These three tiny stories, completely different in style and content, I dedicate to women. These three stories I heard at different times and from different people. The single unifying core in them is the female share, a silver thread firmly connecting the male relationship.
The basis of Lieutenant Colonel Vladimir Nikolaevich
Army service for lieutenant colonel Vladimir Nikolayevich Pukhov will always remain a great school of courage and heroism. He comes from a family of sailors. His father, Nikolai Nikiforovich, is a Soviet sailor of the "Stalin hardening". Mom, Nadezhda Ivanovna, is a senior sailor. Vladimir's parents were married in the army - the hero-city of Sevastopol. Then they returned "to the citizen" and went to explore the oil fields in the Far East, where Vladimir was born. Here the son went to the 1 class. As Vladimir admits, at school he was a frequent visitor to the head teacher, who constantly raised him. After graduating from 8 classes, he entered the Salsk Agricultural Technical School, where he studied for only six months. He returned home and got a job as a turner student at the Salsk Construction Works. Here he realized how difficult it is, how bread is earned, matured in a working-class family, and decided to resume his studies. Entered the Salsk vocational school-75 and graduated with good marks.
Serving in the army Volodya dreamed of since childhood. He was inspired by the feat of the Afghans, about whom they wrote little, but they were reluctant to tell something themselves after returning from that war.
- In November, 1991, I came to the military enlistment office and asked to join the army. In November of the same year he graduated from the paratroopers' courses in the city of Novocherkassk. In this school, we jumped from a plane with parachutes, engaged in hand-to-hand combat.
And December 16 of the same year, Vladimir was drafted into the ranks of the Soviet Army. I got into the internal troops, served in the Komi SSR.
“Hazing flourished in the army, but we had order in the company,” he continues. - The first time I applied for a military school in 1992, I wanted to become an officer and continue military service. He accidentally broke his arm and entered the following year only at the Vladikavkaz Higher Military School of the Red Banner Command School. CM. Kirov. Our training center was located five kilometers from the Ingush border in the village of Komgaron, where we underwent tactical training and learned how to perform combat missions.
I met my future wife Lena when I was on vacation, and a year later, 17 February 1998, we got married. My wife stayed at home, and I left to take exams. Before the exam on the theory of state and law, I was handed a telegram in which it was written that we had a daughter. Joy knew no bounds. When he graduated from college, he asked to serve in Makhachkala, was the commander of a platoon of 1 battalion 102 brigade. First from a friend, then allocated a room in a hotel. Based in the fall of 1998, he moved his family to Makhachkala. The wife was engaged in the child and bothered on the house. Alyonushka arranged her life in such a way that I came home, and my soul was resting from the army's tense everyday life. Army service is not only building on the parade ground. Work had to be done on rescuing people, parsing debris after explosions. And to participate in combat operations.
- At the end of July, 1999 sent his pregnant wife and daughter home. She did not want to leave. A week later, we were alerted and sent by helicopter to Dagestan in the Tsumadinsky district. We flew in a medical helicopter, and behind us flew a combat helicopter with paratroopers, and it turned out that we flew, and the "turntable" with paratroopers in the air fired at. They sat down in Botlikh, and they were moving us from there to the Tsumadinsky district, ”recalls the military operations Vladimir. - After us, in the same place, a military helicopter lands, and they again fire the paratroopers. Khattaby took us into the ring. A fight ensued, several fighters died. In the village of Agvali located on an abandoned border post. Here the soldiers equipped themselves with space and took up combat positions for the battle with the terrorists. It was getting dark. A UAZ vehicle and a truck in which militants were driving approached the outpost. Ensign Bertsinayev and two policemen stood on patrol near the road, they stopped these cars, a shootout began.
The servicemen took up combat positions and took all the fire on themselves, letting the main unit on the frontier post turn around and take the fight. In this battle, killed three of our guys. All heroism, victory is the merit of the soldiers, soldiers and sergeants.
Then there was a service in Astrakhan, Kamensk-Shakhtinsk, and then I was transferred to Chechnya - the city of Grozny.
For all the time the service received two contusions. My wife was very worried about me, the telephone connection with me was unavailable, and Lena came to me. Wherever I served, she always followed me. It so happened that once the commandant called my wife and me and said: “You have a very courageous wife. Not every woman will decide at such a time to come to her husband's hot spot for service. ” For all the years of my service, I am very grateful to my Lena, it was she who always supported me.
Girl Tonya from the farm Lipov Kust
Our young people often do not even suspect what trials have befallen the older generation - already their great-grandfathers, great-grandmothers, who went through grave trials during the Great Patriotic War, what incredible courage and resilience were shown not only by warriors, but also by women, young boys and girls , old men. Today, they are so old and frail, in need of support and care. And then on the battlefield and on the labor front, they defended their homeland from the enemy.
Antonina Ivanovna Medvedeva's family, then just girls Tony, lived happily in the farm Lipov Kust of the Verkhnedonsky district before the war. They grew up, children went to school. My father worked as head of the horse farm and was very fond of his work. In 1939, as a forerunner of production, he was delegated to the Exhibition of Achievements of the National Economy in Moscow, where he was rewarded for his work with a warm quilt. This blanket later, after the war, will be a good dowry for Tony’s daughter when she gets married.
In the meantime, Tonya, who was not able to let her mother go far away even to study, after seven classes went to work at the farm. It was a registrar, calf house. No one else knew what tests were waiting for them soon. Tonya and her friends went to the forest for strawberries that day, and when they came home, the mother, who had returned from the Kazan village, reported tragic news - the war began. Since then, the life of everyone - an adult, old and small - has been subordinated to one thing: the protection of the motherland, of his home. Men are drafted into the army. Women, young girls and boys, old men replaced them in collective farm production.
“Devchatko, it is necessary!” - the youngsters heard the pitiful request-order of the old man who was in charge of the farm. And Tonya with her friends on oxen in old clothes, at the risk of freezing in the steppes, frosting their faces, without complaint, because “they had to,” were sent to the snowstorm whirling to rickshaws, loaded the arba and delivered to the farm feed cattle
In the summer of 1942, collective farm cattle were ordered to be evacuated inland. Again, young people were involved, as the most mobile and enduring force. Guys on horses drove cows and young animals “for Hopper”. The girls rode on carts, carried simple supplies and two live pigs for food.
For two months in the steppes beyond Khoprom, they lived in huts and grazed cattle. Because it was necessary. In January, 1942 of the year, Tony's father went to the front and never returned. In the summer, the enemy, rushing to Stalingrad, took the right bank of the Don.
The bombing of Kazan and coastal farms began. Residents from the front line were evacuated. Mom Tony went to Shumilinskaya village with her children to go through the trouble.
In the evacuation in Shumilinka military training began to teach girls. Tonya, along with others, learned to fire a rifle, guarded German prisoners held in a stanitsa club, and took part in exercises to neutralize enemy troops.
And after the military training in Kazan, some girls were called up to serve in the army.
Boys and girls from the entire region in the Pridonskie farms of Bazkovskiy and Zaikinskiy who were on the defense line dug trenches in the winter cold, chipping away frozen clods of earth in the winter cold, threw them up with submersible shovels. Because it was necessary. It is necessary for our victory.
When the front went east, Tonya began to work on a collective farm farm again.
It was 1944 year, it was a hard time. From her father's pants, mother sewed Tone a skirt and gathered her daughter to study. A year later, Tonya received a degree in animal science, returned to her district and became a family breadwinner. After all, she as a specialist received a salary of as much 110 rubles! The collective farmers then charged workdays.
Soon the young specialist went on increasing: the chief zootechnician of the regional department of agriculture A.Artyomova and the chief veterinarian O.V. Voronin recommended Antonin to work as a zootechnician in the region.
Before moving to the district center in the life of Tony, there was another important event. After the victory, men began to return from the war. Here Tonya met her fate, the war veteran Semyon Medvedev, with whom they lived together, according to Antonina Ivanovna, exactly 60 years and three and a half days. The family had a daughter and son. Now four grandchildren of Antonina Ivanovna and Semyon Mikhailovich have become adults, four great-grandchildren have grown up.
Found a photo!
And finally, the third story about the female lobe. True, I already wrote about Grandma Klasch from the farm Mrykhovsky, who gave the retoucher for processing photos of her only husband. But I wanted to alter a bit differently the sad end of this story.
For twenty minutes, Baba Klasha traveled all over the village on her old bicycle, but she did not find the fellow photographer. And here he was, and there, and here, and there the red "Zaporozhets" was seen, and where he went, who knows. It was getting dark when she returned home. She did not find a photographer, he was no longer there. I rode the road over the forest, now birch, then pine, my heart was so heavy, even to cry. For some reason it seemed to her that the boy-photographer had lost a card to Grishin.
Grisha took a picture of himself, leaving the hospital, before going home, and since then for so many years the card has hung in the hut, framed under glass. She took care of her like the pupil of an eye, and suddenly she was so stupid: she gave into the wrong hands!
The old red-tailed rooster, having flown up on the table near the porch, where a big basin was upturned upside down, was filling up the corncob lying on the table.
She was filled with a rooster, pushing him to the ground, lifted the pelvis, under which she left the key to the hut, and was surprised, not knowing where the newspaper came from under the pelvis.
She removed the newspaper and was stunned: on the oilcloth lay a color portrait in a light cardboard frame, on top was Grisha's card, some note, and the key on it.
She suddenly began to fuss. She grabbed a portrait and a card with a note, carried it to the door. But then she promptly returned, put the portrait on the table, grabbed the key. And when rushing around like this, she kept saying all the time:
- Grinya, Grisha, Grishka my. Why did I sin on the boy?
She brought the portrait into the room. She pulled the handkerchief off her head, led them over the cellophane film covering the portrait, put it on the pile of pillows on the bed. She departed and stood looking at her husband. And he looked at her: young, thin, not strong after being wounded, in the very pillow she was trying on, with the medal “For Courage” on her chest. And then it was as if someone had pushed her hard in the back to the bed. She fell to her knees in front of the portrait and screamed for the whole hut:
- Oh, Grishechka you are my dear, you are my dear husband! Why did you get killed, poor? Oh, my grief, grief, my bitter bitterness!
While lamenting and weeping, she did not hear how a car drove up to the house, how the doors slammed in the car and how the son Sergey entered. He entered the room and, at once understanding of why mother was being killed in this way, began to pick her up from the floor: “Mama, little dove, calm down. Is it possible? You do not regret yourself. Well, there will be. Cry, and that's enough. "
She fell silent, ashamed that her son had found her the way he had never seen. He took her to a wooden couch, sat her in a corner, found a bottle of valerian in a cupboard, brought water from a kitchen from a kitchen, dripped valerian, and gave her a drink. He sat down beside her, wiped tears from his wrinkles from his face, stroked her gray head, asked:
- Calmed down a little, mom?
- There is a note on the table. Honor, Serge.
“Grandma Nazarchuk,” he read, “leave a portrait of your grandson. Send ten rubles to the city photo studio. ”
“What grandson?” - she was surprised.
Sergey lightly embraced her. Grinning, he said:
- You yourself say, mom, that I resemble my father, only the old one already. And our father, you see, remained young. The photographer thought he was your grandson.
“And that's true,” she agreed with her son. - Very young. Twenty-four years old total.
She was sitting in the corner of the couch, an old, with her shoulders bowed, a peasant woman from her grandfathers and great-great-grandfathers, who had worked in her time for ten good men, and was silently looking at her husband's portrait. Her face was sorrowful, and in the eyes shone tenderness. Nearby, hugging her by the shoulders, sat her beautiful son, a strong, broad-shouldered man in his prime and years old, no longer a peasant, a peasant who lived in peasant blood, and also silently, just studying, looked at the portrait of his father whom he had never seen alive.