A story about a military tank. Combat annals of tanks "Panther" on behalf of German tankers. German tanks in battle Mikhail Baryatinsky

Stories of infantrymen, artillerymen, tankers, pilots and many others
Soviet soldiers of different types of troops. Just stories, dozens of stories
about the war - as they remember it. One paragraph - one someone's story.

My soldiers always received boots, but one time they suddenly gave
boots with windings, and the guys went on strike: "We are not infantry, we will not
to walk in boots. "And this was just after the Kursk Bulge. Heavy battles
passed, and we quickly moved forward, almost without stopping. And in one
the place turned out to be so many killed Germans that all my soldiers took off
with them boots for themselves. I even peeped the technique that I taught them
trophy team. A stick was inserted between the legs for emphasis, and at the same time
ripped the boots off the corpse. So then I just didn't know where to go from
this shame. For example, once we were moving in a marching column, and suddenly
one of the familiar officers catches up with me: "You don't feel the corpse
smell?" - "It seems not." - "But you know, I'm like past your battery
I pass, I immediately feel it, "like from these German boots. But
in general, we hardly took German boots, and that's why. I drew
attention to the fact that almost all of our soldiers had a high instep, and
for some reason, the Germans almost all boots were designed for a low rise, and
that is why they did not suit us. When near Stalingrad we
captured a German airfield, they found a large supply of chic
chrome boots. But how much I didn’t measure them there, and even on the size
more, but none of them fit me. I'll dress them somehow
could, but they pressed very hard in the ascent.

Why were people very afraid of being captured and were ready to fight until
the latter, and even commit suicide? Because captivity is a shame, to
in addition, relatives, in addition to shame, could also be subjected to repression
- it was also a very significant factor. Patriotism, faith in victory,
romance is all, of course, good, and so it actually was. We
were ready to die for the sake of the motherland, but the fear factor did not
can't be taken into account either...

And suddenly, with surprise, I see that in our direction they are walking to their full height
regiment commander, followed by regimental artillery chief, PNSh - 2, commandant
headquarters of the regiment, in general, about seven people in total, probably. And I when it's all
I saw it, I didn't feel like it. Because there we are constantly
annoyed by the sniper. And after that I suddenly see that our regimental commander,
True, I later realized that they were all drunk, going to their full height.
And I asked him, still bewildered: "Comrade Lieutenant Colonel, where are you going?" -
"Ah, so and so. You are afraid of three lousy Fritz," and went forward through
our trench right in the direction of the Germans ... But I shouted to them: "There
Germans!" But no, he still went to no man's land in full growth,
and after him and all the rest. And on neutral they are all from a machine gun and
put...

The Russians have the best password - a mat. You are given a password when
you go on a task, and if you are late, the password has been changed. you come back and
start firing at them. The only thing that helped was mat. How
you start to cover it, so immediately the fire stops.

With regard to those of our people who were taken prisoner, I thought then, and
Now I think that in each case it was necessary to understand separately.
Find out how he got, under what circumstances, how he showed himself in
captivity. After all, I had one classmate who was captured, and on
example of his tragic history, I saw all the injustice of such
general attitude towards our prisoners. His name was Anvar Nigmatulin, before the war
he was a student at the Polytechnic Institute, but at the beginning of the war his
drafted into the army, he went to the front, and in the summer of 1941 he was wounded in
stomach and was captured. And when I returned after the Yaroslavl hospital
home, then my friend and I went to visit him, and we had a very
difficult meeting ... He lived in some kind of hut, and during our conversation
I noticed that he is very sad, and even our appearance of him is not particularly
pleased. But then we talked a little, he told us
terrible things that he happened to endure in captivity, and then he says: "Here
I can see from you that the Motherland rewarded you and treats you like family
children, but she treated me like a stepmother ... You know that every
week have to be celebrated in the MGB? And about what I earned in captivity
consumption and I barely live by it at all ... Well, you know me,
Am I a traitor? And then I have two escapes, and there are people who
can confirm all this, but no, they don’t even want to figure it out there ... "He
I almost cried when I told all this ... This sad meeting
left a very heavy residue on my soul ... And soon I found out that he
died...

The first time was when I was still serving in the tribunal of the 175th division.
At night there was some kind of alarm, either the German intelligence was acting, or
or something else, but in general one rifle company left its positions.
Naturally, they began to look for the culprit, who raised the panic. In the end,
pointed to one guy, but even then it was clear that he was just
appointed switchman, because everyone ran, and he too. Besides, I remember
it turned out that he was a member of the Komsomol, but ... They read out the verdict, there it was
very quickly ... And when he was already standing in front of the machine gunners, then suddenly
shouted: "Long live Stalin, long live the Motherland!" But its all
shot anyway...

In the Kuban, they made a passage for tanks in a minefield, and was received
order without stopping to enter the breach. Before us, through this passage
cavalrymen passed under heavy German fire. The whole passage was blocked
corpses of people and horses. Yes, and the wounded have not yet been taken out, but here
order - "Forward!" ... We went through this mess. After the fight, when together
with a mechanic. they cleaned off the tracks with a mount, you don’t understand whose meat. I am
thought. that my nerves can't take it. You see, they walked over the wounded ...

Usually in the infantry they were fed as standard - pea or millet soup,
pea porridge from concentrate, we also got American stew.
Other former officers say that they received the
doppayek, so during the whole war I never saw any doppayka in my eyes and
did not receive. He ate, like my fighters, from the battalion boiler, but maybe
the company sergeant-major threw more thick stuff into my bowler hat, like an officer and
to his commander, and nothing more. Trophies rescued, "pasture".
We were marching, and the battalion cook dug up potatoes in the field, threw them into
uniform in the cauldron, wanted to feed the fighters, there was nothing else. But march
walked non-stop, on the move he did not see, all the potatoes were boiled and
turned into porridge, mixed with sand. At a halt, he began to distribute
potatoes, and it was already impossible to eat them, the fighters began to resent, and how
once a regiment commander walked past. They complained to him, they say, for lunch, some slop
gave. He went to the field kitchen, picked up a pot of potatoes,
I tried it, and ... began to smear the hot potato on my face with my hand
unfortunate, innocent cook ... Why be surprised, our
the regimental commander was a man of a tough temper, sometimes attacking the battalion commanders with a stick
drove, could and hit with his "club" or fist of any officer ... At that
time scuffle by senior commanders and constant rude mate on
subordinates did not surprise anyone, such, with permission
to say, there were a lot of "officers with a high personal culture" ...

The order was given when it was light, and we were already in sight. When leaving at
We had one killed and three wounded. Because of the stupidity of the authorities lost
people. But that rarely happened. That's why I fell in love with intelligence, that there myself
think, not a drunken uncle for you.

I crawl up to the house, I hear German speech, a drunken German hubbub, near
a woman sits at home and cries. I point a revolver at her and say:
"Crawl to me" - "Yes, where did you come from on my head?! Yes, the Germans are in the house,
children in the forest, what am I going to do with you?" - "Crawl I say, otherwise I'll kill you."
She was somewhere around the same age as my mother, 37-38 years old. She crawled, I
hugged "Crawl - I say - to ours." She knew where to crawl and in the morning we
went to the front line, heard Russian speech. "Well - I say - stay
or will you crawl back?" - "Back, I have children there." And to this day
I regret not thanking her.

They quarreled with the Germans. You could also see this - Valentin Buts
climbs out onto the parapet, sits down near the machine gun, lights a cigarette, and
talking to a German machine gunner! I tell him - "Butz, immediately
go down the trench! Now the Germans will "take off" you! He replies, "Everything
okay, commander, I met a German here - and, folding my palms
mouthpiece, shouting - Karl! Charles!". From the German side comes - "The moment,
niht sprechen! Feldwebel Comt!”. And it happened like that - Valentine shoots from
machine gun at the enemy, they answered with fire from there, but it seemed to him that
this machine-gun duel is empty, they just waste ammo. Valentine
shouts to the Germans - Hey! Fritz! What the hell are you shooting!? Out of the blue
clearly heard - I'm not Fritz, I'm Karl! Let's not shoot!
Gut! - Karl agreed. But war is war. I'm fast buts to the side
pushed aside, they say, you are still natural fraternization here, right in front of
Arrange a "special officer" and gave a long line at the German positions. Carl yells
for its part - Nit gut! But we agreed!

I remember that the column is moving, and the soldiers are sleeping and snoring right on the move. AND
if they suddenly stopped unexpectedly, then the rear ones jumped on the front
going.

Already somewhere in Belarus, the infantry captured five Germans, but they
handed over to me, because they had absolutely no place to keep them. And there
it was just such a situation that I could not send them to the rear. So
for two weeks they lived at the location of my training division. And what you
think? They seem to have even become friends with my soldiers, and no one to them
did not show any aggression ... And how glad they were that the war
already over for them.

At the railway station there were tanks with alcohol, the whole division
got drunk. Then it was necessary to attack further, so the Germans in a narrow passage
between the two lakes they put two machine guns and the whole division in place more
they kept them for days, repelling the attacks of our drunken infantry ... The people there
put ... it's better not to remember ...

In our 3rd tank regiment there was a captain - a political instructor, like on
positions of party organizer or regimental agitator, who, with his courage and
selflessness made me radically change my mind about
commissioners. This captain could easily not go into battle, he was not
included in any crew, but himself, in his personal
initiative, climbed into the "Sherman" sixth, and though, crouched in three
death in indescribable crowding, he could not help us in battle, but he himself
the fact that the political instructor is with us, going towards death, caused our
genuine admiration.

With us, a nurse went to reconnaissance, Muscovite Valya, the girl was fire,
try not to take the wounded. She immediately pulls out a gun: "I
I’ll shoot!” But Valya, the nurse, was unhappy that she didn’t get to know
officer, he will be killed.

Once I was on my NP on the front line, there was a lull, so we
we decided to play chess with the company commander right in the trench. Right there in
trench put a board on a box of cartridges, we are playing, and suddenly a sudden
artillery attack, the Germans often practiced this, and then we did too. And this
the guy was cut off the upper part of the head with a fragment, and, moreover, all this is a mass of the brain
fell right on the chessboard ... Since then I have not played chess either
once, because when I see a chessboard, I have before my eyes
this terrible picture emerges...

When they say that front-line brigades came to the front line, then
It always makes me smile. That's how long I was not at the front, but neither
I have never seen a single brigade of artists, farther than the command post of the division they
no no.

I had a friend who was a signalman. She was a very young girl
24th year, Stalingrad. And suddenly, for something, her commander climbed on her
platoon. Probably, after all, she did not justify some of his certain
hopes, because then I heard bad reviews about him as a person.
And when we once planned reconnaissance in battle, then go with
he appointed her the advancing one ... But it turned out that this
the conversation took place in front of me, and I saw how she tried, almost crying,
explain that it will be difficult for her to complete such a task. And he told her:
"Nothing, nothing, my dear. Get used to it, you're a soldier, but I have others
no people..."

Already after the end of the fighting, I lay in the dugout, but still could not
to fall asleep. It stood so unusual for the front, some kind of oppressive
Silence, from which one could really go deaf. Literally none
a single shot, not a shell or mine explosion. And suddenly broke out
automatic burst, one, two, and I instantly fell asleep. And in the morning I
told that one of my soldiers, exhausted by lice, threw off his lower
shirt and began to shoot her with a machine gun ... Everyone, of course, laughed,
and I even thanked him: "Thank you, brother, otherwise I would not have fallen asleep."

Twice a day, early in the morning and late in the evening, Uncle Volodya and Uncle
Andryusha will bring the kitchen. It happened differently when they fed well, and when
nothing for eight days. There was nothing to eat. And with mines and cartridges
there were no problems, you can dial as much as you want in the district, and from German
machine guns were fired, and we used German mines, even German
mortars captured. But their weapons were better, more aiming, optics
good.

They unloaded me and one wounded soldier, a nationalist, brought me to some
building, and laid on the bunk. And on the chest they put a sandwich with
oil, and more. And I feel so bad, I can’t eat and I don’t want to, moreover
but the hand did not yet act, like the leg, it was motionless. And like this
I lay and watched him. He then stealthily looks at my rations, then
will turn away. Look again, turn away. And then suddenly took it sharply and
ate. And I don’t blame him for that, he was obviously very hungry.

I understood the importance of education, and that is why I always tried
to select for itself replenishment from young guys with education. For example, on
Many Uzbeks were sent to the Kursk Bulge, but I managed to choose a person
ten, eight of which were young guys who graduated from ten
classes. All of them were competent guys with whom I was pleased. not without reason
they say that the war was won by youth and tenth graders, in particular,
After all, education means a lot.

Voenkov was 35-40 years old. He had his own tailor, hairdresser, phaeton,
riding. How the master lived. The bosses were bought from him by expensive
trophies. He didn't go to work. Once on this Gron got excited
and decided to go looking. I agreed with the guys: "We are sailing on a boat. I am on
I turn the boat over in the middle. You swim out, and I drown him." He is already in
entered the boat, and then changed his mind and went ashore .... And we clashed with him
because of Nurse Nina. I went to her once. She says: "I still
girl". I knew that they would kill me anyway and link my fate with her
did not intend to, but decided to keep it. She came to me, we slept
together. No one climbed to her - no one wanted to get involved with intelligence. A
the company commander laid eyes on her.

Once a German jumped out on our patrol of four
armored personnel carrier. The soldiers who were sitting in it threw a pack of
cigarettes and let's move on. Neither they nor we fired.

Throughout the war, I "bounced" from offers to join the party. But
shortly after the war, "new rules of the game" appeared in the army. I have,
strenuously celebrating our Victory, the battery commander went into a deep binge, and
from this binge he did not return. I had to take command for a while
battery instead. The political officer of the regiment raised a fuss - “Why is the battery
run by a non-partisan? How can this happen?
order sent "to act in the Bolsheviks."

"Buyers" arrived in the reserve regiment to conduct cadet recruitment in
Tashkent Infantry School named after Lenin. Me with my 7th graders
school was considered an educated, suitable candidate for study, and I
along with other "literate" led to the "selection committee". V
There was a blackboard hanging in the room and two lieutenant colonels were recruiting. I AM
came in, they give me chalk in my hands and say - "Write H2O", wrote - "What
this?", I chuckled - "Water" - "Well done, you are accepted into the school."

For "shooting at friendly" in battle, all without exception under the tribunal
gave away. So there would be no officers left in the artillery units.
Show me at least one person who fought in the infantry at least
six months, who will say that he never received a “fire hotel” from
their gunners, "Katyushas" or attack aircraft with IL-2. After all, on the battlefield
often impossible to understand.

On December 31, 1944, the division took a Polish village with battle. We, the managers,
a little delayed until the connection was wound up and so on. We drive up to the village
and there they were all drunk “in the insole”, they didn’t even put up sentries ... In the village, the fighters
captured German trucks stuffed to the brim with Christmas
gifts for Wehrmacht soldiers. And in each gift box there was a check
Roma. Well, that's where it started, you know. New Year's anyway. And that was at
I remember a case, still in my "first" regiment. The whole regiment got drunk, and
The Germans went on the counterattack...

They give you an order, let's say - "By 12-00, advance to the village
such and such, occupy and equip the OP and start the adjustment, ”and at the same time
they tell you that our infantry has already taken this settlement and is firmly in
fixed on him. But you are already a "grated kalach", and you know perfectly well what it is
at the front - a "false report", and as it often happened, our infantry
not in this village at all, and never was.

He managed to get into the tankers. But he was frankly afraid to get into
tank, was afraid to burn alive. It came to a funny but absurd
situations. He ran on the attack behind his tank, from behind. By his almost force
dragged into the tank. After two hundred meters, a direct hit into the tank. This
the senior lieutenant was blown off his head, but in the last dying
convulsions, his hands tightly grabbed the wounded mechanic's leg -
tank driver. The mechanic pulled his leg out of his hands with difficulty.
headless corpse of an officer.

I did not feel pain, but I realized that I was wounded in the lumbar region, as
then it turned out that the spine was also hurt. I'm trying to get up, but my legs are not
act. I’m lying, as they say, “I miss you,” and I clearly understand that I
“end”: I can’t move, and there is absolutely no one to help me, no one around
souls…. And in such situations, only in the cinema they shout: “Orders!” We have in
battalion, for example, there was only one medical orderly girl, two elderly
orderly, and only one ambulance wagon. Well, how many people could they
save? Therefore, mainly those wounded survived who themselves could
get to the medical battalion .... But I'm very lucky! Suddenly flies out from behind
turning open "Willis". It contained a driver and two officers with a walkie-talkie.
They ask me: “Soldier, where are the Germans counterattacking here?” How could I
showed the direction, they transmitted it on the radio and .... turned around to
leave ... I shouted: "Guys, take me away from here!" They looked at
me, as it were, deciding whether it is worth it .... One of them says: "X .. with him", and
True, what was the cost of a soldier's life then? Nothing! But the second one said:
"Let's get him." And they still picked me up and took me to the rear. But
the medical battalion to which I was brought was almost ready for evacuation, and
didn't want to accept me... And I was already very ill, and, typing
last strength, I told that orderly: “Now I’ll shoot you, and for me
it won’t do anything,” I still had a rifle with me. Threat
worked, and I was sent to a front-line hospital.

There were street fights in Lvov. Not the most brutal fights, but tolerable.
The weather was clear, and then, suddenly, streams flow through the city. Yes, not simple
and pubs ... In the center of the city there was a brewery, in its large cellars, in
huge oak vats, beer was stored. The soldiers, having learned about this, descended
into the cellars, shot through vats with automatic bursts and drank beer,
whipping stream, from bullet holes, reaching the unconscious
states. When the beer flooded the basement, there were just a lot of people
choked...

I remember the episode, it was just near Moscow, it was no longer in power
I was physically unable to. There is no time to search and dig graves,
put all yours. But this hole. She was still moving. Still alive. Like this
It was. And Stalingrad too. Still moving in the hole. And we don't have other pits
prepared. To dig a hole, preparation is needed appropriate. Here
this thing I remember. Then he went to Stalingrad to see how
there. There were three men per regiment. In a regiment of three, four, five
man - and so something three thousand! In general, when these pits were plugged, so many
there were people ... It's unpleasant. I'm thinking now, maybe these holes are
played a role. We took by scale, by count, by quantity we took. Not
honestly. Because there was not enough technology. That's horrible. The school also taught:
"Forward", yes "Forward".

I had an orderly, an elderly man aged 55, father of 4
children. Just before the crossing, I drove him out of our boat, I really don’t
He wanted his children to become orphans. So he told me several times
handed over a pot of fried mushrooms to the bridgehead. How did he manage to do it without
fry butter, I don’t know ... But it was the most delicious thing that I
ate once in my life.

And I got myself that day from one German very handsome
Nickel-plated "Magyar" pistol. The glory of this gun is fast
spread among our officers. Suddenly the commissioner himself comes to me
regiment and asks - “What kind of pistol do you have there so special? give
me him." No, I think, although I didn’t feel sorry for this “Magyar
toys”, but I’d rather give this gun to the Germans than to the political officer. I did not love
commissars ... By this time, all my former enthusiasm for
Communist Party disappeared into oblivion. And this political officer
he was a painfully lousy person. I tell him - “Yes, I don’t already have this
"trophy". I exchanged it for a "revolver". He frowned and left. But someone
apparently “reported” to the commissar that I still had the pistol ...
awarding for the Dnieper bridgehead. All my guys were awarded orders
or medals "For Courage", but I'm still waiting, like I'm supposed to. In the neighboring
regiment to the captain-communicationsman for simply fixing the interrupted connection, they gave
Hero of the Union, and I then laid a connection across the river to the bridgehead twice. On the
He did not count on a hero, but he was waiting for the order. Suddenly the commander himself calls me
regiment and is interested - “What is your story with the political officer? He is yours
tore the award sheet to shreds. I show him a trophy pistol, and
I tell you what's going on. The regimental commander immediately warned me that I was in vain
I contacted this commissioner. And soon the political officer began to put pressure on me with everything
zeal that in the regiment the officers were already arguing about what would happen first - or
The Germans will kill Borok, or the political officer in the penal battalion will quickly determine him.
Our commissar was active, he even sat down with the regiment commander, without
a twinge of conscience, "set him up in full." And when after
Zhytomyr, the regiment commander was leaving our unit, then he took me with him to
army reserve, knowing full well what troubles await me
ahead if I stay to fight in the regiment next to this commissar. Saved,
in a word.

There was another episode that gave rise to a desire to live in me. When
we were only brought to the Ufa hospital, then the wounded were first washed.
This procedure took place as follows: in one well-heated room
a dozen young healthy girls, completely naked, only in
small oilcloth aprons, washed the wounded from trench mud,
cut off old bandages and washed wounds. I got a young swarthy
Ukrainian Oksana, I see her as now. I still don't know if it was on purpose or
no, this procedure was thought out, but the young, hot bodies of these
girls, their gentle hands, returned to many wounded the desire to live ...

We did not award anyone, only mass graves. Gathered everyone
dead, gave a triple volley, and move on .... After all, who then could
reward? The one who for a long time could stay alive,
those. staffers, artillerymen. And we, the infantry, were brushwood, which
thrown into the fire of war.

A large group of officers celebrated the New Year 1945 together, with us
there were signal girls from the headquarters of the regiment. Everyone knew that Joseph
beautiful voice, he sang superbly, and after the war everyone told him
career as an opera singer. We drank a few toasts. They began to ask Kaplan
so that he sang, Joseph did not mind. One sergeant, to whom the battalion commander
Dmitriev was not indifferent, sat down next to Kaplan and put her arm around his shoulders,
listening to a song. And Dmitriev was already "ready", as they say, he did not knit a bast.
And in the middle of the song, a shot rang out. The battalion commander, who was sitting opposite Kaplan,
pulled the pistol out of its holster and shot the company commander at point-blank range
head ... He was jealous ... Dmitriev was disarmed, his shoulder straps were torn off,
and ... left to serve as a private at the headquarters of the regiment. They didn't judge!.. Chiefs
they tried to write everything off as an "accidental shot". I have approached several times
Chief of Staff, Lieutenant Colonel Shutov, and asked - "Why Dmitriev walks
free, and not in the penal battalion? He, nit, his officer
killed!", to which Shutov invariably answered me - "We will judge him after the war
we will."

Somewhere in the Poltava region, we were moving in a marching column and suddenly we were
stopped, and built in a square. We look, they carry out a guy on a stretcher
eighteen, puny. Turns out he was a crossbow, and
shot himself in the leg. He was obviously afraid of the war. And his straight recumbent, he
after all, he could not stand up or turn around, he moaned loudly, the smershevik in
the back of the head and shot him ... But this incident also did not affect us all.
educational, but rather a negative impression ... Even pity for
he was, even though he was a crossbow.

September 22nd. We are slowly advancing, fighting for each village. And now, having driven the enemy out of another strong point, my tank company is pursuing the enemy infantry, rolling back north along a country road through a small potato field. Caterpillars " Matilda"It is difficult to turn, and we are moving at the speed of pedestrians - we must already stop and clean the undercarriage of dirt. In addition, either due to someone's malicious intent, or due to an oversight of the supplies, only armor-piercing shells - "blanks" were brought to the 40-mm guns of the Matild. There were no fragmentation shells in the ammunition load. That is, the tank could successfully fight against armored targets and infantry with a machine gun at the actual range of its firing. However, the distance between the "Matilda" and the enemy increased to 800-900 meters, which made his fire ineffective.
A group of a dozen Nazis paced across the field to the left of the road. Seeing that we were not firing, two big guys from this group stopped and, having lowered their pants, began to show us their asses. Say - on, bite! The German - a verst from Kolomna - even managed, bending down, to stick his head between his spread legs and quite, with choking, neigh ...
In Ukraine, where I come from, such a "show" is an insult of the highest degree. Maybe they just got insolent and believed in their impunity, or maybe they knew from Orlov that I was Ukrainian, and decided to “get it” to the liver? Do not know…
My gun commander, Sergeant Yuri Sloboda, repeatedly asked me:
- Company commander, allow me, I'll plant them! I reassured him:
- You won’t hit every ass with armor-piercing ones, and there are 15-17 of them left. And when the replenishment of ammunition will be brought up is unknown. Be patient…
Encouraged by impunity, the "artists" went into a rage. What only "knee" they did not give out! And back and front ... My patience finally snapped:
- Yura, hit!
At the next "performance" of the Germans, in which three "artists" already participated, Sloboda ordered the driver:
- Short!
For seconds, the Matilda froze in place. Yuri grabbed the tallest fascist with a fairly voluminous "bread box" in the crosshairs of the sight. Armor-piercing projectile hit exactly the "bull's eye", tearing the "actor" to shreds. Shapeless pieces of his body scattered in different directions. The surviving Fritz rushed in all directions ... How could they, fleeing, pick up their pants? Marvelous!

Manchuria 1946, after the victory over Japan

With the entry of units and formations of the 6th Guards Tank Army into the territory of Manchuria, we were faced with the fact that all Japanese ground transport did not run on gasoline, but on ethyl alcohol. Preparing for the upcoming battles, we should be aware of this feature of providing the Japanese army! Our cars were not adapted to such fuel. But this liquid quickly found another use - they began to dilute it to the desired strength and pour it into mugs and glasses. They drank and praised. Barrels stocked up! When we returned to our homeland, I also saved up two or three two-hundred-liter containers for all sorts of future celebrations. However, by the twentieth of December, the exported stocks of alcohol had dried up. But then, to the great joy of lovers of intoxicating, the last military echelons began to arrive from Manchuria, carrying barrels of alcohol as well. Everything would be fine, but among them there was a certain amount filled with methanol, in color and taste no different from ethyl alcohol [further tells about mass methanol poisoning in the Red Army]

A few words about the development and use of American Lend-Lease technology.

Pe-2"

As I said, a B-25 came to us with a 75 mm gun. The regiment commander Usachev decided to personally test it. He tells me: "Get ready, let's go flying up." They took off. They went out to sea. Instead of a navigator, who must load the cannon in combat conditions, a mechanic flew. The commander gave the command: "Charge!" The mechanic charged. The pilot shied away! The whole fuselage is in smoke! The plane almost stopped! It's good that the commander was experienced, he immediately turned the car into a dive. He says: "Immediately to the airfield!" We return, we sit down. Usachev says: “Take it out!” Removed this gun. But since they didn’t fly, they took to the air again. They took off, but there were no guns! Nothing was put in its place to compensate for the mass. The centering changed, and the plane began to fall on its tail. The commander shouts: "Kravets, climb into the hole!" I climbed in, and there is a direct flow of air. I began to freeze and I can not say that I am freezing. The commander nevertheless realized that the plane was crashing and landed. So I was already pulled out, I myself could not get out. He looked at me, realized that he had done something stupid. Such was a curiosity. Soon he gave this plane to the north, and the second one who arrived next used it as a transport.

More about alcohol

From the book by Artem Drabkin "I fought on Pe-2"

Kravets Naum Solomonovich recalls:

The fighters had "aircobras", "kingcobras" and "thunderbolts". There were three of the last. Ordinary pilots refused to fly on it. To operate the engine in afterburner mode, he had a fifty-liter tank with pure alcohol. Although it was sealed, ours still found a way to drain it. What is there?! The tank is big enough for everyone. Lesha, the mechanic of this aircraft, was the first to think of it. We look, he began to come later than everyone else and in a good mood. His subordinate minders say: “For some reason, our mechanic always sends us to lunch, but he himself is delayed.” And he disconnects the supply hose, pumps and goes. This aircraft did not take root, and the commander allowed it to be flown north.

About how American grease was used to lubricate torpedoes

From the book by Artem Drabkin "I fought on Pe-2"

Kravets Naum Solomonovich recalls:

We also talked with torpedoists. They always had American lard - grease for lubricating torpedoes and instruments, as white and sparkling as snow. Pure chemistry. You take a piece of black bread, you spread this lard, sprinkle it with salt - real lard!

From the book by Artem Drabkin "I fought on Pe-2"

Kravets Naum Solomonovich recalls:

Most of the time we walked through our territory and the territory of the Baltic republics. Needless to say, they were not our friends. There were cases of killings of our soldiers and officers. True, we ourselves looted. There was nothing in the stores. Where to get? On the farm. You come to the farm to the mistress; milk, cheese, sausage, ham - they always had it. If she says no, how did we act? While I'm talking to her, the other one is rummaging around the house - we knew roughly where everything was stored. They took and took away. In Prussia, shops began to open quite quickly. One hundred grams were given to us rarely and only for sorties. They mostly drank alcohol, which was prescribed for washing radio contacts and devices. Naturally, it ended quickly. These stalls sold purified denatured alcohol, which we called “Blue Night” for its beautiful pale blue color. It was intended to kindle stoves, and the skull with bones testified that it was impossible to drink it, but when we tried it - excellent vodka, it is easy to drink. In one of the shops Pan Casimir was trading. At first, he was horrified when we came, asked for a bottle and glasses - we drank a glass of this "Blue Night" and took a couple of bottles with us. We paid him whatever we had to - there was no money. They sold captured weapons and uniforms. When this swill was over, they switched to “chassis liquor”. A liquid was drained from the shock absorbers, which was a mixture of alcohol and glycerin. They took a horn, began to twist it. What was wrapped around a stick was thrown away, and the remaining turbid liquid was filtered through two peakless caps. After that you could drink.

About learning to fly

From the book by Artem Drabkin "I fought on Pe-2"

Kabakov Ivan Ivanovich recalls:

I was assigned to the 3rd squadron of this regiment. The training went by the same method as in the Crimea - there were no sparks. Taken out by the commander of the regiment. He flies, I'm sitting on the navigational seat, watching. Sat down, he asks me: “Got it?” - "Understood nothing". - "Nothing, son, if you want to live, sit down." I took off. The speed is 350 kilometers per hour in a circle, the roll is no more than 15 degrees, such a radius turned out that it almost lost the airfield, especially since it was already winter and it was extremely difficult to navigate the expanses covered with snow. Decided to go on the second round and landing, sat down. In the evening, the regiment commander builds the regiment: "Sergeant Kabakov, get out of line." I went out. "For the excellent development of new technology, I express my gratitude to you." - "I serve the Soviet Union!"

Invasion of Denmark

From Blitzkrieg in Western Europe: Norway; Denmark; author Patyanin Sergey Vladimirovich

The landing (of the Germans) in Korser took place quickly and without opposition. Orientation was facilitated by the fact that all navigation signs were brightly lit, as well as street lights. It is interesting that on the eve of the Danish garrison conducted exercises to repel the amphibious assault.

From the book by Kirill Mal The American Civil War 1861-1865.

During the Battle of Spotsylvane, the following episode occurred:

Several of the feds, meanwhile, deployed the captured guns and began to fire from them with everything that came to hand. Even broken guns went into action, and since there were no artillerymen nearby and infantrymen fired, these items flew anywhere, but not at the southerners advancing on the trenches. So, when one Irish soldier had already loaded the gun and was about to pull the cord, his regimental comrade noticed that the barrel was pointed too high and the projectile would simply fly over the heads of the rebels. "It's nothing," answered the amateur artilleryman. "He'll fall on someone's head anyway."

The Second World War. Losses in tank divisions on both sides amount to dozens of wrecked vehicles and hundreds of dead soldiers. However, the White Tiger, a German tank spawned by Hell itself, and Vanka Smerti, a miraculously surviving Russian tanker with a unique gift, have their own battle. Your battle. Your duel.

Tanker on a "foreign car". Defeated Germany,… Dmitry Loza

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A new word in the genre of alternative fiction! An unexpected twist on a classic "fall in time" plot. Once in June 1941, three of our contemporaries do not rush to the Kremlin, to see Stalin, do not try to become "private advisers to the leader", but, having repaired the padded KV-2, they take the fight. Because the past can only be changed in this way - not "from above", where the inertia of history is too great, but standing shoulder to shoulder with grandfathers and great-grandfathers. Because in the end, the outcome of the war is decided not at high headquarters, but at the front line, and they are capable of creating a miracle ...

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"Tankman's Tale" Alexander Tvardovsky

What's his name, I forgot to ask.

Ten or twelve years old. troublesome,
Of those that are the leaders of children,
Of those in the front-line towns
They greet us like honored guests.

The car is surrounded in parking lots,
Carrying them water in buckets is not difficult,
They bring soap with a towel to the tank
And unripe plums stick ...

There was a fight outside. The fire of the enemy was terrible,
We broke through to the square ahead.
And he nails - do not look out of the towers -
And the devil will understand where it hits from.

Here, guess what house
He perched - so many holes,
And suddenly a boy ran up to the car:
"Comrade Commander, Comrade Commander!"

I know where their gun is. I unraveled...
I crawled up, they are over there, in the garden ...
- Yes, where, where? .. - Let me go
On the tank with you. I'll bring it straight.

Well, the fight doesn't wait. "Get in here, buddy!" —
And here we are rolling to the place four of us.
There is a boy - mines, bullets whistle,
And only a shirt with a bubble.

We drove up. - Here. - And from a turn
We go to the rear and give full throttle.
And this gun, along with the calculation,
We sank into loose, greasy black soil.

I wiped off the sweat. Suffocated fumes and soot:
There was a big fire going from house to house.
And, I remember, I said: - Thank you, lad! —
And shook his hand like a friend...

It was a difficult fight. Everything now, as if awake,
And I just can't forgive myself
Of the thousands of faces I would recognize the boy,
But what's his name, I forgot to ask him.

Analysis of Tvardovsky's poem "Tankman's Tale"

Alexander Tvardovsky wrote poetry from childhood, but his life was more connected not with poetry, but with journalism. Tvardovsky went to the front as a war correspondent for the newspaper On Guard of the Motherland in 1939, when there were heavy battles for Finland, and returned to civilian life only in the spring of 1946. For 7 years of front-line life, the author managed to travel not only all over Russia, but also Europe, published hundreds of essays and military reports. At the same time, Tvardovsky did not forget about the poems, which today are perceived as illustrations of those distant and terrible events.

It is noteworthy that, remaining true to journalistic principles, Tvardovsky tried to convey in verse everything he saw or heard with amazing accuracy. This also applies to the poem "Tankman's Tale", created in 1942. It was written from the words of an eyewitness - one of the participants in the tank battle. However, it seems that Tvardovsky personally saw everything that happened on the dusty street of a small provincial town, which the Soviet troops were trying to recapture from the Nazis.

The poem begins with regret that the narrator did not have time to find out the name of the main character of the story - a local boy of 10-12 years old from among those who are commonly called "troubled". They are the ringleaders in any company, the initiators of yard fights, as well as faithful assistants to Russian soldiers. One such tomboy approached the Soviet tankers during the battle to show exactly where the enemy's firing position was. “A boy is standing - mines, bullets are whistling, and only a shirt is a bubble,” this is how the poet describes the hero of his work.

The tank soldiers had no choice but to take the young daredevil with them to the armor and, guided by his instructions, go behind enemy lines. As a result, as an eyewitness of those distant events recalls, “this cannon, along with the calculation, we pressed into loose, fat black soil.” The soldiers thanked their assistant and, like an adult, shook his hand. But no one guessed to ask the name of the boy, which the participants in those events sincerely regret. “Out of thousands of faces, I would recognize a boy,” notes the tanker, who, in fact, this tomboy saved his life. However, the soldier understands that such young heroes could be found in every city. And it was precisely the children of the war, who defended their homeland on an equal footing with adults, that Tvardovsky dedicated this exciting poem with elements of journalism.