I remember that at school, teachers at literature lessons were forced to read the works of Belarusian writers. Not everyone obeyed the school curriculum and read the given material, missing out on so many useful and new things for themselves. Probably the reason was age, or maybe other interests prevailed.
Time has passed, but the works of the classics of literature have not disappeared anywhere. the site offers to remember and read the best Belarusian books.
Yakub Kolas "New Land"
Date of writing: 1911 - 1923
The poem “New Land”, written by the national poet Yakub Kolasam, is the first major Belarusian epic work. This book should be in the library of everyone who considers himself a Belarusian. This is the first national poem, which is rightly called an encyclopedia of the life of the Belarusian peasantry, a classic work of our literature, and simply beautiful poetry. The author himself considered "New Earth" the main poem in the entire history of his work.
Yakub Kolas began writing the book in 1911, while in prison for three years for participating in the revolutionary movement of 1905-1906. Many critics consider "Symon Muzyka" to be a continuation of the book.
Vladimir Korotkevich "Spikes under your sickle"
Date of writing: 1965
One of the most significant and telling novels of Belarusian literature. The work, written in two parts, is dedicated to the events on the eve of the uprising of 1863-1864 in Belarus. The first book tells about the origin of discontent, which resulted in a river of anger and struggle for the independence of Belarus. Reading the novel, you are completely immersed in the events of that time and you see the boy Oles Zagorsky and his friends in front of you. The main revolutionary Kastus Kalinovsky is also mentioned on the pages of the novel. The book tells how the worldview of Belarusians has changed and with what sacrifices they built the future for the country.
The film studio "Belarusfilm" planned to film the book by Vladimir Korotkevich, they approved the script, but at the last moment they abandoned the idea. The reason for the cancellation of filming was voiced by a poor-quality script.
Vasily Bykov "Alpine ballad"
Date of writing: 1963
It is not for nothing that Alpine Ballad occupies a central place on the bookshelf for many. The name of Vasily Bykov is known all over the world.
In his book, Vasily Bykov tells about the fate of two prisoners of war who managed to escape from the Austrian camp. The whole truth about the war, which the Belarusian author told in his books, not only amazed, it burned. His profound works about people faced with the horrors of war are unparalleled in Russian literature.
Based on the story "Alpine Ballad", a film of the same name was made. The book was filmed in 1965 by the director of the film studio "Belarusfilm" Boris Stepanov.
Ivan Melezh "People in the Swamp"
Date of writing: 1961
The novel “People in the Swamp” by Ivan Melez is one of the pinnacles of Belarusian literature, an example of post-war works. In many ways, the lyrical novel tells about the inhabitants of the remote village of Kuren, which is cut off from the outside world by impenetrable Polesye swamps. Ivan Melezh showed the life of the Belarusian population with almost ethnographic accuracy using the example of the daily life of the inhabitants of the village. The novel shows national traditions, legends, games with songs, Christmas divination of the Poleshuks. The author, using the example of the main characters of the book, described the fate and drama of the life of the Belarusian people.
People in the Swamp” is one of the few Belarusian works that appeared on TV screens as a serial film.
Yanka Mavr "Polesye Robinsons"
Date of writing: 1932
Belarusian Jules Verne - Yank Mavr, who primarily wrote for young readers, can be considered the founder of the adventure genre in Belarusian literature.
The work, which today is called a bestseller, is one of the most beloved books among many generations of schoolchildren - "Polesye Robinsons". Janka Mavr showed that not only foreign countries can be interesting for travel, but there are many fascinating and unusual things in their native places. The author writes so convincingly about travels and adventures that the reader has no room for doubt: Janka Maurus was there and saw everything with his own eyes.
The adventures of Polissya Robinsons in 1934 were shown on the big screen by the Belgoskino film studio. In 2014, "Belarusfilm" based on the story released the film "Wonder Island, or Polissya Robinsons".
Yanka Kupala "Scattered Nest"
Date of writing: 1913
The work The Scattered Nest was written as a play in five acts. The drama of the Zyablikov family, whose fate is revealed by Yanka Kupala in her book, was the drama of the Belarusian people. Events unfold during the revolution of 1905.
The play is based on facts from the life of a family from which Prince Radziwill took away land and a house. Understanding the family tragedy as a national tragedy, Yanka Kupala showed in the work the difficult path of the Belarusian peasantry in search of the lost homeland, land and freedom.
Today the play "The Scattered Nest" is played in Minsk theaters.
Kondrat Krapiva - "Who laughs last"
Date of writing: 1913
Folk humour, self-irony and sarcasm give a national character to Belarusian literature. Among the authors of this genre, it is worth remembering Kondrat Krapiva, whose works are still read with pleasure. In the center of the plot is the image of the pseudo-scientist Gorlokhvatsky and his accomplices.
Nettle reveals in his work not only specific political problems, but also universal ones, such as sycophancy, bribery, betrayal. The author wrote about all this.
In the treasury of films of the film studio "Belarusfilm" in 1954, there was an increase. A screen adaptation of Kondrat Krapiva's play "Who Laughs Last" was released.
Zmitrok Byadulya - Yazep Krushinsky
Date of writing: 1929 - 1932
A novel written in two parts about the life of Belarusian residents during collectivization. The protagonist of the book is the prosperous farmer Yazep Krushinsky, behind whose actions Byadulya hides the essence of the class struggle and the desire to show how the worst enemy can be hidden behind external integrity.
Critics interpret the novel "Yazep Krushinsky" as one of the most important works in the writer's work.
Jan Borshevsky. Shlyakhtich Zavalnya
Date of writing: 1844 - 1846
This book can certainly be called an encyclopedia of the life of the Belarusian people, their folklore and traditions. In a simple and sometimes witty way, the author tells about the culture of Belarusians, their desire for a better life and the share of the unfortunate.
The phenomenal imagination and talent of the author turned into one of the most mysterious and fascinating Belarusian works - "Shlyakhtich Zavalnya, or Belarus in fantastic stories." The book used Belarusian folk tales, legends and traditions.
Svetlana Aleksievich "War has no woman's face"
Date of writing: 1985
As for modern books by Belarusian writers, one of the most famous works in the world about a terrible bloody time is “The war does not have a woman's face”. The author of the book, Svetlana Aleksievich, became a laureate in 2015 Nobel Prize"For many-voiced creativity - a monument to suffering and courage in our time."
The book has absorbed the stories recorded from the words of 800 women who went through the war. The work "War does not have a woman's face" has been translated into more than 20 languages.
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Stories about the Great Patriotic War by Vladimir Bogomolov
Vladimir Bogomolov. Extraordinary morning
Grandfather went up to his grandson's bed, tickled his cheek with his grayish mustache and said cheerfully:
- Well, Ivanka, get up! It's time to get up!
The boy quickly opened his eyes and saw that his grandfather was dressed unusually: instead of the usual dark suit, he was wearing a military tunic. Vanya immediately recognized this tunic - grandfather was photographed in it in May 1945 on the last day of the war in Berlin. On the tunic there are green epaulettes with a small green star on a narrow red stripe, and medals on beautiful multi-colored ribbons lightly jingle above the pocket.
On the photograph, grandfather is very similar, only his mustache is completely black-black, and a thick wavy forelock peeked out from under the visor of his cap.
- Ivan the Bogatyr, get up! Get ready for a hike! grandfather hummed merrily in his ear.
“Is today already Sunday?” Vanya asked. - Are we going to the circus?
- Yes. Today is Sunday, - grandfather pointed to a sheet of the calendar. But Sunday is special.
The boy looked at the calendar: "What is this special Sunday?" he thought. On the calendar sheet, the name of the month, the number was printed in red ink. As always. “Maybe today is Victory Day? But this holiday happens in the spring, in May, and now it’s still winter ... Why is grandfather in military uniform?
- Yes, you have a good look, - said grandfather and lifted Vanya in his arms, brought him to the calendar and asked:
Do you see what month it is? And he answered himself:
— month of February. And the number? Second. And what happened on that day, many, many years ago, in 1943? Forgot? Oh, Ivan - a soldier's grandson! I told you, and more than once. And last year, and the year before ... Well, remember? ..
“No,” Vanya admitted honestly. “I was very young then.
Grandfather lowered his grandson to the floor, squatted down and pointed to a polished yellow medal, which hung on the tunic first after two silver ones - "For Courage" and "For Military Merit". Soldiers with rifles were minted on the circle of the medal. They went on the attack under an unfurled banner. Planes flew over them, and tanks rushed to the side. At the top, near the very edge, it was ousted: "For the defense of Stalingrad."
I remember, I remember! Vanya shouted with delight. - On this day, you defeated the Nazis on the Volga ...
Grandfather smoothed his mustache and, pleased, boomed:
- Well done for remembering! Didn't forget, that is. So today we will go with you to the places where the fighting took place, where we stopped the Nazis and from where they drove us all the way to Berlin!
Let's go, reader, and we will follow our grandfather, and remember those days when the fate of our country, our Motherland was decided near the city on the Volga.
Grandfather and grandson walked through the winter sunny city. The snow crunched underfoot. Loud trams rushed by. Trolleybuses rustled heavily with large tires. Cars rushed by one by one... Tall poplars and wide maples nodded amiably to pedestrians with snow-covered branches... Sunbeams bounced off the blue windows of new houses and briskly jumped from floor to floor.
Coming out to the wide Railway Station Square, grandfather and the boy stopped at a snow-covered flower bed.
Above the station building, a tall spire with a golden star rose into the blue sky.
Grandfather took out a cigarette case, lit a cigarette, looked around the railway station, the square, new houses, and again the events of the distant war years were remembered to him ... a junior reserve lieutenant, a veteran soldier.
The Great Patriotic War was on.
Hitler forced other countries, his allies, to participate in the war against us.
The enemy was strong and dangerous.
We had to temporarily retreat to our troops. We had to temporarily give our lands to the enemy - the Baltic states, Moldova, Ukraine, Belarus ...
The Nazis wanted to take Moscow. We were already looking at the capital through binoculars ... The day of the parade was appointed ...
Yes, Soviet soldiers defeated enemy troops near Moscow in the winter of 1941.
Having suffered a defeat near Moscow, Hitler ordered his generals in the summer of 1942 to break through to the Volga and capture the city of Stalingrad.
Access to the Volga and the capture of Stalingrad could ensure the successful advance of the Nazi troops to the Caucasus, to its oil wealth.
In addition, the capture of Stalingrad would divide the front of our armies in two, cut off the central regions from the southern ones, and, most importantly, would enable the Nazis to bypass Moscow from the east and take it.
Having transferred 90 divisions to the south, all the reserves, creating an advantage in manpower and equipment, the fascist generals in mid-July 1942 broke through the defenses of our Southwestern Front and moved towards Stalingrad.
The Soviet command did everything to detain the enemy.
Two reserve armies were urgently allocated. They stood in the way of the Nazis.
The Stalingrad Front was created between the Volga and the Don.
Women, children, the elderly were evacuated from the city. Defensive structures were built around the city. Steel hedgehogs and gouges stood in the way of the Nazi tanks.
At each factory, workers created battalions of volunteer militias. During the day they assembled tanks, made shells, and after the shift they prepared to defend the city.
The fascist generals received an order to wipe out the city on the Volga.
And on a sunny day on August 23, 1942, thousands of planes with black crosses hit Stalingrad.
Wave after wave came "Junkers" and "Heinkels", dropping hundreds of bombs on residential areas of the city. Buildings collapsed, huge pillars of fire rose to the sky. The whole city was shrouded in smoke - the glow of burning Stalingrad could be seen for tens of kilometers.
After the raid, the fascist generals reported to Hitler: the city has been destroyed!
And they received an order: take Stalingrad!
The Nazis managed to break through to the outskirts of the city, to the tractor factory and to the Oak ravine. But there they were met by battalions of volunteer workers, Chekists, anti-aircraft gunners and cadets of a military school.
The battle went on all day and all night. The Nazis did not enter the city.
Vladimir Bogomolov. Fedoseev Battalion
Enemy soldiers managed to break through to the railway station of the city.
There were fierce battles at the station for fourteen days. The fighters of the battalion of senior lieutenant Fedoseev stood to the death, repelling more and more new attacks of the enemy.
Our command kept in touch with Fedoseev's battalion, first by telephone, and when the Nazis surrounded the station, then by radio.
But Fedoseev did not answer the call signs of the headquarters. They called him all day, but he was silent. It was decided that all the soldiers of the battalion were killed. Morning came, and over the broken roof of one of the houses they saw a red banner fluttering. This means that the Fedoseyevites are alive and continue to fight the enemy!
The army commander, General Chuikov, ordered that the order be delivered to Senior Lieutenant Fedoseev, so that he and the soldiers retreated to new positions.
Sergeant Smirnov was sent as a messenger. The sergeant somehow got to the ruins of the station and found out that only ten people remained from the battalion. The commander, Senior Lieutenant Fedoseev, also died.
The messenger asks: “Why are you silent? Why don't you answer the calls of the headquarters?
It turned out that the projectile broke the radio. The radio operator was killed.
The fighters began to wait for the night to retreat to new positions. And at this time the Nazis again launched an attack.
Tanks in front, and machine gunners behind them.
The Fedoseyevites lay down in the ruins.
The enemy soldiers are advancing.
Getting closer. Closer.
Fedoseevtsy are silent.
The Nazis decided that all our soldiers had died ... And, rising to their full height, they rushed to the station.
- Fire! - came the command.
Machine guns and machine guns fired.
Molotov cocktails flew into the tanks.
One tank caught fire, another stalled, a third stopped, a fourth turned back, followed by fascist submachine gunners...
The fighters took advantage of the panic of the enemy, removed the banner pierced by fragments and went to their cellars to their new positions.
The Nazis paid dearly for the station.
In mid-September, the Nazi troops intensified their attacks again.
They managed to break into the city center. There were battles for every street, for every house, for every floor...
From the station, grandfather and grandson went to the Volga embankment.
Let's go after them.
Near the house where they stopped, a tank turret is mounted on a gray square pedestal.
Here, during the battles for the city, the headquarters of the main, central, crossing was located.
To the right and left of this place, trenches stretched along the entire Volga coast. Here our troops defended the approaches to the Volga, from here they repulsed enemy attacks.
Such monuments - a green tank tower on a pedestal - stand along our entire line of defense.
Here the soldiers-Stalingraders took an oath: "Not a step back!" Further, to the Volga, they did not let the enemy in - they protected the approaches to the crossings across the river. Our troops received reinforcements from the other side.
There were several crossings across the Volga, but the Nazis were especially fierce near the central one.
Vladimir Bogomolov. Flight "Swallows"
Enemy bombers hovered over the Volga day and night.
They chased not only tugs, self-propelled guns, but also fishing boats, small rafts - sometimes the wounded were transported to them.
But the rivermen of the city and the sailors of the Volga flotilla, in spite of everything, delivered the goods.
Once upon a time there was...
Sergeant Smirnov is summoned to the command post and given the task: to get to the other side and tell the head of the rear of the army that the troops will hold out at the central crossing for the night, and in the morning there will be nothing to repel enemy attacks. Ammunition needs to be delivered urgently.
Somehow, the sergeant got to the head of the rear, handed over the order of the commander, General Chuikov.
The fighters quickly loaded a large barge and began to wait for the launch.
They wait and think: “A powerful tugboat will come, pick up a barge and quickly throw it across the Volga.”
The fighters are looking - an old steamer is plopping, and it is somehow inappropriately named - "Swallow". The noise from it is such that plug your ears, and the speed is like that of a turtle. "Well, they think - you can't get to the middle of the river on this one."
But the barge commander tried to reassure the fighters:
- Don't look that the little steamer is slow. He transported more than one barge like ours. The team at the "Swallow" is fighting.
Suitable "Swallow" to the barge. The fighters are watching, but there are only three teams on it: a captain, a mechanic and a girl.
Before the steamboat had time to approach the barge, the girl, the daughter of the mechanic Grigoriev - Irina, deftly hooked the hook of the cable and shouted:
- Let's get a few people on the longboat, you will help fight off the Nazis!
Sergeant Smirnov and two fighters jumped onto the deck, and the "Swallow" dragged the barge.
As soon as they reached the reach, German reconnaissance aircraft circled in the air, rockets hung on parachutes over the crossing.
It became as bright as day.
Bombers swooped in behind the scouts and began to dive first onto a barge, then onto a longboat.
Fighters from rifles hit the planes, bombers almost touch the pipes, the masts of the longboat with their wings. To the right and left along the sides are columns of water from bomb explosions. After each explosion, the fighters look around anxiously: “Is that all. Got it?!" They look - the barge is moving towards the shore.
The captain of the "Swallows", Vasily Ivanovich Krainov, an old Volgar, know the steering wheel turns left and right, maneuvers - takes the longboat away from direct hits. And all - forward, to the shore.
German mortars noticed the steamboat and the barge and also began to fire.
Mines howl flying by, splashing into the water, shrapnel whistling.
One mine hit the barge.
The fire started. The flames ran across the deck.
What to do? Break the rope? The fire is about to get close to the boxes with shells. But the captain of the longboat turned the helm sharply, and ... The Lastochka went to approach the burning barge.
Somehow they moored to the high side, grabbed hooks, fire extinguishers, buckets of sand - and onto the barge.
The first is Irina, followed by the fighters. Fall asleep fire on deck. They knock him off the boxes. And no one thinks that any box can explode every minute.
The fighters threw off their overcoats, pea jackets, they cover the flames with them. Fire burns hands and faces. Stuffy. Smoke. Breathing is difficult.
But the fighters and the Lastochka team turned out to be stronger than the fire. The ammunition was salvaged and brought to shore.
All the longboats and boats of the Volga flotilla had so many such flights that they could not be counted. Heroic flights.
Soon in the city on the Volga, where there was a central crossing, a monument to all rivermen-heroes will be erected.
Vladimir Bogomolov. 58 days on fire
From the central crossing to Lenin Square, the main square of the city, very close.
Even from a distance, passers-by from the wall of the house, which overlooks the square, notice a soldier in a helmet. The soldier looks attentively and seriously, as if asking not to forget about those who fought here, on the square.
Before the war, few people knew this house - only those who lived in it. Now this house is famous!
Pavlov's House! Soldier's House!
This house was then the only surviving house on the square, not far from the crossing.
The Nazis managed to capture him.
Having placed machine guns and mortars on the floors, the enemy soldiers began to fire at our positions.
The commander of the regiment Elin called scouts - Sergeant Yakov Pavlov and fighters: Sasha Alexandrov, Vasily Glushchenko and Nikolai Chernogolov.
"Here's what, guys," said the colonel, "go visit the Fritz at night." Find out how many of them are there, how best to get to them and whether it is possible to knock them out of there.
This house is a very important object in a strategic sense. Whoever owns it keeps the entire Volga region under fire ...
At night at that time the streets were as dark as a cave. The Nazi soldiers were very afraid of the dark. Every now and then they fired flares into the night sky. And as soon as they notice any movement on our part, something suspicious, they immediately open a hurricane of fire.
On such a disturbing night, Sergeant Pavlov and his comrades went on reconnaissance. Where bent over, and where they crawled in a plastunsky way, they reached the extreme wall of this house.
Lie down, not breathing. Listen.
The Nazis in the house are talking, smoking, shooting from rocket launchers.
Pavlov crawled up to the entrance and hid. He hears someone coming up from the basement.
The sergeant prepared a grenade. Then a rocket lit up the sky, and the scout saw an old woman at the entrance. And she saw the fighter, was delighted.
Pavlov quietly asks:
— What are you doing here?
“We didn’t have time to leave for the Volga. There are several families here. The Germans drove us into the basement.
- Understandably. Are there many Germans in the house?
- In those entrances we do not know, but in ours there are twenty people.
- Thank you, mother. Hide quickly in the basement. Tell the rest: do not go out to anyone. We are going to arrange a small fireworks display for the Fritz.
Pavlov returned to his comrades and reported on the situation.
- Let's act!
Scouts crawled up to the house from two sides, got used to it and threw a grenade at the window frames.
One after another, there were powerful explosions. A flame erupted. It smelled of burning.
The fascists, dumbfounded by the unexpected attack, jumped out of the entrances, jumped out of the windows - and to their own.
- Fire on the enemy! commanded by Pavlov.
The scouts opened fire with machine guns.
- Follow me! Take the floors!
On the second floor, the fighters threw a few more grenades. The enemies thought that a whole battalion had attacked them. The Nazis abandoned everything and rushed in all directions.
The scouts examined the floors in all the entrances, made sure that not a single living fascist was left in the house - and Pavlov gave the command to take up defense. The Nazis decided to recapture the house.
For a whole hour they shelled the house with cannons and mortars.
The firing is over.
The Nazis decided that the battalion of Russian soldiers could not stand it and retreated to their own.
German submachine gunners again moved to the house.
- Do not shoot without a command! Sergeant Pavlov told the soldiers.
Here are the machine gunners at the very house.
Well-aimed turns of the Pavlovites mowed down the enemies.
The Nazis retreated again.
And again, mines and shells rained down on the house.
It seemed to the Nazis that nothing living could remain there.
But as soon as the enemy submachine gunners rose and went on the attack, they were met by well-aimed bullets and scout grenades.
For two days the Nazis stormed the house, but they could not take it.
The Nazis realized that they had lost an important object from where they could fire on the Volga and all our positions on the shore, and decided at all costs to knock out the Soviet soldiers from the house. Fresh forces were thrown up - a whole regiment.
But our command also strengthened the garrison of scouts. Machine gunners, armor-piercers, machine gunners came to the aid of Sergeant Pavlov and his soldiers.
For 58 days, Soviet soldiers defended this home-line.
You can get to the Krasny Oktyabr plant by trolley bus along Lenina Avenue.
Vanya perched at the window and every time they drove past the tank towers on pedestals, he joyfully shook his grandfather and shouted: “More! One more!.. Again!.. Look, grandfather! Look!.."
- I see, granddaughter! I see! This is the front line of our defense. Here the fighters fought to the death, and the fascist troops could not break through further.
The trolleybus stopped.
“Next stop is Red October!” the driver announced.
- Our granddaughter! Get ready to leave.
Factories of Stalingrad.
In their workshops, the workers of the city stood at the machines in two or three shifts - they cooked steel, assembled and repaired tanks and guns put out of action by the enemy, and made ammunition.
Militia workers came from the shops to fight the enemy for their native city, for their native factory.
Steelworkers and rolling mills, assemblers, turners and locksmiths became soldiers.
Having beaten off the attacks of the enemy, the workers again returned to their machines. Factories continued to operate.
Hundreds of brave workers became famous defending their native city, native plant, and among them - the first female steelworker Olga Kuzminichna Kovaleva.
Vladimir Bogomolov. Olga Kovaleva
The enemy is one and a half kilometers from the tractor plant, in the village of Meliorativny.
A detachment of militiamen received the task of dislodging the Germans from the village.
The battle began at the village, on the outskirts of it.
The militias went on the attack. Among them was the squad leader, Olga Kovaleva.
The Nazis opened heavy fire on the attackers from machine guns and mortars ...
I had to lay down.
The militias clung to the ground, they can not raise their heads. Look - the Germans went on the attack. Here they go around.
At this time, the chain of fighters reported that the commander of the detachment had died.
And then Olga Kovaleva decided to raise the fighters in a counterattack. She stood up to her full height and shouted:
Follow me, comrades! Let's not let the enemy to our factory! To our city!!!
The workers heard the call of Olga Kovaleva, got up and rushed towards the enemy.
- For the native plant! For our city! For the Motherland! Hooray!..
The Nazis were driven out of the village.
Many militias were killed in that battle. died
and Olga Kuzminichna Kovaleva.
In honor of the militia heroes, monuments were erected at the factory gates.
On the marble slabs are the names of those who gave their lives in battles for the city, for their native factory.
Workers go to the factory and swear to the fallen to work in such a way as not to disgrace their military honor.
They return from the shift - they mentally report what has been done during the working day.
A real T-34 tank is installed at the tractor factory at the central entrance.
Such combat vehicles were produced here in the war.
When the enemy approached the city, the tanks were heading straight from the assembly line into battle.
Many heroic deeds were performed by Soviet tank crews during the great battle on the Volga.
NEVER FORGET
Tales of Belarusian folk tales during the days of Vyalikay Aichynnay Vayna
FALL DEATH
We lived in the villages of Usokhi Byagoml district. Here, I was sluggish - six souls: father, mother, sisters Zhenya and Lida, brother Vitsia and I. We lived in a quiet place, but the Germans drilled everything.
In 1943, the Germans blocked our area. All zhykhars were hiding in the balotse. The Germans rode on the avtamashyn to the spring of Usokhi, but there was no one there. Yanas sang adnu zhanchyna from another spring, Runes, and sang yae, how all the people came out of the balot and turned to the house and dzevyatsi gadzin in the evening, or else their pub "yuts. Ale people did not shed the Germans and let the balot not go to the house. Yany said:
Kali let's go daddy, so we'll be saved.
And the next day, people from the villages of Gantsavichy went down and left the ballot. As soon as the yans went to daddy, the Germans drove them to the caravans and lit the yago. Which ўsyakali, tykh scored. Tady zgarela great shmat of people. We ended up in a ballotse.
The Germans, as soon as they burned the people, the paishl ў balota shukatsya astatnіh. Eight Germans fell from the village and the first budak and ransacked. Here the Yans scored Chabatar Palyut and yae chatyroh dzyatsey. All the people rushed to cackle somewhere. I we ran. The Germans fired on us, but did not trap. So we ran and rivers. Ale river for a few months was wide and deep, and it was not easy to get across. Then we fled Kalya Beraga, and then the Germans drove us and started to fight with us for aўtamat. Matsi and father were killed, and two sisters were killed, and brother was wounded in the right wok. Yon closing and grabbing his hand behind the wok. Through the fingers of a cycle of blood. I fell and yago and began to wipe out the bloody hole. At the Geta's hour, a German fell and shot: brother fell and then died. And the German kept shooting and wounding me on my left shoulder, and the other sack trapila on my right hand, but did not cover it. Tratsya sack zachapila back. I got hot, and I fell, and the German paishov - he thinks that I'm dead. Geta had a wound, gadzin at dzesyats.
All through the day I spent time and again with my relatives. And the fall of the evening was a hell of a flower, Volka, from the stars of Smalyarova, slightly wounded, tired and tired of me. Yana pamagla fell on me, and we fell. At hellish months we got across the river for cancer. On the tym beraz we sustrali dzeda Yanul, as if they led us and piles here "i. Yans gave me esci, but I didn’t eat anything for days, only drank water. Then I ate an egg. Then the dacha of Maygo Dzyadzka Alisey Alai, Marusya, knew me.
Ale did not choke to lie down. The Germans were bambili, they were shooting, and we knew how to chirp at the Balot. I am as weak as I am, and I am panesli. Brought violence on sticks, sent a message, and so they didn’t. I was carried by two men, a dzyadzka and Gerasimovich Ivan, and two dzyadzka dachas, Marusya and Nina, carried the son of the teacher, Genya. 3 meane tsela day of the cycle of blood. Then Marusya tied up my wounds. And in May, relatives lay in bed.
When the Germans left the countryside, people began to leave the sea. The father of the fathers of the people, the yans dug a hole in the yard and plowed my relatives. I didn’t muggle hadzit and didn’t bachyla, like hawala.
My mother had two sisters, they lived hell for us for ten kilometers. Yana patchouli, that our relatives were killed by the Germans, that I found myself here, and I arrived and me. Adna s ix, Przyna's mother, took me and herself. There was no doctor at all, and the flower lied to me with its own medicines. I was in pain for a long time, but the mother cured me, and I am a badzer, languid, and I work my hands abed.
TANYA ALAY (1933)
Byagomlsky district, Mstsіzhsky selsavet, v. Ram.
SWAIMIVACHYMA
Lyuty 1943. Chihaya and clear night melted. Zvechara chulisya distant arrows of harmat and bursts of projectiles. Geta was fired by our artillery.
I'll sleep at night to hell with no noise. At the chatse, all were ўtryvians. I jumped out into the yard, but the German rushed me back. I'm guessing that something unkind greeted me. For leather huts, a flock of German patrols and never let them out into the yard.
Kalі zusіm diluted, the Germans fell the cars and the load of the load on their people. Brothers with yourself did not allow anything. At hell, they drove our cars and ours. 3 we were two small children of the elder sister Katsi. Yana was ill with typhus and knew the special hut where the Germans took all the typhoid ones. Davedushshysya, that people were being taken out, Yana rushed to joke us. I ran to daddy, but I didn’t know anyone there. We were already for good. The cars sporadically spun. Syastra ўbachyla and ran away from us. Zagudze mator, the truck was ready for eight or eight kranuzza. Ale ўsё-takі Yana pastel dabegchy. We dapamagle her knots on the car. Syastra zbyalela and stracіla prtomnasts.
Katya! - I closed, but Yana didn’t tell me. Apustsiushy galov, we mouchki flocked over her. "How to yell sister?" - I think. Ale dapamagchy is not good. I don’t have any waters, but I can’t see the snow in the snow.
At the next chugunachnaya station, the trucks were spawned. I sacked from the car, collected snow from the bank, melted the yago and gave the waters. Yana froze.
We were loaded in ў yakіstsі cribs. We spent two days with them. On the other day, I’ll spend the night on a padish train, and we were given sadzitstsa wagons.
The yard, where we knew, was Abgarodjans with prickly darts. Paabapal of the narrow gates stood the German gendars with plaques on their chests. Yana let go of hellish chalaveka. They did not bring anything out. Kali ў kago by ў for the beach club, Iago adrazal. From the mothers they took away from the hands of the breasts and threw the snow.
Nareshtse we were loaded like that. So many people were driven near the car, that there was no place for them. The doors closed tightly and at night they led us nowhere. Mustache patsіhu gavarili that we are going to certain death.
An unbearable spirit flocked by the carriage. People were tormented by smaga, but there was no water. The asablіva tsyazhka jumped the jets. In our car, a few small ones did not snatch and pamerli, mouss, yans suffocated the hell of a chirping pavetra. Kali tsyarpets became non-magchy, men pralamali ў scyane sluggish adtulin. Everyone was glad that they could breathe fresh pavements.
I eight train station. People jumped out of the wagon to collect water and snow. Nyametsky kanvair is so formidable croaking, that no one is advancing here. Sweat us know pavezli. The chick is nadta marudna, thumping either forward or backward, often sleeping. At the infernal station, the Germans allowed water to be collected. Fierce erupted, snow melted and puddles formed. Vada ў іх was cloudy and not sweet. But people were glad to be like this.
Even though the throat is sore, they said.
After a few whistles, a whistle blows, and we were driven into wagons. Znoў zabіlі dzverі and pavezli far away.
The chickweed is sleeping for yakogastsi balot. The people were unloaded from the wagons and sent to the front. Pa ўsіm it was, that here earlier there were such nyashchasnyas, like us. Paabapal were littered with roses, chalavech corpses.
Hell is hungry and smart people are so weak that the ice is crumbling. Kali hto znyasilvaў і could not іstsі, tago nyametskіya kanvaіry tskavіlі dogs.
They jumped us at the burnt spring. Yana Vocal was bombarded with prickly darts. There were towers on the edges. They knew the Nyametsky vartavy, the yakiya pilna sachyl, if nothing happened. Were warmed up in the snow, there were no budynkas. There was no jo. People kurchylis hell cold, wailed and cried.
Sister Katsy tormented tyf. Yana threw herself, became. Matsі payshla shukats more zatsіshnaya months. Kalya adnago chlyavka Yana knew a bunch of pus. We quickly got together to excavate Iago. At the bottom it was chains, and a couple came out of it. They sent out a kodru, they sent a sister and two small zetaks and covered the beast with lachman.
Three days of pratrimali us fell to the open sky. On chatsverty the day of the sun was chosen. Infantry pagnali further. At Daroza, I had a chance to look at a bunch of ugly little ones. Eight idze young zhanchyna with dzіtsem, and pobach with her granny. The Germans handed over the grandmother, but took the uterus. The other matzі didn’t have a hatsela add dzіtsya, I was beaten right there. There were such outbursts. Kali zhanchyna znyasilvala and saddzіlasya adpachyts, then cursed the fryts zabіvaў yae, and dzіtsya threw snow on the worker. We once bachyl, like ravens dzyaўbli vochy ў takogo, yashche zhivoga dzіtsyatsi.
I am staring and ice cold. Yes, there were three hells, like kanvair tskavaў dogs. The dog tears at me and bites at my legs. Akramya tago, some of them smashed me with sticks. I think that I’m going out of my strength, I’ll fall and then I’ll throw myself off the road to a terrible death.
We were driven away for a balot, for prickly agarage. There was a dachshund here, like in the first month: there were scattered speeches and downtrodden people. We were right here. Adsyul carried us further in cars. Nidze did not see neither zhykharov nor vesak.
We were told evil. Katya is already familiar. I would have a high fever. Yana was saying something. Again and again, the Germans packed a dozen of them with other ailments, and they drove us further on foot.
Twenty-five kilometers we flew cold and cold. Many fell and did not get up. At night they jumped into the forest. We pastel on the ground.
We left, but what happened to Katsiai? - said mother crying. We maўchali - usіm was shkada sister.
At night, something was wrong, and I snatched Katsyu from the camp with zetka. We have been greatly blessed, kali ўbachyli. Yana was trembling on the nagas - the pain was already in full swing. Little Budanchyk and Palazhyli ў іm sistra z dzetsmі. Themselves lay down Kalya Budana. We became so tired that, staring at the cold, we fell asleep.
I wash my morning and could not recognize: snow is pouring on us. So-so get out. Got out and astatniya.
Run away, son, plow dry gall. Let's burn the fire and warm up, - said my mother.
I start looking. I go and go to bed - there are two hellish people lying down, there is a chatsvera. As the adepts lay down, they did not fall down. Shmat of people froze ¢ this winter night.
Ale pagrezza did not choke us. The Germans did not allow the fire to explode. Adnu tsetku, which laid out the agentchyk, the German was stabbed with a bayonet. On other "samavolshchyks" they fired for avtamata. Many of them didn't have a chain of defense, a standing abutak. Their admirals have hands, feet, ears.
The days of hard sleep have fallen Nechuvanyya packs and zdzeki passed to us.
This time the Germans built us at the Sharengu and just agar I threw bread. People grabbed yago. Kamu was given, they shot at him. Often work and so. Kali people lie down to sleep, the Germans instruct mines, and lay bread on the mines. As soon as someone falls and bread and hats uzyats, the mine exploded, and the chalavek knotted the eel.
People died like flies. They threw out ditches and pits.
Late in the evening, the Germans ran around to pick up the fences. They had a sleepy look. Potym pa lagers praishlі nyametskіya suvyazіsty, yakіya zmatvalі cable. Pa ўsіm it was obvious that the yana chose to join.
We fell asleep at night, and we looked early - no new German. A mustache immediately rushed to the other side to gather firewood. Ale daroga was mined. A little chalavek ran into mines.
In the afternoon, five of our scouts arrived at the camp. Since it was joyful, if we ўbachylі our warriors-caused goals! People abdymalі іх i tsalavalі.
Scouts agledzeli agarozhu and said: no one can get out, because everything has been mined.
Feast of necators, the hour of the past miner and miniravau darogi and lager. The miners said to the dachshund that the pavilions were the machines. Ale people did not chakali cars and wandered off somewhere. Kozhnamu hatselas Khutchey dabratstsa yes svaіh. You, who are not Muggles, have stopped. Such a lot of stuff has accumulated. In the Azaryk camps, death was known to a few dozen thousand chalaveks.
Tykh, who was standing, were measured on the weights. We were given military rations: crackers, canned food, tsukar, tlushchi. Celebrating a few zens of admiration in our own districts, and we got to know daddy - but not all of them.
MISHA DZYATLAY (1930)
Veska Zmyaёўka, Gomel region.
DAROGAЎ ATRAD
Our Veska Yagadka flocked Kalya Samaga to the forest. As the Germans were advancing, so the baeu was grazed there. I think about choosing for the partisans. Ale adnam the work of the geta was scary. But I will tell my intentions to the neighbor's lad Marat Dobush, as if he were with me.
In the evenings of the same day, we took sacks and piled on "work." Prishli agarodami - i ў forest. They fell into the Ukrainka, listened and farther away. For courage, we tried public adzin la adnago. Unforgettably, we stumbled upon a bunch of grenades, which lay down like a young, spreading hedgehog. We are already tresling: getulki zbroi we didn’t succumb!
What are we going to work with her? - test Marat.
You need to hide, I say.
Then we hung out and frolicked. In the hellish months, easel chimes were known, when they lay down, clogged chalaveks buried in the creatures near the ground. La right vuha yago, a small dzіrachka turned black. Crow, like a cycle from a wound, pastel wither. Vakol kulyameta were lying around hellish shells. See, the kulyametschyk and the aposhnyaga of the patron are fire and like a hero die at the barracks with the Germans. We punished the dzeda Sidarovich Prakop. That one bury the zrabіў thorn and carried it up to the forest. We dupamaglі pit dig mіlu and pahavats hero-kulyametchyka. There were no documents about them, and we didn’t know what kind of nickname and adculation for childbirth.
Kulyamet we jumped ў weight and shaved the feces of our huts in the old crypt. Then I knew yashche hand-kulyamet, tol, bikford cord. All the geta were brought there. Khutka, our crypt is being destroyed and the warehouse is being abandoned.
The guerrillas jumped up at the weight of the grave. Yana was dappled, whoever has armor.
Once upon a time, the yans arrived at night and started knocking at the door. Matsі perepalokhalas: Yana thought that the geta was on.
What do you require? - Yana asked.
Dze your Shura?
Spits...
Pabudzіtse yago.
Kamisar atrada prasіў, if you give a pomegranate, - said adzin z іх, you see, elders.
Geta is possible, yany ў mane is.
Give them here.
And why are you pavezyatse? - I'll try.
We panyasem on the saba.
You don't need strength.
And there are so many of them? - zdzivilisya yans.
A lot - pramovіў i pavёў yes pits.
Dze did you score so many of them?
Malaychyna! - pahvalіў elders and zagaў two partisans skhadzіts on pastelak and ўzyat kanya. Tyya paishli and hutka turned into a flood. Loading grenades on the cart, older raptam tried, I have fuses. I say that at once I don’t have them, but I can get away with it. Yon paprasіў abavyazkova dastats, for yana velmі patribny.
Do you never pack yourself?
Not. And navoshta Yana us?
And what is kali? ..
Well INTO OK, addaў Duc addaў. Ale dze, shall we take the fuses?
GІadpіlnavaўshy, kali Levanovichy paishli on the field, we rushed to reconnaissance. We circled around the house with such looks, we didn’t ruin anything and we joked. After a long time of searching, we realized that during the hellish months on the earth the roof was connected to the sky. I take a kavalak tostaga with a dart and torcate them. Hutka yon zastukaў ab Neshta Zverdae. Geta was a hideout.
We turned into a joyful and sad evening at home. As soon as I stumbled, I and Marat fell to Levanovitchavay huts, assyarozhna adcapali to the skrynka and carried us away. Just a day the partisans arrived and took away. At the geta's arrival, we added to them and kulyamety. The partisans gave their souls hell to us for support.
Just a few hours ago, the Germans captured a raid on the veska. Yana stole our fathers. We understood that the Germans had already given up on our connection with the partisans. I and my brother Tolya pastel ўtsyachy. They jumped into the forest, as if they were infecting for agars. We are already blessed by Marat. Adopting the roof, we began to see what the weights were robbing. We bachyl, as if they took away our fathers and paws and the fallows of the lumberyard of the plant. We knew not far from hell, and we didn’t see anything wrong. The hell of the getaga was very bloody and sickly, and we wept. Fathers, vyadoma, did not give anything to the Nyametsky kats. We have been hurting for a while, that our fathers and many zhykharovs were upset.
I eight, Tolya and Marat became round orphans. Vyartatstsa ў vesku was not careless - we were a dachshund muggle shapits and upset. We had adna daroga - with the partisans. I all three of us fell into Berazhnev's atrads.
SHURA NYAMIRKA (1932)
g/p Byarezina.
BUCKOUT ON THE HIGH
We lived in the villages of Raunapolle, Kalya Rudzensk. The end of our veski ўpiraetstsa ў the most chigunka. We always loved to walk on chyguntsy. The Germans came and barred us hadzits on it. And the partisans appeared on the roof of the valleys, in the kali ў area of \u200b\u200b"the partisans appeared, the Germans gave ўzdoўzh chigunka bunkers and towers. And such a tower was our stronghold. On its day and night, two Germans knew kulametam. navacol.
3 other sides of hell were forest. They often had partisans from the atrade “For Radzima”. I am familiar with them, kali hadzіў at Yagada. Kamandzir atrad Gancharov, who made me feel bad for the first time, darling tried to find out who I am and how crazy I am. I’ll tell you that I’m a sirata, I live with the Pelageya’s father, and the tsyaper lives with the Yagada. You are respectful of listening to me and trying, there are Germans at the weight.
Nyama, - adkazaў I. - Only two sit on the top.
Is there a zbroya?
I don’t have a name, but you know you can.
We in the forest often knew the harvested armor. Some lads took it to themselves, some simply knew, dze yana lie. Kali I convey to them the request of the commander, yana dapamagli give me hundreds of grenades, trystsat rifles and Dzegtsyarov's hand-singers. Kali I ўsyo geta transfer kamandziru, yon affectionately said:
Dzyakuyu, Vitsia, for help.
The Germans often began to show up at the vesku. Yana took away sbozhzha, vopratka, bacon, kurei, dashchentu burned weights Rybtsy once from people, Lutsishchy, Zazerka and others. The Germans killed our neighbors onions. I remember, Kali I ўvaishov at the hut, yans lay, sprawling on the scum.
I run out of the hut as a hutsenka.
Night people ўtsyakli ў forest, yes partisans. I'm so crazy myself.
Kamandzir uzvod Valodzya Osipchyk, young lad, tried me:
How much are you disgusting?
Dvanatstatsya, - I say.
You are small.
Qi could you dapamagchy us zarvatsya tower? Think. Try to get to know the Germans, and then get away.
Pan, give me a cigarette!
Give me an egg, - said the yans and the adzin voice.
Gut, kinder!
On the coming day, I know the past and ix. The young ones are flocks of kalya kulamet, and the elders are corps of kalya stoves. I paprasіў smoke. The elders will give tsygareta and say in lamanai Russian language that I brought a pit of firewood.
I climbed from the tower, picked up a bunch of doshaks that were lying around, and brought them.
Gut! - said the elders.
Prudumana nyadrenna, - said yon.
And tsyaper idzi. Vykanayesh task - byazhy yes us - saying Osіpchyk i pavedamіў, dze yans will be chakats meane.
I am a padysha and a chigunka. Here you know the kavalak dart and the zrabіў z yago kruchok. Gather firewood, fall on the tower. On a hellish slype I zaўvazhyў shchylina, a joke ўtknuў at me a twist and matsavaў so that the cab did not fall out. Then I carried the firewood and threw the kalia of the stove. The Germans welcomed and gave tsygaret. Zakuryўshy, I'm more and more descending. The heart may have swelled, but I try to tremble in my hands. Paraўnyaўshysya with a knuckle, I'm a hutsenka padvesіў tolі nemetskoy tsygaretai podpalіў cord. Hutka descends down, because I fear, if I don’t get hurt early, with which I graze the sis from the tower.
Apynuўshysya on the ground, I fall on thin crooks, and then I can’t get it out and rush to run up. Running and thinking: “What, if not ўzarvezza?” Ale, I don’t get past, I adbegchy and drive, as if I heard a terrible bulge. I'm looking around and vachy, like an eel, the slough of a black smoke and a kavalk of a tree took off. I am afraid of great fear, and I am remembering the forest with my strength. Adtul paishov at the paselak of Baraviy, kilometer for five hell chigunki, dze chakali partisans. Ubachyushy meane, puffed up and puffed up, Osipchyk tried:
Uzarvaў tower?
Uzarvaў, - I adkazaў.
Of good. Let's go with us, - he said and dashed off and the commander of the company, as if he knew the weights of Prystan.
Eight of that lad who zarvaў the tower, - I will say Osipchyk.
Malaychyna! Tsyaper you will be with us, at the atradze, - and I will guess the lock of me and the factory of Osipchyk.
VITSIA PISKUN (1931)
Vyoska Raўnapolle, Rudzensky district.
masculinity
At the patch of war, we left Minsk and pastured the village of Vyzhary, Smilavitsk village, Rudzenskaya district. Many partisan families lived here.
At the navakol lyasakh of the dzeynichs partisan atrades of Zelnikava. My mother tried to tie them with a tie, they gave her leaflets, and I, with my brothers, carried them on the weights.
Once we went to the woods and started to walk “at the side of the partisans”. At the hour of the feast, the cotton Vіtsya jumped and told me:
Fields, byazhy dadoma. The fingers took your mother.
Where are I going?
I don’t know, - the grandmother said. - Yana didn’t say anything.
Just a few hvilin on the streets covered with snow. I looked into the window. Yes, the huts fell, "the sleigh rode. On my feet, this fingers. Ubachymyane, adzin z ikhkіўnuў fingers, if I came out.
Sit down, and go down, - the elders will guess.
And where? I asked.
Not your right, shchanyo! - formidable kryknuўseders.- Wherever we go, there and paedzesh.
I was brought by ў Smilavichy and pasadzili ў pakoy, my mother sat down with them. I really took care of myself, I stowed away. 3 she was not afraid of me.
The hutka cracked, and we lay down on the bunk. Ale didn't sleep. My mother hugged me by the neck and taught me how I am a peacock and what a faggot. “Advanced to such a test,” Gavylayana, “you can do a yakiya. Well, why are partisans datechytsa, so you didn’t chula and didn’t bachyla. Kali budutsbіts, do not cry and mauchy. Show that you are not crying." I said, if my mother wasn’t turbulent: I’m small, but I know what and what.
The next day we were dug up: mother, sweats. At me, the staffs were damagalis, dzepartizans, how many of them, dze zmyashchaetstsa headquarters, some kind of choice and іnshae. I said hell and the same:
I don't know. The partisans did not have any.
Manish! - closing the head of the club and hitting me with a bizun. I clenched my teeth and waved. Maya tsyarplivast knotted Iago.
What a mother, such a dzіtsyatka, - prasіpeў yon and guessing vyvestsі mane z pakoy.
There you will understand differently.
Adsyul to us, dacha, we’ve chosen a good one, - said my mother and the dog sighed. Hai katy know that we are lying zlamatsya, chym sagnuts.
Our Russians are chalavek, but dapamagae to the Germans. What a shambles! Like an agidna look at Iago. Tsyaper us not minuts shibenitsy, abavyazkova give us away.
There were no calls to call. We began to chakats svaygo kanets. Mom often powtarala: "Hutchey would have died all geta."
Step forward from the next chamber, and evil roars have come upon us. I zatsіkavіlas and fell and scyany. Kryki paўtarylis yashche matsny. The scene is dashing, and it was shchylina. I overcame fear and jumped yes. The one that I ўbachyla, made me shake my whole body. The camera had a chatsver: a German afficer, a translator and two canvases. Pass over to them a flock of young lads. The look is mezhudasny: hung at the roof, the fall of your bruises, instead of the guards, hellish lahmans were cursing. Raskudlachany valas of shanks hung on the forehead. Behind Iago's back, on the doors of the cell, a pyatsіkantsovy vigilance was expressed. Pakazvayuchy on this sight, the afterlife of the translator is trying:
Navoshta you geta zrabіў?
Pan afіtser, - pramoіў perakladchyk, - gety nyagodnik not wanting to adjourn. Let’s look at what I’ll say, if such a vigilant eye appears on my back.
Kali everything died down, I looked at your shchylina again. The bastard, sabraushy aposhnia of strength, jumping on his hands and saying so loudly, cab, you see, yago patchouli other naughty ones in the neighboring cells: Advice for me..."
Kanvairs padhapili yago, jumped out into the yard and threw a ditch, which was behind the barracks.
The next day there were patchy roofs on the camera from the other side. Just the same schylina, I ўbachyla, that they bred a granny bastard vasmіdzesyatsi. German in Lamanai Ruskai Move Gavariў:
Fifteen hvіlіn were caught. Budzesh adkazvats?
There were dozens of hvіlin. Budzesh adkazvats?
Five hvilin remained ...
There's a second left. Budzesh adkazvats?
Get it!
I didn’t look Muggle, but only stocked granny’s haystacks. Kali yana was dead, I threw out the ditch, dze lying down the unwitting lad.
They let us out on the feast day. Kali told us that we can really give home, we did not trust our own ears. We chakali death, but it seems to us:
Mozhatse istsi dadomamu.
Vyarnuўshysya ў atrad, we payshli and kamandzira. Mother rightly told the pit and on what light did the barking of the health-care worker Sazonava begin. Kamandzir atrada perapinіў yae i skazў:
Duremna laesh yago.
Chamu Daremna? - mum scoffed.
Your hchastse, that there would be Sazona.
What are you talking about? - zvіlasya mom.
Kamandzir spakoyna rastlumachyў:
Sazonaў is not a health resort. Yon padpolshchyk. I geta yon dapamog you vyzvolіtsa.
We understand everything. Mama vinavata said:
And I so cursed Iago ...
Well, well, nothing will go to hell in a pit, - said the kamandzir.
We ended up in the atradze. It’s a celebration of a little zen patchouli that the Germans pissed off the padpolshchyk Sazonava. Mom and I were the big skadavali yago.
POLYA NIKALAEV (1933)
G. Minsk, st. Ivanovskaya, 36.
The village of Dvorishche, where the Yakutovich family lived before the war, was located seven kilometers from Minsk. There are five children in the family. Sergei is the oldest: he is 12 years old. The youngest was born in May 1941. My father worked as a mechanic at the Minsk Car Repair Plant. Mom is a milkmaid on a collective farm. The tornado of war has uprooted peaceful life from the family. For communication with the partisans, the Germans shot their parents. Sergei and his brother Lenya went to a partisan detachment and became fighters of a sabotage and subversive group. And the younger brothers were taken in by kind people.
At the age of fourteen boyish years, Sergei Yakutovich went through so many trials that they would be more than enough for a hundred human lives ... After serving in the army, Sergei Antonovich worked at MAZ. Then - at the machine-tool plant named after the October Revolution. He gave 35 years of his life to the decorative and construction workshop of the Belarusfilm film studio. And the years of hard times live in his memory. Like everything he experienced - in stories about the war ...
Wounded
It was the fifth or sixth day of the war. The rumble of guns outside the city suddenly ceased in the morning. Only engines howled in the sky. German fighters were chasing our hawk. Having dived sharply down, the “hawk” near the ground leaves the pursuers. Machine-gun bursts did not reach him. But from tracer bullets, thatched roofs in the village of Ozertso flared up. Black puffs of smoke billowed into the sky. We abandoned our calves and, without saying a word, rushed to the burning village. When they ran through the collective farm garden, they heard a scream. Someone called for help. In the lilac bushes, a wounded Red Army soldier was lying on his overcoat. Next to him is a PPD assault rifle and a pistol in a holster. The knee is bandaged with a dirty bandage. The face, overgrown with stubble, is exhausted by pain. However, the soldier did not lose his presence of mind. "Hey, eagles! Are there any Germans around? "What Germans!" we were outraged. None of us believed that they would appear here. “Well, guys,” the Red Army soldier asked us, “bring me some clean rags, iodine or vodka. If the wound is not treated, I am finished ... ”We consulted who would go. The choice fell on me. And I ran to the house. One and a half kilometers for a barefoot kid - a couple of trifles. When I ran across the road leading to Minsk, I saw three motorcycles dusting in my direction. “That's good,” I thought. "They'll take the wounded." I raised my hand, I'm waiting. The first motorcycle stopped next to me. Two back - at a distance. Soldiers jumped out of them and lay down by the road. Dust-gray faces. Only glasses gleam in the sun. But… uniforms on them are unfamiliar, alien. Motorcycles and machine guns are not like ours ... "Germans!" - came to me. And I jumped into the thick rye that grew near the road itself. After running a few steps, he got confused and fell. The German grabbed my hair and, muttering something angrily, dragged me to the motorcycle. Another, sitting in a carriage, twirled a finger at his temple. I thought that they would put a bullet in me here ... The motorcycle driver, poking his finger at the map, repeated several times: "Malinofka, Malinofka ..." From the place where we stood, the gardens of Malinovka were visible. I pointed out in which direction they should go ...
And we did not abandon the wounded Red Army soldier. For a whole month they brought him food. And the medicines they could get. When the wound allowed him to move, he went into the forest.
"We will be back…"
The Germans, like locusts, filled all the villages around Minsk. And in the forest, in the bushes and even in the rye, the Red Army men, who were surrounded, hid. A reconnaissance plane was circling above the forest, almost touching the tops of the trees with its wheels, above the grain field. Having found the fighters, the pilot watered them with a machine gun, threw grenades. The sun was already setting behind the forest, when a commander with a group of soldiers approached us with my brother Lenya, who was tending calves. There were about 30 of them. I explained to the commander how to get to the village of Volchkovichi. And then move along the Ptich River. “Listen, guy, take us to these Volchkovichi,” the commander asked. “It will be dark soon, and you are at home…” I agreed. In the forest we came across a group of Red Army soldiers. Man 20 with full armament. While the commander was checking their documents, I realized with horror that I had lost my landmark in the forest. In these places, I was only once with my father. But so much time has passed since then... The chain of fighters stretched for hundreds of meters. And my legs are trembling with fear. I don't know where we are going... We went to the highway along which a column of German vehicles was moving. “Where are you taking us, you son of a bitch?! - the commander jumps up to me. - Where is your bridge? Where is the river? His face is contorted with rage. A revolver dances in his hands. A second or two - and put a bullet in my forehead ... Feverishly I think: if Minsk is in this direction, then it means that we need to go in the opposite direction. In order not to go astray, we decided to walk along the highway, pushing our way through impenetrable bushes. Each step was given with a curse. But then the forest ended, and we ended up on a hill where cows were grazing. The outskirts of the village were visible. And below - a river, a bridge ... It relieved my heart: “Thank God! Come!” Near the bridge are two burnt-out German tanks. Smoke is smoking over the ruins of the building... The commander asks the old shepherd if there are Germans in the village, is it possible to find a doctor - we have wounded... "There were Herods," says the old man. - And they did a black deed. When they saw the wrecked tanks and the corpses of the tankers, in retaliation they propped up the doors of the Rest House (and there were a lot of wounded) and set it on fire. Inhumans! Burn helpless people in the fire ... How the earth wears them! - lamented the old man. The Red Army soldiers crossed the highway and hid in dense bushes. The commander and two machine gunners were the last to leave. At the very highway, the commander turned around and waved his hand to me: “We'll be back, guy! We will definitely be back!”
It was the third day of the occupation.
Mortar
For the summer, my brother Lenya, who is two years younger than me, and I agreed to graze collective farm calves. Oh, and we messed with them! But what about now? When there are Germans in the village, there is no collective farm, and no one knows whose calves...
“The cattle is not to blame. As you grazed the calves, so you grazed, ”mother said resolutely. - Yes, look at me, do not touch the weapon! And God forbid you bring something home ... "
We heard the roar of hungry calves from afar. There was a wagon at the door of the barn. Two Germans dragged a dead calf to her. They threw him on a wagon, wiped his bloody hands on calf hair. And follow another...
With difficulty we drove the calves out into the meadow. But they immediately fled, frightened by the reconnaissance aircraft. I could clearly see the pilot's face with glasses. And even his smirk. Oh, to shy away from a rifle in this impudent mug! Hands itched with the desire to take weapons. And nothing will stop me: neither the orders of the Germans to be shot, nor the prohibitions of my parents ... I turn onto a path trodden in rye. And here it is, the rifle! Like it's waiting for me. I take it in my hands and feel twice as strong. Of course, it must be hidden. I choose a place where the rye is thicker, and I stumble upon a whole arsenal of weapons: 8 rifles, cartridges, bags with gas masks ... While I was considering all this, an airplane flew over my head. The pilot saw both the weapon and me. Now it will turn around and give a turn ... Whatever the spirit has, I ran to the forest. He hid himself in a bush and then unexpectedly found a mortar. Brand new, gleaming black. In an open box - four mines with caps on the nose. “Not today, tomorrow,” I thought, “ours will return. I will hand over the mortar to the Red Army and receive an order or a manual Kirov watch for it. But where to hide it? In the woods? They can find. Homes are safer. The plate is heavy. One cannot cope. I persuaded my brother to help me. In broad daylight, where in a plastunsky way, where on all fours I dragged a mortar along the potato furrows. And after me, Lenya was dragging a box of mines. But here we are at home. We hide behind the barn wall. We caught our breath, set up a mortar. Brother immediately began to study infantry artillery. He quickly figured everything out. No wonder at school he had the nickname Talent. Raising the barrel almost vertically, Lenya took the mine, unscrewed the cap and handed it to me: “Lower it with your tail down. And then we'll see ... "I did so. A dull shot rang out. Mina, miraculously not hitting my hand, soared into the sky. Happened! Overwhelmed by excitement, we forgot about everything in the world. Three more were sent after the first mine. Black dots instantly melted in the sky. And suddenly - explosions. In sequence. And getting closer, closer to us. "Let's run!" - I shouted to my brother and pulled around the corner of the barn. At the gate he stopped. My brother was not with me. “We must go to the calves,” I thought. But it was too late. Three Germans were approaching the house. One looked into the yard, and two went to the barn. Machine guns crackled. "Lenka was killed!" - slashed in my mind. Mom came out of the house with a little brother in her arms. "Now we're all going to be killed. And all because of me!” And such horror seized my heart that it seemed that it could not stand it and would burst from pain ... The Germans came out from behind the barn. One, healthier, carried our mortar on his shoulders ... And Lenka hid in the hayloft. Parents never found out that our family could have died on the third day of the German occupation.
Father's death
My father, who worked before the war as a mechanic at the Minsk Carriage Repair Plant, had golden hands. So he became a blacksmith. People came to Anton Grigoryevich with orders from all the surrounding villages. My father skillfully made sickles from bayonet-knives. Riveted buckets. Could repair the most hopeless mechanism. In a word, master. Neighbors respected my father for his directness and honesty. He did not feel any timidity or fear towards anyone. He could stand up for the weak and repulse the impudent force. It was for this that the headman Ivantsevich hated him. There were no traitors in the village of Dvorishche. Ivantsevich is a stranger. He came to our village with his family
on the eve of the war. And so curry favor with the Germans that, as a sign of special trust, he received the right to bear arms. His two older sons served in the police. He also had an adult daughter and a son a couple of years older than me. The headman brought a lot of evil to people. Got it from him and his father. He gave us the most impoverished, most junk land. How much effort my father invested, and my mother and I, too, to process it, but when it comes to harvesting, there is nothing to collect. The forge saved the family. Father riveted a bucket - get a bucket of flour for this. That is the calculation. The partisans shot the elder. And his family decided that the father was to blame. None of them doubted that he was connected with the partisans. Sometimes in the middle of the night I woke up from a strange knock on the window glass (later I realized: a cartridge was pounded on the glass). Father got up and went out into the yard. He was clearly doing something for the partisans. But who will devote the boy to such matters? ..
This happened in August 1943. Removed bread. Sheaves were taken to the threshing floor and decided to celebrate dozhinki. Father drank well. And when there was a familiar knock on the window at night, he slept soundly. Mom came out into the yard. It didn't take long for the headlights of the car to flicker across the wall. A car stopped at our house. Shots rattled at the door. The Germans burst in and, shining their lanterns, began to rummage in all corners. One went up to the carriage, pulled the mattress. The little brother hit his head on the edge and raised a cry. Waking up from a child's crying, the father rushed to the Germans. But what could he do with his bare hands? They tied him up and dragged him into the yard. I grabbed my father's clothes - and after them. The headman's son was standing by the car... That night they took three more villagers. Mom looked for her father in all prisons. And he and his fellow villagers were kept in Shchemyslitsa. And a week later they were shot. The translator's son learned from his father how it was. And told me...
They were brought to execution and each was given a shovel. They ordered to dig a grave near the birches. The father snatched the shovels from the fellow villagers, threw them aside and shouted: "Don't wait, you bastards!" “Are you a hero? Well, we will reward you for your courage with a red star, - smiling, said the senior policeman, he was from the locals. "Tie him to a tree!" When the father was tied to a birch, the officer ordered the soldiers to carve a star on his back. None of them moved. “Then I will do it myself, and you will be punished,” the policeman threatened his own. Father died standing...
Revenge
I swore to myself to avenge my father. The elder's son looked after our house. He reported to the Germans that he had seen partisans. Because of him, his father was executed ...
I had a revolver and a TT pistol. My brother and I owned weapons like Voroshilov shooters. Rifles were safely hidden, but carbines were often fired. We will climb into the forest, where it is thicker, set up some kind of target and hit one by one. For this occupation, we were once caught by partisan scouts. The carbines were taken. However, this did not upset us at all. And when they began to ask what and how, I said that I knew who had betrayed my father. “Take a traitor, lead him to the New Court. There is someone to figure it out, ”the partisans advised. They helped me get my revenge...
I don't go into the house. I'm all over the place. Lenya comes out of the house. Looks at me with fear. “What happened? You have such a face ... "-" Give me an honest pioneer that you will not tell anyone. - “I give. But speak!” - “I avenged my father…” “What have you done, Seryozha?! We'll all be killed!" - and rushed into the house with a cry.
Mom came out a minute later. Face pale, lips trembling. Doesn't look at me. She brought out the horse, harnessed it to the cart. Threw bundles with clothes. Made three brothers. “Let's go to relatives in Ozertso. And now you have one road - to the partisans.
The road to the squad
We spent the night in the forest. They broke the spruce branches - here is the bed under the tree. We were in such a hurry to leave the house that we did not grab warmer clothes. They didn't even bring bread. And it's autumn outside. We pressed back to back and pounded from the cold. What a dream… Shots were still ringing in my ears. Before my eyes, the elder’s son, who collapsed from my bullet face down into the ground ... Yes, I avenged my father. But at what cost... The sun rose over the forest, and the gold of the leaves burst into flames. Need to go. Hunger drove us on. I really wanted to eat. The forest suddenly ended, and we went to the farm. “Let's ask for some food,” I say to my brother. “I am not a beggar. Go, if you want, yourself ... ”I go up to the house. An unusually high foundation caught my eye. The house was in a hollow. Obviously, in the spring it floods here. A healthy dog is flooded. The hostess stepped out onto the porch. Still a young and rather pretty woman. I asked her for bread. She did not have time to say anything: boots rattled on the porch and a peasant went down the wooden steps. Tall, red face. Apparently drunk. "Who it? Documentation!" I have a pistol in my pocket, a second one in my belt. A policeman without a weapon. It is impossible to miss two steps. But fear paralyzed me. "Well, let's go to the house!" A hand reaches out to grab me by the collar. I ran towards the forest. Police after me. Caught up with. Hit me in the back of the head. I'm falling. He steps on my throat with his foot: “Gotcha, you bastard! I will hand you over to the Germans and I will still receive a reward. "You won't get it, you bastard!" I pull out a revolver from my belt and shoot point-blank...
From my mother, I knew that in Novy Dvor there was a partisan liaison, Nadya Rebitskaya. She led us to the Budyonny detachment. Some time later, my brother and I became fighters of a sabotage and subversive group. I was 14 years old, and Lena was 12.
Last date with mom
When I hear arguments about the origins of patriotism, about the motivation for heroic deeds, I think that my mother, Lyubov Vasilievna, did not even know about the existence of such words. But she showed heroism. Silent, quiet. Not counting on gratitude and awards. But risking every hour and their lives, and the lives of children. Mom carried out the tasks of the partisans even after she lost her home and was forced to wander with her three children in strange corners. Through the contact of our detachment, I arranged a meeting with my mother.
... Quiet in the forest. March gray day tends to evening. The twilight is about to fall on the melted snow. A figure of a woman appeared among the trees. Mom's casing, mother's gait. But something kept me from rushing towards her. The woman's face is completely unfamiliar. Terrible, black ... I stand still. I do not know what to do. “Seryozha! It's me," my mother's voice. “What did they do to you, mom?! Who are you like that? ..” - “I could not restrain myself, son. I didn't have to say that. So it got from the German ... ”In the village of Dvorishche, German soldiers from the front settled down to rest. There were plenty of them in our empty house. Mom knew about it, but still risked getting into the barn. Warm clothes were stored in the attic. She began to climb the stairs - then the German grabbed her. He took me to the house. German soldiers feasted at the table. Stared at mom. One of them speaks in Russian: “Are you the mistress? Have a drink with us." And pours half a glass of vodka. "Thanks. I do not drink". - “Well, if you don’t drink, then wash our clothes.” He took a stick and began to stir up a pile of dirty laundry piled in a corner. He pulled out his fouled underpants. The Germans laughed in unison. And then my mother could not stand it: “Warriors! I suppose you’re draping from Stalingrad itself!” The German took a log and hit my mother in the face with all his might. She collapsed unconscious. By some miracle, my mother survived, and she even managed to leave ...
My meeting with her was not joyful. Something inexplicably disturbing, oppressive pressed on my heart. I said that for safety, it would be better for her and her children to go to Nalibokskaya Pushcha, where our detachment was based. Mom agreed. And a week later, Vera Vasilievna, my mother's sister, came running to us in the forest crying. “Seryozha! They killed your mother…” - “How did they kill?! I saw her recently. She had to leave…” - “On the way to the Pushcha two horsemen overtook us. They ask: “Which of you is Lyuba Yakutovich?” Love responded. They pulled her out of the sleigh and led her into the house. They were interrogated and tortured all night. And in the morning they were shot. I still have children ... ”We harnessed the horse to the sleigh - and galloped. It doesn’t fit in my head that the worst has already happened ... Mom, in her father’s casing, was lying in a hollow not far from the road. There is a blood stain on the back. I fell on my knees in front of her and began to ask for forgiveness. For my sins. For not protecting. That did not save from a bullet. The night was in my eyes. And the snow looked black...
Mom was buried in a cemetery near the village of Novy Dvor. Only three months remained before the release ... Our people were already in Gomel ...
Why didn't I get to the partisan parade
The partisan detachment named after the 25th anniversary of the BSSR goes to Minsk for a parade. There are still 297 days and nights before the Victory. We are celebrating our partisan victory. We celebrate the liberation of our native land. We celebrate a life that could end at any moment. But in spite of everything - we stayed to live ...
Passed Ivenets. Out of nowhere - two Germans. Bending down, they run to the forest. In the hands of one - a rifle, the other - a machine gun. "Who will take them?" - asks the commander. "I will take!" - I answer him. “Come on, Yakutovich. Just don't hang around in vain. And chase us." The squad left. I am for the Germans. Where crawling, where short dashes. And the grass is tall. Boots in it get confused, interfere. Dropped them, barefoot chasing I took a warrior, disarmed. I lead to the road. And I think: where should I put them? I see a column of prisoners gathering dust along the way. Fritz 200, perhaps. I'm to the escort: take two more. He stopped the column. He asks who I am. He told and remembered about his father. "Why are you barefoot?" I explain. “Well, brother, go to the parade barefoot - people laugh. Wait, we'll think of something ... "He brings me boots:" Put on your shoes. I thanked and only took a few steps - the guard calls me. He searched my prisoners. At the younger one, he found a pistol and a bowler hat full of gold teeth, crowns ... “You say your father was shot? Take this flayer, take him to the bushes and slap." I took the prisoner out of the way, removed the machine gun from my shoulder ... The German fell to his knees, tears flowed down his dirty face: “Nicht schiessen! Nicht shissen!” Something flared up inside me and immediately went out. I pulled the trigger ... Near the German himself, the bullets mowed the grass and entered the ground. The German jumped to his feet and disappeared into the column of prisoners of war. The escort looked at me and silently shook my hand...
I did not catch up with my detachment and did not get to the partisan parade. I regret this all my life.