood on a luxurious hearse pulled by a pair of feather-adorned horses. (Such a hearse is just shown in the movie 'Jolly Fellows') However, I was distracted. There were a lot of guys in our house. The janitors and porters were a thunderstorm. The street sweepers, for the most part, wore beards and, therefore, resembling card kings, kept all the mischievous children under the vigilant attention. As soon as someone got guilty, he immediately found himself in the hands of a janitor, who took him to his parents for trial. The doormen (at the main entrances) drove the children from the stairs to the street, and for the night closed the doorways to the key, and the late tenants had to call the doorman to let them in. For the 'anxiety', the doorman was immediately paid. I didn’t have anything to do with the doormen in my age of that time, but I was careful about the janitors. We then played lapta, stander, hide-and-seek, salochki and of course the war. A holiday for the guys was the arrival of a hawker with ice cream. The seller deftly placed a round waffle in a special device, put a portion of ice cream on it, covered it with another wafer, and pressing the lever, pushed the lever into the hands of a neat, tidy ice cream into the hands of a happy young buyer. That morezhennoe was special - whether because of small size, or because they were doing it out of real cream. They brought barrels of bread kvass — short ones, a crane and a shelf for mugs and little things opened on two car wheels from the end, the saleswoman herself was sitting next to her on a high chair. They made okroshka from kvass or just drank right there. In the courtyard, everything was fun and noisy, but in the family circle, all the difficulties of that time were reminded of themselves. Parents bought butter, sausage and cheese at a store, within 100 - 300 grams, because then there were no refrigerators, and these products were expensive. In the morning, the apartment bypassed sellers buns and French pastries, bakery was in this same house, at the bottom. Milk bring familiar thrush, which is very poorly controlled Russian language, we called it among themselves Chukhonka. Dairy products were also not cheap and were bought little by little, in limited quantities. Mom usually did not work in the summer, but was engaged in housekeeping, while her father worked alone, the economy mode in the family was especially felt. I remember that in the years of my childhood I often had to stand in lines as soon as something interesting was brought to the store. As soon as the queue lined up, moreover, the children became right next to the adults. This allowed us to take more goods. The goods were often sold very quickly and those who lacked it were scolded by the lucky ones. The queues were always for vegetable oil (it was in high gear), it was sold in bulk, they were queued for meat before the store opened, then it was possible to choose a better piece, butchers were respected people at that time. Queues were frequent, commonplace. Whether it is edible or clothes or shoes. All lived very modestly and those who could afford to buy a bike were considered rich. Brother. My brother and I often visited a movie. I remember a film about pioneers who prevented a train wreck and caught a spy. There were shots when the engine rapidly rushes right to the audience, there was a stir in the hall, some people slipped under the chair, and my brother and I looked at them condescendingly - we had a railwayman and we were not afraid of the engine! Of course, films such as 'Volga-Volga', 'Circus', 'We are from Kronstadt', 'The Feast of St. Jörgen', my brother and I watched several times. Pope on feature films never went, basically. The Disney cartoons made an indelible impression on us. Several times my father brought from work day trips to the Garden at the Palace of Pioneers, they fed him twice a day and entertained him all day. It was very interesting. My brother took care of me all the time, but was strict and fair. Then I didn’t understand much and delivered to my brother quite often upset when it was harmful, there were also clashes with him, and I got from him, as a rule. (If it were not for my brother, I would not have survived the blockade). In the summer, the three of us with my mother often traveled to the Kirov Islands together. Mom harvested sandwiches, fruit drink in a bottle and we spent the whole day in a beautiful park. We sat at the Church of the Sign in the new tram cars, which were called American and went to the beloved islands. Perhaps these were the most cloudless times. Arrests Every family experienced serious fears when a wave of arrests began. My dad, who served in the engineering department of the Kirov Railway Department, after another accident came to the news that, such and such, was arrested. The arrested person simply disappeared, and the members of his family disappeared. When in the department of old employees there was very little left, dad took it and left this work of his own accord, went to work in an organization engaged in local industry, for some reason they did not imprison him. First of all, he was relieved to take off the phone that was standing with us (a rare thing at that time), so that he would not be called again, which happened very often and mostly at night. After such calls, the dad disappeared for a while, because it was necessary to go to the emergency section and ensure the restoration of the patency through the emergency section. Accidents were often, engineering structures were in a deplorable state, especially due to the fact that some high-sitting revolutionary had the idea of letting off particularly heavy 'revolutionary' long-length trains. On this railway installations were designed and started to break down at an accelerated rate, leading to an increase in accidents. Around this time (1938) our roommate was arrested. It happened at night. I remember knocking boots, sobbing behind the wall of my wife and neighbor’s daughter (of my age), shouting to the nkvdshnikov, but most frightened by the frightened look of my parents. A week later, the wife and daughter disappeared from the apartment. Below, below us, lived a rather richly prominent specialist with his family. Soon he was arrested, and the family was exiled. Immediately a deserted apartment was occupied by a handsome NKVDshnik with a beautiful young wife. A couple of years later he was also arrested, and he broke paralysis in his very young wife. Instead, another NKVD officer settled in, but I don’t know anything about his fate. In any case, when the NKVD officers were arrested, nobody regretted them. At night, the engines were heard 'funnels'. Even I had a condition that surrounded enemies, it was necessary to keep quiet, it was dangerous to share thoughts with someone. If someone wrote a denunciation to a person, which was commonplace then, no one would understand during the arrest, whether a denunciation was truthful or not, they would first be imprisoned. At the same time a lot of people went to prison for being late for work - it was enough to be late for more than 20 minutes. Tutorials, so that helped ... The end of March, 1942, was cold. Thanks to the speculator who turned up at the time, who sold mom some sugar sand, oats and a bottle of mustard oil, I literally rose from the dead and repeatedly learned to walk in my life, terribly pleased by the fact that I was able to bypass the dinner table. As soon as I felt a little better, my brother began to persistently try to pull me out onto the street, but I didn’t have the strength, and I was afraid that my legs would fail again. One day my brother came to me with an offer to go with him to Potter Street. There, inside the residential quarter in the school building, a hospital was deployed, but the Germans bombed it. The building was badly damaged, the two walls just collapsed, but my brother noticed there an unfinished door that could be used to heat our room. I decided on this risky event, despite the wadded legs and excessive weakness. Somehow, after a long break, I went downstairs, and we went out into the courtyard. My legs were not mine, but it was still possible to go. Several times on the way I fell, my brother quite deftly lifted me by the collar and put me on my feet again.
Sunny day, very few people on the street. We were overtaken by a skinny horse harnessed to a sledge — there the military carried some bags and crates. I also thought that this horse is also a dystrophy, and it has overtaken us, although it has four legs and my brother and I also have four. We walked along the path trodden in the snow, I was in front, my brother from behind, watched me go. A house collapsed with a bomb made an eerie impression, with broken windows and doors, crumbling walls. The brother led to the entrance, from where it was possible, as he explored, to climb up, despite the fact that the entrance was littered with a pile of broken bricks and rubbish, and the stairs mostly crumbled. Up to the second floor I had to crawl along the stumps of steps protruding from the walls, the stairways collapsed. Part of the steps erected into the wall allowed them to move up. Crawling on these stumps with the active help of a brother for a very long time. The staircase stood and empty doorways gaped from it to the right and left. To the left, there was a jumble of snow mixed with snow from bent and twisted hospital beds with piles of some scary-looking rags, and to the right, through the vestibule, led right to where the brother noticed the door. And through both apertures the street was visible - the walls collapsed. Slabs hung in the air and slowly and slowly sprung beneath us. Immediately behind the vestibule, we found a few miraculously surviving rather large wooden boxes. The sun was shining, it was very quiet and frosty, and my brother and I stood on this improvised balcony swaying beneath us, which could easily collapse under us any minute. But then we did not care at all. My brother opened the boxes in a businesslike way. There were textbooks on biology and botany. I was amazed by a huge ostrich egg, to our deep chagrin - light and empty - someone a long time ago - through the small holes blew out the contents. I was delighted by the wonderful collection of all kinds of legumes and cereals, each of which lay in its cardboard box under a thin glass. This collection gave us the opportunity to review and evaluate these cultures in a boiled form, and although there was a small handful of each culture, the find was remarkable. I was amazed by the collection of beautiful butterflies in their beauty, they were placed in neat boxes, also under glass. There were a lot of other things, like treasures found. But legumes and grains were the most valuable. The door to remove and break was no longer possible, and the broken boards from the upper floors, the chips from them were quite good in return. Scored full hands, that is, shopping bags, of course. It was necessary now to get back, and it was quite an easy task. First of all, we were both tired, and I, in particular, secondly, weighed heavily, in the third it was necessary to overcome the destroyed staircase again, now down. With the help of his brother, under his formidable prodding, he somehow descended. But for a very long time he grimaced, his legs did not obey. When we went home with the prey, the sun had already set, it was getting dark. Mom was very happy that we returned safely, and the soup made from 'collectible' beans on slivers from the boards turned out to be unprecedentedly tasty.
Photos from another shelling (Nevsky Square, Uprising Square, the same angle, on the other hand ns
The room before the blockade and during Father
photo of a German toilet
German prisoners in the outhouse Father
Shed where the prisoners lived Father
Plan of the old museum of defense of Leningrad Father
Defense Museum L-yes now. я
Blokadnika diary я
Armored troop я
It was shot just from the place where the father was born. The shelling is really not the same. ns
Same age father. Toko south. ns
Cleaning the city 1942 st. Marat ns
Staraya Russa. An example of German trenches. Here is here around us. ns