Love in the rear in the war. Love that has gone through the war. Scouting and bathing negligee

Maria Batashova:
“This story was told to me by my grandmother when I was still a child. I remember how often I sat on her lap, listening to different (and sad, and sometimes funny) stories about the war. However, my grandmother Vera told me that story only once, but for some reason I clearly remember it.

“We lived then in our village near Smolensk. We had a large family - seven children, however, three boys then went to the front. For us, those who stayed, the time turned out to be difficult, there was almost no food. And then a company of Red Army soldiers came to visit us. One of the guys was wounded in the leg by a German bullet. The bullet was pulled out on the spot, but the soldier's leg was not healed. We had to put the fighter on his feet literally. The Red Army men left our village two days later, and the wounded Nikolai remained for another week. And this week was the happiest in my entire life then. He and I felt in each other something dear, dear. As if fate itself brought us together under such circumstances. And, of course, we really believed that we would be together. Accidents do not happen, ”- said the grandmother.

The first year after the forced separation, young people communicated with letters. Nikolai wrote that everything was in order for him, that the enemy, though slowly, was retreating, that one after another his comrades were dying. In one battle, it happened that so many wounded were taken to the hospital that this column was stretched for several kilometers. And it was impossible to bury all the dead ... The girl read and empathized, waited, hoped that death would bypass her beloved. And in the third year of the war, Vera waited for the most important letter from Nikolai, but, as it turned out later, it was the last ... It was in this letter that Kolya confessed for the first time to Vera how much he loved her, and dedicated his poem to her. As if he felt that later he would never be able to say this ... After 70 years, my grandmother read me a poem from memory, which Nikolai dedicated to her in his last letter. She didn’t even once hesitate as she recited it by heart. I read and cried ... Then Vera found out where Nikolai was buried, and often visited his grave. Once a year, on the day his last letter arrived, Vera came to the grave of her beloved and read her letters aloud to him. Until the last day of her life, my grandmother kept them secret from everyone. Deep in my heart ... "

Flowers in a minefield
One of the most touching love stories in Russian literature also originated in the atmosphere of the Great Patriotic War, which was by no means conducive to warm feelings. More precisely, within the walls of the Military Academy of Armored and Mechanized Forces, where at the very height of the war, in 1943, our fellow countryman and future writer Boris Vasiliev met Zorya Polyak. Whether a feeling flared up between them at first or at second sight is unknown, but three years later the lovers got married and lived together for sixty-six years.

However, the family idyll could well have failed, because the life together began for the spouses with a very dramatic, but only more spectacular episode: picking flowers, young people suddenly found themselves in a minefield. Vasiliev called this case an epigraph to his entire subsequent life. This is how the writer himself recalled it:

“... I had already typed a bunch when I suddenly saw a mine banner. I followed with my eyes and noticed the mine to which it led. And I realized that I had drifted into an undeveloped area of ​​defense. He turned cautiously to his young wife, and she was in front of me. Face to face.

I know. I was afraid to scream so that you would not rush to me. Now we will carefully switch places and you will follow me. Step by step.

I'll go first. I know how and where to look.

No, you will follow me. I see better than you.

For some reason we spoke very quietly, but Lieutenant Vasilyeva spoke in such a way that it was pointless to argue. And we went. Step by step. And - went out. Since then I have often found myself in minefields ... For more than six decades now I have been walking through the minefield of our life behind Zorina's back. And I am happy. I am immensely happy because I am following my love. Step by step ".

According to the recollections of everyone who at least once in their life crossed paths with this couple, the spouses managed to maintain an unusually gentle and warm relationship to each other until the end of their lives. And the only thing that could separate them was death. Zorya Albertovna died in January 2013, and two months later her famous husband was gone.

Good german
“This story was often told to me by my mother, because at that time I myself wasn’t even in the world,” recalls Alexey Filimonov. “Our village was completely burned down, and people had to dig dugouts and live there with their whole families. And nevertheless, some lucky ones still managed to save some domestic animals: ducks, chickens and roosters. Well, not far from us, in the only remaining intact buildings, a group of German soldiers was stationed.

And then one day a terrible typhus epidemic broke out in our village. The disease mowed down everyone, not sparing even children, and there was nothing to dream about medicine in our situation. So, probably, everyone would have died if not for the German doctor, who got into the habit of visiting us and treating the sick. And he came openly, during the day: apparently, his own people did not forbid him to save "enemies." I also came to our dugout when my older brother and sister became infected with typhus. Seeing the doctor, my mother immediately rushed to the threshold, closed the entrance with herself and began waving her arms: "You can't, you can't come to us, they are sick!" But the German calmly pushed her aside with the words "Mother, move away!", Went to the bed of sick children and began to give them some kind of powder to drink. After that, he came several more times, and soon both recovered. However, like other patients of the doctor.

The disease began to subside, but the doctor's visits did not stop there. Several times he came just to treat the children to chocolate, unprecedented in those terrible hungry times. It’s a pity that I don’t know how the good doctor’s fate developed further. ”

John's Stolen Heart
text by Elena Khlimanova
This is the story of a very close person to me - my grandmother Anastasia Petrovna Pavlyutskaya. I apologize in advance for some inaccuracies, there is no one to clarify - my grandmother is long gone. The beginning of the war coincided with the beginning of her youth: at the age of 16 she collaborated with the partisans, and at 17 she was taken prisoner in Frankfurt an der Oder, in Germany. My grandmother did not talk about the hardships of camp life, sparing my child's psyche, but she told me about the release. Like a close friend. I remember that I, little, asked her to repeat this story over and over again. I remember how her eyes shone when she talked about her love ... About which for a long time it was simply impossible for her to talk.

At the very beginning of May 1945, young Nastya (this is my grandmother) was awakened by the heart-rending cries of the guards: "Shnelle, shnelle!" All prisoners of war were forced to line up in the street. The last were my grandmother, who knew German quite well, and her friend from the camp, a former German teacher. From the conversation of the guards, they understood that everyone was being led to the bridge, where they would be shot. One of the Germans allowed the grandmother and her friend to escape and even told them where they should hide.

The girls are hiding in the basement of some building. In the evening they were found by American soldiers who had come to free the prisoners. They took the former prisoners of war to their headquarters. They fed. The food seemed insanely delicious. Then they were allowed to wash themselves and were given clean clothes. American soldier John, the one who found the girls in the basement, liked my grandmother. He said that she very much reminds him of his mother. For the first time and, probably, the only time in my life, someone treated my grandmother with such love and tenderness.

When the time came to return home, John suggested Nastya to go to America with him, said that he would settle everything with the documents, promised a happy life for a US citizen. He promised to marry, said that he could not live without her. He said that the Germans destroyed everything, and Nastya had nowhere to return. In spite of everything, the grandmother chose the Motherland, burnt, destroyed, but her own. All these years she dreamed of seeing her mother, little sisters, and nothing could overcome this desire. Even the likelihood that loved ones are gone. And the word "homeland" then had some other meaning. As they said goodbye, John presented her with a golden comb, adorned with diamonds and rubies. This comb belonged to his mother, and he always carried it at his heart. Giving the comb to Nastya, he said that he would give his heart with it, and that he would help her at home: if it was very difficult, she could sell the jewel and get a lot of money for it.

On the way home, on the train, her compatriots stole "John's heart" from her grandmother. So from this hopeless love she has only memories that she cherished all her life. And even if it was not possible to save the precious gift of her beloved, her own heart became the most reliable secret of their love. Then, at home, there were two marriages and four children. But John's warm heart remained with her forever.

“Yes, we had love in the war, but it was different. Everyone understood that you can love here and now, and in half an hour the battle will begin and your lover will be shot. Despite the fact that when we love at home, in peacetime, we do not imagine love as such. In the war, they did not think about the future. And some kind of game, pretense could not exist, because if feelings arose, then they loved to the fullest. Too often we have read the names of our beloved ones on plywood lightweight monuments on graves dear to our hearts. "

Maria Bolotova, medical instructor

“You ask, was there love? Yes, I’ll tell you the truth, I’m not afraid of it and am not ashamed ... I myself was a PW, which means a field-field wife. Unofficial, different, front-line wife.

My first front-line husband was a battalion commander. He was a kind, positive man, but I could not love him. Already four months later, I came to him for the night. But what else can you do? There are only peasants around, and in order not to be afraid of everyone, it is better to belong to someone alone. During the battle, I was not even so afraid as at the end of it, and even more so on vacation, in a calm. When shooting during a fight, they still see you as a nurse, an assistant, and at the end of the fire, it will calm down a little, everything is already - one is looking for there, the other is here.

At night I was afraid to go out of the dugout to the toilet ... Did other girls tell you about this or not? Of course, it's a shame to tell someone about this. Pride does not allow ... And everything was just like that ... Because they wanted to live ... And time passed, and youth ... And the guys, moreover, it is difficult for several years without female affection ...

No houses of tolerance were kept for the soldiers during the war, and bromine was not added to food either. Maybe somewhere they took care of this matter, but not in our unit. And if the commanders could count on something, then ordinary soldiers were very tormented all these four years. Discipline put pressure on everything… But no one talks about it… It’s not good, it’s a shame. And I was the only girl in the whole battalion and lived in the same dugout with the guys.

They assigned me a separate place, but there the dugout was tiny. At night, half asleep, she constantly fought off someone - whipping on the cheek, on the hands. After being wounded in the hospital, she also waving her arms out of habit in a dream. The nurse wakes up at night - what's wrong with you, asks. And it's a shame to tell the truth to someone.

This first roommate of mine, a front-line husband, was killed by a direct hit from a mine.

I loved my second military husband. He also commanded a battalion. I was always there in battle, I wanted to see constantly. And his legal wife and children remained at home. I saw them in photographs. And he did not hide that, having survived, he would go to live back to them, to Tver. But that did not stop us from being happy with him at that time. After a terrible fight, we sit, look at each other - and we are alive, we are back! And with no one else he will be able to experience such feelings anymore! Will not be able to! I was always sure that he would never again be as happy as he was with me then, at the front. No way and never!

Before the Victory, I found myself in a demolition. I myself wished for it ... But I raised and raised my child all these years myself, without his help. He didn't move his hand. He did not give anything, he did not pay alimony. He did not send a letter. The war is over, and our love with him is over. He lived for many years with his beloved wife and children. I presented my photo only as a keepsake. And that's why I didn't want the end of the war.

Of course, these words seem like blasphemy to you ... But I loved like mad! And I understood that when the time of peace comes, my love will end. Although I am glad that he allowed me to experience all this, to be at least temporarily, but happy. For my part, I loved him all my life. And I do not regret it at all. Now I have become old, I can tell about it.

My son scolds me: "Why do you love him at all?" And I can’t help myself. I found out not so long ago that he died. I cried for a week ... And again my son does not understand me, he says that this man died for me many years ago, already at the end of the war. And I continue to love. At the front I was so happy, it was the best time for me ... Please do not write my last name, otherwise my son will be unhappy ... "

Galina A., nurse

“Yes, of course, there was love in the war. I have met her at many others. And although I, probably, was not right in this, and it is not clear to someone, but I did not understand and condemned these soldiers. Because, in my opinion, this is not the time to improve your personal life during the war. From all sides around - fire, death, shots. And this is all the time, constantly, every minute. To forget about it, you cannot distance yourself from it. And I am sure, not only I thought so at that hot time. "

Irina Zueva, sniper

“Time goes by, it, of course, heals, and I have already forgotten much of what, it seemed to me, I will not forget forever.

We had already entered Germany, walked through German cities, the presentiment of Victory was already in the air. And my husband died. Immediately. A shrapnel hit him.

They told me that they had brought the dead from the battlefield, I was brought at breakneck speed. She hugged him, clung to him, did not allow him to be buried with the others.

Usually, in wartime, they were buried shortly after death. The fight ends, then they gather people from everywhere and dig one big hole and fall asleep all together. Sometimes they will fall asleep with sand alone, and when you stare at it, it begins to seem that this embankment is swaying, moving, because under it someone is still alive. And so I did not allow him to be buried, I wanted to be with him for at least one more night, to say goodbye. See enough ...

In the morning, a decision suddenly came to take his body to Belarus, to our homeland. Despite the fact that thousands of kilometers were separated. There is a war going on, roads are broken, turmoil is everywhere. Co-workers even thought that I was crazy with grief. They calmed me down, offered to sleep and come to my senses, come to my senses. But I did not give up, did not deviate from my plan. It went from general to general, then reached Rokossovsky, who commanded our front. At first he flatly refused. Thought that I was not myself. How many other soldiers have already been buried far from their homeland in mass graves ...

The last time I made my way to him. I wanted to kneel in front of him. But he convinced me that my husband was dead, he didn't care anymore. Then I said that we did not have common children, the house was bombed, there were not even photographs left. Nothing. And so in his native Belarus will be his grave. There will be where to return from the front.

Marshal Rokossovsky silently walked up and down the office. Then I asked him if he ever loved? After all, it was not my husband who died, it was my love that died. He said nothing. Then I said that in this case, I also want to die right here, because I still don't see the point of living without a loved one. He thought for a long time. Then he approached and kissed my hand.

I was given a special plane for only one night. I got on the plane ... I hugged the coffin ... And I lost consciousness ... "

Efrosinya Breus, physician

Found on a tip td_41 (THANKS!)
The original post is taken from e_gerontidy in War and love. As Catherine herself writes: .. The materials are taken from the books of Svetlana Aleksievich and A. Drabkin (site http://iremember.ru/). Just in case, I draw your attention to the fact that Aleksievich had different versions of the texts and they sometimes differ. The paintings are signed. Right-click and select Image Information. You may have to look a little in the pop-up window, I don't know what browser you have. In my FF, you need to go to the "Multimedia" tab.

"... Of course, there, at the front, love was different. Everyone knew that you can love now, but in a minute this person may not be. After all, probably, when we love in peaceful conditions, we are not like that positions we look. Our love did not have today, tomorrow ... If we loved, then we loved. In any case, there could be no insincerity there, because very often our love ended with a plywood star on the grave ... "

Nina Ilyinskaya, senior sergeant, nurse

"Are you asking about love? I'm not afraid to tell the truth ... I was a pepezhe, what stands for a field-field wife. A wife in a war. The second. Illegal.
The first battalion commander ...
I didn't love him. He was a good man, but I did not love him. And I went to his dugout a few months later. Where to go? Some men are around, so it's better to live with one than to be afraid of everyone. In battle it was not so scary as after the battle, especially when we were resting, we were going to re-form. How they shoot, fire, they call: "Sister! Sister!" Ashamed, I think ... They were silent. Proud! And it was all ... Because I didn't want to die ... It was a shame to die when you were young ... Well, for men it is hard for four years without women ... There were no brothels in our army, and they did not give any pills ... Somewhere, maybe they followed this. We do not have. Four years ... The commanders could only afford something, but ordinary soldiers cannot. Discipline. But they are silent about this ... It is not accepted ... No ... I, for example, there was one woman in the battalion, she lived in a common dugout. Together with men. They gave me a place, but how separate it is, the whole dugout is six meters away. I woke up at night because I waved my hands - I will give one on the cheeks, on the hands, then another. I was wounded, I got to the hospital and waved my hands there. The nanny will wake up at night: "What are you doing?" Who will you tell?
The first commander was killed by a mine fragment.
Second battalion commander ...
I loved him. I went into battle with him, I wanted to be close. I loved him, and he had a beloved wife, two children. He showed me pictures of them. And I knew that after the war, if he remained alive, he would return to them. To Kaluga. So what? We had such happy moments! We experienced such happiness! Now they have returned ... A terrible battle ... And we are alive ... He will not have this happen again with anyone! Will not work! I knew ... I knew that he would not be happy without me. He will not be able to be happy with anyone as we were happy with him in the war. Can't ... Never! ..
At the end of the war, I became pregnant. I wanted so much ... But I raised our daughter myself, he did not help me. I didn’t hit my finger. Not a single gift or letter. Postcards. The war is over and love is over. Like a song ... He went to his lawful wife, to the children. He left me his photo as a keepsake. And I didn't want the war to end ... It's scary to say that ... Open my heart ... I'm crazy. I loved! I knew that love would end with the war. His love ... But all the same, I am grateful to him for the feelings that he gave me, and I got to know him. So I loved him all my life, I carried my feelings through the years. I don't have to lie anymore. I'm already old. Yes, all my life! And I have no regrets.
My daughter reproached me: "Mom, why do you love him?" And I love ... Recently I found out - he died. I cried a lot ... And we even quarreled with my daughter because of this: "Why are you crying? He died for you long ago." And I love him now. I remember the war as the best time of my life, I was happy there ...
Only, please, without a surname. For my daughter ... "

Sophia K-vich, medical instructor

"We were alive, and love was alive .... Previously, it was a big shame - they said to us: PW, field, mobile wife. They said that we were always abandoned. Nobody left anyone! Sometimes, of course, something is not it was, and it happens now, now even more often.But mostly the cohabitants either died, or lived to the end of their days with their lawful husbands.
My marriage was illegal for six months, but we lived with him for 60 years. His name was Ilya Golovinsky, a Kuban Cossack. I came to him in the dugout in February 1944.
-How did you go? - asks.
-Usually.
In the morning he says:
-Come on, I'll show you.
-Do not.
-No, I'll show you.
We went out, and it was written around: "Mines, mines, mines." It turns out that I was walking towards him through a minefield. And it passed. "

Anna Michelet, medical instructor

"We arrived at the First Belorussian Front ... Twenty-seven girls. The men looked at us with admiration:" Neither washerwoman, nor telephone operator, but girls-snipers. This is the first time we see such girls. What girls! "The foreman composed poems in our honor. The idea is that the girls are touching, like roses in May, so that the war does not cripple their souls.
Leaving for the front, each of us took an oath: there will be no novels there. Everything will be, if we survive, after the war. And before the war we didn't even have time to kiss. We looked at these things more strictly than today's young people. To kiss for us was to love for life. At the front, love was, as it were, forbidden, if the command recognized, as a rule, one of the lovers was transferred to another unit, simply separated. We took care of it. We did not keep our childhood vows ... We loved ...
I think that if I had not fallen in love in the war, then I would not have survived. Love saved. She saved me ... "

Sophia Krigel, senior sergeant, sniper

"- But there was love?
- Yes, there was love. I met her at others. But you will excuse me, maybe I am not right, and this is not entirely natural, but in my heart I condemned these people. I thought it was not the time to deal with personal matters. All around evil, death, fire. We saw it every day, every hour. It was impossible to forget about it. Well, it’s impossible, and that’s all. It seems to me that I was not the only one who thought so. "

Evgenia Klenovskaya, partisan

“Together with my husband we went to the front. Together.
I have forgotten a lot. Although I remember every day ...
The battle was over ... The silence could not be believed. He stroked the grass with his hands, the grass is soft ... And he looked at me. I looked ... with such eyes ...
They went to reconnaissance in a group. They waited for them for two days ... I did not sleep for two days ... Dozed off. I wake up because he sits next to me and looks at me. "Get some sleep". - "It's a pity to sleep."
And such a keen feeling ... Such love ... Heart breaks ...
I have forgotten a lot, I have almost forgotten everything. I thought I wouldn’t forget. I will never forget.
We already went through East Prussia, everyone was already talking about Victory. He died ... He died instantly ... From a shrapnel ... An instant death. Second. I was told that they had been brought, I ran ... I hugged him, I did not let him be taken away. Bury. They buried quickly during the war: he died in the afternoon, if the battle is fast, then they immediately gather everyone, take them from everywhere and dig a big hole. Fall asleep. Another time with dry sand. And if you look at this sand for a long time, it seems that it is moving. Shivers. This sand sways. Because there ... There are still living people for me, they were recently alive ... I see them, I talk to them ... I don’t believe ... We all walk and don’t believe that they are there ... Where?
And I didn't let him be buried right there. I wanted to have one more night with us. Sit next to him. Watch ... Iron ...
In the morning ... I decided that I would take him home. To Belarus. And this is several thousand kilometers. Military roads ... Confusion ... Everyone thought that I had lost my mind from grief. "You need to calm down. You need to sleep." No! No! I went from one general to another, so I got to the front commander Rokossovsky. At first he refused ... Well, some kind of abnormal! How many have already been buried in mass graves, lies in a foreign land ...
Once again I got to see him:
- Do you want me to kneel before you?
-I understand you ... But he is already dead ...
- I have no children from him. Our house burned down. Even the photographs were gone. There is nothing. If I bring him home, at least a grave will remain. And I will have somewhere to return after the war.
Is silent. He walks around the office. Walks.
- Have you ever loved, Comrade Marshal? I am not burying my husband, I am burying love.
Is silent.
- Then I also want to die here. Why would I live without him?
He was silent for a long time. Then he came up and kissed my hand.
I was given a special plane for one night. I got on the plane ... I hugged the coffin ... And I lost consciousness ... "

Efrosinya Breus, captain, doctor

"Recently I spoke to young Italians. They asked for a long time: what doctor did I get treatment for? What was the illness? For some reason, they found out if I had gone to a psychiatrist? And what dreams do I have? Do I dream of war? Like, a Russian woman who fought with weapons, for them - a mystery. What kind of woman who not only saved, bandaged wounds, but shot herself, blew up ... Killed men ... They were interested: did I get married? They were sure that I did not. And I laughed: “All the trophies were taken from the war, and I was taking my husband. I have a daughter. Now the grandchildren are growing up. "
I didn't tell you about love ... I can't, because my heart won't be enough. Next time...
There was love! Was! Can a person live without love? Can it survive? At the front, our battalion commander fell in love with me ... Throughout the war, the shore did not let anyone in, but was demobilized and found in the hospital. Then he confessed ... "

Valentina Chudaeva, sergeant, anti-aircraft gun commander

“The commander of a reconnaissance company fell in love with me. He sent notes through his soldiers. I came to him once on a date.“ No, ”I say. “I love a man who has been dead for a long time.” He moved so close to me, looked straight into my eyes, turned around and walked.
Then, it was already in Ukraine, we liberated a large village. I think: "Let me walk and see." The weather was bright, the huts were white. And beyond the village there are graves, fresh earth ... Those who died in the battle for this village were buried there. I don’t know how I was drawn. And there is a photograph on a plate and a surname. On every grave ... And suddenly I looked - a familiar face ... The commander of a company of scouts, who confessed his love to me. And his surname ... And I felt so uneasy. Fear of such power ... Budo he sees me as if he is alive ...
At this time, his guys from his company are going to the grave. They all knew me, they carried notes to me. None of them looked at me as if I was not there. I am invisible. Then, when I met them, it seems to me ... That's what I think ... They wanted me to die too. It was hard for them to see that I was ... alive ... So I felt ... As if I was to blame for them ... And before him ... "

“Only recently did I find out the details of the death of Tony Bobkova. She blocked a beloved person from the mine fragment. The fragments fly - it's just a split second ... How did she manage? She saved Lieutenant Petya Boychevsky, she loved him. And he stayed alive.
Thirty years later, Petya Boychevsky came from Krasnodar and found me at our front-line meeting, and he told me all this. We went with him to Borisov and found the clearing where Tonya died. He took the earth from her grave ... Carried and kissed ... ".

Nina Vishnevskaya, foreman, medical instructor of a tank battalion

"The chief of staff was senior lieutenant Boris Shesterenkin. He is only two years older than me.
And so he began, as they say, to make claims to me, to pester me endlessly ... And I say that I went to the front not to get married or to twist some kind of love, I came to fight!
When Gorovtsev was my commander, he kept telling him: "Leave the foreman! Don't touch her!" and under the new commander, the chief of staff dismissed completely, began to pester me endlessly. I sent him in three letters. And he told me: “Five days.” I turned around and said: “Yes, five days!” That's all.
I came to the company commander (the women had already come as company commanders): "Five days in the guardhouse" - "For what? Why?"
And I just: "Take the direction" - and she took off the belt, took off the shoulder straps, everything is narrower. I go into the company and say: "Girls, take your rifles - I’m going to lead the guardhouse."
Well, everyone went crazy: "How is it? Why ?!" We had such a Baranova, and I tell her: "Let's go." And she is in tears. I say: "An order is an order. Take your rifle!"
The company commander went to the chief of staff, took his direction, an extract, and took me to the guardhouse. The guardhouse was in the dugout. They brought me there, and there are 18 girls sitting there! There are two rooms in a dugout, but there are only windows upstairs.
In the evening the clerk brings me a pillow and a blanket. She shoves them in the evening to me and says: "Shesterenkin sent", and I say: "Take the pillow and the blanket back to him and tell him to put it under his ass." I was stubborn then! "

Nina Afanasyeva, foreman of the female reserve rifle regiment

"We have a battalion commander and a nurse Lyuba Silina ... They loved each other! Everyone saw it ... He went into battle, and she ... She said that she would not forgive herself if he did not die before her eyes, and she will not see him at the last minute. "Let, - wanted, - we will be killed together. One shell will cover. "They were going to die together or live together. Our love was not divided for today and tomorrow, but was only today. Everyone knew that you love now, and in a minute either you or this person may not be there. In the war, everything happened faster: life and death. For several years we have lived there a whole life. I could never explain it to anyone. There is a different time ...
In one battle, the battalion commander was seriously wounded, and Lyuba was lightly, slightly scratched in the shoulder. And he is sent to the rear, but she remains. She is already pregnant, and he gave her a letter: "Go to my parents. Whatever happens to me, you are my wife. And we will have our son or our daughter."
Then Lyuba wrote to me: his parents did not accept her, and the child was not recognized. And the battalion commander died ... "

Nina Mihai, Senior Sergeant, Nurse

"Our girls spun love. One spun love with the foreman, and they brought him without legs. She ran away from him, and we all condemned."

Vilena Baikalova, medic

"I have already told that Stukalova Valya served as a medical instructor for us. She dreamed of becoming a singer. She had a very good voice and such a figure ... Blonde, interesting, blue-eyed. We made friends with her a little. She participated in amateur performances. Breaking the blockade we went with performances in parts. On the Neva stood our destroyers "Brave", "Brave". They fired at the Ivanovskaya area. The sailors invited our amateur performances. Valya sang, and she was accompanied by the foreman or midshipman from the destroyer Bobrov Modest from Pushkin. ” which hospital she is in. I have no idea where, but he got flowers, today you can order flowers delivery, but at that time they did not even hear about it! In general, I came to the hospital with this bouquet of roses, gave Valya these flowers children. Kneel down and asked for her hand .... They have three children. Two sons and a daughter. "

Tamara Ovsyannikova, communications operator

"My first kiss ...
Junior Lieutenant Nikolai Belokhvostik ... Oh, look, I blushed all over, and already my grandmother. And then there were young years. Young. I thought ... I was sure ... That ... I didn't admit to anyone, not even my friend, that I was in love with him. Head over heels. My first love ... Maybe the only one? Who knows ... I thought: no one in the company guesses. I never liked anyone so much before! If you liked it, then not very much. And he ... I went and thought about him constantly, every minute. What ... It was real love. I felt. All the signs ... Ay, look, blushed ...
We buried him ... He was lying on a raincoat, he had just been killed. The Germans are firing at us. We need to bury it quickly ... Right now ... We found the old birches, chose the one that stood at a distance from the old oak. The biggest. Near her ... I tried to remember in order to return and then find this place. Here the village ends, here a fork ... But how to remember? How to remember if one birch is already burning before our eyes ... How? They began to say goodbye ... They say to me: "You are the first!" My heart jumped, I realized ... What ... Everyone, it turns out, knows about my love. Everyone knows ... The thought struck: maybe he knew? Here ... It lies ... Now it will be lowered into the ground ... It will be buried. They will cover it with sand ... But I was terribly delighted at the thought, that maybe he also knew. What if he liked me too? As if he is alive and will answer me something now ... I remembered how on New Year's Day he gave me a German chocolate bar. I haven't eaten it for a month, I carried it in my pocket.
Now it does not reach me, I remember all my life ... This moment ... Bombs are flying ... He ... Lies on a raincoat ... This moment ... And I am glad ... I also stand about I smile at myself. Abnormal. I'm glad that maybe he knew about my love ...
She came up and kissed him. I've never kissed a man before ... This was the first ... "

Lyubov Bunch, medical instructor

"We were leaving the encirclement ... Wherever we rush - everywhere the Germans. We decide: in the morning we will break through with a battle. We will die anyway, it is better to die with dignity. In battle. We had three girls. They came at night to everyone who could ... Not all, of course, were capable. Nerves, you understand. Such a thing ... Everyone was preparing to die ...
Only a few escaped in the morning ... Few ... Well, there were seven people, but there were fifty. The Germans slashed them with machine guns ... I remember those girls with gratitude. I have not found one among the living in the morning ... I have never met ... "

From collected by Svetlana Aleksievich

"We have one officer who fell in love with a German girl ...
It came to the authorities ... He was demoted and sent to the rear. If I had raped ... This ... Of course, it was ... We do not write much, but this is the law of war. Men did without women for so many years, and, of course, hatred. Let's enter a town or a village - the first three days for a robbery and ... Well, behind the scenes, of course ... You understand yourself ... And after three days it was already possible to get under a tribunal. Hot hand. And for three days they drank and ... And then - love. The officer himself confessed to a special department - love. Of course, this is a betrayal ... Falling in love with a German woman - with the daughter or wife of the enemy? This ... And ... Well, in short, they took his photographs, her address ... "

A. Ratkina, junior sergeant, telephone operator

"I was in reserve, wherever they want, they will send it there. She began to ask: send me to where my husband is, give me at least two days, I just look at him once, and then I will return and send wherever you want. Everyone shrugs their shoulders. But I still find out by the postal number where my husband is fighting, and I go to him. I come first to the regional party committee, show this husband's address, documents that I am a wife, and say that I want to see him. it’s impossible, he’s on the front line, go back, and I’m all so beaten, so hungry, and how is it back? I went to the military commander. He looked at me and told me to give me a little dress. They gave me a tunic, a belt to girdle . And he began to dissuade me:
- Well, what are you, it's very dangerous there, where is your husband ...
I sit and cry, then he took pity, gave me a pass.
- Come out, - he says, - on the highway, there will be a traffic controller, and he will show you how to go.
I found this highway, I found this traffic controller, he put me on the car, and I'm going. I come to the unit, everyone is surprised, everyone is military. “Who are you?” They ask. I can't say - wife. Well, how can you say that, bombs are exploding all around ... I say - sister. I don't even know why I said that - sister. “Wait, they tell me. “I have to walk six kilometers.” How am I going to wait when I was getting so far?
- Oh, I know Fedosenko. But this is in the trench itself.
Well, I begged him. They put me on a cart, food, nothing is visible anywhere, this is news to me. Front line, nowhere anyone, occasionally shoot. Have arrived. The foreman asks:
- And where is Fedosenko?
They say to him:
- They went on reconnaissance yesterday, they were caught by dawn, and they are waiting there.
But they have a connection. And he was told by communication that his sister had come. What sister? They say: "Redhead." And his sister is black. Well, since the redhead, he immediately guessed which sister. I don't know how he crawled out there, but Fedosenko soon appeared, and we made a meeting there. There was joy ...
I stayed with him one day, the second and I say:
- Go to headquarters and report. I'll stay here with you.
He went to the authorities, but I’m not breathing: how will they say that at twenty-four o'clock her leg was not there? This is the front, that's understandable ... And suddenly I see - the authorities are going to the dugout: a major, a colonel. All shake hands. Then, of course, we sat down in the dugout and drank everything. and each said his word that the wife found her husband in the trench, this is a real wife, there are documents. This is such a woman, let me look at such a woman. They spoke such words, they all cried. I remember that evening all my life.
I remained with them as a nurse. I went on reconnaissance with them. The mortar hits, I see - he fell. I think: killed or wounded? I run there, and the mortar hits, and the commander shouts:
- Where are you going, you damn woman !! I will crawl - alive ...
Near the Dnieper at night under the moon I was awarded the Order of the Red Banner. Then I was told that I was introduced to the Order of the Red Star, but I did not look for it. The husband was seriously injured. We ran together, we walked together through such a swamp, crawled together. The machine gun was, for example, on the right, and we were crawling to the left through the swamp, and we pressed ourselves so tightly to the ground that if the machine gun was on the right side, it was wounded on the left side in the thigh. Wounded with an explosive bullet, and try to apply a bandage, this is the buttocks. Everything was torn apart, and the dirt and earth were all there.
And we went from the encirclement. There is nowhere to take the wounded out, I also have no medicines. One hope that we will break through. When they broke through, my husband was evacuated to the hospital. By the time I drove him, there was already a general blood poisoning. It was New Years. He is dying ... And he was awarded many times, I collected all his orders, put them near him. There was just a detour, and he was asleep. The doctor comes up and says to me:
- And you go. You need to get out of here. He's already dead.
I answer:
- Quiet, he's still alive.
The husband just opened his eyes and says:
- Something the ceiling has become blue.
I look:
- No, he is not blue, he, Vasya, is white. - And it seemed to him that it was blue.
The neighbor says to him:
- Well, Fedosenko, if you stay alive, you should carry your wife in your arms.
“And I’ll wear it,” he agrees.
I don't know, he probably felt that he was dying because he took me and kissed me. Here's the last kiss:
- Lyubochka, it’s a pity, everyone’s New Year’s, and you and I are here ... But don’t regret, we will still have everything ...
And when he had a few hours to live, he had this misfortune that he needed to change his bed ... I changed his bed, bandaged his leg, and he needed to be pulled up on the pillow, this is a man, heavy, I pull him so low, low, and now I feel that this is all, that in a minute or two he will not be there ...
And I wanted to die myself ... But I carried our child under my heart, and only that kept me ... I buried my husband on January 1, and thirty-eight days later Vasya was born to me, he is from the forty-fourth year, he already has children. My husband's name was Vasily, my son was Vasily Vasilyevich, and my grandson was Vasya ... Vasilek ... "

Lyubov Fedosenko, nurse

“They brought a wounded man, completely bandaged, he had a wound in the head, he was barely visible. A little. whom he loved. I know that I have never met this comrade, but he is calling me. I approached, I do not understand in any way, I’m looking closely. "Have you come? Did you come? "I took him by the hands, bent down ..." I knew that you would come ... "He is whispering something, I cannot understand what he is saying. And now I cannot tell, when I remember this incident, tears break through. “I,” he says, “when I was leaving for the front, did not have time to kiss you. Kiss me ... “And so I bend over him and kissed him. A tear jumped out of his eye and floated into the bandages, hid. And that's all. He died…"

Olga Omelchenko, medical instructor of a rifle company

"Now we are all veterans every year. And so I leave the hotel, and the girls tell me:
- Where have you been, Lily? We cried so much.
It turns out that a Kazakh man approached them and asked:
- Where are you from, girls? Which hospital?
They answer him and say:
- Who are you looking for?
- I come here every year and look for one sister. She saved my life, I fell in love with her. I want to find her.
My girls laugh:
- But what is there to look for a sister, there is already a grandmother. The head is whitened with gray, that's all.
- No…
- You already have a wife, children?
- There are grandchildren, children, and a wife. I have lost my soul ... I have no soul ...
The girls tell me this, and together we remembered: is this not my Kazakh?
... They brought a Kazakh boy. Well, just a little boy. We operated on him. He had seven or eight intestinal ruptures. He was hopeless. And he lay so impassive that I immediately noticed him. And, as an extra minute, I'll run to him: "Well, how are you?" I'll do the intravenous injection myself, measure the temperature, and he got out. went on the mend. And we did not keep the wounded for a long time, we are on the first line. We will provide assistance and send them further. And now he is to be taken away with the next batch.
He lies on a stretcher, they tell me that he is calling me.
- Sister, come to me.
- What? What do you want? Are you all right. You are sent to the rear. Everything will be good. Consider that you are already living.
He is asking:
- I beg you, I am the only one with my parents. You saved me. I know ... - gives me a gift - a ring, such a small ring.
And I didn’t wear rings, for some reason I didn’t like them. And I refuse:
- I can’t, I can’t. You'd better take it to your mom.
He is asking. The wounded came to help him.
- Yes, take it, he is from a pure heart.
- It's not my duty, you understand?
But they persuaded me. True, I later lost this ring. It was bigger for me, and one day I fell asleep, and the car threw it up and it fell somewhere. She was very sorry.
- Did you find this man later?
- We never met. I don’t know if it’s the same. But we were looking for him all day together with the girls. "

Lilia Budko, surgical nurse

“I left Kazan for the front as a girl, nineteen years old. And six months later I wrote to my mother that they were giving me twenty-five to twenty-seven years. Every day in fear, in horror. They die every day, every hour. It feels like every minute. There were not enough sheets to cover. They were folding in underwear. There was a terrible silence in the wards. I never remember such silence again.
And I told myself that I could not hear a single word of love in this hell. I can't believe it. Because of this...
The older girls said that, they say, even if everything burned, there would still be love. And I didn’t agree. Around the wounded, around the groans ... The dead have such yellow-green faces. Well, how can you think of joy? About your happiness. The soul was torn ... And it was so terrible that the hair turned gray. I didn't want to combine love with this. It seemed to me that here love would die instantly. Without celebration, without beauty, what love can there be? The war will end, there will be a beautiful life. And love. That was the feeling.
They could kill every minute. Not only during the day, but also at night. The war did not stop for a minute. What if I die, and the one who loves me will suffer. And I'm so sorry.
My current husband, he looked after me so much. And I told him: "No, no, the war will end, only then will we be able to talk about it." I will not forget how one day he returned from a battle and asked: "Do you have any blouse? Dress, please. Let me see what kind of blouse you are." And I had nothing but a tunic.
I said to my girlfriend: "I didn't give you flowers, didn't look after you ... And suddenly - get married. Is this love?" I didn't understand her feelings ... "

Maria Bozhok, nurse

“In 1944, when they broke through and lifted the blockade of Leningrad, the Leningrad and Volkhov fronts united. We liberated Veliky Novgorod, the Pskov region, went to the Baltic states. pilots from the airfield. I danced with one. There was strict discipline: at 10 o'clock the foreman commanded the "retreat", and the soldiers were lined up for a check. The guys said goodbye to the girls, let's go. The soldier with whom we danced asks: "What should I call you?" - "Zina." - "Zina, let's exchange addresses. Maybe the war will end, shall we stay alive, shall we meet? "I gave him the address of my grandmother ...
After the war, working as a pioneer leader, I come home and see my grandmother standing by the window, smiling. I think, "What is it?" I open the door, there is a pilot Anatoly, with whom we danced. He ended the war in Berlin, kept the address and came. When we signed with him, I was 19, and he was 23. So I got to Moscow, and we lived together all our lives. "

Zinaida Ivanova, communications operator

"On June 7, I had happiness, it was my wedding. Part of them arranged a big holiday for us. I knew my husband for a long time: he was a captain, he commanded a company. We swore that if we stayed, we would get married after the war. They gave us a month of vacation ...
We went to Kineshma, this is the Ivanovo region, to his parents. I was traveling as a heroine, I never thought that it was possible to meet a front-line girl like that. We have gone so much, saved so much for mothers of children, for wives of husbands. And suddenly ... I learned the insult. I heard hurtful words. Before that, except for: "dear sister", "dear sister" did not hear anything else. And I was not just any, I was pretty, clean.
We sat down to drink tea in the evening, the mother took her son to the kitchen and cried: "Who did you marry? On the front line ... You have two younger sisters. Who will marry them now?"

Tamara Umnyagina, junior sergeant of the guard, medical instructor

"- And love was in the war? - I ask.
- I met many beautiful girls among the front-line girls, but we did not see women in them. Although, in my opinion, they were wonderful girls. But it was our girlfriends who dragged us out of the battlefield. Rescued, nursed. I was pulled out twice as a wounded man. How could I treat them badly? But could you marry a brother? We called them sisters.
- And after the war?
- The war is over, they were terribly unprotected. Here is my wife. She is a smart woman, and she treats military girls badly. He believes that they went to the war for suitors, that everyone was having romances there. Although in fact, we have a sincere conversation, it was most often honest girls. Clean. But after the war ... After the mud, after the lice, after the deaths ... I wanted something beautiful. Bright. Beautiful women ... I had a friend, one beautiful girl, as I understand it now, loved him at the front. Nurse. But he did not marry her, he was demobilized and found himself another, smarter. And he is unhappy with his wife. Now he remembers that, his military love, she would be his friend. And after the front, he did not want to marry her, because for four years he saw her only in worn out boots and a man's quilted jacket. We tried to forget the war. And they forgot their girls too ... "

From a conversation between Svetlana Aleksievich and Nikolai, commander of a sapper battalion

"Was there love in the war? Was there! And those women whom we met there, wonderful wives. Loyal friends. Who married in the war, these are the happiest people, the happiest couples. So we, too, fell in love at the front. death. This is a strong connection. I will not deny that there was something else, because there was a long war and many of us were in the war. But I remember the bright, noble one more.
In the war I have become better ... Undoubtedly! As a person, I became a better person there, because there is a lot of suffering. I have seen a lot of suffering and have suffered a lot myself. And there that which is not important in life is brushed aside, it is superfluous. You understand it there ... But the war took revenge on us. But ... In this we ourselves are afraid to admit ... She caught up with us ... Not all of our daughters have personal destinies. And that's why: their mothers, front-line soldiers, were brought up the way they were brought up at the front. And dads too. For that morality. And at the front, as I have already told you, you could immediately see what he was like, what he was worth. You can't hide there. Their girls had no idea what could be different in life than in their home. They were not warned of the cruel underside of the world. These girls, getting married, easily fell into the hands of crooks, they deceived them, because it cost nothing to deceive them ... "

Saul Podvyshensky, Marine Sergeant

Evdokia and Adam

In February 1945, my grandmother, Potapova Evdokia Pavlovna, was summoned to the military enlistment office in Novo-Borisov. An employee of the military registration and enlistment office reported that her husband (my grandfather), Sinyak Adam Petrovich, died a heroic death in battle in East Prussia on January 16, 1945, and handed over a death notice. Grandmother laughed in response to this news. She said that he was alive, and in front of everyone she tore up this notice. Naturally, seeing this, the recruiting officers thought that the grandmother, after such a message, went crazy with grief.

5 years ago I learned about the site, which contains archival documents about those killed during the Great Patriotic War. Not hoping for anything, I entered my grandfather's data and actually found a copy of that same notice.

Nevertheless, grandmother had every reason to say that grandfather was alive.

On January 16, 1945, in the battles for the liberation of the city of Konigsberg, my grandfather was seriously wounded. As the grandfather himself said, after the battle, as a rule, there was a sanitary brigade, which provided assistance to the wounded and carried them out of the battlefield. And the dead were buried by other soldiers in a common grave. The orderlies considered the grandfather killed. But at that very moment, when they were preparing him for burial, one of the soldiers exclaimed: "Lads, what are you doing! He is alive!"

This is how the future fate of the grandfather was determined, and this is how his new life began.

Then followed a long way from East Prussia to a hospital in the Urals, to the city of Irbit. This path ran through the town of Novo-Borisov, where my grandmother lived with her little daughter Nina, who was born in September 1941, not far from the railway station. The ambulance train, which was moving with the wounded soldiers to the Urals, stopped for a while at the Novo-Borisov station. The grandfather asked a boy who was running past a friend to tell his grandmother that he was being taken to the hospital and that he wanted to meet. At this time, my grandmother was seriously ill with typhus and had just started to recover.

Having learned that the grandfather was passing through the station, she ran with the last bit of strength to meet her husband, although running is probably loudly said, since her legs did not obey her at all. It is not known how long it took grandmother to get to the station, how long she was looking for her husband among a dozen carriages, but still, by the will of fate, she found him. Grandmother and grandfather had only time to hug, when a locomotive whistle sounded and the train started ...

This meeting took place shortly before the notification of his death was received. As you can imagine, that is why my grandmother had such a reaction to the "funeral".

My grandfather was treated in a hospital in the city of Irbit for almost a year, after which he finally returned home.

Having got married in November 1940, having fully learned the cold, hunger, separation, grandfather and grandmother lived together for almost 60 years, raised and raised three children, were able to caress six grandchildren, and waited for their great-grandchildren.

In March 2000, my grandfather passed away, and 8 years later my grandmother also passed away.

Their relationship was and remains for me an example of what a family should be. They did not say many words about love, but they were always infinitely reverent about each other, but we, their grandchildren, constantly felt their attention, care and kindness.

Ivan and Valentina

(story of Larisa Kokhanovskaya)

Since childhood, the word "Victory" for me stood next to the epithet "Great". Because they survived, because they survived, because they saved lives. Because there was no Victory - there was neither me nor my daughter.

And today, as never before, I understand how little my daughter and I know about our family victory and how much we still have to learn, and then save for our grandchildren and great-grandchildren, so that there will always be peace and tranquility on our land.

... On June 22, 1941, a war burst into the peaceful life of our country, canceling the dreams and hopes of millions of people. Ivan Naumenko was then only 17 years old. In the Gorodok region, where Ivan lived, as in all others, the mobilization of those liable for military service in the Red Army immediately began. But no matter how he asked, he was not taken to the front. Ivan looked with envy at his older brother Dmitry when he went to the front. Back then, to a teenage boy, war seemed like something heroic, when you win after victory over and over again. But in reality, the war turned out to be completely different ...

Dmitry was the eldest in their family - his father had died a long time ago. The family did not live so prosperously: a cow, a pig, and lambs, the field was plowed, and a good owner always has a good harvest. Is there a lot of prosperity?

But in accordance with the decrees of the Soviet government, the family was recognized as well-to-do, and the verdict was the same: "Disposal." They took the cow, the sheep. The head of the family somehow could not put up with everything later ... So he burned out from illness and injustice.

Now Ivan remained with the elder - a sister and two little brothers in his arms ... There was only one way out for him - to become partisans. Moreover, in his native Gorodokshchina at that time an extermination battalion was operating and the partisan movement had just begun.

The year passed quickly. Ivan then often recalled how in late autumn he swam across Lake Losvido, carrying weapons and a walkie-talkie to the partisans. There was no fear, only it was very cold ... When his strength ran out, he told himself that he had no right to let him down, because on the other side he was very much expected, and - he swam!

Exactly on February 21, 1942, on his birthday, Ivan went to war. This is how the journey of the soldier Ivan Naumenko began. Having measured almost all of Europe with his boots, he will be among the Winners who reached Berlin along the roads of war. But this will be only after four long years.

... The war also deprived my grandmother of her youth: she burst into the life of a 16-year-old girl, Vali Muravyova, with shell explosions, screams and pain. Almost immediately she fell under the "hapun" - as the locals called the hijacking of young people to Germany. These "hapuns" were expected with special fear: daughters and sons were taken away from their mothers, and there was no certainty whether they would meet again. Having barely heard the cries of "hapun-hapun is coming," the young people darted from their seats and ran wherever they looked. Vali always succeeded, but then, that day, she did not have time. It was after the war that she learned that her native village was burned along with the inhabitants ...

For the entire war, Koenigsberg will become a place of refuge for her. Here for the first time she will fully understand how terrible the war is, how terrible Nazism is, but at the same time - how many good people there are among the Germans. Here she will meet her destiny.

They, teenage girls, were sent to an institute, where the Nazis conducted experiments on people. They didn't do anything bad with her: Valya washed cones and jars, donated blood once a week. The diligent and polite girl was noticed by one Frau - from the doctors - and took her to her as a servant.

Here, at Konigsberg, Ivan was wounded. So I had to stay in the hospital for some time: these few months, while saving his wounded leg, became the happiest for him. The hospital is housed in an old German house. The heat was intense, so the windows were always open. One morning, he heard a thin girlish voice, somewhere very close, deduce "Katyusha came ashore, on a high bank on a steep ...". This voice has become a symbol of hope, hope for victory! Ivan now knew for sure that he had to survive and get to his feet in order to see her, this girl who, somewhere in the next house, sings songs dear to his heart. As soon as Ivan was able to stand on crutches, he immediately decided to find the owner of a wonderful voice.

... She was very thin, with a huge fair-haired braid twisted around her head. The girl's name was Valya, and, as it turned out, they were from neighboring villages from the Vitebsk region, and met here, in Konigsberg. Ivan then wrote long letters to Valentina, she always answered. And as soon as she sealed the envelope, she immediately began to wait for the next letter, all wondering how her Vanechka was there.

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, battle after battle. During the war years, you can get used to everything. Only the goal is always the goal - for the freedom of their relatives, their land.

Vanya was already on the outskirts of Berlin. That April morning he remembered forever: it seemed that everything was over, and so he wanted to go home ... A temporary respite between the battles made it possible to breathe in the spring air with all his chest. Suddenly he heard: "Ivan!" He turned and saw his own eyes, the eyes of his older brother. There was no time for long conversations. "Soon, very soon we will be home, brother, and we will have a glass with you at our own table!" - Ivan said goodbye. Dmitry looked at him with a long glance: "You take care of ours, and take care of my son. Very soon." They hugged goodbye ...

Only a few years later, Ivan will be given a funeral. She will wander around the cities and villages for a long time until she finds her addressee. It will contain just a few words: "Soldier Dmitry Grigorievich Naumenko died in the battle for the capture of Berlin." So Ivan will carry the testament of his older brother and his long, such dear look through his whole life - they have not met ...

While the soldiers were waiting for demobilization, Ivan began to look for his sister and brothers. It turned out that back in 42, they were lucky enough to jump out of the train that was taking them to Germany. So they ended up in the town of Oshmyany, and throughout the war they worked in the village of Yagelovshchina as "boys". Ivan returned to them in Oshmyany.

By some high coincidence, Vali's father also ended up in Ashmyany after the war. Valya returned from the war with a small suitcase. The kind Frau folded several of her dresses for her. So he stood, this little case, then at the door for many, many years, recalling the human kindness and fragility of the world. Valentina's daughter many years later, as a teenager, opened her suitcase and gasped: there, like in a film about three nuts for Cinderella, lay crimplen dresses that had just come into fashion in the USSR - such a gift from the war.

Having met after the war in Ashmyany, Ivan and Valya never parted. Having lived together for over 50 years, they have retained not only love, memory, loyalty, but also "Katyusha", which weaved their destinies into one.

Here, in Ashmyany, Ivan and Valya raised two children and had grandchildren.

And when the family gathered at one table, the main toast was the words: "So that there is no war." Over time, of course, they already lose their former relevance, and the modern generation, until recently, treated them with a grain of irony. But quite recently these words have again acquired a very important, deep meaning.

May God give us all - not to repeat! May the sky over native Belarus always be peaceful!

George and Danuta

I remember how in childhood, climbing on the knees of my beloved grandmother, sitting in an armchair, I begged her to tell the story of her acquaintance with her grandfather, with whom she had lived in love and harmony for more than fifty years. And this is what I learned ...

My grandfather, Georgy Vlasovich Pogorelov, born in 1916, met the Great Patriotic War as a career military artilleryman on June 22, 1941 in Sevastopol. In 1936 he entered the Sevastopol School of Anti-Aircraft Artillery, which he graduated with honors in 1938 and was left at the school as a course commander with the rank of lieutenant for training.

From the first day of the war, he took an active part in organizing the city's air defense. It was necessary to combine the training of the cadets of the school in the daytime with the repulsion of night attacks by enemy aircraft. Soon the school was transferred to Ufa, and grandfather, after repeated reports, was sent to the army. The commander of a separate anti-aircraft battery on the Southwestern Front, the commander of the regiment division of the RGK of the Moscow defense zone, the senior assistant to the head of the air defense department of the group, General Khozin, the deputy regiment commander on the Bryansk front - this is, in brief, his combat path until June 10, 1944, when, by order of the command, he was sent to the 1st Belorussian Front as the commander of the anti-aircraft regiment of the Polish Army, when the Red Army entered the territory of Poland.

My grandmother, nee Senyut Danuta Bronislavovna, born in 1925, was born in a large family in Poland and lost her parents early. In 1939, after the annexation of Western Belarus, five sisters and brothers were sent to an orphanage in the North Kazakhstan region. It was a difficult time. Grandmother was the eldest, and in order to feed the kids, she went to work on a collective farm, and in March 1943 she voluntarily joined the army and was sent to the emerging 1st Polish Kosciuszko Division in the Moscow region. At first there were three-month nursing courses, but the fragile girl was sent to the signalmen, believing that she would not be able to pull the wounded from the battlefield - her sister's weight was too small.

She received her baptism of fire in the battle near Lenino in the Mogilev region in October 1943 as a telephone operator at the combat switchboard of the division's artillery headquarters.

Then there were battles for the cities of Holm, Lublin, Pulawy and Prague of Warsaw. In September 1944 she was transferred to the commander's commander of the 1st Polish Army. It was here that Lieutenant Colonel G.V. Pogorelov, the combat commander of the anti-aircraft regiment, noticed the young signalman. and asked to send her to his regiment. Since then, they have walked along military roads shoulder to shoulder. There were battles for the liberation of Warsaw, Bydgoszcz, Flatow, Jastrow, Deutsch-Krone, Falkenburg and Kohlberg, and then the encirclement and capture of Berlin.

The battles died down, the fireworks were heard ... It was then that my grandmother and grandfather decided to formalize their relationship, because earlier there were fears for each other's lives. But love protected them. By order of the superior commander, they were declared husband and wife.

I am especially touched by the story of how my grandfather proposed to my grandmother to become his wife: there was a pocket watch on the table in front of the grandmother who was on duty, and grandfather asked if he agreed to the marriage to move it to him, and if not ... So be it.

And the clock began to move slowly towards the grandfather. What a highly moral and at the same time naive relationship was then!

Over the years of already peaceful life in marriage, three beautiful daughters were born to the grandparents.

This couple will forever remain for me a bright and kind example of personal relationships built on mutual understanding, mutual respect and love. And although they are no longer with us, looking at a family photo where they are young, in military uniform, with awards on their chests, smiling at the lens, I again and again relive the years of their life together with them and ask them to give me the necessary advice. And on the wall under their portraits there are awards for feats of arms and valiant peaceful labor.

We can rightfully say that the whole geography of Europe sometimes rings on the chest of veterans with orders and medals. The feat of our fathers, grandfathers and great-grandfathers will forever remain in our hearts. And I am proud that my grandparents were among them.

Alexey and Olga

My grandfather Alexey served before the war in the Far East. Before the war, tank troops, where he served, were transferred to the border between Poland and Belarus. The war began, and, unfortunately, my grandfather was taken prisoner very quickly, but he got one chance in a million - his grandfather fled. And, of course, he went into the forests of the Vitebsk region - to the partisans.

And grandmother Olga was just born near Vitebsk and spent her teenage years there. After she moved to Minsk and lived in the area of ​​the present car plant, she worked at that plant.

They might not have met with their grandfather, but when the war began, Olga returned to her relatives near Vitebsk. There she became a liaison and helped the partisans a lot. So they met Alexei, but then, of course, there was no time for dates and romance - they were connected only by short meetings to convey information.

So Alexei and partisans, until the German began to retreat. He drove out the fascists together with our army. So he reached Minsk and stayed there to rebuild the city. He was given one of the vacant apartments at the factory, where he got a job.

Time passed, and the grandfather kept thinking about how to find that girl, a coherent partisan, for him. He didn't even know her last name!

But fate is there. Once the door opened and the same girl entered it, as if to her home, about whom Alexey so often thought and regretted that the meetings were so short.

Olga really lived in the apartment at the factory, which was occupied by Alexey, before the war. I decided to return to Minsk, arrived at my old dwelling, came in - and there he, the same partisan. "The irony of fate" - only in wartime.

A year later, a daughter (my mother) was born, after that my mother's younger sister, and so they lived in perfect harmony until the end of their days. Their meeting was definitely not accidental, and I always remember this when I hear the word "fate".

Read the second part of the material tomorrow - on Victory Day!

N.V. Ruchinskaya

“... And where did so much power come from?

Even in the weakest of us? ..

What to guess! - Was and is in Russia

Eternal strength eternal supply ... "

Julia Drunina

A love story of two wonderful people: honest, kind, fair, passionately in love with each other and their homeland, worthy of memory, respect and attention.

These are my husband's parents: Stanislavov Ivanovich Ruchinskiy (1911-1998) and Alexandra Konstantinovna (1918-2004). They were direct witnesses and active participants in those distant war years of the Great Patriotic War of 1941-1945. They lived a hard life, brought up worthy children and wonderful grandchildren. Through their family happiness, betrayed love, a black stripe passed the war, with inhuman trials, scorching and tempering their hearts.

The war destroyed their peaceful life, destroyed their plans and took the life of their eldest daughter Svetlana in infancy during the siege of Leningrad.

I also witness their lives and the memories of these respected people, my father-in-law and mother-in-law. I have lived with them for almost 30 years. And only now, in adulthood, when they have not been around for more than 10 years, I was able to truly appreciate what they were and write about them.

Stanislav Ivanovich and Alexandra Konstantinovna were born into poor peasant families. A young Red Army officer, a Ukrainian and a Russian girl met before the war in 1940 in Leningrad. He is a career officer in the Red Army, a platoon commander. Behind him was the Finnish campaign, participation in military battles on the Karelian Isthmus, serious injury and concussion.

She is a second-year student at the First Leningrad Institute of Foreign Languages, who, as a seventeen-year-old girl, came to Leningrad after leaving school. She entered to work at the Electrosila plant, studied at the Rabfak for two years, and then entered the institute.

Stanislav immediately drew attention to a beautiful girl, short in stature, with a long dark blond braid and cheerful brown eyes. Fell in love with her at first sight and, like an adult, a military man, made her a marriage proposal. Stanislav wrote a report to the commander of the unit where he served, and went to woo Shura's parents. In a ceremonial uniform with a cavalry saber, everyone in the village liked the gallant officer. He was a simple, kind guy, a soul for plowing. In two days, he managed to fix the roof, chop wood, and mow hay for the cow. In general, the guy did not sit idle. Mother was happy, the guy is good, you won't be lost for such a thing. Maria Vasilievna sent an urgent telegram to her daughter in Leningrad: "Come, I am ill." Shura arrived and the issue was resolved. Their mother blessed them.

They got married in August 1940. The wedding was modest: a dinner in a hostel among the girlfriends of Shura and two of his friends. Stanislav with joy and love began to "dress" his Shura. I bought boots, a fur coat, a dress, and shoes. He so wanted his beloved wife to be warmly and beautifully dressed, but there was no money left for the rings.

Stanislav served in the Leningrad Region, while Shura studied in Leningrad. In the barracks, the young were given a room, the furnishings were army: two bedside tables and a single soldier's bed. They were happy!

Stanislav Ivanovich left for the war on June 22, 1941 as the commander of a motorized rifle company, leaving his pregnant wife in Leningrad. The institute where Shura studied was evacuated, and the doctors forbade her to leave Leningrad, at the end of September she had to give birth to their child.

07/24/1941 in the area of ​​the state farm Depart on the North-Western Front

Stanislav Ivanovich was seriously wounded in his left arm, and on September 24, 1941, he was wounded by a shrapnel in the neck on the Leningrad front. From the medical battalion, he immediately returned to duty. On October 20, a "state of siege" was declared in Moscow, Stanislav Ivanovich was appointed deputy battalion commander.

Bloody, exhausting battles continued near Moscow. During the battle near Sloboda, the battalion commander was seriously wounded. The battalion was commanded by S.I. Ruchinsky. The battalion completed the mission. In this battle, Stanislav Ivanovich was seriously wounded in his right leg, which turned into a bloody mess. From a great loss of blood, he could have died if not for the soldiers of his battalion. They carried their commander out of the battlefield in their arms. The nurse's surgeon wanted to amputate his leg because of the initial signs of gangrene. S.I. Ruchinsky flatly refused. He spent nine months in military hospitals, and doctors managed to save his wounded leg.

In early October 1941, in besieged Leningrad, Alexandra Konstantinovna gave birth to a daughter, Svetlana. Next to her was her older sister with her 2-year-old son. Together, the women endured difficulties. The onset of the most severe December frosts, hunger and cold took away their last strength. Emaciated, weak, exhausted by hunger, they had to fight for the lives of their children. Without food, water and heat, every day he lived was heroic. The Nazis constantly carried out air raids on the city day and night. The women were very exhausted by the air raids and going to the bomb shelter. Due to severe frosts, the central heating, water supply and sewerage networks were out of order. They installed a stove - "potbelly stove", which had to be heated instead of wood with furniture and books. And for water they went to the Neva. On February 3, 1942, Alexandra Konstantinovna courageously survived the death of her four-month-old daughter Svetlana by starvation. She, swollen from hunger, was seriously ill. Only her strong character and resilience helped her survive.

Once the sister of Alexandra Konstantinovna traded in the market for a small piece of frozen horse meat. Two women with difficulty rolled a piece of meat through a meat grinder, tired and hesitated. No sooner had they looked back than his sister's two-year-old son, Yura, ate all the raw minced meat. A neighbor helped save the boy. And in my head - a terrible thought: "Today we could have lost our second child."

In March 1942, Alexandra Konstantinovna, together with her sister and nephew Yura, managed to leave the besieged Leningrad, along the ice Ladoga road - the road of Life. In front of Alexandra Konstantinovna's eyes, the car following them went under the ice. Seeing how people die in icy water, they could do nothing to help them. And their life at that moment was hanging by a thread. This was another shock for them. This road was the last for many people. Sick, exhausted, ragged, swollen from hunger, they got to their parents in the village. When they appeared on the threshold of their house, Maria Vasilievna did not recognize them, skin and bones. Slowly recovering, they began to work on the collective farm for the front. Alexandra Konstantinovna worked as an accountant, acted as deputy chairman of the collective farm. There was a lot of work on the collective farm, there were not enough hands, only women and children. After the hardest work from early morning until late at night, women still had time to knit socks and mittens for the front.

After surgical operations, Stanislav Ivanovich's disfigured leg could hardly fit into a boot. Overcoming the pain, he learned to walk again.

Stanislav Ivanovich understood that if he came to the medical examination on crutches, he would be immediately dismissed from the army. Therefore, he came to the commission, leaning on a stick, which he left outside the door of the office of the commission. Overcoming the pain, he entered the office. "What are your complaints?" - asked the military doctor. “The left hand aches a little after being wounded. But this will not prevent me from hitting the fascists. Please send me to the front! ”- answered Stanislav Ivanovich. He deceived the doctors and was placed at the disposal of the Command.

In September 1942, after undergoing treatment in the hospital, the deputy battalion commander S.I. short-term leave was granted. He went to his wife's homeland.

The meeting with my wife was joyful and bitter. They have not seen each other for more than a year, and how many have experienced, as if half their lives had passed. He did not recognize his beloved Shurochka with sad brown eyes, in which there was longing and grief. But once she was the first laughing girl among her friends. He also changed, became more silent, did not smile at all. His eyes were filled with pain and suffering. They embraced, his big, warm arms wrapped around her. Shura burst into tears, a groan escaped from her chest. A piercing pain took possession of her again, memories coming back to life. How long she endured this pain and only now, next to him, she gave vent to her feelings. Indeed, since the death of her daughter, she has not shed a single tear, as if she had turned to stone, and now this pain has escaped from within. She felt guilty before her husband for not saving their daughter. Burying her face in his tunic, she could not say a word, but he only held her closer to him. They sat there for a very long time. The death of their daughter was an irreparable loss for them.

His love and care brought his wife back to life. She worked, came home very tired. Limping on one leg, he tried to help with everything around the house. The happy days of Stanislav Ivanovich's vacation flew by quickly. At the end of September, he left for the war. A little light he gathered his duffel bag, kissed his wife, took a stick and walked along the road, it was five kilometers to the city.

Stanislav Ivanovich continued to serve in the Red Army, first as a deputy commander and then as a battalion commander. He sent his wife warm letters that warmed her soul. From the letters of Alexandra Konstantinovna, he learned that she was expecting a baby. This news made him very happy, although it excited him. He loved his wife very much and was worried about her health.

In June 1943, Alexandra Konstantinovna gave birth to a son. Her childbirth began so quickly and unplanned that she had to give birth right at a meeting of the Board of the collective farm. The name was chosen by the entire Board of the collective farm, and the baby was named Valery in honor of Valery Chkalov.

For the performance of the combat missions of the Command on the fronts of the Great Patriotic War, valor and courage shown at the same time, Stanislav Ivanovich Ruchinsky was awarded: the "Guard" honorary badge, two Orders of the Patriotic War of the first degree, two Orders of the Red Star, medals: "For Military Merit," For the Defense of Leningrad, For the Defense of Moscow, For the Victory over Germany in the Great Patriotic War of 1941-1945.

Alexandra Konstantinovna - a home front worker, was awarded the honorary badge "Resident of the besieged Leningrad", the medal "For Valiant Labor in the Great Patriotic War of 1941-1945", jubilee medals, certificates of honor and diplomas.