Short story they fought for the homeland of Sholokhov. Genius in blacks

In the battle for the farm, only 117 fighters and commanders survived the old Ilmen. Now these people exhausted by three tank attacks and infinite retreats, Brere on a sultry, anhydrous steppe. The shelf was lucky only in one: a regimental banner survived. Finally, they reached the farm, "lost in the boundless Don steppe," gladly saw the surviving regimental kitchen.

Having got drunk from a brasswater from the well, Ivan Zvyagintsev started with his friend Nikolai Streltsov's conversation about the house, family. Suddenly, smaller, Nikolai, a high, prominent man who worked before the war agronomist admitted that his wife left him, left two young children. Former combinera and tractor driver Zvyagintsev was also family problems. His wife, who worked as a tractor, "spoiled through fiction." After reading the ladies' novels, the woman began to demand "high senses" from her husband than led him to extreme irritation. The books she read at night, so the sleepy went to the day, the farm came to be launched, and the children ran like sleepwear. Yes, and she wrote her husband to her husband such as his friends was ashamed to read. The brave tractor driver called the chick, then the cat, and wrote about the love of "book words" from which Zvyagintsev was made by "fog in the head" and "steep in the eyes."

While Zvyagintsev complained to Nicholas on his unhappy family life, he fell asleep firmly. Waking up, he felt the smell of burnt porridge and heard the armor-chip Peter Lopakhin refluxed with the cook - with him Peter was in constant confrontation because of fresh cereal, already pretty boring. With the blades, Nikolai met in battle for the collective farm "Light Path". Peter, the hereditary miner, was a man of invalid, loved to make fun of friends and sincerely believed in his men's irresistibility.

Nicholas oppressed the infinite digression of Soviet troops. Chaos reigned on the front, and the Soviet army could not organize a decent stack of fascists. It was especially difficult to look into the eyes of people remaining in the German rear. The local population belonged to retreating soldiers as to traitors. Nikolai did not believe that they would be able to win this war. Lopakhin also believed that Russian soldiers had not yet learned to beat the Germans, did not accumulate anger, which would be enough for victory. To be treated - and the enemy of the ravis will be driving. In the meantime, the lopahin did not lose, joked and cared for pretty nurses.

Oakdating in Don, friends caught cancers, but they did not have a chance - "From the West, a friend, groaning the hum of artillery shooting". Soon the regiment was raised on the alarm and ordered "to take defense at the height of the farm, on the crossing of the roads," and hold on to the latter.

It was a hard battle. The residues of the regiment had to hold the enemy tanks, sought to break down to the Don, where the stabbed of the main troops occurred. After two tank attacks, the height began to bomb from the air. Nicholas strongly contusedly broken near the projectile. Having woken up and choosing from under the fall asleep of his land, Streltsov saw that the regiment rose to the attack. He tried to get out of the deep, in human growth, the trench, but could not. It covered "Saving and Long Inflammition".

The regiment again retreated along the road surrounded by burning breads. Zvyagintsev had a soul with the form of a folk wealth dying in the fire. In order not to fall asleep right on the go, he began in a low voice to donate the Germans with the last words. Matching was assisted by Lopakhin and immediately began to rush. Now friends remained two - Nikolai Streltsov was found wounded on the battlefield and sent to the hospital.

Soon the regiment again took defense on the approaches to the crossing. The line of defense took place near the village. Pick up a shelter, Lopahin coal a long tiled roof and heard female voices. It turned out to be a dairy farm, the inhabitants of which they prepared for evacuation. Here, the lopahin died with milk. Behind the creamy oil, he did not have time to go - the airline began. This time the regiment was not left without support, the soldier covered the anti-aircraft complex. One German plane Lopakhin has beckored from his armor-piercing gun, for which he received a glass of vodka from Lieutenant. The lieutenant warned that the battle would have a heavy, would have to stand to death.

Returning from Lieutenant, Lopakhin barely managed to reach his own tag - the next airline began. Taking advantage of the cover from the air, the German tanks crawled on the trenches, which immediately covered the regimental artillery and anti-tank defense battery. Up to noon, the fighters beat "six fierce attacks." The short calm appeared Zvyagintsev unexpected and strange. He missed his friend Nikolai Streltsov, believing that with such an endless dust, as a lopakhin, it is impossible to talk to seriously.

After some time, the Germans began artillery preparation, and the cruel fiery flurry crashed to the front edge. Under such dense fire, Zvyagintsev was not long ago. The actor lasted about half an hour, and then the German infantry was moved to the trenches, covered with tanks. Ivan was almost delighted with this visim, tangible danger. Streaming his recent frightened, he entered into battle. Soon the regiment went to the attack. Zvyagintsev managed to run away from the trench of just a few meters. Behind deafeningly loud, and he fell, distraught from terrible pain.

"Used by unsuccessful attempts to master the crossing," in the evening the Germans stopped attacks. The remains of the regiment received an order to retreat to the other coast of Don. The Lieutenant of Gosholekina was hardly wounded, and the command was accepted by the elder Predshchenko. On the way to the dilapidated dam, they hit the German acting twice two more times. Now Lopahin remained without friends. Next to him only Alexander Kopytovsky, the second number of his calculation.

Lieutenant Goloshcheykin died, never triggered through Don. He was buried on the river bank. The lopakhin's soul was hard. He was afraid that the regiment will be sent to the rear for re-formation, and he will have to forget about the front for a long time. It seemed unfair him, especially now, when every fighter was on the account. After reflection, the Lopahin went to the earthman senior to ask for him to be left in the current army. On the way, he saw Nikolai Streltsov. Having rejoiced, Peter called a friend, but he did not look around. Soon it turned out that Nikolai Rukhh from the contusion. Lucky a little in the hospital, he escaped to the front.

Ivan Zvyagintsev woke up and saw that there was a battle around. He felt a strong pain and realized that his whole spin was excised by fragments of the bombs exploded. He was dragged on the ground on a raincoat. Then he felt that he drops somewhere, hit his shoulder and lost consciousness again. Waking up for the second time, he saw the nurse's face on himself - she tried to give Ivan to Medsanbat. A small, fragile girl was hard to drag massive Zvyagintsev, but she did not quit him. In the hospital, Ivan quarreled with Sanitar, who resounded the top of the top of all new boots, and continued to swear until the tired surgeon was extracted from his back and legs fragments.

Like a lopahin, Saglotov also decided to stay at the front - not for that he escaped from the hospital to sit down in the rear. Soon Kopytovsky and Nekrasov came to friends, elderly, phlegmatic soldiers. Nekrasov was not at all against the reservation. He planned to find a conspiracy widow and a little rest from the war. His plans led to a lopakhina in rage, but Nekrasov did not swear, but calmly explained that he had a "trenchless disease", something like Lunatism. Waking up in the morning, he has repeatedly climbed into the most unexpected places. One day, he even managed to climb into the oven, decided that he was filled with an explosion in the opposite, and began to call for help. Here is from this sickness and wanted to move away Nekrasov in the arms of a bite rear widow. His sad story did not touch the angry blades. He reminded Nekrasov about his family, remaining in Kursk, to which the fascists get, if all the defenders of the Motherland begin to think about the rest. After thinking, Nekrasov also decided to stay. Near Friends and Sasha Kopytovsky.

Fourth, they came to the dugout of the foreman. The soldiers of the regiment have already raised to the elder, the requests to leave them on the front. He explained to the blades that the division of their personnel, "all species saw and persistent", which preserved the "combat shrine - a banner." Such soldiers will not be left without affairs. The foreman has already received an order from Major to "go to Khutor Talovsky", where the division headquarters was located. There, the regiment will replenish the fresh forces and will be sent to the most important section of the front.

The regiment went to Talovsky, along the way in a small farm. The foreman did not want to lead to the headquarters of hungry and encouraged fighters. He tried to get a provision from the chairman of the local collective farm, but the storerooms were empty. Then Lopakhin decided to take advantage of his male attractiveness. He asked the Chair to settle them from any non-resident soldier, like a woman and not older than seventy. The hostess turned out to be an oiled woman of thirty years of implausible high growth. Her become delighted with a low blades, and at night he went to the attack. Peter returned to his comrades, he returned with a baked eye and a shishkoy on his forehead - the soldier turned out to be a faithful wife. Waking up in the morning, Lopahin discovered that the hostess prepares breakfast at the entire regiment. It turned out that the women remaining in the farm decided not to feed the retreating soldiers, considering them by traitors. Having learned from the foreman that the regiment retreats with the battle, the women MiG collected provisions and fed hungry soldiers.

The regiment arrived at the Division headquarters met the division commander Colonel Marchenko. The foreman Predshchenko led 27 fighters - five of them easily wounded. Taking a solemn speech, the colonel accepted the regimental banner who had already passed the first world war. When the colonel bowed the knee in front of the raspberry cloth with a golden fringe, Lopahin saw the tears flowed along the cheeks of the senior.

In war, trees, like people, have every fate. I have seen a huge area of \u200b\u200bthe forest cut by the fire of our artillery. In this forest, the Germans were recently strengthened, knocked out of the village of S., here they thought to linger, but death squeeed them with the trees. Under the defeated trunks, the dead German soldiers lay, in a green fern, they rotted them were angry in the shreds of the body, and the resinous aroma of the split shells of the bumps could not drown out the stale-shivered, sharp turning of the decaying corpses. It seemed that even land with brown, sealing and tough edges of the funnel exudes the grave smell.

The death of Majestically and silently mistaken on this glade, created and exploded by our shells, and only in the very center of the Polyana stood one miracle of the preserved birch, and the wind shaved her branches wounded by fragments and noisy in young, glossy-sticky leaflets.

We passed through the glade. The co-worker who went ahead of me, Svyazno-Red Armenian slightly touched the hand of the birch trunk, asked with sincere and affectionate surprise:

- How did you survive here, honey? ..

But if the pine dies from the projectile, falling like a bevelled, and only a needle, expiring the resin, the scene remains on the place of the cut, is somewhat donated with the death of Oak.

At the checker, the German shell fell into the trunk of an old oak, grew up on the shore of a nameless river. Ripped, the gaping slope drained Polterev, but the second half, nailed to the gap to the water, the spring came to life and covered with fresh foliage. And until today, probably, the lower branches of the crippled oak are bathed in fluid water, and the upper still eagerly stretch to the sun accurate, tight leaves ...

High, a little sutured, with raised, like the Korshun, wide shoulders, Lieutenant Gerasimov sat at the entrance to the bludge and thoroughly told about today, about the tank attack of the enemy, successfully blunting the battalion.

The thin face of the lieutenant was calm, almost impassively, inflamed eyes are tired of risen. He spoke up with a stressed basket, occasionally crossing the large noded fingers of the hands, and strangely did not knit with his strong figure, with an energetic, courageous face this gesture, so eloquently transmitting silent mountain or deep and painful meditation.

But suddenly he was slammed, and his face instantly transformed: the dark cheeks turned pale, under the cheekbones, rolling around, came the gaps, and intently directed the eyes forward, they broke out such a restless, Litua hatred that I was involuntarily turned towards his gaze and saw the forestered from the front The edges of our defense of the three prisoners of the Germans and from behind - the conversion of their red-Armenian in the burnt, almost white from the sun, the summer gymnaster and shifted on the head of the pilot.

Red Army was slow. The rifle rifled into his hands, assigning the bayonet in the sun. And also slowly the captured Germans, reluctant to rearrange the legs, shoe in short, smeared with yellow clay boots.

The German-elderly walking ahead, with his shoulder cheeks, densely overgrown with chestnut bristles, "the blinded, threw an improved, wolf look, turned away, turned away on the go, correcting the helmet at the go. And then, the Lieutenant Gerasimov Intrivily jumped, shouted the Red Army with a sharp, barking voice:

- Are you, on a walk with them? Add a step! You are faster, tell you! ..

He, apparently, wanted something else to shout, but he suffered from excitement and, turning turning cool, quickly ran down the steps into the bludge. Polyrtruk, who was present at the conversation, responding to my surprised look, in a low voice said:

- nothing can be done - nerves. He was in captivity of the Germans, don't you know? You talk to him somehow. He survived a lot there and after this alive Hitlerians can not see exactly alive! It looks at the dead, I would say - even glad, but the prisoners will see and either close their eyes and sits pale and sweaty, or turns and go away. - Politruk moved to me, switched to the whisper: - I had to go to the attack twice: I had a horse with him, and you would have looked what he was doing ... I had to replete all kinds, but how he worms with a bayonet and butt, you know Li, it's scary!

At night, the German heavy artillery led a disturbing fire. Methodically, after even periods of time, a gun shot came from afar, a few seconds over our heads, high in the starry sky, the Iron Globe of the shell was heard, the spell sound was increased and removed, and then somewhere behind us, in the direction of the road, through which day Machine, drove the ammunition to the front line to the front line, flames flames and thunder sounded the gap.

In the intervals between the shots, when silence was installed in the forest, it was heard, as a mosquito sang finely and looked over with a nearby swamp of the firing frogs.

We lay under the bush of Oshness, and Lieutenant Gerasimov, scaring from the mosquitoes with a broken branch, leisurely talked about himself. I give this story as I managed to remember it.

- I worked before the war I worked as a mechanic at one of the plants of Western Siberia. The army was called up by the nine-July last year. Family I have a wife, two guys, a disabled father. Well, on the wires, as it should be, the wife and pucks and the parties said: "Protect their homeland and hard. If you need it - life give, and to win our victory. " I remember, I laughed then and tell her: "Who are you, wife or family agitator? I am big myself, and as for the victory, so we have her fascists with the throat, do not worry! "

Father, of course, stronger, but without ordinary, and there was no way: "Look," says Victor, Surname Gerasimov, is not a simple surname. You are an offacious worker; The great-grandfather is still in Stroganov worked; Our surname hundreds of years of iron for the Motherland did, and so that you are iron in this war. The power is something - yours, she kept you by the commander of the reserve before the war, and you have to beat the enemy firmly. "

"Will be done, father."

On the way to the station, ran into a district party. We had some kind of dry secretary, a reasoned man ... Well, I think, if my wife and father came to the road to the road, then this will not give this descent, he would move any robust for half an hour, be sure to move! And it turned out the opposite. "Sit down, Gerasimov," says my secretary, "in front of expensive, sit for a moment on the old custom."

We sat aide with him a little, were silent, then he got up, and I see - he would like his glasses ... So, I think, wonders are happening today! And the secretary and says: "Everything is clear and understandable, Comrade Gerasimov. I remember you still like this, Lopovyhim, when you pioneer tie wore, I remember then Komsomol, I know how the Communist for ten years. Go, Bay Gadov mercilessly! Partorganization hopes for you. " For the first time in my life I was concerned with my secretary, and the hell knows him, he seemed to me then at all, not so much so much as before ...

And before that, I warmly became from this sense that I came out of the Rayoma joyful and agitated.

And then the wife cheated. You understand that you do not have fun at the front of the front; Well, and my wife, of course, also confused a little bit from grief, everything wanted something important to say, and in her head she turned out, all the thoughts flew out. And now the train started, and she goes next to my car, my hand did not let my hand and quickly says:

"Look, Vitya, take care of yourself, not catching up there, on the front." - "What are you, - I tell her," Nadia, that you! I will not catch anything. There is an excellent climate and very moderate. " And bitterly I was parted, and became more fun of the lovely and stupid words of my wife, and this evil took on the Germans. Well, I think, touched us, treacherous neighbors, - now hold on! We enter the first number to you!

Mikhail Alexandrovich Sholokhov, the author of the work "they fought for their homeland", spoke of his creation as follows: "Here I want to portray our people, our citizens, the origins of his heroism ... I am sure that my duty as a Soviet writer is a trip on burning the footsteps of your compatriots in Their opposition to foreign dominion and create the work of the art of one level of historical significance with this confrontation. "

In the book detail the vital destiny of three ordinary citizens is disclosed Soviet Union - Combiner Ivan Zvyagintseva, Miner Peter Lopakhina and Agronom Nikolai Streltsova. Extremely different from each other in the characters, their lives were connected in the war by friendship and endless devotion of dedication. Nikolay is depressed by the retreat of his battalion and his own family tragedy: before the start of the war, Streltsov threw his wife and children had to leave the mother from the elderly. However, it does not prevent him in desperately beat with the enemy. In a tight battle, he was contused and stunned. After hitting the hospital, he runs out of him back to the regiment, in which only twenty-seven people remained after the battles.

Having encountered old comrades, he described in bright colors that his condition improved and his place here, next to them. On the one hand, this act can be explained by its courage and desperate temper. But what if the time spent in Lazarut forced Nikolai to remember about parting with his wife? What if only in the dust of the battle, he can forget the bitterness of betrayal and loneliness, which will be a faithful companion to a lonely person who remained alone with a harsh post-war reality, which at the time of the book was infinitely gloomy. All this reader can read between the lines of the work of Sholokhov and think about the true depth of the book.

Peter Lopakhina wanted to hug Streltsov, seeing and having heard his story, but he could not squeeze words from suddenly surging feelings. Ivan Zvyagintsev, who worked before the war, tried to calm Streltsov, the narrative of his own allegedly unsuccessful family life. The author describes this story with humor and a huge proportion of goodness.

Sharokhov acquaintance with Lukin, the old general, created in the book of a completely new character - Streltsova, his native brother Nikolai, General of the Red Army. In 1936 he was pursued and repressed, but in 1941, the country had experienced officers and commanders. After the start of hostilities, Lukin was returned to Chin, he himself was released and sent to the armed forces. The 19th Army General of General Lukin took the 3rd tank group of Herman Gota and divisions of the 9th army of Colonel-General Adolf Strauss west Vyazma. A whole week of soldiers held back the onslaught of fascists. The general himself was seriously injured and captives during the battle. The Soviet officer mascally and selflessly passed through all the adversity of the German captivity.

Lopahin is very hard to experience the heroic death of the lieutenant Golowhackov. All the details of his death describe the foreman of the PRACCHENKO, standing on the grave of a combat comrade. From his words, you can understand how bragging he considers his act, amazing the endurance of the lieutenant. Warm feelings at the reader necessarily causes a cook Lisichenko, who uses any opportunity to break out to the forefront. When the lopahin asks him about the upcoming dinner, Lisichenko says that he has already done the filling of the boiler on the boiler and left two wounded soldiers for cooking. Front Friendship - an important aspect on which the author plays.

Nikolay is very worried about the retreat, remembering, with whom their eyes were escaped local residents. But at the same time, realizing that the defeats of the Red Army occur due to the fault of the soldiers and commanders, they are the power that must resist the enemy and who has a catastrophically lacking experience.

Zvyaginsev first watches as flame languages \u200b\u200bdevour ripe bread on the collective farm space. He talks to the ear: "My dear, that's what you proceeded! Smoke from you stinks that from Gypsy ... That's what the damned fascist, the soul, shares, does with you.

Speech comda Marchenko - "Let the enemy triumph, but the victory will still be behind us" - reflect the optimistic and encouraging idea of \u200b\u200bthe work. In particular, its parts submitted by the public in 1949. In one of the scenes, the reader watches how hundreds of fighters and commanders moves a single column, and then the author directs attention to how carefully the warriors kept the regimental banner, starting it through all the narration. These lines are required to reveal the most important part in the nature of Soviet people - this is a duty and loyalty. After all, these features led our people to victory.

It is necessary to remember the meeting of Mikhail Sholokhov with Stalin, which took place on May 21, 1942, when the writer returned with the front line to celebrate his birthday. Generalissimus called Sholokhov to himself and during the conversation insisted writing a novel that would "truthfully and brightly depicted the heroism of the soldiers, and the seamless commanders."

In 1951, Mikhail Alexandrovich admitted that most of all he gets to describe the experiences of ordinary people who touched the war than to describe the "genius" of the Soviet commander of that period. And it has its own reasons.

Scale of war
The tragedy, which unfolded on all conflict fronts in 1941 could not not hurt Sholokhov himself. Inept leadership and banal stupidity cost millions of fighters of their lives.

Nevertheless, this novel is primarily about people. Designed by nature itself for another, higher mission, gentle and weak, able to love and regret, they took the rifles in the hands to take revenge and kill. World War I changed the established way of life, even the souls of people were overwhelmed, making weak strong, and timid brave. Even the most modest contribution to the victory is great. The exploits of the Soviet people are immortal until the memory of them lives in our heart.

Analysis of the work

Landscapes in the work are closely linked to military attributes. All battle episodes of the novel are unsurpassed. Thanks to the juicy and living paintings that the author of the playing draws in the head at his readers, the book crashes into memory for a long time. Few people can pass by this work and stay indifferent. Unfortunately, only individual chapters were lost the main part of the work, but only in these parts it is possible to understand how spiritual and the strong book was written by Sholokhov.

Too clearly in the memory of the Russian people, the memory of that terrible war was preserved. According to the book, "they fought for their homeland" Sergey Bondarchuk, a real master of military cinema, put the same film, who also awarded a variety of awards. He was watched more than 40 million Soviet citizens.

The author's talent was brightly manifested in this work, which still finds his readers, including among young patriots, who will soon have to defend their country and fulfill their duty before frazzling.

Chapters from the novel.

The sun-dried virgin land on top was hard as a stone. The blade with difficulty entered into it for several centimeters, pouring small, crumbling pieces, leaving a glossy-brilliant glossy mark on the spot.

Fighters were pumped with feverish hasty. Recently, the German scout flew. He made a circle above a height, not decreasing, gave two short machine-gun pieces and went east.

"Now we have been closer to the guests," the redarmeys spoke.

Nikolay dug out the depth of depth in his knee, straightened to translate the Spirit. Not far from Zvyagintsev. The gymnaster on his back it became wet and dark, the sweat was rolling in the face of beads.

This is not the earth, but injury for the people! - He said, Bully breathe, wiping a humene face with a sleeve. - It is necessary to tear it, and not a shovel pick. Thank you at least the German does not press, and then under the fire lying, in such an earth will not immediately be bored.

Nikolai listened to the vestway away to the gun Gulu, and then, having rested a little, again took up the blade.

Casting dust climbed into the eyes and nostrils, the heart was broken, and it was difficult to breathe. He pulled the turn depth in almost a belt, when he suddenly felt that without a break, he was no longer able to throw off the ground from the bottom of the pit, and, with a disservice, he survived the sand crumb on his teeth, sat down on the edge of the trench.

Well, what is the revenue employment? - asked Zvyagintsev.

Quite.

Here, Mikola, War is so war! How much this land is a shovel, right passion! I think so that at the front, I exploded it no less than the wheel tractor per season. Not in any workshop, our work will not be laid!

Well, stop talking! - Lieutenant of Goloshchekov, and Zvyagintsev, with an agility inherent in him dived into the trench.

The clock to the three in the threshing of the trenches were separated in full growth. Nikolai Nickname, Siza, a blackworm, carefully disguised his cell, the disks and grenades folded in the front wall in the front wall, they put a unleashed bag, where the Rosyronts were laid next to the Nemudry Soldier property, and only then carefully examined on the parties.

The western slope of the height of the hollow descended to the beam, overgrown with a rare young Dubnyak. Someone in the slope of green bushes of wild tern and hawthorn. Two deep ravines, starting on both sides of the height, connected with the beam, and Nikolai thought that the tanks would not pass with flanks.

Heat has not slept yet. The sun is still mercilessing the earth. The bitter smell of worst Poland wake unconscious sadness. Tiredly sprinkled with his back to the wall of the trench, Nikolai looked at the storm, the scorched steppe, densely covered by the Hollys of the old mudchinny holes, on the same whispered the tops of the same whitish as Kickl, steppemn. In the lumens between the stems of the wormwood, the continuously thick blue of the sky was visible, and on the far hill in the smoke, the contours of the armors were not clear in the smoke, from here we seemed to be blue and as if soaring above the ground.

Nikolai Tomila thirst, but he dug out only one sip from the flask, knowing the experience as the road during the battle every drop of water. He looked at the clock. It was a quarter to four. In a volatile expectation, another half hour has passed. Nikolay eagerly donoded the second cigarette when the distant hum of motors heard. He grew up, and sounded everything more distinct and closer, this rolling, low over the earth thunder. According to the village, whimsically twisting along the beam, dust stretched long gray loop. They walked tanks. Nikolay counted them fourteen. They disappeared in the beam, dispersed, occupying the original position before the attack. The hum of motors did not sink. Now the carcass quickly moved cars with infantry. The last propelze and disappeared behind the slopping beams squat armored benzoder.

And they came those preceding a short and fulfilled the huge inner tension of the minute, when the hearts are rapid and deaf and every fighter, no matter how much around him comrades, it feels the icy chill of loneliness and the sharp, sucking heart to the longing. Nikolai was familiar and this feeling and sources generating it; When he once spoke about it with a blades, he said to him with unusual seriousness: "We are fighting together, and we will die apart, and the death of each of us has their own, like a broad bag with initials written ink pencil ... And then, Kolya, a date with death is a serious thing. It will take place, this is a date, or not, but still the heart beats, like in love, and even with witnesses you feel so that you are just two on white light: you And she ... Everyone is alive, what do you want? "

Nikolay knew that as soon as the battle was started, others would come to replace this feeling: short, flashing, maybe not always subject to mind ... intermittently sighing, he became intently peering into a thin green strip separating the beam from the slope of height. There, behind this strip, still deaf and smoothly buudes. Nicholas from the tension came to the eye, and all his big, now no longer the body belonging to him began to make dozens of small, unnecessary movements: for some reason, the hands felt the wheels lying in the niche, as if these heavy and warm discs could "It's disappearing, then he corrected the folds of the gymnasters and everything is the same, without looking around from the beam, the dry lumps of clay were sprinkled a little, and the shrouded lumps splashed and trampled them, spread the twigs of the wormwood, although the review was without It is good enough, moved the shoulders ... These were involuntary movements, and Nikolai did not notice them. Absorbed by observation, he intently, not looking up to the West and did not respond to the quiet Oklik Zvyagintsev.

Motors were rooted in the beam, the tanks appeared. Next for them, without bending, the infantry was in full growth.

"To what they were cursed! They go on the parade ... Well, we will arrange the meeting now! It is a pity that there is no artillery, but I would have taken your parade for all the rules," Nikolai thought, with a hard, breathtaking breath Hate looking at the enemies declined by the distance.

Tanks walked at low speed, without breaking away from the infantry, carefully bypassing the hillocks of muddle holes, taking suspicious places with machine-gun buckets. Nikolai saw how, as if from the wind, the rustling of meters in two hundred ahead of the hawthorn bush and cut off by bullets, leaves and branches were sprinkled from it.

Tanks led from the go and cannon fire. The shells lay down, not the arrival of height, mostly near the bushes, and then black fountains of the explosions began to move, moved to the trenches, and Nikolai pressed against the wall of the breast, ready to digest at any second.

When the tanks passed a large half of the distance and, reaching the bushes, increased the speed, Nikolai heard broaching words of the team. Almost simultaneously opened the calculations of anti-tank rifles and machine gunners, in a punching shot of automata, it was sacrificed in a special dry and crackling rifle shots.

For some time, the German infantry lag behind the tanks, carrying losses, was still moving forward, then lay down, pressed against the earth.

Circuit shots frequent. The first tank stopped, without reaching the group of thorns, the second flashed, turned back and became, stretching to the sky atefactor-black, slightly heated smoky torch. On the flanks there are two more tanks. The fighters strengthened the fire by shooting the infantry attempting to climb, along the cracks, according to the tankers who have popped out of the hatches.

The fifth tank managed to approach the defense line of meters for a hundred twenty, taking advantage of the shuttering center the anti-tank rifle of the borz-borze silence. But there is already a tank to meet the cornframe. Clamping to the ground, small, the odorous nomads quickly slipped between the brown hills of dry holes, and only a strip of a slightly fluctuated nickly barely noticeably pointed his movement. Nikolai saw, as, rapidly the leading, nomadic, waved his hand to the side and immediately fell, and towards the rumbling caterpillars with steel commodine, describing the heavy arc, the anti-tank grenade flew.

On the left side of the tank rose a cut-off oblique, pale flame, a wide post of the earth, as if an unknown huge bird waved suddenly with a black wing, and a tank, convulsively shuddered, turned on one caterpillar and froze on the spot, substituting the side of the cross on fire.

Lacking a few minutes before this rifle of the borz armored gun spoke again, shot into the stop fell, helplessly wondered the car. After the first shot of the tank's gaps, the smoke appeared. A machine gun on the tank was overwhelmed with a long, chopping queue and smalle. Tankers did not want or could not leave the car, after a few minutes the ammunition began to rock, and the freed smoke hung out of the slopes and the silent tower with thick, foam clubs.

An attached machine-gun fire, the infant's infantry tried to rise several times and ran again. Finally, she rose, short-ranges went on rapprochement, but at this time the tanks turned cool, moved back, leaving six caring and baked cars on the slope.

From somewhere, as if from under the ground, Nikolai heard a deaf, jealous voice Zvyagintsev:

Mikola! We were mocked them! .. They wanted to take them from the go, Nakhp, and we were washed! Well we were washed! Let them go again, we're them again!

Nikolai charged empty discs, got a little disgusting warm water From the flask, looked at the clock. It seemed to him that the battle lasted a few minutes, and in fact, from the beginning of the attack, more than half an hour had passed, the sun was noticeably bent, and his rays had already lost the recent evil burning.

Once again, the swallowing of water, Nikolai, with regret, took the flask from the dried lips, carefully looked out of the trench. In the nostrils, he was hit by a heavy smell of burned iron and gasoline, mixed with bitter, solive spirit of magnificent herb. The grass burned around the nearest tank, small, small, almost invisible flame tongues in the daylight, were smugged on the slope, the slopes were smoked, the dark eases of fixed tanks, and they would like more than the Hollyov near the tremble holes, only now they were not all brown color, many of them from here, from the height, seemed more flat, gray-green, and Nikolai, watching, I realized that it was the corpses of the killed Germans, and in the soul regretted that gray-green holmikov is not so much, as I would like his...

From the beams were settled machine guns. Nikolai hid his head behind the brush; Resting, fell by sweaty back to the wall of the trench, began to look up. Only there, in this cold one, nothing has changed to all indifferent blue: the steppe sub-uproitel is also high and smoothly smoothly, occasionally stacked with wide wings; White with a purple cloud, similar to the sink and casting a gentle mother-in-law, still stood in Zenith and did not move at all; All of the same, from somewhere from the embroidered, simple, but unmistakably finding the road to the heart of TRELLY ZHAVORONEK; Only a little more transparently, a foggy haze appeared on a long hill, and the transferring of her transfer was now no longer seemed by weightless and as if soaring over the ground, but they became blue and acquired tangible in the view, rude density ...

Nikolai waited that the second attack of the Germans will begin when the tanks and car gunners will take a workaround movement, but the Germans, apparently, were in a hurry to break through to the excitement of roads and to go to the height of the Grader: tanks and accompanying their infantry, as the first time, with blunt stubbornness Let's go to the forehead on the sandy corpses the slope.

And again, cut off from tanks with fire, lay down on the bare slope of the infantry, and again the tanks in full speed rushed to the defense line. Two of them on the right flank this time managed to achieve trenches. Both were undermined by grenades, but one managed to fly a few cells and, already burning, still tried to move forward, powerless and violently, the only surviving caterpillar, rotating the tower, led the fire, and I was already rapidly gliding by the yellow fireflies. And on the sides peeling from the heat, turned out in the tube of ominous-dark paint.

The sinking sun rays beat under the helmet, it was difficult to watch and hold on the sight of the rank and sometimes closed by the sun figurines. Nikolai shot short queues, saving the cartridges, only for sure, but he was very tired of the eyes blinded by the sun, and when the second attack was repulsed, he sighed and closed his eyes with pleasure on a short moment.

Again, they were washed ... - Sounded the deaf, this time more reserved voice Zvyagintsev. - Are you alive, micolo? Alive? Well and good. Whether we have enough to wash them to the end, that's what I beat ... You beat them, and they climb, like a harmful turtle on bread ... He muttered something muted and inadvertently, but Nikolai no longer listened to him: Low, intermittent, bass humus flew somewhere German aircraft chained all his attention.

"Only this and lacking ..." - he thought, in vain a bow in the sky with his eyes, sick in the soul preventing the sun.

Twelve "Junkers" went north-west of height, heading, obviously to Don. At first, Nikolai, having determined the direction of their flight, and threw it that the planes go to bother crossing. He even sighed relief, thinking with a glimpse: "Put!" But almost immediately saw how the Four of the aircraft broke away from the system and, unfolding, went straight to height.

Nikolai sank into the trench plug, made to shoot, but managed to give only the only queue to towards the rapidly and sidewalls fell on him. A short, increasing screech of bombs joined the roaring of the engine.

Nikolai did not hear a shocking land, the collapse of the explosion, did not see the high mass of the Earth, who had a big mass of the earth. Compressed, tight wave of hot air! Crumpled in the trench of the front of the front bars, the head of Nicholas dropped into force. He hit the back of the helmets about the wall so that he burst under his chin, and lost consciousness, half-hearted, stunned ...

Nikolai woke up when the aircraft, from two goals, links their cargo, and the German infantry has long been removed, starting the third attack, approached the defense line almost close, preparing for a decisive throw.

A fierce battle threatened around Nicholas. From the last forces held a read fighters of the regiment; Their fire weakened: there were few people who were able to protect people; Already on the left flank, manual grenades went into the course; The survivors have already prepared to meet the Germans with the last bayonet blow. And Nikolai, half-plated land, still basked at the bottom of the tag and, convulsively sobbing, pulled the air, with each exhalation, touching his cheek launched in the trench of the earth ... He had blood sick and warm from his nose. She walked, probably for a long time, since he had time to dry out the arms and glue her lips. Nikolai spent his hand in her face, raised. The cruel attack of vomit again laid it. Then it passed and this. Nikolay has brought, looked at the above-handed eyes and understood everything: the Germans were close.

Last hands for a long time, painfully inserted Nikolai new disc long, raised long, trying to kneel. He spinned his head, the sour smell of the erupted food gave rise to new attacks of nausea. But he overcame and nausea, and dizziness, and disgusting, the weakness deepeble all his body, and he began to shoot, deaf and indifferent to everything that was going around around him, the powerfully driven by the two most powerful desires: to live and beat to the latter!

So passed minutes measured for it for hours. He did not see from the south to the side of the beams on the German cars, three "Kb", accompanied by the infantry of the motorized rifle brigade, and did not immediately reach his praised consciousness, why the Germans who had a chain in some hundred meters from his trench, suddenly We loosened the fire, began to hastily minimize, and then rose and raised randomly, but not back, to the beam, but northwest, to deep ravine.

They rolled down at the slope, like gray-green leaves, torn and persecuted by strong wind, and many of them just like the leaves, fell, merged with the grass and no longer risen ...

Only when Nicholas, jumping through the funnels, ran the Zvyagintsev, Lieutenant Golobeckov and a few more fighters with pale from the malice and triumphant joy by persons, he understood what happened. In her throat, he looked hoarsely, and he, too, like the redarmeys who fled past him, shouted something, not hearing his own voice; He also wanted, as it happened before, jumping up and run next to his comrades, but his hands in fruitless attempts to resume eldly powerlessly, sorry slipped, they got talked on the rough edge of the trench. He could not get out of the tag ... Nikolai hired a breast on a broken brushover and groaned, and then he cried from rage and annoyance on his own impotence and from happiness that it was - came true! - The height was defended, and a snog came up on time, and the damned, hated enemy runs three times! ..

He did not see how, having rugged the ruffles of the fled Germans, began to work with the bayles of Zvyagintsev and the rest; I have not seen how far the redarmeys rushed forward, heavily falling on the wounded leg, walked Sergeant Lyubchenko, holding an unnewned banner in one hand, another pressing to the side of the appointed automatic; I did not see how the captain of Sumas, the captain of Sumas, was crashing ... Relying on the left hand, captain Czit down the height, following his fighters; The right hand of it, torn off by fragments at the forearm, is hard and terribly dragging behind it, supported by the patch of gymnasters wet; Sometimes the captain lay on his left shoulder, and then again plenty. Neither Bloodyki, was not in his lime-white face, but he still moved forward and, throwing his head, shouted with a childly thin, disrupting voice:

Oreliki! My relatives, go ahead! .. Give them a life!

Nikolai did not see anything and did not hear. On the soft evening sky, the first one was lit, an overweight asterisk, and the Black Night had already come for him - the saving and long infamousness.

Never had a shovel so hard and bitterly on the heart, like in this watch. Looking for loneliness, he went into the forest, lay under a bush. Copytovsky and one more fighter passed by slowly. Lopakhin heard how, chopping from admiration and envy, Kopytovsky said:

New Division, she recently came here. Videl, what guys? What pants are on them, that gymnasters, that, stakes are all with a needle, everything glitters! Elegant, devils, well, just like grooms! And I looked at myself - Sveta's father! - How, have, I have visited a dog wedding, like, tell me, twenty dogs teased! One pant in three places is rescuffed, half of the trouser in sight, and nothing to be sewed, the threads are all over. The gymnaster on the back the whole sielded from sweat, ribbons crawl and has already become like a wenchant. There is nothing about the shoe and there is nothing to talk - the left side of the mouth has extended, and it is not known what he asks, whether the telephone wire on the dressing of the sole, or whether the real repair ... and they feed how? Exactly in the sanatorium! Fish, dewed bombs, catch in Don; With me, this sazana boiler was filled with such a saucer! Live as in the country. So, of course, you can fight. Would visit this binding as we yesterday, they would immediately plot these grooms!

Lopakhin lay, rubbed his elbows in loose land, tiredly thinking that now, perhaps, the remains of the regiment will be sent to the rear on re-formation or replenishment of any new part that a good one, which is good, will have to forgive long with the front, and even in This is the time when the German looked rushing to the Volga and at the front road every person. He presented himself with the skinny "Sidor" by the shoulders, sadly wrapped somewhere in an unknown rear, and then imagination suggested him and everything else: boring, devoid of combat alarms and joys life in a provincial town, a fresh life of the store, the city of the city in the burden The sun steppes, firing on wooden mockups of tanks and tedious instructions of some experienced lieutenant, who is debt service and on him, Peter Lopakhina, who has already passed all the lights and water and copper pipes, will look like on a young burner recruit ... Lopahin With indignation of turning head, he was in place. No, damn it, not for him this quiet life! He prefers to shoot the real German tanks, and not for some stupid layouts there, and go to the West, and not east, and - only at a thin end - to stand a little here, at Don, before the new onset. And what can it be held in a part where there is no old comrade left? Streltsova is not, and it is not known where he will fall after the hospital; Only for one day, Zvyagintsev died, the cook Lisichenko, Kochechgigov, Sergeant Nikiforov, Brozy ... how many of them, fighting friends, left forever on a wide expanse from Kharkov to Don! They lie on their native, desecrated by the enemy, and silently appear about ignition, and he, Lopakhin, will go to the rear shoot on plywood tanks and learn what has long been comprehended on the battlefield?!

Lopakhin jumped to his feet with his knees, smiled to the old dugout, where the foreman was located.

"I will ask you to leave me in the acting part. CONCHER BALL, I WILL WILL NOT GET!" - Decided Lopahin, straight through the thick bushes of richberry.

He passed no more than twenty steps, when suddenly heard the familiar voice of Streltsov. Amazed lopahin, not believing himself, turned cool to the side, went to a small clearing and saw the back of Streltsov and three more unfamiliar red Army people standing towards him.

Nikolai! - shouted Lopakhin, not remembering himself from joy.

The Red Army woman looked expectantly on the lopakhin, and Sagittarov still stood, not turning around, and something loudly said.

Nikolai! Where are you from, thieves?! - again shouted the leopard cheerful, trembling with his voice.

Streltsov's hands touched one of the Red Army who stood next to him, and Saglotov turned. On his face, a hot, enlightened smile broke out at once, and he went to meet the blades.

Friend, where did you come from? - still published shouted the bulk.

Sagittarov silently smiled and, waving long hands, large, but not particularly confidently walked in the meadow.

They came together near the recently sprinkled gap with festively yellow dumps of fresh sandy land, firmly embraced. Lopahin closely saw black, shining the happiness of Streltsov's eyes, choking excitement, said:

What the heck! I wipe you all the throat, and you are silent, what's the matter? Speak, where are you from, how? Why did you find himself here?

Streltsov with a fixed, as if a frozen smile, carefully and tensely looked at the cross lips of the blades and finally said, slightly and unusually stretched words:

Petka! What am I glad - you just won't understand! .. I was already desperate to find any of you ... Here so much Nar-R-OU ...

Where did you come from? Are you sent to Medsanbat? - exclaimed Lopakhin.

And suddenly I look - he! Loggy! And where are the rest?

Yes, what do you like a little? - Surprised asked Lopahin.

I see you from yesterday I am looking for, all parts bypassed! I wanted to cross the game on the other side, but one captain-artilleryman said that all from there was allotted, - even stronger, shining in black eyes, said Streltsov.

Lopakhin, still not aware what happened to his friend, laughed, slapped Streltsov on the shoulder.

E, brother, yes you are thoroughly notading! Here we are with you and it turns out, as in the promotion: "Great, Cuma!" - "On the market was". - "Al are you dechah?" "I bought a rooster." Yes, what are you really notading? - already significantly louder asked Lopahin. - And they say somehow unevenly, you dance ... wait ... So you have after contusion? Won it!

Lopahin densely wrapped from annoyance on himself and glanced with sharp pain in the changed, but Streltsova's smiling face is still. And he put a shock on his shoulder shuddering hand, painfully, heavily stuck, said:

Let's come down, Petya. It is difficult to talk to me, I won't hear anything with the bomb after that case. And now ... you see, stutter ... You write, and I will answer you.

He sat down near the gap, pulled out of the chest pocket a fearful notebook and a pencil. Lobakhin snatched a pencil from his hands, quickly wrote: "I understand, you died from Medicalbat?" Streltsov looked at his shoulder, said:

Well, how to say - died ... I left - it's rather. I told the doctor that I would rise as soon as I would be easier.

"For what a hell? You, fool, you need to be treated!" - Posted Lopakhin and clicked with such rage on an exclamation mark that the heart pencil broke.

Sagittarov read and walked in surprise.

How is it for what a hell? I stopped the blood from the ears to go, nausea almost ceased. What would I felt there? "He gently took a pencil from the hands of a leopard, pulled out the penny knife and, clairping a pencil, blowing off the knee tiny chips, said:" And then I just could not stay there. " The regiment was in a very difficult position, you remained a little ... How could I not come? So I came. It is possible to fight next to comrades and deaf, right, Petya?

Pride for man, love and admiration filled the heart of the blades. He wanted to hug and kiss Streltsov, but the throat suddenly squeezed the hot spasm, and he, having fun his tears, turned away, hurriedly pulled the plea.

Low lowered his head, the leopown folded the cigarette and almost completely prepared it, as a large light tear fell on the paper, and the paper was mounted under the fingers of the blades ...

But Lopahin was stubborn man: He pulled off the new leaflet blackened on the bends of the newspaper, carefully wrapped into it tobacco and the cigarette turned out.

Mikhail Sholokhov. "They fought for their homeland. The fate of a person. Word about the motherland"

Publishing House Fiction", Moscow, 1983

Sholokhov Mikhail Alexandrovich

Fate of man

The first post-war spring was on the top Don on rarity friendly and assertive. At the end of March, warm winds looked from the Azov region, and after two days, the sands of the left bank of the Don, in the steppes bought out the logged log and beams, hacking the ice, madly possessed steppe rivers, and the roads became almost completely unrestrained.

In this ugly, off-road, I had to go to the village Bukanovskaya. And the distance is slightly - just about sixty kilometers, - but it was not so easy to overcome them. My friend and I left the sunrise. A pair of filled horses, pulling into the string in the string, barely dragged a heavy barn. The wheels on the hub (1) fell into a removable sand, mixed with snow and ice, and an hour later on horse-sides and stews (2), under thin straps of the clashes, there were already white lush flakes of soap, and in the morning fresh air is acute and drunk The horse smelled later and warmed a generously greased horse chance.

Where it was especially difficult to horses, we got off the bright, went on foot. Under the boots, the splashing snow was swung, it was hard to go, but on the roads of the road, I still kept crying crystal on the sun, and it was even harder to wade there. Only watches across six covered the distance of thirty kilometers, drove up to the ferry of Elanca.

A small, places drying in the summer of a river against the Mokhovsky farm in a wetland, which crumpled alder spilled on a whole kilometer. It was necessary to transfer on the subtle flatline, raising no more than three people. We let go horses. On the side of that side in the collective farm barn, we were expected to be an old, who had the kinds of "Willis" (3), left there in winter. Along with the driver, we were not without fear of the dietary boat. Comrade with things remained on the shore. Barely despair, as from the rotten bottoms in different places the fountains scored water. Heavenly cavities were caught by unreliable vessel and painted water out of it until they reached. An hour later we were on the same side of Elanca. The driver drove the car from the farm, went to the boat and said, taking the paddle:

If this damned trough does not fall apart on the water, - we will arrive in two hours, do not wait before.

The farm stretches far away, and near the berth stood such silence, which happens in deserted places only deaf autumn and at the very beginning of spring. From the water pulled the dampness, the tart of bitterness of the rotting alder, and from the distant riding steppes, drowning in the lilac cheese fog, the light breeze was worn with an eternal one, barely calmed the scent of the recently released from the snow.

Nearby, on the coastal sand, lay the povered woven. I sat down at him, I wanted to smoke, but putting my hand into the right pocket of your cotton steganka, to a great chagrin, discovered that the pack of "Whiteor" completely spacious. During the ferry, the wave was tightly through the side of the lowered boat, the waistly drunk me with muddy water. Then I had no time to think about cigarettes, I had to throw the paddle, to quickly pull the water so that the boat would not sink, and now, bitterly on my oversight, I carefully removed from my pocket a riskey pack, squatted and began to put on one Wet, toured cigarettes.

There was noon. The sun shone hotly as in May. I hoped for cigarettes soon dried. The sun shone so hot that I already regretted that the soldiers' cotton pants and steganca put on the road. It was the first after winter a truly warm day. It was good to sit on a parasite like that, alone, completely conquering silence and loneliness, and, removing the old soldier's soldier, to dry on the breeze wet after heavy rowing hair, mindlessly follows the white busty clouds in faded blue.

Soon I saw, because of the extreme yards, the farm went on the road man. He led by the hand of a small boy, judging by the growth of five and six years, no more. They were tired of the direction towards the crossing, but, having gone with the car, turned to me. High, stubborn man, approaching close, told a muted basket:

Great, marriage!

Hello. - I shook my larger hand outstretched.

A man leaned toward the boy, said:

Just say hello to Uncle, Son. He, see, the same driver, like your papanka. Only we went to the cargo with you, and he chases this little car.

Looking straight into the eyes of a bright, like nebushko, eyes, a little bit smiling, the boy boldly handed me a pink cold hand. I lightly shook her, asked:

What is your old man, the hand is so cold? In the courtyard warm, and you freeze?

With touching childhood gullibility, the kid pressed against my knees, raised whitish brings in surprise.

What is I old man, uncle? I am at all a boy, and I do not freeze at all, but the hands are cold - snowballs are counted because.

Having removed from the back a skinny bag, tiredly straight next to me, father said:

I missed me with this passenger. Through it and I got bought. Widely step - he is already lynx, so I have been expelled to such a infantry. Where I need to step up, - I walk three times, and we go with him to practice, like a horse with a turtle. And then after all, behind him, yes the eye is needed. We will turn around a little, and he is already on a nuddle wandering or leather leaves and sucks instead of candy. No, not a men's business with such passengers to travel, and even a hiking order. - He paused a little, then asked: - And what are you waiting for my bosses?

I was inconvenient to convert him to the fact that I am not a chauffeur, and I replied:

You have to wait.

From that side will come to?

Do not know whether the boat is suitable soon?

Two hours later.

Order. Well, so far a rest, hurry to me nowhere. And I go past, I look: my brother driver sunbatches. Give me, I think, come, smoke together. One thing and smoke, and die sick. And you live richly, you smoke cigriers. Used them, began to be? Well, brother, tobacco uroiced, that the horse is treated, it is not good anywhere. Let's be better than my creak snatch.

He pulled out the protective summer pants from the pocket of the Raspberry Silk Shabby Kiss, turned it out, and I managed to read the inscription embroidered on the corner: "A dear fighter from the student of the 6th grade Lebedean High School."

We lit the hardest samosad and were silent for a long time. I wanted to ask where he goes with a child, what kind of need he drives him to such a dissolve, but he was ahead of me:

What are you all the war behind the ram?

Almost all.

At the front?

Well, and I had to have a brother, a bump in the nostrils and above.

He put on his knees a big dark arms, hazardous. I glanced at him on the side, and I was not something for myself ... Have you ever seen eyes, like sprinkled ashes, filled with such an inequate death, which is difficult to look in them? That eyes were at my random interlocutor.

Broken out from the shoulder dry twig, he drove it from a minute in the sand, drawing some intricate figures, and then spoke:

Sometimes you do not sleep at night, you look into the dark empty eyes and think: "For what you, life, I have so crochete? For what I squeezed?" There is no answer to me in the dark, nor with a clear sun ... no and I will not wait! "And suddenly she said: gently pushing the son, said:" Go, Milok, play around the water, a big water for the kids always some kind of mining. " Only, looked, the legs are not bushed!

Even when we smoked in silence, I, I oborce looking at my father and a son, I was surprised to myself about myself one, strange in my opinion, the circumstance The boy was dressed simply, but it is good: and in how you sat on it a lunge-stoyed long-range Jacket, and in the fact that tiny boots were sewn with the calculation to wear them on a woolen sock, and very skillful seams on a broken smashing sleeve - all squeezed the female care, skillful maternal hands. And the father looked differently: the jacket burned in several places was casually and rudely, the latch on the renewed protective pants is not sewn as it should, but rather bent and wide, male stitches; It had almost new soldiers' shoes, but the tight woolen socks were withdrawn with Mray, they did not touch the female hand ... even then I thought: "Or a widower, or lives in Ladakh with my wife."

But here he, having poured her son with his eyes, plowed deeply, spoke again, and I became all over with a rumor.

At first my life was ordinary. Sak I am a native of the Voronezh province, from a thousand nine hundred years of birth. In the civil war was in the Red Army, in Division, Kivija. In the hungry twenty-second year, they came to Kuban, to shake on the fists, therefore survived. And the father with his mother and sister died from hunger. One left. Rodney - at least a ball to shake, - nowhere, no one, not one soul. Well, in a year I returned from Kuban, I sold it, I went to Voronezh. At first, he worked in a carpentry artel, then he went to the plant, learned on a locksmith. Cause married. The wife was brought up in an orphanage. Sita. Good girl came across! Smirny cheerful, ash and clever, not me. Since childhood she has learned since the pound of Liha stands, maybe it affected her character. From the side to look - not so she was prominent, but after all, I did not look from her, but in the focus. And there was no more beautiful and welcome for me, it was not in the world and there will be no!

You will come from work tired, and sometimes angry, like damn. No, for the rude word, she will not be reduced to you in response. Affectionate, quiet, does not know where you sit down, beats, so that with a small enough sweet piece you will prepare. You look at her and move heart, and after you raise it a little, you say: "I'm sorry, sweet Irinka, I haven't been naughty. You understand, I didn't find himself now." And again we have the world, and I have peace about my soul. Do you know my brother, what does this mean to work? In the morning I get up like a meeting, I go to the plant, and any work in my hands boils and arms! That's what it means - to have a smart wife-girlfriend.

I had to do-when after paying and drinking out with comrades. Some happened and so that you go home and such a pretzel should write down that from the side, I suppose, to look scary. Tesne you street, and the Shabash, not to mention the alleys. The guy I was then a healthy and strong as the devil, could have a lot of drink, and the house always traveled on my feet. But it happened other times and so that the latter was walking in the first speed, that is, on all fours, however, it traveled. And again, neither you strusting nor a cry, nor a scandal. Only my Irinka dares, and then carefully, so that I am not offended by Spy. He will break me and whisper: "Long go to the wall, Andryusha, and then sleepy will fall from the bed." Well, I, like a crust with oats, fall, and everything floats before your eyes. Only hear through the dream, that she is quietly stroking me on his head and whispers something affectionate, so ...

In the morning, she is about two hours to work on his feet so that I will sink. He knows that I will not eat anything on the hangover, well, I will get a salty salty or something else, naples a faceted glass of vodka. "Miscelled, Andryusha, only no longer need, my dear." May you really not justify such trust? I will drink, thank her without words, in my eyes, a kiss and went to work, like a nice. And tell me, Crumpled, the word across, cry, or wrap, and I would like God, and I got drunk on the second day. It happens in other families, where the wife of the fool; I saw it on such Salava, I know.

Causes of our children went. At first, the son was born, a year later two girls ... Here I broke off from comrades. I don't care all the pay, the family became a number decent, not before drinking. In the output mug of beer drink and put a point on this.

On the twenty-ninth year, the cars were set up. He studied autodo, sat down at the ramp on the cargo. Then it was drawn up and no longer wanted to return to the plant. Behind the wheel seemed more fun. So lived ten years and did not notice how they passed. Passed as if in a dream. What is ten years! Ask any elderly person - he noticed, how did life live? Neither the hell he noted! The past is like that far steppe in the haze. In the morning, I walked on it, everything was clear, and I hunched twenty kilometers, and now the steppe of the haze was already tightened, and from here no longer distinguish the forest from Byriana, a lot of herbos ...

I worked for these ten years and day and night. Earned well, and we lived not worse people. And the children were pleased: all three studied on "excellent," and the senior, Anatoly, turned out to be so capable of mathematics that he even wrote about him in the central newspaper. Where he manifested itself such a huge talent for this science, I myself, my brother, I do not know. Only very me it was flattering, and I was proud of him, the passion how was proud!

For ten years, we copied a bit of money and before the war set you Domishko about two rooms, with a storage room and a corridor. Irina bought two goats. What is even more necessary? Children porridge eaten with milk, the roof over the head is, dressed, shods, it became, everything is in order. I just built awkwardly. We took me a plot of six acres near the aircraft factory. Whether my hubarka elsewhere may, and life would have formed otherwise ...

And here is she, war. On the second day, the agenda from the military registration and enlistment office, and on the third - please in the echelon. All four of my resorts were accomplished: Irina, Anatoly and daughter - Nastya and Olyushka. All the guys kept well done. Well, the daughters have no reason, the tears have twisted. Anatoly only shrugged, as from the cold, by that time he was already seventeenth, the year was, and Irina is mine ... I have never seen it for all seventeen years old. At night, I had a tears on my shoulder on my shoulder and on her chest, I didn't get sick, and in the morning I can't look at the station, and I can't look at her pity: the lips from the tears were swollen, the hair from the handkerchie was embarrassed, and The eyes are muddy, meaningful, like a man's touched mind. The commanders declare landing, and she fell on me on the chest, his hands on my neck climbed and the whole trembling, as if a chopped tree ... and the kids persuade her, and I, - I do not help anything! Other women with husbands, with sons talk, and mine pressed to me, like a leaf to the branch, and only all trembles, and the words can not express. I tell her: "Take yourself in my hands, my silent my Irinka! Tell me even though the word for a piece." She says, and after every word sobs: "My relatives ... Andryusha ... I will not see you ... more ... on this ... light" ...

Here, from pity for her, the heart is broken, and here it is with such words. It should understand that it is also not easy for me to part with them, not the mother-in-law gathered for the pancakes. Evil I took me here! By force, I spread her hands and pushed lightly in my shoulders. Pushed it seems lightly, but I have a power! was fools; She backed up, the step was three step back and again it goes with small chambers, his arms stretches, and I scream to her: "Doesn't they say goodbye to her so much? What are you ahead of time to bury me?!" Well, again hugged her, I see that she is not in himself ...

He sharply cut the story on the half-story, and in the coming silence I heard something bubbles and bouffers in my throat. Alien excitement passed to me. I looked at the storyteller, but I didn't see a single tears in his as if dead, extinct eyes. He sat, ponuro bouncing his head, only big, litterly lowered hands finely trembled, trembled his chin, trembled solid lips ...

Do not, friend, do not remember! - I said softly, but he probably did not hear my words and, somehow a huge effort of the will of defeats, the excitement suddenly said the hoarse, strangely changed by the voice:

Before death, until the last of my hour, I will die, and I will not forgive myself that she pushed it out! ..

He fell back and longer. I tried to roll a cigarette, but the newspaper paper rushed, the tobacco was laid on his knees. Finally, he still did something to the center, he jeaded himself several times and swallowing, continued:

I broke away from Irina, took her face in the palm of her face, and she had lips like ice. With the kids I said goodbye, run to the car, already on the move jumped up. The train took the scene quietly; Pass me - by my own. I look, my children orphaned kids knocked out in a handful, they make my hands, they want to smile, and it does not come out. And Irina pressed his hands to the chest; White's lips like chalk, something she whispers, looks at me, will not smorn, and the whole forward will be ahead, as if he wants to step against a strong wind ... Such she and in memory I was left for all my life: the hands pressed against the chest , white lips and wide eyes, full of tears ... For the most part, I always see her in a dream ... Why did I then pushed it? Heart still, as I remember, as if a stupid knife is cut ...

Formed us under the White Church, in Ukraine. Gave me ZIS-5. On him and went to the front. Well, about the war you have nothing to tell, I saw and you know how it was at first. I often received from my letters, and the wolted itself sent rarely. It happened, you will write that, they say, everything is in order, we fight with little girl, and although now retreat, but soon we will get together with the forces and then we will give Frica to see. And what else could you write? Nauseous time was, not before the scriptures it was. Yes, and I myself, and I myself did not play the hunter on the monster strings and I could not endure the same slumbging, which every day, to business and not to business, wives and Milaham wrote, snot on paper smeared. It is difficult, they say, he is hard, that and looked will kill. And here he, bitch in his pants, complains, is looking for sympathy, whirling, and he does not want to understand that this dissipassed babovenki and kids are not sorry for our rear in the rear. The whole power on them came up! What are these shoulders to our women and the kids, it was necessary to have to not bend under such weight? But not bent, surrender! And such a hlust, wet dyumka, will write a lighter letter - and a worker woman as Ryha's feet. She after this letter, a hornbeam, and his hands will lower, and her work is not to work. Not! You and the man, on the way you and the soldiers, to fullete everything, demolish everything if the need called. And if in you the Babiy Exquisies more than a man's, then wear the skirt with the assemblies, so that your skinny ass is constant, so that at least the back on the woman it looks like, and step by the beets, and you don't need a cow, and on the front you are not needed, there and there Without you, there are a lot of!

Only I did not have to manage the year ... two times during this time was injured, but both times easily: once - in the flesh, the other - in the foot; The first time - the bullet from the aircraft, the other - the fragment of the shell. The German car was breathing from above and from the sides, but I, my brother, was lucky at first. I was lucky-lucky, and I took it to the handle itself ... I got in captivity under the slogans in May forty-second year with such an awkward case: the German was still great, and there was one of our stenguadyidvummillimeter welded battery almost without shells; They loaded my car with the shells on the very risk, and I myself worked on the loading so that the gymnaster accumulates to the shoulder blades. It was necessary to hurry a lot because the fight was approaching us: the left of someone's tanks will rattling, to the right shooting goes, ahead of shooting, and already started to smash fried ...

Our commander! Copyright asks: "Surfate, falcons?" And then there was nothing to ask. There, my comrades may die, and I will hurt here? "What a conversation! - I answer him. - I have to slip, and Basta!" "Well," says, "Duy! Jim on the whole piece!"

I bang. In life, did not go like this time! He knew that it was not a potato that with this cargo caution in a ride is needed, but what can be caution here, when there the guys are fighting with empty hands when the road is simultaneous. I ran six kilometers, soon I am already folded to the village to get to get to the beam, where the battery was standing, and then I look - the mother is honest - the infantry of our and on the right and to the left of the grader (4) on the pure field of the pillar, and the mines are already rushing . What should I do? Do not turn back? I press in full swing! And before the battery, some kilometer remained, I already turned on the village, and I did not have to get to my brother, my brother, I didn't have to ... Seen, he put it from the long-haul, he put it near the car. I did not hear neither gap, nothing, only in my head asleep something burst, and I don't remember anything else. As I stayed alive then - I do not understand, and how much time I lay down meters in eight from Kuvet - I do not figure out. I woke up, but I can't stand on my feet: my head twitches, everything shakes, as if in a fever, in the eyes of the dark, in the left shoulder squeaks and hurts, and pain in the whole body is like, tell me, for me two days in a row Bey than the ink. For a long time I chopped on the ground on the ground, but I got something like. However, again, I will not understand anything, where I am and what I caught up with me. My memory comes to me. And I'm afraid to lie back. I'm afraid I'm lying and no longer stand up, dirge. I stand and swing from side aside, as a poplar in a storm.

When I came to my senses, came to myself and looked around as it should, - the heart is like someone pliers squeezed: the circle of shells are lying on, what I am driving, not far away, my car, all the shreds, lies up the wheels, and the battle, battle Behind me goes ... is it like?

There is nothing to hide sin, here I have my legs sneel my legs, and I fell as cut, because I realized that I was in captivity of the fascists. This is how it happens in war ...

Oh, my brother, it is not easy to understand this thing that you are not in your will in captivity. Whoever did not feel this in her skull, this is not immediately in the soul eagerly, so that it happens like it, which means this thing.

Well, here, I began to be lying and hear: the tanks thunder. Four German medium tanks in full gas passed by me there, where I went from the shells ... What was it to worry about? Then the tractor with the guns stretched, the field kitchen drove, then the infantry went, not thick, so, not more than one bat. I will see, I will see against them the edge of my eyes and again plucked with a cheek to the ground, I'll close my eyes: I'm sick on them, and my heart is sick ...

I thought, everyone went, lifted his head, and their six car gunners - here they are, walking meters in a hundred from me. I look, turn off the road and straight to me. Go silently. "Here," I think, "and my death is on the way." I sat down, reluctant to die, then got up. One of them, not reaching the steps of several, shuffered, the machine removed. And this is how funny man works: no panic, nor heart movies at that moment I did not have. Just look at him and I think: "Now he will give me a short queue for me, and where will it be to beat? In the head or across the chest?" As if this is not one feature, what a place he will shoot in my body.

A young guy, sobody hurt such, black, and lips are thin, in a thread, and eyes with squared. "This will kill and not think about," I think about myself. So it is: I threw the machine - I looked at him right in my eyes, silent, and the other, the Efreitor, or older than his age, one can say the elderly, something shouted, pushed him aside, approached me, the burst My right hand, my in the elbow bends, muscles, it means that fills. I tried and says: "Oh-oh!" - And shows on the road, at sunset. Top, they say, working cattle, work on our replica. The owner was Sukin Son!

But Chernyy looked at my boots, and they had a kind with me, she shows hand: "Sums". I sat on the ground, took off my boots, I fed to him. He from my hands I snatched me. I understood the ports, I stretch him, and I myself look at him from below. But he shouted, he cooked in his own way and again for the machine grabbed. The rest are rzut. So in peace and moved away. Only this blackwalk, while it reached the road, three times looked at me, the eyes sparkle like a wolf, angry, and what? As if I took the boots from him, and not he with me.

Well, my brother, there was nowhere to go. I went out on the road, I cursed a terrible coacher, Voronezh Mat and walked to the West, captive! .. And then the walker then was a nickdy, per hour along a kilometer, no more. You want to step forward, and you from the side aside shakes, takes on the road, like drunk. He passed a bit, and catching up of my column of our prisoners, from the same division, in which I was. They chase their man ten German car gunners. The one in front of the column was wagged with me and, not to mention a thin word, nice whipped me the handle of the machine on the head. I will fall, - and he would take me to the land of the queue, but our picked me on the fly, shook in the middle and from half an hour he was led by hand. And when I woken, one of them whispers: "God you fall to fall! Go out of the last forces, and they will not kill." And I am from the last strength, but I went.

As soon as the sun village, the Germans have strengthened the convoy, another twenty machine gunners were thrown into the cargo, drove us with an accelerated march. Our wounded people could not sleep for the rest, and they were shot directly on the road. Two tried to escape, and he did not take into account that in the lunar night you were in a pure field, however it seems, well, of course, they are upgraded. At midnight, we came to some semissed village. Nightly drove us into the church with a broken dome. On the stone floor - neither a bar of straw, and we all without stakes, in some gymnasters and pants, so that there is nothing to bed. Some on whom even gymnasters did not have, alone blindly shirts. Most of these were younger commander. The gymnasters they prompted that they could not be distinguished from the ordinary. And the artillery servant was without gymnaster. As the weeds were worked near the guns and captured.

At night, there was such a heavy rain that we all wet through. Then the dome demolished with a heavy shell or a bomb from the plane, and then the roof is completely bold with fragments, they will not even find dry space in the altar. So all night and we leaseed in this church, like sheep in a dark kitukha. Among the night I hear someone touches my hand, asks: "Comrade, you are not injured?" I answer him: "What do you need, my brother?" He says: "I am a militaryormality, maybe I can help you with something?" I complained to him that my left shoulder creaks and flops and terrible as hurts. He firmly says so: "Soma Gymnaster and Bald Shirt." I took off all this with myself, he started his hand in his shoulder with his thin fingers, so that I did not reveal the light. I creak my teeth and tell him: "You can see the vet, and not a human doctor. What are you in a sick place you give, the heartless you are?" And he all tales and viciously answers this: "Your business is to pose! Also, the conversations started. Hold on, now it will be even more painful." Yes, as it is drinned by my hand, I have red sparks from my eyes.

I came to my senses and ask: "You do what you do, the fascist is unhappy? I have a hand smashed, and you rushed it." I hear, he laughed slowly and says: "I thought you would hit me with the right, but you, it turns out, the Smart Guy. And you don't have a hand, but I was knocked out, so I put it in place and put it. Well, as now, Light you? " And in fact, I feel on my own that the pain goes somewhere. I thanked him sincer, and he went further in the dark, slowly asks: "Wounded are there?" That's what a real doctor mean! He and in captivity and in the darkness did his great business.

Restless it was the night. Before the wind did not allow, the senior convoy warned about this, even when it was poured into the church in pairwise. And, as in sin, I was impatient to one manty of ours from our need. I was attached, he was attached, and then I was crying. "I can't," says, "to defile the holy temple! I'm a believer, I'm a Christian! What should I do, brothers?" And ours, you know what kind of people? Some laugh, others swear, the third all sorts of comic advice give him. He cheered all of us, and this canber ended very badly: he began to knock on the door and ask him to be released. Well, and interrogated: he gave a fascist through the door, in his entire width, a long queue, and the Bogomol was killed this, and another three more people, and one hardly wounded, he died.

Killed! We folded into one place, sat down everything, quietly and thought: the beginning was not very funny ... And a bit of the weather spent in a low voice, whispering: who from where, what area, how to captivate; In the dark, comrades from one platoon or acquaintances from one company were struck, began one one slowly around. And I hear such a quiet conversation next to him. One says: "If tomorrow, before you drive us further, we will be built out and the commissioners, the communists and the Jews will be launched, then you, pleasant, do not hide! From this business will not come out of anything. You think if the gymnaster removed, so For the ordinary one? Will not come out! I do not intend for you. I first indicate you! I know that you are a communist and agitated me to join the party, so answer for your business. " It says to me, what is sitting next to me, on the left, and on the other hand, someone's young voice answers him: "I always suspected that you, a roof, a bad man. Especially when you refused to enter the party, clarifying On my illiteracy. But I never thought that you could become a traitor. After all, did you graduate from the seventeller? " That lazily so corresponds to his rotor: "Well, graduated, and what of this?" For a long time they were silent, then, by voting, Voice quietly says so: "Do not give me me, Comrade Kryzhnev." And he laughed quietly. "Comrades," says, they remained behind the line of the front, and I do not comrade, and you do not ask me, I'll still point to you. Your shirt to the body closer. "

They silenced, and I chills rushes from such a prison. "No," I think, "I will not give you, a bitch son, to give my commander! You will not leave this church from this church, but stretch you like Padlu, behind your feet!" A little bit later - I see: next to me is a face on his back, the hands threw his hands, and about him sits in one Hoody shirt, the knees hugged the knees, a slightly sniffing boy, and very pale. "Well, I think," this guy will not cope with such a fat Merin. I'll have to end it. "

I touched his hand, I ask in a whisper: "Are you a pleasant one?" He did not answer anything, only nodded his head. "This wants to give you?" - I show on a lying guy. He nodded his head back. "Well," I say, "Keep his legs, so as not to ball! Yes, weeve!" - And himself fell on this guy, and my fingers froze on his throat. He did not have time to shout. He held him a few minutes, raised. Readyer is ready, and Naika's tongue!

Before that, I was not good after that, and it wanted to wash my hands scary, as if I was not a man, and some kind of reptile smoked ... I killed myself for the first time in my life, and then my own ... so what is his own? He is a lurch of someone else's traitor. I got up and I speak Voice: "Let's go from here, comrade, the church is great."

As this roof spoke, in the morning all we were built near the church, they hooked up with automatic workers, and three SESS officers began to take people harmful to him. They asked who the Communists, Commanders, Commissioners, but did not turn out. There was no bastard, which could have issued, because the communists were almost half among us, and the commanders were, and, by themselves, and the commissars were. Only four and took from two hundred and excess person. One Jew and three Russian ordinary. The Russians fell into trouble because all three were black and with Kuchevinka in her hair. Here are suitable for this, ask: "Sude?" He says that Russian, but he does not want to listen. "Come out" - and that's it.

They shot these poor things, and we were drove on. Vailing, with what the traitor we were invented, to the most knowledgeably near me, I was kept and on the first day there is no, no yes and makes me a hand. In Poznan, we were separated from one such reason.

You see, what's the matter, my brother, and since the first day I decided to go to my. But I wanted to leave for sure. Before the Poznan itself, where they posted us in the present camp, never gave me a suitable case. And in the Posnan camp, it seems such a case found: at the end of May, they sent us to the fishing rabbits near the camp to dig graves for our deceased prisoners of war, there are many of our brother from dysentery; I am a Poznansky clay, and I myself look around and noticed that two of our guards sat down to eat, and the third came with the sun. I threw! The shovel and quietly went for the bush ... And then - run, I keep right on the sunrise ...

Look, they did not soon have been spun, my guards. But where from me, in such a skinny, the forces took up to go through the day almost forty kilometers, - I myself do not know. Only I didn't get anything from my dream: on the fourth day, when I was already far from the damned camp, caught me. The dogs were walked in my footprint, they found me in clear oats. At the dawn, I was afraid to go a clean field, and to the forest and there was no less than three kilometers, I would discard in oats on my day. Hung in the palms of the grains, refined a little and put on the pockets about the reserve and I hear the dog brex, and the motorcycle cracks ... I cut my heart, because the dogs are getting closer. I lay down the plafhmy and closed with my hands so that they don't ride me. Well, they succeeded and in one minute I went down with me all my ribbon. It remained what mother gave birth. They rolled me on oats, as they wanted, and at the end, one dog began to me on the chest with the front paws and aim in the throat, but it still does not touch.

On two motorcycles, Germans arrived. At first they themselves beat in the full will, and then there were dogs on me, and with me only the skin with meat flew by flocks. Naked, all in blood and brought to the camp. The month served in Karzer for escape, but still lively ... I stayed alive! ..

It is hard to me, my brother, remember, and even harder to talk about what happened to go in captivity. How to remember the nonhuman flour, which I had to bear there, in Germany, how to remember all friends-comrades, what died, tortured there, in the camps, - the heart is no longer in the chest, and in the throat beats, and it becomes difficult to breathe ...

Bey for the fact that you are Russian, for the fact that you still look at the White Light, for the fact that they are bastards, you work. They beat and for the fact that you don't look so much, not so much, you will not turn. Beyo easily, in order to someday, to kill to death, in order to choose their last blood and a fought dies. The stoves are probably not enough for all of us in Germany.

And fed everywhere, as it is, the same: one and a half grams of erzatz bread in half with sawdust and liquid balancing from the trousers. Boiling water - where they gave, and where not. Yes, what is there to talk, judge himself: I weighed the war eighty-six kilograms before the war, and by autumn it was already pulling no more than fifty. One skin remained on the bones, and there was no dice to wear their own. And let's do the work, and I don't tell the words, yes such work that the breakdown horse and then not at the time.

In early September, one hundred forty-two people of Soviet prisoners of war were transferred from the camp under the city of Kustein, near the B-14 camp, near Dresden. By that time, there were about two thousand of ours in this camp. Everyone worked on a stone career, manually looked, cut, crumbled German stone. The rate is four cubic meters per day per soul, notice, for such a soul, what a little bit of it, on one thread kept in the body. It started here: two months later from one hundred and forty-two people of our echelon left us fifty-seven. Is it like a marriage? Famously? Here you do not have time to bury myself, and then there is a rumor around the camp, as if the Germans had already taken to Stalingrad and rods further, to Siberia. One grief to another, but it is so bent that you don't raise the eye from the ground, it seems to be there, in someone else's, German land, ask. And the camp guard is drinking every day, the songs of Gorlanyat, rejoice, eat.

And somehow we returned to Barack from work. The rain was all day, rags on us at least lumps; All of us in the cold wind produced as dogs, the tooth tooth falls. And there is no place to be expected, to warm up - the same thing, and besides hungry, not the fact that death, but even worse. But in the evening we had no food.

I took off my wet ribbon, I threw on Nara and I say: "They need four cubic meters to work out, and on the grave of each of us and one cubic meter is enough." Only said, but after all, I was found from my own scoundrel, conveyed the commandant of the camp about these my bitter words.

The commandant of the camp, or, in their world, Lagerfür, was our German Muller. A low growth, dense, whiteobry and all the whole white: and the hair on the head is white, and eyebrows, and eyelashes, even his eyes were whiten, hang. In Russian, he said how we were with you, and even on the "o" laid, as if indigenous Volzhanin. And the Mother was a terrible master. And where is he, damned, just studied this craft? It happened, builds us in front of the block - they were so called the Barack, "goes before we rank with their own sophilate sieves, holding my right hand on the delet. She is in his leather glove, and in the glove, the lead gasket so that the fingers do not damage. It goes and beats every second in the nose, it gives blood. It was called "influenza prevention." And so every day. There were only four blocks in the camp, and now it is now the first block "prevention" suits, tomorrow is the second and so on. Neat was reptile, worked without days off. Only one he, the fool, could not figure out: Before going his hands to apply, he, to break himself, ten minutes before the ranks swear. He Mothershits so much in vain, and it makes it easier for us: it seems to be our words, natural, like a breeze from the native side ... I would know that he would give him a pleasure to us, - he didn't fight in Russian , but only in your own language. Only one of my friend-Moskvich was angry with him scary. "When he swears," he says, "I'll close my eyes and like in Moscow, on the hook, in the beer I sit, and before that, the beer would like that even the head will be spinning."

So this very commandant is the other day after I said about the cubic meters, causes me. In the evening, the translator came to the Barack and with him two guards. "Who is Sokolov Andrei?" I responded. "Marsh for us, you myself Herr Lagerfürer demands." It is clear why it requires. On spray. I said goodbye to comrades, they all knew that I went to death, sighed and went. I am going along the camper, I look at the stars, I say goodbye to them, I think: "So you died, Andrei Sokolov, and in the camp - number three hundred thirty first." Something sorry was the iringe and the kids, and then this sorry for this subsided and I began to gather with the Spirit, to look in the hole of the gun fearlessly, as she likes the soldier, so that the enemies did not see in my last minute, that I am still with life to part after all difficult...

In the Commandant - flowers on the windows, clean, as we have in a good club. At the table - all the camp authorities. Five people are sitting, the schnapps are jammed and lard. On the table they have a companion of a hefty bottle with a schnapps, bread, fat, uroin apples, open cans with different canned food. I looked around MiG all this burning, and - you won't believe it - I mad me that I didn't break out. I am hungry, like a wolf, the clef from human food, and here so much good before you ... Some asked nausea, but the eyes tear off the table through great power.

Right in front of me sits a semi-man Muller, the pistol is played, throwing him out of his hand in his hand, and he looks at me and does not blink as a snake. Well, I click on the seams, stopped heels, loudly I repeat: "Andrei Sokolov's prisoners of war according to your order, Herr Commander, appeared." He asks me: "So, Russ Ivan, four cubic meters of development - is it a lot?" "So exactly," I say, "Herr Commandant, a lot." - "And one of you enough for the grave?" "So exactly, Herr Commandant, quite enough and even remain."

He got up and says: "I will have a great honor to you, now I personally shoot you for these words. It's uncomfortable here, let's go to the courtyard, there you are cutting out." - "Will Your", - I tell him. He stood, thought, and then threw a gun on the table and pours a full glass of Schnaps, a piece of bread took, put a slice of Sala and all this gives me and says me: "Before the death of drink, Russ Ivan, for the victory of German weapons."

I was from his hands and a glass took, and a snack, but as soon as these words heard, - I fought fire! I think about myself: "In order for me, the Russian soldier, but began to drink a German weapon for the victory?! And something you do not want, Herr Commandant? One damn me to die, so you got the way with your vodka!"

I put a glass on the table, put a snack and say: "Thanks for the treat, but I'm not drinking." He smiles: "You do not want to drink for our victory? In this case, I drink for your destruction." And what was to lose? "I will drink for your destruction and get rid of the flour," I tell him. This took a glass and in two chips poured him into my senses, and the snack did not touch, politely wiped his lips with his palm and say: "Thanks for the treat. I am ready, Herr Commandant, let's go, will sing me."

But he looks attentively so says: "You even snack before death." I answer him: "I do not eat after the first glan." He pours the second, gives me. I drank the second and again a snack did not touch, on the courage beat, I think: "At least getting off before going to the courtyard, to part with life." Highly raised his own white eyebrows, asks: "What don't you eat, Ivan Russian? Do not shy!" And I myself: "Sorry, Herr Commandant, I am not used to bite after the second cup." He poured the cheeks, snorted, and then how she wanted and through a laugh something quickly speaks German: it can be seen, transfers my words to friends. Those also laughed, the chairs were joined, turn to me with the faces and already, notice, somehow differently I look at me, like softer.

The commandant pours to me the third cup, and the very hand shakes from laughter. I drank this glass, I bit off a small piece of bread, the remainder put on the table. I wanted to me, damned, show that although I disappear with my hunger, but I'm not going to give up my hand, that I have my own, Russian dignity and pride and that they did not turn me into the cattle, no matter how hard they tried.

After that, the commandant became serious with the appearance, he corrected two iron cross on his chest, came out of the table unarmed and says: "That's what, falcons, you are a real Russian soldier. You are a brave soldier. I am also a soldier and respect decent opponents . I will not shoot you. In addition, today our valiant troops came out to the Volga and the entirely mastered Stalingrad. It is a great joy for us, and therefore I gnolly give you life. Go to your block, and this is your courage, "- and Gives me a small loaf of bread and a piece of sala.

I pressed the bread to myself out of all the strength, Salo in my left hand I am still confused from such an unexpected turn, that and thanks did not say, I did the left around, I am going to the exit, and I myself think: "He will light up nowar the blades now, and Do not convey the guys of these harms. " No, it cost. And this time, death passed by me, only coldly pulled it ...

I came out of the Commandant on solid legs, and in the yard I was removed. Put in Barack and fell on the cement floor without memory. We woke me back in the darkness: "Tell me!" Well, I remembered what was in Commandant, told them. "How will Harci divide?" - asks my neighbor in Naram, and the voice trembles. "All robust", "I say to him. Waited for dawn. Bread and fat cut the harsh thread. It got to each bread on a piece with a match box, each crumb was taken to record, well, and Sala, you understand, - only lips to anoint. However, divided without resentment.

Spearly transferred us, a man of three hundreds of the strongest, on the drying of the swamps, then in the Ruhr region on the mines. I stayed to forty-four years. By this time, our Germany's scarf and fascists stopped to dismiss our Germany. Somehow built us, all day shift, and some arrivals of the Ober Lieutenant says through the translator: "Who served in the army or before the war worked as a driver, - a step forward." Stepped us seven people of the former driver. They gave us a worn specialist, sent under the convoy to the city of Potsdam. We arrived there, and crushed us all apart. I was determined to work in "Todte" - the Germans had such Sharacken office on the construction of roads and defensive structures.

I drove on the "Opel Admiral" German engineer in the rank of major army. Oh, and the fascist was fat! Small, pushed, that in width that is the same in the length of the same and in the snowpad, like a direct woman. In front of him over the collar of Unidir, three chin hangs and behind the neck three thick folds. On him, I was so determined, at least three pounds of pure fat was. It walks, puffed like a locomotive, and it will eat - just hold on! The whole day, it happened, chews and cognac squeezes from the flask. Someone and I got out of it: it will stop on the road, sausages will approve, cheese, bounce and drinks; When in good spirit, - and I'll throw a piece like a dog. I never gave the hands, no, it considered it for myself as low. But be that as it may, and with the camp, it was not compared and gradually I began to drag onto a person, I gave birth, but I began to recover.

Two weeks, I drove my major from Potsdam to Berlin and back, and then sent him to the frontal strip for construction defensive frontiers Against our. And then I finally learned to sleep: nights thought, as if I had to escape to my homeland.

We arrived in the city of Polotsk. At the dawn, I was heard for the first time in two years, how our artillery flies loses, and you know, my brother, how did the heart beat? The idle still went to Irina on Svidanya, and it was not so stuffed! Fights went east of Polotsk already kilometers in eighteen. The Germans in the city are angry steel, nervous, and my fat man became more likely to get drunk. In the afternoon, go to the city with him, and it disposes to build strengthening, and drinks one night. The whole, under the eyes, the bags hung ...

"Well," I think, "there is nothing more to wait, my hour came! And it's necessary to run to me alone, but grab with my fat man, he will fit our!"

I found a two-kilogram girly in the ruins, wrapped it with a closer clog, in case you have to hit that there is no blood, a piece of telephone wire raised on the road, all that I needed hard to prepare, schoronil under the front seat. Two days before spreading with the Germans, in the evening I'm going with refueling, I see, go drunk, like dirt, German Untera, keeps behind the wall with hands. I stopped the car, started it in ruins and looked out out of the uniform, the pilot from my head took off. All this property, too, under the seat and was such.

In the morning of the twenty-ninth of June, orders my major to carry it out of town, in the direction of the cane. There he led the construction of fortifications. We left. Major in the back seat calmly dorms, and I almost jump out my chest heart. I was driving quickly, but he shung gas outside the city, then stopped the car, got out, looked around: Far behind two freights stretch. I pulled the girlet, opened the door to the sewer. The fat man leaned back on the back of the seat, screens up, as if his wife was under the side. Well, I baled him as a girlet in the left temple. He dropped his head. For loyalty, I turned it again, but I didn't want to kill to death. I had to deliver his living, he should have had a lot of something to paint. I took out from him from the holster "Parabelloum", put himself in his pocket, the mount (5) was driven for the back of the rear seat, the telephone wire threw on the neck of the Major and tied a deaf node on the mount. This is that he does not fall on the side, did not fall at quick ride. Sickly shook the uniform and a pilot, well, and drove the car straight to where the earth buzzes where the battle goes.

The German front edge slipped between two dzots. From the dugout car guns jumped up, and I deliberately slow down to see that Major rides. But they scream raised, waving their hands, they say, it is impossible to go there, but I don't understand, I threw the best of the Gat and went to all eighty. As long as they came to the senses and began to beat from machine guns by car, and I already loops in a draw between funnels I looked worse than a hare.

Here the Germans are beaten back, and then their investigates, from the guns to meet me to meet. In four places, the windshield struck, the radiator of the proportion bullets ... But now the lars over the lake, our run to the car, and I jumped into this fishing line, opened the door, fell to the ground and kiss it, and I have nothing to breathe ...

A young boy, on a gymnaster He has a protective shoulder straps, what I still didn't see the eyes, the first runs to me, my teeth scalit: "Yeah, damn Fritz, got lost?" I pulled the German unifier from myself, the pilot thug threatened and saying to him: "Cute you are my girlfriend! Son is dear! What am I Fritz you, when am I a natural Voroneger? I was in captivity, I was understandable? And now you will unschedule this borov, what's in The car sits, take his briefcase and lead me to your commander. " I handed over the gun and went out of hand to hand, and by the evening I was already already at the Colonel - the division commander. By this time they fed me up, and the bank was reduced, and interrogated, and the outfit was issued, so I came to the blocking to the colonel, as it should be, the soul and body is clean, and in full form. Colonel got up from the table, went to meet me. With all officers hugged and says: "Thank you, the soldiers, at the expensive hotel, which brought from the Germans. Your major with his portfolio is more expensive to twenty" languages. "I will apply for the command of the command about the presentation to the government award." And I am from these words, from his caress, very worried, the lips tremble, do not obey, just could squeeze out of my own: "I ask, Comrade Colonel, crediting me in the rifle." But the colonel laughed, patted me on the shoulder: "Which of you is a warrior, if you barely stay on your feet? Today I will send you to the hospital. To be treated there, they will feed it, after that go home to the family for a month on vacation, and when you come back to vacation We, let's see where to determine you. "

And the colonel, and all the officers, which in the ducklings he had, sincerely said goodbye to me by the hand, and I went out completely promoted, because in two years the depth from human circulation. And notice, the brother, which is still long, as soon as he had to say, in a habit, he was involuntarily headed into his shoulders, it seemed to be afraid that if they didn't hit me. This is how they formed us in fascist camps ...

From the hospital immediately wrote Irina letter. I described everything briefly, as I was in captivity, as I ran along with the German Major. And, tell me for mercy, where did this children's praise come from me? I didn't lose it, I said that the colonel promised me! To the reward to imagine ...

Two weeks slept and ate. They fed a little, but often, otherwise, if they were given meals to insert, I could get up, so the doctor said. She got silent completely. And in two weeks the piece in the mouth could not take. There is no answer from the house, and I, admit, squeezed. Food and does not go to mind, sleeping from me runs, all sorts of bad thinkers climb into the head ... In the third week I receive a letter from Voronezh. But not Irina writes, and my neighbor, Stolyar Ivan Timofeevich. God forbid anyone to receive such letters! .. He reports that in June of the forty-second second year, the Germans bombed the air facility and one heavy bomb hit my hintka. Irina and daughters were just at home ... well, he writes that they did not find a trace and a trace from them, but at the site of the hutniki - a deep pit ... I did not read the letter this time to the end. In the eyes darkened, the heart sank into the lump and not squeezed. I am faced with a bed, a little cleaned, read. He writes a neighbor that Anatoly during the bombing was in the city. In the evening, returned to the village, looked at the pit and again went to the city again. Before leaving, he told her neighbor, which would be asked by a volunteer to the front. That's all.

When the heart came out and in the ears she slammed blood, I remembered how hard it was parted with my Irina at the station. So, then the heart suggested her the heart, which will no longer see us in this world. And then I pushed it ... There was a family, my home, it was all threatened for years, and everything collapsed into a single moment, I stayed alone. I think: "Yes, didn't my awkward life dreamed of me?" But in captivity I am almost every night, about myself, of course, and with Irina, and with the kids talking, I cheated them, they say, I'll be back, my relatives, do not feel about me, I am strong, I will survive, and again we will be all Together ... So, I talked for two years with the dead?!

The narrator for a minute silent, and then said already with another, intermittent and quiet voice:

Come on, my brittle, smoke, and then something suffocate me.

We littered. In the flooded hollow water, the woodpecker told the woodpecker. I still lazily moved dry earrings on Aldhe warm wind; Everything likes, as if under the tight white sails, flooded the clouds in the highest blue, but it was already different to me in these moments of a sorrowful silence of a vague world preparing to the great silence of spring, to the eternal statement of living in life.

It was hard to be silent, and I asked:

Next? - Nausey, the narrator responded. "I got a monthly vacation from Colonel further, a week later I was in Voronezh. On foot, Dotopal to the place where once a family living. A deep funnel, poured by rusty water, a circular burden on the belt ... Wilderness, silence Cemetery. Oh, and it was hard for me, my brother! Storing, bored with soul and again went to the station. And I could not stay there, I couldn't stay back to the division on the same day.

But three months later, and I shone joy like Sunny because of the clouds: I found anatoly. I sent a letter to me on the front, see, from another front. My address learned from the neighbor, Ivan Timofeevich. It turns out, he initially got into the artillery school; There was his talents to mathematics there. A year later, the school graduated with honors, went to the front and now he already writes that he received the rank of captain, commands the battery "Sorokatok", has six orders and medals. In a word, she turned his parent from all over. And again I started it terribly! No matter how cool, and my native son is the captain and battery commander, this is not a joke! Yes, with such orders. It is nothing that his father on the "studebrexker" shells and other military property. Food is an exhausted case, and in his captain, everything is ahead.

And I started at the night of Starikovsky dreams: how the war will end, as I am a son of Zhenya and I myself will live with young people, to buy and grandchildren to nurse. In a word, any such old old thing. But here it turned out my full mischief. In winter, we fell without a breather, and we had no time to write to each other very often, and by the end of the war, already near Berlin, I sent Anatoly Intoliya in the morning, and I received an answer on the other day. And then I realized that we came up with my son to the German capital with different ways, but we are alone from one nearby. I can't wait, I don't wait for tea, when I dwell with him. Well, deprived ... Across the nine-May, in the morning, on the day of Victory, killed my Anatoly German Sniper ...

In the afternoon, the company commander causes me. I look, the artillery lieutenant colonel is sitting at him. I entered the room, and he got up, as before the older in the rank. The commander of my company says: "To you, falcons," and he turned away to the window. Penetrated me, as if electric shock, because I worked out unkind. Lieutenant Colonel approached me and says softly: "True, father! Your son, Captain Sokolov, killed today on the battery. Let's go with me!"

I swung, but I stood on my feet. Now, and then, I remember through the sleep, as I was driving along with the lieutenant colonel on a large car, how made my way on the streets of the streets were made, I remember the soldier's system and the coffin abundant with a red velvet. And Anatolia see like you, my brother. I approached the coffin. My son lies in it and not mine. Mine is always a smiling, a narrow-off boy, with a sharp kadyk on a thin neck, and here is a young, shoulder, handsome man, the eyes are semi-shot, as if he looks somewhere by me, in the unknown far distance. Only in the corners of the lips so forever and there was a mix of former son, only I once knew ... I kissed him and went to the sideline. Lieutenant Colonel speech said. Comrades-friends of my Anatoly Tears wipe, and my non-chosen tears, we can see, dried on the heart. Maybe therefore it hurts? ..

I buried in someone else's German land the last joy and hope, hit my son's battery, accomplishing my commander in the distant path, and as if something broke in me ... I arrived in my part myself not my own. But here the shortness demobilized me. Where to go? Surely in Voronezh? Never! I remembered that my boyfriend lives in Uryupinsk, demobilized in winter earlier, "he once invited me to him," I remembered and went to Uryupinsk.

My friend and his wife was childless, lived in their own house on the edge of the city. He although he had disability, but worked as a driver in the vehicles, and I got there. Settled by the buddy, she sheltered me. Different loads were moved into areas, in the fall switched to the removal of bread. At this time, I met my new son, that's what the sand is played.

From the flight, it happened, you will return to the city - it is clear that the first thing in the teahouse: to intercept something, well, of course, and a hundred grams to drink from the settier. To this harmful case, I must say, I have already been addicted as follows ... And now I see this guy, next day, I see again. Summary Little Wheel: Lichyo all in watermelon juice covered with dust, dirty, like dust, across, and the go-free - like asterisks at night after the rain! And before that, he loved me that I was already, a wonderful thing, I began to miss him, I had a hurry from the flight to see it. About the teahouse he fed - who will give.

On the fourth day, right from the state farm, loaded with bread, weaving to a tea. My boyfriend sits on the porch, swells and, and, hungry. I leaned out into the window, I scream to him: "Hey, Vanya! Sit down soon on the car, rolling on the elevator, and back from there, let's go here. He flinched from my round, jumped off the porch, scrupted and quietly says: "And where do you know, uncle, what is my name?" And the glaze has revealed widely, waiting for him to answer him. Well, I say he that I, they say, the man is haphast and I know everything.

He went on the right side, I opened the door, put it next to him, went. Shouter such a guy, and suddenly something sat, thought it was and no, no yes, and look at me from under the long curved elastical leaf, sigh. Such a small ptah, and already learned to sig. Is it a thing? I am interviewing: "Where is your father, Vanya?" Whispering: "died at the front." - "And mom?" "Mother Bomb killed in a train when we were driving." - "Where did you go from?" "I don't know if I don't remember ..." - "And you have no native here?" - "No one." - "Where do you spend the night?" - "And where will have."

I boiled here in me a fuel tear, and immediately I decided: "I will not bring to us to disappear! I take it to your children." And immediately my soul was easily and somehow light. I leaned over to him, I quietly ask: "Vanya, and you know who I am?" He asked how he exhaled: "Who?" I also say to him as quiet: "I am your father."

My God, what happened here! He rushed to me on the neck, kisses in the cheek, on his lips, in the forehead, and himself, like a wax, so begging and tonnyko shouting, that even in the booth sneezing: "Folder is relative! I knew! I knew that you would find me! I'll find anyway! I waited so long when you find me! " He pressed toward me and the whole tremble, as if a blade was under the wind. And in my eyes in my eyes, and too, the trembling beats everything, and the hands are shaking ... how I did not miss the steering wheel, the diva can be reached! But in Kyuvet, he was still inadvertently shot, muted the engine. While the fog in the eyes did not pass, - I was afraid to go, as if for whom it was not to scorch. It stood so five minutes, and my son all picks me to me from all the silenks, silent, shudders. I hugged it right hand, slowly pressed towards himself, and Left deployed the car, drove back, on his apartment. What is the elevator there, then I was not to the elevator.

Threw the car near the gate, he took his new son in his arms, carried to the house. And how he wrapped my neck with her handms, and did not break away until the place. He pressed his cheek to my unshaven cheek, like adhesive. So I made it. The owner and the hostess in accurate home were. I entered, I blink them with both eyes, cheerfully say so: "So I found my Vanya! Take us, kind people! "They, both of my childless, immediately realized, what's the matter, they drove away. And I won't go around my son from myself. But somehow persuaded. He washed his hands with soap, planted at the table. History in a plate poured Yes, as I looked, with what he eats greeding, and he flooded with tears. It stands at the stove, it seems to himself into the apron. Divoruskah saw that she cries, ran to her, pulls her for the hem and says: "Aunt, why do you cry? Dad found me near the tea room, it's necessary to rejoice here, and you cry. "And that - give God, she is still poured, it splashed all!

After lunch, I led him to the hairdresser, tonsured, and I spun at home in a spike, wrapped in a clean sheet. He hugged me and so on my hands and fell asleep. Carefully put it on the bed, drove to the elevator, bruised bread, the car drove into the parking lot - and running shopping. I bought him the pants of the cloud, shirt, sandals and the map of the washcloth. Of course, all this turned out and not in growth, and the quality is not good. For pants, my hostess even scared. "You," says, slept crazy, to wear a child in such a chap! " And instantly - the sewing machine on the table, rummaged in the chest, and in an hour my Vanyushka had already satin panties were ready and a white shirt with short sleeves. Sleep, I lay down with him and for the first time in a long time I calmly fell asleep. However, four times got up. I wake up, and he will athlete under my arm, as a sparrow under the clash, snaps softly, and before that I get joyfully in my soul, what's not say words! Storing not to dry up, so as not to wake it up, but still you will not lose, slowly get up, you will chant the match and admire it ...

Before dawn I woke up, I do not understand why I was so stuffy? And this son, my got out of the sheet and the across it was hammered, I stretched my throat with a sniffer. And he is restless to sleep with him, but I'm used to, I'm bored without him. At night, you stroke his sleepy, then you smell the hair on the whirlpool, and the heart moves, it becomes softer, and then I have it ordered from burning ...

At first, he was with me by car in flights traveled, then I understood that I was not so good. To one me what you need? The scratch of bread and a bulb with salt, so the soldiers are fed for a whole day. And with him - the matter is another: he needs to get milk, then the egg cook, again, without a hot, it is impossible for him. But it does not wait. Gathered with the Spirit, left him for the care of the hostess, so he sharpened the tears to the evening, and he drew me to the elevator in the evening. Before late night I expected there. It's hard for me to be with him at first. Once we went to bed again climbed, I walked very much, and he was always twitched, like a sparrow, and something was painted something. I ask: "What are you thinking about, son?" And he asks me, he looks at the ceiling: "Folder, where are you your leather coat?" In my life I have never had a leather coat! I had to not go: "in Voronezh left," I tell him. "Why did you search for me for so long?" I answer him: "I was looking for you, son, and in Germany, and in Poland, and the whole Belarus passed and drove, and you turned out to be in Uryupinsk." - "And Uryupinsk is closer to Germany? And to Poland far from our house?" So chat with him before bedtime.

Do you think my brother, he asked for nothing about the leather coat? No, all this is not good. So, when his father, his real wore such a coat, so he was remembered. After all, child memory, like a summer zarry: flashes, spinning will light everything and get out. So he has a memory, like a zarry, works glimpses.

Maybe we would live with him with a year in Uryupinsk, but in November there was a sin in November: I drove my mud, my car was brought by my car, and then the cow turned up, I knocked her down from my feet. Well, a well-known thing, women scream raised, the people fled, and the autoin aspor here is like here. I took away the driver's book, as I asked him to sleep. The cow rose, the tail pulled out and went to jump on the alleys, and I lost the books. Winter worked as a carpentry, and then he wrote off with one friend, too, a colleague, - he in your area, in Kashhar district, works by the driver, - and he invited me to himself. Writes that, they say, we will work for half a year in the carpentry part, and there in our area will give you new book. Here we are with a son and be sent to the cashary of the campaign order.

Yes, it, how to tell you, and do not happen from me this accident with a cow, I would still leaned from Uryupinsk. I will not give me a long time to stay in one place. This is already when Vanyushka will grow up and will have to determine him to school, then maybe I will hurt, in one place. And now while you walk with him in Russian land.

It's hard for him to go, "I said.

So he is not at all on his feet goes, more and more goes on me. I will put it on the shoulders and carry, but wants to rummage, it gets out of me and runs on the side of the road, jumps like a goat. All this, his marriage, nothing would somehow live with him, but I had a heart, the piston should be changed ... Sometimes it grabbing and appreciating that the white light in the eyes is fading. I am afraid that someday in a dream dirge and scare your son. And then another trouble: almost every night of their dead dear in a dream I see. And more and more so that I am for barbed wire, and they are in the wild, on the other side ... I speak about everything with Irina, and with the kids, "ONLY I WANT THE WELL HANDS, - They go away from me like melting In the eyes ... And now an amazing thing: in the afternoon I always hold myself firmly, I don't burn out my breath from me, and I woke up at night, and the whole pillow wet from tears ...

Alien, but a close man who became close to me rose, stretched a big, hard, like a tree, hand:

Goodbye, brother, happily you!

And you happily get to Kashar.

Thanks. Hey, son, let's go to the boat.

The boy ran up to his father, attached to the right and, holding the semi of the father's charter, seated next to the widespread man.

Two orphaned man, two sand grains, abandoned in other people's edges by a military hurricane of an unprecedented force ... Something is waiting for them ahead? And I would like to think that this Russian man, a person of an inflexible will, exhausted and near the father's shoulder will grow by the one who, wondering, will be able to fullete everything, to overcome in its path, if his homeland calls it.

With heavy sadness, I watched them after ... Maybe everything would have turned out to be safely at our parting, but Vanya, walking out a few steps and brazed by boiled legs, turned on the way to me, waved with a pink handberry. And suddenly, as soft, but the clawed paw squeezed me the heart, and I hung up. No, not only in a dream, the elderly, those who have seen during the war men. They cry and reveal. The main thing is to be able to turn around in time. Here the most important thing is not to wander the heart of the child so that he does not see how badly burning and buying men's tear ...

(1) The hub is a wheel socket in which the axis runs.

(2) Stegno - the upper part of the leg, the thigh.

(3) Willis - Mark of US Army Cars.

(4) The grader is here: a grader road - for heavy and self-propelled machines.

(5) Mount - Metal tool for assembling wheels cars.

About the novel "They fought for their homeland" Sholokhov himself said so: "In it, I want to show our people, our people, the sources of his heroism ... I believe that my duty, the debt of the Russian writer is to go to the hottest trails of his people in his gigantic Fight against foreign dominion and create a work of art of the same historical significance, as the struggle itself. "

Above the first heads of the novel, the author worked in Western Kazakhstan, during arrival from the front to the family, which was there in evacuation in 1942-1943. The text of the novel recreates one of the most tragic moments of the Great Patriotic War - the retreat of Soviet troops on the Don in the summer of 1942. Mikhail Sholokhov One of the first Russian writers was openly wrote about the difficulties, mistakes, chaos in the front deployment, about the absence of a "strong hand" capable of bringing order. Without bread and salt, they meet the retreating parts of the residents of the Cossack Stitsa, and they throw angry and unfair words into the face of exhausted soldiers. ()

An attempt to create a panorama of war in the novel. The history of the creation of the novel "They fought for their homeland"

During the war, in 1943, 1944, in the newspapers "True", the "Red Star" began to be headed by chapter from Roman M. Sholokhov "They fought for their homeland." One of the introductory chapters was published in the Leningrad Almanac, 1954, No. 8; Subsequent chapters - in the "Pravda" in 1943, 1944 and 1949; collected together in the magazine "Moscow", 1959, No. 1, as well as in Roman-Gazeta, 1959, No. 1; Further publications of the initial heads of the novel - in the "Pravda" (March 15 - 15, 1969), in the library "Ovedyk" (1969, No. 16, ed. True). The publication of the work "They fought for their homeland" began in 1943. The epic "shutters" of this work gave the basis of the American literary critic of the walls Edgar Hemen to assume that "the strongest contender for a new" war and the world "is, apparently, Mikhail Sholokhov ... Theoretical prerequisites have in greater steen, than anyone another. " First of all, this book gives rise to the idea of \u200b\u200bthe reliability of the image. "They fought for their homeland" - a unique writing certificate of one of the most dramatic moments in the whole war, if not to say, the whole history of the people and the state - about the summer of 1942 - on Don.

Sholokhov says that the novel began to write on the front, "obeying the setting." This "subordination" was expressed by the circumstances that the novel began to fighting paintings, the war was walking, the heroes fought, we did not know much or almost nothing about their past, about pre-war life. In 1965, Sholokhov said: "I started my novel from the middle. Now he already has a torso. Temier I admitted to the body my head and legs. It is difficult "" Literary newspaper ", 1965, April 17 .. and indeed, chapters published in 1969 show how difficult it is to work on the novel started" from the middle ".

The pre-war chapters draw a disorder in the family of Agronom Nikolai Streltsov: "Something irreparably violated Olga and Nicholas.

It happened as if invisible in their relationship in their relationship, and they were postponed, these relationships took such grave, depressing forms, about which Spouses of Streltsovs for another six months ago, could not even think. " Painstly ᴨȇrizable alienation leads to a rupture at the very end of the war. Already here, in the initial chapters, one of the properties of the Sholokhov artist manifests itself: to see the world, heroes in the dramatic tension of feelings and passions. The story comes out of the intimate sphere: Brother Nikolai Streltsova arrives at a short visit. In his fate, in his life much reflected from the fate of General Lunin.

"My work on the novel" they fought for their homeland "somewhat supported one circumstance," said Sholokhov. - I met in Rostov with Lukin's resignious general. This is a man of tragic fate. In an unconscious state, he was captured to the Nazis and showed courage and resistance, to the end remained a patriot of his great homeland. A traitor Vlasov was submitted to him, who betrayed his homeland and tried to carry it to his side. But from this nothing happened. Lunin told me a lot of interesting things, and some of this I think to use in my novel "Izvestia, 1965, April 17 ..

In another conversation, talking about the day, in which he learned about the award Nobel Prize, Sholokhov said: "With a dawn, I worked well above the glaze from the first book of the Roman, the chapter that the damn it was difficult for me (arrival to Nikolai Streltsov His brother General, the prototype for the image of which the life and combat deeds of General M.F. Lunina), in the evening I learned about the award of the award ... "" True ", 1965, October 23 ..

In the novel of Sholokhov, three dramatic leitmotifs began to sound strongly: the collapse of the Streltsov family, the grave fate of General Alexander Mikhailovich Streltsov, unfairly repressed in 1937 and liberated by the war, who impended the Terrible Tragedy of War. Commonly, socio-public, intimate conjugates in a single picture of human destinies.

It is characteristic that in the works of Sholokhov, the Patriotic War and post-war years enters a new life material for the writer. If in the "quiet don" and in the "raised virgin", Sholokhov was usually about the people of the Cossack Don, then the main characters of his works become: Lieutenant Gerasimov - the factory mechanic, a native of the Urals ("Science of Hate"), Shakhtar Lopahin from Donbass, Zvyagintsev Combine From Kuban ("They fought for their homeland"), Andrei Sokolov - Chauffeur from Voronezh ("The Fate of Man"), etc. One of: The main characters: the novel "They fought for their homeland" almost occasionally in the works of M. Sholokhov also becomes an intellectual - agronomist Nikolai Streltsov. His brother, Alexander Mikhailovich Streltsov, - General, in the years of the revolution, "from the officer corps of the royal army came to the Bolsheviks."

All this indicates a significant expansion of the writer's interests and vital observations of Sholokhov, undoubtedly related to the events of the war Biryukov F.G. Courage: Military Prose and Publicistics MA Sholokhov // Our contemporaries, 1980, № 5 ..

The action of the first published heads of the novel "they fought for their homeland" began in the summer of 1942, during the retreat of our troops to the Don (according to the testimony of M. A. Sholokhov, this is about the middle of the Book of the Roman). Pictures of the battles unfolded in the Don steppes are preceded by a giant battle on the Volga.

The development experience of the genre of the novel in Soviet literature with all quite understandable suggests that only the image of historically significant events can be achieved in a deep understanding of the processes of people's life.

It is not by chance that in our literature appear peculiar cycles telling about the cities of the heroes of Leningrad, Stalingrad, Sevastopol, Odessa. The attention of writers attracted and will attract exciting nodes, where the best features and the qualities of Soviet people were revealed in the dramatism and the voltage of the grandiose battles.

M.Sholokhov, revealing the idea of \u200b\u200bhis novel "They fought for their homeland," said: "I am interested in the fate of ordinary people in the past war. Our soldier has shown himself in the days of the Patriotic War hero. About the Russian soldier, about his validity, the world is known about his Suvorov qualities. But this war showed our soldier in a completely different light. I want to reveal the new qualities of the Soviet warrior in the novel, who so elevated him into this war ... "I.Aralhouses. Visiting Mikhail Sholokhov. - "Saying", 1947, № 23, p. 24 .. In the unfinished novel, "they fought for their homeland" the war was understood by M.Sholokhov not only as a heroic target of the people, but also as the greatest test of all moral qualities of the Soviet person. The vigorous disclosure of the depth and purity of the patriotic sense of the people was combined in them with penetrating lyricism in the image of the fate of individual people in the godin of nationwide troubles and tests.

M.Sholokhov in his works about the Patriotic War remains faithful to the uniform democratic line of his work: in the center of their simple peopleordinary great War, workers - Shakhtar Peter Lopakhin, Combineer Ivan Zvyagintsev, Agronomom MTS Nikolai Streltsov, driver Andrei Sokolov ...

Soldiers in the novel M. Sholokhov not only fight. They tensely reflect on the fate of the state, talking about the goals of the war, think about the fighting partnership, remember peaceful past, their families, children, loved ones ... The tragic tension of the battle suddenly replace comic scenes and episodes. This depth, this fullness of life is a very remarkable quality of the novel M.Sholokhov. It allows the writer to comprehend the true measure of the vitality of the people, open the origins of the heroic.

In the words of a unknown old woman from the Don Further, facing the blades: "Me, Sokolik you are mine, everything concerns", - I sounded an extremely important thing for understanding the general thought of the novel the motive of universal responsibility, the relationship of a separate human life With the fate of the people and the state.

Lopahin with a direct challenge, with the "unusual" seriousness for him will say to his partner Kopytovsky ᴨȇred by the battle for the ᴨȇ-Right: "I have to go here, while the rest are not ᴨȇreigned. I saw how much appliances to ᴨȇ the right night went? That and it. I can not leave this good Germans, the master's conscience does not allow me. "

It is enough to compare the heroes of the novel "they fought for their homeland" at least with the Cossacks and soldiers from the "quiet dona" in the trenches and dugouts of the world war, with their feelings, sentiments to see the striking contrast of spiritual appearance, to understand the essence of those historical who had such a transformative effect on the nature of the Russian man.

The idea of \u200b\u200bindigenous in the consciousness and position of the people during the years of Soviet power defines the artistic structure of the narration of M.Sholokhov, the aesthetic principles of the knowledge and image of the man of Biryukov F.G. On the feat of the people: Life and creativity M.A.Sholokhova - M.: Enlightenment, 1989. - from 47 ..

In the "master's conscience", a state identity of the Soviet people, a sense of a person who is aware of the owner of the country was expressed in the "Main Conscience" with open publicism.

The novel is saturated with monologers-statements, deployed reflections, Lopakhin, Zvyagintsev, Streltsov, dialogues, then comically reduced (Lopahin - Zvyagintsev, Lopakhin - Kopytovsky), then raised to Dramaticism (Shopakhin - Lopakhin, Nekrasov - Lopakhin, etc.), speeches ( The elder's appeal to the soldiers at the grave of Lieutenant Golowajekov, the commander of the division of Colonel Marchenko - to the remnants of a broken shelf, which stood in the system with a deployed combat.).

In a wide variety of circumstances, the feeling of "master's conscience", patriotism, hatred for the enemy sounds in them. Intimacy and incessia are combined with the journalistic nudity of thought. M. Sholokhov with a convincing naturalness ᴨȇ with intimate charges to "common" thoughts about the enemy, about the goals of war ...

Zvyagintsev on the edge of the field ripped wheat springs survived from fire.

Kolos saw the eyes of Herboroba, the eyes of a person who knows the price of each spikelet, every grain. For Zvyagintseva grain - the source of the ever-reborn life; In the spring, the sprout will be crossed, it seals, will dyate to the sun. In this regard, the ear for him is something living.

"Zvyagintsev understood the ear, whispered insensitively:" You're mine, why did you proceed yourself! The smoke squeezes from you, as from Gypsy ... That's what the cursed German is with you, the soul soul, did. "

Burnt on a huge steppe array, the bread shocked Zvyagintsev, awakens a feeling of bitter loss. Sorrow, regret with natural inevitability ᴨȇRext in reflections on war, about the ruthless "to the whole living" enemy:

Starin Predshchenko after a person's permeated sense of appeal: "Comrades fighters, my sons, soldiers! We hinder our lieutenant, the last officer, which remained in the regiment ... ", after the story of Lieutenant Golowhackov, about his family, remaining in Ukraine, after a short silence," already different, wonderfully rapid and fulfilled the large inner strength by voice said:

- Look, sons, what a great mist round! See! Here is the same fog black grief hanging over the people, what there, in Ukraine and in other places, remained under the German! This is a mountain of people and sleep at night - do not sleep, and in the afternoon it's a grief of white light you do not see ... And we should always remember this: And now, when the comrade is buried, and then, when, maybe the harmonica will be on the privala Near us to play. And we always remember! We went to the east, and our eyes looked to the west. Let's go there and look until the final German from our hands will fall on our land! .. "Sholokhov MA They fought for their homeland - M.: Contemporanik, 1976. Such an internal, justified by the character of heroes, the plot of the connection of a personal, suffering with the "common" thought has a noticeable impact on the style of published chapters from the novel "they fought for their homeland." It is not always achieved by Sholokhov such a visiting unity, it would seem emotionally heterogeneous elements. At times, especially in some kind of statements of the blades, too clearly appears the edge, "general" loses the individuality of the costs, turns into rhetoric.

New in the spiritual warehouse of Sholokhov's heroes acts in a wide variety of manifestations. It sounds in the journalistic saturated statements of the blades, it is felt in deeply hidden reflections and the roasters of Nikolai Streltsov, it will wake up in the good-natured-humorous stories of Ivan Zvyagintsev. Kuban Cossack, combine, he talking about cars with touching love. MTS affairs, where he worked for a war, interest him no less than family news. Little not in every letter to his wife, he asks her to write: "How are things going to MTS, and who from friends remained, and how the new director works."

Close attention to the new one, which was manifested in many people in the people of the most prominent individuals, fate, lifetime, helps the writer strongly and deeply express main thought The novel - about the irresistibleness of new public began, penetrated into the very depths of the people's life. Faith in the inevitable celebration of the people over a cunning enemy warms the most dramatic pages of the work telling about heavy battles, bloody losses.

The story develops as it were in two planes: the scenes, drawing by life of the war, are the ongoing courageous and heroic paintings of battles.

Various emotional-style streams in the work - elevated-heroic and comic-household are clearly defined. The scenes, drawing by the life of the War, most often painted by humor: or Zvyagintans will begin their story about the failures, comprehended by him in family life, or will join the conversation of the balagen and jokes, or finally, the heroes themselves will be in a funny position. It is from these scenes that we most learn about the last peaceful life of the ᴨȇrsomy Roman, about those friendly relations that joined them in the war.

Returning to the history of the creation of the novel, Sholokhov said: "The years were gloomy. The book then accompanied the commander and a soldier. And you know what you read? Jules Verne ... read cheerful literature. In war, after all, quite a little more fun ... In this regard, the chapters about the forty-second year, about the most serious year of war, were equipped with funny. Kopytovsky there I have ... Lopahin "P. Gavrilenko. With Sholokhov on the hunt, M., 1978. P.126 ..

Battle paintings occupy a significant place in the novel.

The descriptions of the battles are permeated with a sense of admiration for the ordinary Soviet people who make a feat. Sholokhov seeks to reveal the heroism of many as characterlike Soviet army. The dying efreitor of nomades found the strength to reincut the bottle of fuel liquid from the destroyed trench and set fire to the German tank. The feat made not only a lopahin, hacked the German plane and several enemy tanks. The feat was courageous perseverance and chlorinations Zvyagintsev.

The captain of Sumas from the last strength remained by his strength after his own fighters in the counterattack, after the red banner of the regiment deployed in battle ... "Sometimes the captain lasted on the left shoulder, and then again plenty. Neither the Bloodyki was not in his lime-white face, but he still moved to Vᴨȇred and, throwing his head, shouted by a child-thin, driving voice: "Oreliki! My relatives, Vᴨȇred! .. Give them a life! " And this passionate thirst for the victory, giving the strength to the dying person, worries the high beauty of heroic. Such people like Sumas, Kochechgigov, Lopahin, Zvyagintsev, Sagittarov, can be killed, but can not be defeated.

Sholokhov in their work proceeds from the most important for aesthetics of the socialist realism of the understanding of the nature of a person as a wrestler person, the winner over the forces of the sovereign world of the coronalist aggression and the oppression of man. In the novel, "they fought for their homeland" even in the descriptions of the battles elevated, heroic is often neighboring comic. A bold combination of dramatic with everyday, high patter, passionate lyrism with comic is one of characteristic properties Sholokhov artist.

The point here is not only that Sholokhov after a terrible tension with comic episodes, as it may make it possible to relax the reader. Such a combination, it would seem that the heterogeneous elements helps the writer to fully reveal the nature of his heroes, simple, ordinary people who have lost and minutes of fear and doubts and capable of performing the feat of Russian literature of the 20th century. Big classroom reference book / E.M. Boldyreva, N.Yu. Burovtseva, T.G. Kochina and others - M., 2001.- S. 52-97 ..

The everyday and heroic is combined in a single sense of beautiful. This ability to rage a heroic across ordinary characterizes not only M. Sholokhov. On this path of creating character, A. Tvardovsky in his poem "Vasily Terkin". In the novel, M. Sholokhov, not only soldiers operate, commanders - people of the Earth Edge.

In the catastrophically rapidly changing circumstances of grandiose battles, the retreat of a recent peace rear became an intention. In the field of view, the author constantly fall those on which all the unprofitations of the war often fell unexpectedly: old people, women ...

Contrast compositional alternations of peaceful, although already disturbed, labor life, a short soldier, and suddenly flashing cruel fights with dozens of tanks, aircraft, mortars and artillery allow the writer to create a single, holistic appearance of the warring people. The heroic package permeates not only the battle paintings, it sounds in many "peaceful" scenes. The story about the height, in which there is a handful of fighters without communication, without artillery, tanks not only detained the Nazis, but also overturned them with a bayonet blow, about the infinitely exciting feat of Captain Sumasov precedes the chapter, telling about the short "peaceful" etc. "Small, angry At the species of the old woman in a well-dressed blue skirt and a dirty sweater, "to which he turned over a bucket and salt to taste the boiled crayfish, detects the striking grandeur of the maternal feeling. The old woman not only bitterly and ruthlessly replied the leopard for the departure of the army, for the left enemy to the crown of the city, the village, villages ... and the restrained ᴨȇchal and the offended pride are swaying in her words facing the blades: "I have three sons and son-in-law on the front , younger son, killed in Sevastopol-city, understood? Third-party you, someone else's person, because I am in peace with you and talk, and now the Sons say now - I would not let them on the bases. We would bless a stick across the forehead yes, I told my motherhood: "They took a fight - so fight, the popyan, as it should, do not drag the opposite through the entire power, do not sneak the mother's mother!"

One of the features of the talent of M. Sholokhov, his humanism and manifests itself in this ability for ordinary, everyday to open the radiance of high and beautiful. Initial, "visual" visiting changes noticeably, is immeasurably enriched. In the "maternal word" - the embodiment of the aspirations, hopes, bitter randoms of millions of mothers. The image of the old woman from the Don farmer, without losing its concreteness, acquires an increasing completeness of the generalization. At that moment, he, as it were, embodies in himself the proud and sorrowful appearance of the soldiers' mother, mother of the Motherland, dealing with the bitter word to his warring sons. M. Sholokhov will return us to the special circumstances of this minute. He will tell about the reflection of the annoyed and ashamed of the blades: "Damn I jerked here! I talked like honey got drunk ... ", about how the old woman made him a bucket and salt ...

But the instantaneous conversion transformation of a concrete in generalized-collective image will again be supported with large artistic expression. "... A small old woman, tired, bent by labor and years, passed by with such a harsh magnitude that the blades seemed like she was almost twice as much as him and that she looked at him as if from top to bottom, contemptuously and regretted ..."

The nature of the figurative funds elected by Sholokhov, indicates how it can organically be combined in modern prose, it would seem, a romantic "admission" with realistic concreteness. In the novel, "they fought for their homeland", in the story "The Fate of Human" the realism of Sholokhov, without losing its generous brightness, household characteristics, spiritualized psychologism, organically absorbs publicistic pointedness, the symbolic significance of the image, the romantic surprise of generalization. The discovery of new visual funds associated with Sholokhov with a persistent desire to highlight large, brightly heroic in ordinary, everyday, to comprehend it as a leading start in the characters of Soviet people, expands the most opportunities of realism, gives him some new, special features of Mikhailov O.N. Pages of Russian realism // Notes on Russian literature of the XX century. - M., 1982. With 123-124. The psychological moments in "they fought for their homeland" gives their own, the fact that the soldier's worldview is constantly faced with the collective psychology of residents of collective farm farms and stans, through which the path of the retreating regiment run. Before readers, it opens the possibility of seeing a psychological process in a certain length: Norma Farwyan - this is why yesterday's those who went to the fire from the same Hut, from the fields, where still keep bread, milking cows, repair the carts and ride horses ...

In the novel, the involuntary ᴨȇ drying of two fluxes of folk psychology makes it possible to distinctly see their single core. One, although soldiers have to listen from the collective farmers, things are far from compliant. I remember how it was in the scene with a harsh old woman, but the recognition of another collective farmer: "... After all, we, women, think that you will fully run, do not want to defend us from the enemy, well, together and poured about yourself like this: what days run in The rear is neither a piece of bread, no mug of milk give them, blow up with hunger breathing, damned runners! And which to Don go, to protect our, - feed everything that will ask you ... Yes, we will all give, if only you didn't let the Germans here! And then say, as long as you will retreat? It's time to be ... "

It is very significantly that the psychological in the war of the Sholokhov approach is a specific historical approach: thought, feeling, emotion - they are also subject to the laws of artistic historicism in their own way. I say a little that often a social shift, exacerbating every nerve in man, becomes the content of the internal life of the personality, - the historicism of the psychological and in the fact that in this time the immediate mental life comes in truly contact proximity with the event events. And then the very feeling begins to look like a reliable realization of the social movement from yesterday in tomorrow. When the roaster of the Lopakhin or Zvyagintsev shall bear the emotions of the recent past - Hereborobsky Lee, Shakhtarsky - with today's front-line, when their feelings every moment turned to tomorrow - not only how they manage to force the Don, but also how to walk on the defeated nonmetchine, - here psychologism It is truly a faustrial power over time: both the past, and the present, and the future - everything came together in the soul of human! And in psychologism, the indigenous patterns of historicism are predicted: there is a wide causality of cavity, their organic connection with a moving time. The feeling as it is projects in itself the historical concept that the artist approves.

Speaking about the ideological and artistic concept of the novel "They fought for their homeland," Sholokhov stressed their special interest in the historical dialectics of the people's life: "About the Russian soldier, about his valor, about his Suvorov qualities known to the world. But this war showed our soldier in a completely different light. And I want to reveal the new qualities of the Soviet warrior in the novel, who so elevated it in this war. " With genuinely artistic delicacy of Sholokhov traces and gives the reader to understand the complexity of the communication of feelings with the events of a huge historical scale. He has a high subtext invariably softened by a joke, organically grows out of the act and the incident, from the soldier picking per minute of an outstanding clutch.

From whom the other, as not from Sholokhov, we learned in our time about those life roads, which led the heroes "they fought for their homeland" in this marching system, in this battle. After all, the elder Popritisko could be free to be a fellow soldier Mikhail Koshevoy in civil, and Stannyh Zvyagintsev's bediginets to pass all the everyday transformations as the Kondrat of Maidannikov. The years flewing between the 1919th and 1941, the "quiet don" and "raised virgin", and were the years of their spiritual formation for years.

The nationwide war, according to Belinsky, is able to awaken, evaporate the "all domestic strength" of people fighting for the right thing. Such a war not only is a whole epoch in the history of the people, but also affects the whole of his subsequent life. " This is a very important detail - "For the entire subsequent life," it allows you to understand why in the minds of Sholokhov's heroes this terrible battle with fascism is, ultimately, nothing but one of the links of peace transformation, the continuation of the united historical act of Biryukov f .G. Art discoveries Mikhail Sholokhov. - M., 1980. P. 68-71. Psychological typing is not just characteristic of many to many. Genuinely typical for the heroes "they fought for their homeland" the feeling that carries something significant from the national perception of these hard days. This is a feeling in which the voltage of the psychology of a whole nation, the sharpness of the most historical conflict. It is not surprising that it is such an order, spiritual quest, such a psychological shake and causes particularly active readerhood. What exactly to him, this "typical feeling", an important idea acquires its psychological plasticity.

Extremely complex subject - interaction between the private and typical spiritual feelings in the world. Tipping, Sholokhov remains extremely faithful subjective, individual in their heroes. It can be said that here the loyalty is also their humatic concept, and the romance genre, in any cases, seeking to allocate individuality in the stream of events, and its Sholokhov "War's Doctrine", which always sees the front "through the Soldier's soul" ... and there is a reason even more comprehensive : Attention to individuality is the very essence of the lifestyle, which is on the same thing, so that the deepest personality began in person is invariably, even in war! Always, in any situation, to help a person to the end to show its subjective activity, to elevate the inner world of man to an active life position - in the name of the victory! Having truly with the eagle vision of the high horizons of the national self-consciousness, the writer knows how to show national Life As a process, to find in the behavior of his heroes, mainly that there is a guide of the entire progressive course of history. ()