Works about the war for elementary school. Project "children of war in literature"
Great battles and the fate of ordinary heroes are described in many works of fiction, but there are books that cannot be passed by and that must not be forgotten. They make the reader think about the present and the past, about life and death, about peace and war. AiF.ru has prepared a list of ten books dedicated to the events of the Great Patriotic War, which are worth re-reading during the holidays.
“The Dawns Here Are Quiet…” Boris Vasiliev
“The Dawns Here Are Quiet…” is a warning book that makes you answer the question: “What am I ready for for the sake of my Motherland?”. The plot of Boris Vasiliev's story is based on a truly accomplished feat during the Great Patriotic War: seven selfless soldiers prevented a German sabotage group from blowing up Kirovskaya railway, along which equipment and troops were delivered to Murmansk. After the battle, only one commander of the group survived. Already while working on the work, the author decided to replace the images of the fighters with female ones in order to make the story more dramatic. The result is a book about female heroes that amaze readers with the veracity of the story. The prototypes of the five female volunteers entering into an unequal battle with a group of fascist saboteurs were peers at the school of the writer-front-line soldier, and the features of radio operators, nurses, intelligence officers whom Vasiliev met during the war years are also guessed in them.
"The Living and the Dead" Konstantin Simonov
Konstantin Simonov a wide range readers is better known as a poet. His poem “Wait for me” is known and remembered by heart not only by veterans. However, the veteran's prose is in no way inferior to his poetry. One of the most strong romances The writer is considered the epic "The Living and the Dead", consisting of the books "The Living and the Dead", "Soldiers are not Born", "Last Summer". This is not just a novel about the war: the first part of the trilogy practically reproduces the personal front-line diary of the writer, who, as a correspondent, visited all fronts, passed through the lands of Romania, Bulgaria, Yugoslavia, Poland and Germany, and witnessed the last battles for Berlin. On the pages of the book, the author recreates the struggle Soviet people against the fascist invaders from the very first months terrible war to the famous last summer". Simonovsky's unique look, the talent of a poet and publicist - all this made The Living and the Dead one of the best works of art in its genre.
"The Fate of Man" Mikhail Sholokhov
At the heart of the story "The fate of man" is real story that happened to the author. In 1946, Mikhail Sholokhov accidentally met a former soldier who told the writer about his life. The fate of the man so impressed Sholokhov that he decided to capture it on the pages of the book. In the story, the author introduces the reader to Andrei Sokolov, who managed to maintain his fortitude, despite ordeal: wound, captivity, escape, death of a family and, finally, the death of a son on the happiest day, May 9, 1945. After the war, the hero finds the strength to start new life and give hope to another person - he adopts an orphaned boy Vanya. In "The Fate of Man" a personal story in the background terrible events shows the fate of an entire nation and the firmness of the Russian character, which can be called a symbol of victory Soviet troops over the fascists.
"Cursed and Killed" Victor Astafiev
Viktor Astafiev volunteered for the front in 1942, was awarded the Order of the Red Star and the medal "For Courage". But in the novel "Cursed and Killed" the author does not sing of the events of the war, he speaks of it as a "crime against reason". Based on personal impressions, the front-line writer described historical events in the USSR, preceding the Great Patriotic war, the process of preparing reinforcements, the life of soldiers and officers, their relationship with each other and commanders, fighting. Astafiev reveals all the dirt and horrors terrible years, thereby showing that he does not see the point in the huge human sacrifices that fell to the lot of people in the terrible war years.
"Vasily Terkin" Alexander Tvardovsky
Tvardovsky's poem "Vasily Terkin" received national recognition back in 1942, when its first chapters were published in the newspaper Western Front"Red Army Truth". The soldiers immediately recognized the protagonist of the work as a role model. Vasily Terkin is an ordinary Russian guy who sincerely loves his Motherland and his people, perceives any hardships of life with humor and finds a way out of even the most difficult situation. Someone saw in him a comrade in the trench, someone an old friend, and someone guessed himself in his features. Image folk hero so fond of the readers that even after the war they did not want to part with him. That is why a huge number of imitations and "sequels" of "Vasily Terkin" were written, created by other authors.
"War has no woman's face" Svetlana Aleksievich
"War is not female face"is one of the most famous books about the Great Patriotic War, where the war is shown through the eyes of a woman. The novel was written in 1983, but for a long time was not published, since its author was accused of pacifism, naturalism, and debunking the heroic image Soviet woman. However, Svetlana Aleksievich wrote about something completely different: she showed that girls and war are incompatible concepts, if only because a woman gives life, while any war kills first of all. In her novel, Aleksievich collected the stories of front-line soldiers to show what they were like, girls of the forty-first year, and how they went to the front. The author led the readers along the terrible, cruel, unfeminine path of war.
"The Tale of a Real Man" Boris Polevoy
"The Tale of a Real Man" was created by a writer who went through the entire Great Patriotic War as a correspondent for the Pravda newspaper. During these terrible years, he managed to visit partisan detachments behind enemy lines, participated in Battle of Stalingrad, in the battle for Kursk Bulge. But world fame Polevoy was brought not military reports, but piece of art based on documentary material. The prototype of the hero of his "Tale of a Real Man" was the Soviet pilot Alexei Maresyev, who was shot down in 1942 during offensive operation Red Army. The fighter lost both legs, but found the strength to return to the ranks of active pilots and destroyed many more Nazi aircraft. The work was written in the difficult post-war years and immediately fell in love with the reader, because it proved that there is always a place for a feat in life.
Good day, dear readers! Tell me, how do you instill in your children the spirit of patriotism and love for the motherland? Probably, in response, you will also ask me about the age at which this should be done. And I will say that for preschoolers, this is quite relevant. Surprised? Well, surely there are stories about animals and plants on your bookshelves. So?
In kindergartens, they are taught respect and diligence, helping the family and other people. It is from this that education and love for the country as a whole begins. But book editions for proper education are an integral part! Do you agree? At school, something more is invested in this concept, more serious works are added here. These include books about the Great Patriotic War for schoolchildren. What age should they be? And what should you pay special attention to?
People of our generation still understand the meaning of such writings, and, most importantly, their necessity. Remember how teachers told us about that difficult time? Do you know why it was and is being done? So that there is no repetition of the events of those terrible years. But, besides this, the authors are trying to convey to the little reader that it is necessary to respect loved ones, love the family and the Motherland, and be courageous.
But what kind of works will be of interest to children? Probably about the same as they are. After all, the war blurred the line of growing up. Children there immediately became adults, working in the rear and at the shooting ranges (after all, this was the case). Yes, this is heroism! All books should teach only the mind and diligence! So that thoughts do not creep into the head of the kids about the horrors that are happening to today's youth!
Features of publications for grades 1 - 2
The spirit of patriotism here, of course, must be present! But after studying the information and talking with one teacher, I will say: the more I forgive, the better. Do not immediately give memoirs of kilograms for reading. And here there should be no numbers, until the child understands this at the age of 7. Small stories will do. For example, these:
- "Letter from the Front" Anatoly Mityaev. small stories about heroism and courage. And the most interesting thing here true facts! So the kids will go through the everyday life of soldiers.
- "Your defenders" Lev Kassil.
- “I am a soldier and you are a soldier” by A. Merkush.
- "Stories about the great Moscow battle" S. Alekseev.
- "The Story of a Loud Drum" Sofya Mogilevskaya.
Of course, a lot depends on the teacher, how he will convey this to first-graders. But after all, the family should also influence the worldview of the baby. Do you agree with this statement?
For 3rd grade about the war
Every year children grow up, and their perception of life also changes. Literature needs to get a little more serious. But the texts also should not be too long, otherwise the child will not be interested in reading. After all, we need to interest him, right?
- "Stories about Marshal Zhukov" A.S. Alekseev.
- "Oath of Timur" A. Gaidar.
- "Vitya Korobkov" by E. Suvorin.
- "Son of the Regiment" V. Kataev. When you are left completely alone, without loved ones, it becomes scary. But if you're still a child, it's doubly scary. How can a unit where the military serve become both a mother and a father for an orphan? It turns out it can.
- "Girl from the City" L. Voronkova. Another story about an orphan who has come a long way, but found a new family.
- "Girls with Vasilyevsky Island» Y. Yakovlev. Honestly, a lump rises to the throat when you just read short description. The diary of a little girl who died with her family from starvation was taken as the basis.
Reading these publications, there is something to think about. The authors are trying to convey to the little reader what example should be followed in this life. And you can not lose your dignity in any, even the most difficult, situations.
4 ― 5 grades
Already such adults at this age ... Independent children. They now have many interests, they are curious to communicate with each other, hobbies appear outside the home. But the book after all should accompany and at this stage! And, most importantly, that it arouses great interest! I read a lot of reviews about literature for this age. And here is a list of what the kids like the most:
- "Ivan. Zosia" Vladimir Bogomolov. Like many books, this one conveys terrible military events through the eyes of a small child.
- "Vasek Trubachev and his comrades" V.A. Oseeva.
- “How Seryozha went to war” Yu. Yakovlev.
- "Extreme Case" I. Turichin.
It is hard to imagine that we won the victory at the cost of children's lives. Some of them are still alive. These essays are bought for children, but many adults, having opened the book, read themselves. After all, it is interesting to know what our grandparents experienced in those terrible times. Do you have any favorite military-themed books?
6 - 8 grades
In terms of age, this is 12 - 14 years. Quite an adult, able to understand a lot, having his own position. But at this age, the kids were already going to the front. At the age of 14, my friend's grandmother became a foreman on a collective farm. And who else will feed the country?
It is such feats that are worthy of being written and talked about for many more years. But what will be interesting to read to our students in the 6th - 8th grade.
- "Great Victories" Alekseev S. Do you think that our soldiers won only one victory, in Berlin? But no! After all, every liberated city is a great victory!
- "Street younger son» Lev Kassil.
- "Last Cold" A. A. Likhanov.
- “Three girls. The history of one apartment» Elena Vereiskaya. A story of true friendship and devotion.
- "Goodbye Boys" Boris Blather.
But the sooner we begin to introduce the child to such things, the better. Do you know why? Because a certain period of time is allotted for the upbringing of a new generation. Today it will seem difficult and too sad for us, tomorrow, it will already be uninteresting for the kids. Teach a good book as long as your child is interested.
I am very interested in what works are on the shelves in your home? What do you give children to read about the war? Perhaps add to my list? Share your thoughts by leaving comments! And subscribe to blog updates. All the best!
Story 1. Vitka
Vitka - the boy is hot and heavy on the arm - in his father, silent - in his mother. Lived in Moscow. My father drank shamelessly, was rowdy, and lived poorly with his mother. It used to be that he was returning from work, he could be heard half the street before his house. Not only his own, but in addition to Vitka, there was also Galka, a younger sister-weather and older brother Tolik, but the neighboring children from the yard molted. Don't get drunk. The mother of the neighbors in the communal apartment was waiting for her husband to fall asleep. She endured like a woman, as best she could. Children are common, after all. Jackdaw fiercely hated her father for cruelty to her and her mother - he beat both, the brothers perceived such a life as a normal state of affairs. In neighboring families, a similar thing was observed, although less often.
Every summer, his mother sent Vitka and Galka to the village of Verzilovo, near Kashira, to visit their grandparents. In early July 1941, Vitka turned eleven. They knew that the war had begun, and my father had gone to the front. And in early August, a funeral came to him: He died a heroic death in an unequal battle with fascist invaders. Grandmother, having learned about grief, sat down to lament: “My orphans! The kids are unhappy." The brother and sister returned home and found their grandmother in tears:
- Grandma, what happened?! they shouted out loud.
Your dad is dead! My orphans! Grandma said.
- God bless! Galka gasped.
- Stupid! - the grandmother barked and slapped her on the back of the head.
Vitka silently climbed onto the stove. fell asleep. And in the morning I woke up with a firm conviction: "We must avenge our father." And he told his sister about his decision. They agreed that they would leave the next evening, when grandparents would fall asleep. At night, unnoticed, he will get to the railway station, which is eleven kilometers from the village, he will sit on some military train, and there it’s business that he will get to the front. And he will take revenge. At the same time, Vitka furiously clenched his fists.
Collections have begun. During the day I washed in a barrel, cut my nails, otherwise “how is it - the soldier’s dirty claws will tear his boots” - this Galka thought up. With an old grandfather's penknife, Vitka shaved his whiskey, this is for solidity, so that they would not be mistaken for a kid at the front. Jackdaw collected a bag: a loaf of bread, a couple boiled eggs, fat clothes, sugar head. And as the old people fell asleep, she put a jug of milk on the table for the future warrior. Vitka did not approve of the milk. He demanded an ostogram. Jackdaw waved her apron, as her mother used to at her father, but immediately pressed it to her eyes and burst into tears, as usual. Crossed as best she could. We kissed goodbye. It’s supposed to scream, it’s impossible - grandma and grandpa will wake up. Vitka has a bag on his shoulders and a shadow behind the door. Jackdaw stood still, waved her white handkerchief into the darkness...
A day later, Vitka was removed from the train. Managed to drive thirty kilometers from the station.
At home, grandfather with a belt with a buckle looked after soft spot, saying:
- Here are those for grandmother's tears, here are those for my sciatica, here are those for Galka and for her bruises on her ass, here are those for her mother, who received a funeral for her husband. You are her helpers and joy in life, and what are you thinking, you bastard!
- Grandfather, why does Galka have bruises on his ass? - Through tears, not pain, but resentment that they caught, asked Vitka.
- Duc, asked her where you ran! Oh, stubborn girl, what a donkey!
After the first failure, Vitka ran to the front three more times with the same outcome. Until I saw the Germans in my native village.
Story 2. Germans in the village
From mid-November close explosions of shells were already audible. Fascist planes flew by. They hit mainly in strategic places, in Kashira.
In the twentieth of November, a rumor spread through the village: "The Germans are coming, they are already in Venevo." Venevo is a town thirty kilometers from Verzilovo, where Vitka and Galka live. Mother in Moscow with her older brother at a military plant make shells for the front. And the younger ones at least help their grandparents. There are many things to do in the village. All summer they dug bomb shelters and trenches. They worked in the field - they collected hay and knitted it into sheaves. They dug pits in which they hid bread, flour, cereals - millet, rye - everything that they received for workdays and grew in their gardens. And as the Germans began to approach, so the grandfather and other villagers drove the cattle - sheep, pigs and cows to Kashira. Only the horses did not have time to drive away. Grandfather Dimitry personally "hid" a herd of 30 heads in the forest.
Once Vitka and Galka were sitting with other children on the porch of the house. Suddenly a tankette rides. Caught up with the porch, a man in an unfamiliar military uniform took out a gun. The guys, as if on command, fell to the ground and covered their heads with their hands. At the same time, enemy planes took off. The man from the tankette shot into the sky. In his hands was a rocket launcher. Apparently, he made it clear to the pilot that his people were here. The planes were flying towards Kashira. The tanker left. Not far away there was a powerful explosion of a bomb thrown from an airplane:
- Wow! The bomb has dropped! - the boys shouted, - let's run, let's see what kind of funnel it turned out!
Then Vitkina-Galkin's grandmother, Anna Rodionovna, came running:
- Hey, what did you think? - and drove everyone into a bomb shelter dug behind a neighboring garden.
There were twenty people there. Waiting out the raid, the women agreed to arrange " kindergarten". Away from sin, so that children do not run on their own and do not jump on unexploded mines and shells. We decided to take the children to one house every morning and leave everyone there under the supervision of the village teacher.
A few days later the Germans came to the village. They were divided into houses. Grandma Vitka and Galka drove onto the stove, which was standing in the middle of the hut, and pulled the curtain. Has entered A tall man in officer uniform.
- Rousseau soldier? - He asked to the stove, pulled back the curtain.
From there, two pairs of eyes narrowed in hatred stared at him.
- There are Russo children! Vitka yelled.
Grandmother hurriedly drew the curtain and stood between the officer and the stove with a warlike air.
- I-I! Gut! The officer said and left.
A few minutes later, German soldiers entered the house. They brought hay and spread it all over the house, then they stored all their weapons at the door and ... lay down to sleep.
Grandma Anna did not sleep at night. She was afraid to breathe. And she kept looking at the soldiers - that's what they are, the Germans, like ordinary people... And then he sees - Vitka's legs hung from the stove. The boy quietly got down, went to the door, grabbed all the weapons and left the house. Anna barely restrained herself from screaming. She crept between the sleeping soldiers, darted out the door, out of the house through the gate. Vitka, bending down to the ground from the weight of the weapon, was heading towards the forest with a quick step. Grandma ran after him. Caught up, grabbed by the shoulders, shook:
- What are you doing?! After all, they will put everyone under a machine gun, they won’t regret it, they won’t look that “Russo’s children”! - she mimicked Vitka, snatched the weapon from him and dragged him home. Vitka was ordered to stay outside.
The weapon was returned to its place. Anna woke Galka, putting her finger to her lips, showed - be silent, they say. They quickly got out and ran to the bomb shelter, where they sat for the next four days.
These days there were battles. Grandfather Dimitri remained in the house. German soldiers returned in between actions and not all of them were alive. The dead were brought with them, loaded into big car, the car was leaving.
Once grandfather heard wild cries, looked out the window. A German soldier was carrying a wounded man. He had a huge wound on his head. The blood left a black stream behind the people. The soldier brought the wounded man to the "corpse cart", threw him inside and fired. The screams stopped.
On the fourth day after the battle, two German soldiers returned without an officer. Grandfather Dimitri watched them from the stove. They washed, sat down at the table, took out biscuits and some canned food. Then a hefty fellow entered the hut - blond and red-cheeked. In the village they said that he was a Finn by nationality. The fascist pulled grandfather by the collar from the oven and began to shout, showing with his hands that he needed round bread. Grandpa throws up his hands, they say, there is nothing. He pulled out a revolver and put it to his grandfather's head. At that moment, a German officer entered the hut. Realizing what was happening, the officer gave out a long tirade in his own language and swung at the Finn. The soldier flew out of the house like a bullet. And grandfather climbed back onto the stove.
On the fifth day, Soviet soldiers entered the village. But for a long time the villagers watched the Katyusha volleys and heard explosions. The Germans were not seen again. But the whole war was still ahead.
Story 3. The whole war is ahead
After the German unit left the village, people gradually left the bomb shelters. They saw something terrible. No, the houses stood still, the villagers, even those who did not hide, were alive, but former fields turned into one continuous hole from the funnels. The suffocating smell of death hung in the air. The ground was littered with shells and the decaying corpses of soldiers. Soviet soldiers.
On the hillock, on the highest point of the village, the inhabitants arranged mass grave. Someone said that three "ours" tried to knock out a German machine gunner from the Hillock, who had settled there the day before the capture of the village. Two soldiers were killed on the approaches by machine-gun fire. Only the third managed to get close to the height from the side of the forest, but he also died. He shot at the fascist while receiving bullets in himself. All three were buried there. The monument was built. They died defending every village, every house...
The women brought home animals that had survived the bombardment from Kashira, restored the destroyed sheds and the barn. Gradually began to return to ordinary life.
The neighborhood was "infected" with iron sickness. Everywhere lay weapons, which were very interested in the village boys. Everyone was eager to find out what it consists of and how it works. Of particular danger were unexploded shells and mines. To prevent misfortune, the villagers sent their children and grandchildren to a "kindergarten" while working. But…
This happened already in the spring, when the sun broke out, when the trees and bushes turned green, and the first grass began to break through, hiding the bloody horror of the earth. The fields had to be leveled and plowed for sowing. The oldest children, who were already eleven or twelve years old, were taken from the "kindergarten" to field work. Three friends - Vitka, Zhenya and Kolka were following horses with a plow when a whole mine was found on the way. Curiosity took over caution. The boys pulled the mine out of the ground and tried to dismantle it. Nothing happened. Then they dragged her into the barn until the adults could see. Zhenya, the eldest of all, suggested:
- And let's hit it with a stone to open this lid. But here's the thing, if there's an explosion, you fall. And I will run to the "kindergarten" for help.
So they did. They hit the mine with a stone. There was a deafening explosion. Vitka and Kolka fell to the ground, and Zhenya ran...
The next day Zhenya and Kolya were buried. Vitka was wounded in the hand and survived.
Stories by Sofya Mogilevskaya, Arkady Gaidar, Andrey Platonov, Konstantin Paustovsky.
Sofia Mogilevskaya. Tale of the Loud Drum
The drum hung on the wall between the windows, just opposite the bed where the boy slept.
It was an old military drum, badly worn on the sides, but still strong. His skin was taut, and there were no sticks. And the drum was always silent, no one heard his voice.
One evening, when the boy went to bed, the grandfather and grandmother entered the room. In their hands they carried a round bundle wrapped in brown paper.
"Sleeping," Grandma said.
Well, where do we put this? said grandfather, pointing to the bundle.
“Over the bed, over his bed,” Grandma whispered.
But grandfather looked at the old military drum and said:
- No. We will hang it under the drum of our Larik. This is a good place.
They unwrapped the package. And what? It contained a new yellow drum with two wooden sticks.
Grandfather hung it under the big drum, they admired it, and then left the room...
And then the boy opened his eyes.
He opened his eyes and laughed, because he was not sleeping at all, but pretending.
He jumped off the bed, ran barefoot to where the new yellow drum hung, pulled a chair close to the wall, climbed on it and picked up the drumsticks.
At first, he softly struck the drum with only one stick. And the drum cheerfully responded: tram-there!
Then he struck with the second stick. The drummer answered even more cheerfully: tram-there-there!
What a glorious drum it was!
And suddenly the boy looked up at the big military drum. Before, when he didn't have those strong wooden sticks, he couldn't even touch the bass drum from his chair. And now?
The boy stood on his tiptoes, reached up and struck the bass drum hard with his stick. And the drum hummed to him in response, softly and sadly ...
It was a very, very long time ago. Grandmother was then a little girl with thick pigtails.
And my grandmother had a brother. His name was Larik. He was a cheerful, handsome and brave boy. He was the best at gorodki, he was the fastest skater, and he also studied the best.
In early spring, the workers of the city where Larik lived began to gather a detachment to go fight for Soviet power.
Larik was then thirteen years old.
He went to the commander of the detachment and said to him:
Sign me up for the squad. I'll go fight the whites too.
- And how old are you? the commander asked.
- Fifteen! Larik replied without blinking.
- Like? the commander asked. And he repeated again: - As if?
“Yes,” said Larick.
But the commander shook his head.
No, you can't, you're too young...
And Larik had to leave with nothing. And suddenly near the window, on a chair, he saw a new military drum. The drum was beautiful, with a gleaming copper rim, and the leather was tightly stretched. Two wooden sticks lay side by side.
Larik stopped, looked at the drum and said:
— I can play the drum...
— Really? the commander rejoiced. - Try it!
Larik slung the drum straps over his shoulder, picked up the sticks and struck one of them against the tight top. The stick bounced off like a spring, and the drum answered in a cheerful bass voice:
Larik hit with another wand.
— Boom! the drum answered again,
And even then Larik began to drum with two sticks.
Oh, how they danced in his hands! They just didn't know how to stop, they just couldn't stop. They beat off such a fraction that I wanted to get up, straighten up and step forward!
One-two! One-two! One-two!
And Larik remained in the detachment.
The next morning the detachment left the city. When the train started, open doors Larik's cheerful song was heard:
Bam-bara-bam-bam
Bam bam bam!
Ahead of all the drum,
Commander and drummer.
Larik and the drum immediately became comrades. They woke up earlier in the morning.
- Hello, buddy! - Larik said to his drum and lightly slapped it with his palm.
- Great! the drum boomed in response. And they got to work.
The detachment did not even have a forge. Larick with a drum were the only musicians. In the morning they played a wake-up call:
Bam-bara-bam
Bam bam bam!
Good morning,
Bam-bar-bam!
It was a great morning song!
When the detachment was marching, they had another song in store. Larik's hands never got tired, and the voice of the drum did not stop all the way. It was easier for the fighters to walk along the swampy autumn roads. Singing along to their drum, they went from halt to halt, from halt to halt ...
And in the evening, there was also work on the halts for the drum. It was difficult for him alone, of course, to cope.
He just started:
Eh! Bam-bara-bam
Bam-bar-bam!
More fun than everyone
Drum!
Wooden spoons were immediately picked up:
And we also deftly beat,
Bim-biri-bom,
Bim-beery-bom!
Then four scallops entered:
We will not leave you
Beams-bams, beams-bams!
And already the last began harmonicas.
Now that was fun!
Such a wonderful orchestra could be listened to at least all night long.
But the drum and Larik had one more song. And this song was the loudest and most needed. Wherever the fighters were, they immediately recognized the voice of their drum from a thousand other drum voices. Yes, if necessary, Larik knew how to sound the alarm ...
The winter has passed. Spring has come again. Larik was in his fifteenth year.
The Red Guard detachment again returned to the city where Larik grew up. The Red Guards were scouts ahead of the big strong army, and the enemy ran away, hiding, hiding, striking from around the corner.
The detachment approached the city late in the evening. It was dark, and the commander ordered to stop for the night near the forest, not far from the railroad tracks.
— whole year I didn’t see my father, mother, and younger sister,” Larik told the commander. “I don't even know if they're alive. Can I visit them? They live behind that wood.
“Well, go ahead,” the commander said.
And Larik went.
He walked and whistled softly. Underfoot, water gurgled in shallow spring puddles. It was light from the moon. Behind Larik hung his comrade-in-arms - a military drum.
Will they recognize him at home? No, the younger sister, of course, will not know. He felt two pink gingerbread cookies in his pocket. This hotel he has long in store for her ...
He approached the edge. How good it was here! The forest was quiet, quiet, all silvered by moonlight.
Larik stopped. A shadow fell from a tall spruce. Larik stood, covered by this black shadow.
Suddenly, a dry branch clicked softly.
One on the right. The other one is on the left. Behind the back...
People came to the edge. There were many. They walked in a long line. Rifles up. Two stopped almost next to Larik. On the shoulders of the White Guard epaulettes. One officer said to another very quietly:
Some of the soldiers are coming from the side of the forest. The other is along the railway line. The rest come from behind.
“We will encircle them and destroy them,” said the second.
And, stealthily, they passed by.
These were enemies.
Larik took a deep breath. He stood in the shadows. He was not noticed.
Larik rubbed his hot forehead with his hand. All clear. This means that some of the soldiers are coming from the forest. Others come in from behind. Part - along the railroad track ...
The Whites want to encircle their detachment and destroy it.
You need to run there, to your own, to the Reds. You need to be notified, and as soon as possible.
But will he make it? They can get ahead of him. They might catch him on the way...
And Larik turned his war drum towards him, took out wooden sticks from behind his belt and, waving his arms widely, struck the drum.
It sounded like a shot, like a thousand short shots from a rifle.
The whole forest responded, buzzed, drummed with a loud echo, as if a small brave drummer stood near each tree and beat the war drum.
Larik stood under the spruce and saw how enemies rushed towards him from all sides. But he didn't move. He just pounded, pounded, pounded the drum.
It was their last song - the song of combat alarm.
And only when something hit Larik in the temple, and he fell, the drumsticks fell out of his hands...
Larik could no longer see how the red fighters rushed towards the enemy with rifles at the ready and, like a defeated enemy, fled from the side of the forest, and from the side of the city, and from there, where the thin lines of the railway track shone.
In the morning it was quiet again in the forest. The trees, shaking off drops of moisture, raised their transparent tops to the sun, and only the old spruce had wide branches lying completely on the ground.
The soldiers brought Larik home. His eyes were closed.
The drum was with him. Only the sticks remained in the forest, where they fell from Larik's hands.
And the drum was hung on the wall.
He boomed last time- loudly and sadly, as if saying goodbye to his glorious comrade.
That's what the old war drum told the boy.
The boy quietly climbed out of his chair and tiptoed back into bed. He lay for a long time open eyes, and it seemed to him as if he were walking along a wide beautiful street and beating hard on his new yellow drum. The voice of the drum is loud, bold, and together they sing Larik's favorite song:
You bar-bam
You bar-bam!
Ahead of all the drum,
Commander and drummer.
Arkady Gaidar. hike
little story
At night, a Red Army soldier brought a summons. And at dawn, when Alka was still sleeping, his father kissed him warmly and went to war - on a campaign.
In the morning, Alka got angry why they didn’t wake him up, and immediately declared that he wanted to go camping too. He would probably scream, cry. But quite unexpectedly, his mother allowed him to go camping. And so, in order to gain strength before the road, Alka ate a full plate of porridge without a whim, and drank some milk. And then she and her mother sat down to prepare camping equipment. His mother sewed pants for him, and he, sitting on the floor, cut a saber out of the board. And right there, at work, they learned marching marches, because with such a song as “A Christmas tree was born in the forest”, you won’t walk far. And the motive is not the same, and the words are not the same, in general, this melody is completely inappropriate for a fight.
But now the time has come for the mother to go on duty to work, and they postponed their affairs until tomorrow.
And so, day after day, they prepared Alka for a long journey. They sewed pants, shirts, banners, flags, knitted warm stockings, mittens. Some wooden sabers next to the gun and the drum hung on the wall for seven pieces. And this reserve is not a problem, because in a hot battle a sonorous saber has an even shorter life than a rider.
And for a long time, perhaps, Alka could have gone on a campaign, but then a fierce winter came. And in such a frost, of course, it would not take long to catch a runny nose or a cold, and Alka patiently waited for the warm sun. But now the sun has returned. Blackened melted snow. And if only, just start to get ready, as the bell rang. And with heavy steps, the father, who had returned from the campaign, entered the room. His face was dark, weather-beaten, and his lips were chapped, but grey eyes looked cheerful.
He, of course, hugged his mother. And she congratulated him on his victory. He, of course, kissed his son tightly. Then he examined all Alkino's camping equipment. And, smiling, he ordered his son: keep all these weapons and ammunition in in perfect order, because there will be heavy battles and dangerous campaigns and there are still many more ahead on this earth.
Stories about the Great Patriotic War by Vladimir Bogomolov
Vladimir Bogomolov. Extraordinary morning
Grandfather went up to his grandson's bed, tickled his cheek with his grayish mustache and said cheerfully:
- Well, Ivanka, get up! It's time to get up!
The boy quickly opened his eyes and saw that his grandfather was dressed unusually: instead of the usual dark suit, he was wearing a military tunic. Vanya immediately recognized this tunic - grandfather was photographed in it in May 1945 on the last day of the war in Berlin. On the tunic there are green epaulettes with a small green star on a narrow red stripe, and medals on beautiful multi-colored ribbons lightly jingle above the pocket.
On the photograph, grandfather is very similar, only his mustache is completely black-black, and a thick wavy forelock peeked out from under the visor of his cap.
- Ivan the Bogatyr, get up! Get ready for a hike! grandfather hummed merrily in his ear.
“Is today already Sunday?” Vanya asked. - Are we going to the circus?
- Yes. Today is Sunday, - grandfather pointed to a sheet of the calendar. But Sunday is special.
The boy looked at the calendar: "What is this special Sunday?" he thought. On the calendar sheet, the name of the month, the number was printed in red ink. As always. “Maybe today is Victory Day? But this holiday happens in the spring, in May, and now it’s still winter ... Why is grandfather in military uniform?
- Yes, you have a good look, - said grandfather and lifted Vanya in his arms, brought him to the calendar and asked:
Do you see what month it is? And he answered himself:
— month of February. And the number? Second. And what happened on that day, many, many years ago, in 1943? Forgot? Oh, Ivan - a soldier's grandson! I told you, and more than once. And last year, and the year before ... Well, remember? ..
“No,” Vanya admitted honestly. “I was very young then.
Grandfather lowered his grandson to the floor, squatted down and pointed to a polished yellow medal, which hung on his tunic first after two silver ones - "For Courage" and "For Military Merit". Soldiers with rifles were minted on the circle of the medal. They went on the attack under an unfurled banner. Planes flew over them, and tanks rushed to the side. At the top, near the very edge, it was ousted: "For the defense of Stalingrad."
I remember, I remember! Vanya shouted with delight. - On this day, you defeated the Nazis on the Volga ...
Grandfather smoothed his mustache and, pleased, boomed:
- Well done for remembering! Didn't forget, that is. So today we will go with you to the places where the fighting took place, where we stopped the Nazis and from where they drove us all the way to Berlin!
Let's go, reader, and we will follow our grandfather, and remember those days when the fate of our country, our Motherland was decided near the city on the Volga.
Grandfather and grandson walked through the winter sunny city. The snow crunched underfoot. Loud trams rushed by. Trolleybuses rustled heavily with large tires. Cars rushed by one by one... Tall poplars and wide maples nodded amiably to pedestrians with snow-covered branches... sun bunnies bounced off the blue windows of new houses and briskly jumped from floor to floor.
Coming out to the wide Railway Station Square, grandfather and the boy stopped at a snow-covered flower bed.
Above the station building, a tall spire with a golden star rose into the blue sky.
Grandfather took out a cigarette case, lit a cigarette, looked around the railway station, the square, new houses, and again the events of the distant war years were remembered to him ... a junior reserve lieutenant, a veteran soldier.
The Great Patriotic War was on.
Hitler forced other countries, his allies, to participate in the war against us.
The enemy was strong and dangerous.
We had to temporarily retreat to our troops. We had to temporarily give our lands to the enemy - the Baltic states, Moldova, Ukraine, Belarus ...
The Nazis wanted to take Moscow. We were already looking at the capital through binoculars ... The day of the parade was appointed ...
Yes, Soviet soldiers defeated enemy troops near Moscow in the winter of 1941.
Having suffered a defeat near Moscow, Hitler ordered his generals in the summer of 1942 to break through to the Volga and capture the city of Stalingrad.
Access to the Volga and the capture of Stalingrad could ensure the successful advance of the Nazi troops to the Caucasus, to its oil wealth.
In addition, the capture of Stalingrad would divide the front of our armies in two, cut off the central regions from the south, and, most importantly, would enable the Nazis to bypass Moscow from the east and take it.
Having transferred 90 divisions to the south, all the reserves, creating an advantage in manpower and equipment, the fascist generals in mid-July 1942 broke through the defenses of our Southwestern Front and moved towards Stalingrad.
The Soviet command did everything to detain the enemy.
Two reserve armies were urgently allocated. They stood in the way of the Nazis.
The Stalingrad Front was created between the Volga and the Don.
Women, children, the elderly were evacuated from the city. Defensive structures were built around the city. They stood in the way of fascist tanks steel hedgehogs and gouges.
At each factory, workers created battalions of volunteer militias. During the day they assembled tanks, made shells, and after the shift they prepared to defend the city.
The fascist generals received an order to wipe out the city on the Volga.
And on a sunny day on August 23, 1942, thousands of planes with black crosses hit Stalingrad.
Wave after wave came "Junkers" and "Heinkels", dropping hundreds of bombs on residential areas of the city. Buildings collapsed, huge pillars of fire rose to the sky. The whole city was shrouded in smoke - the glow of burning Stalingrad could be seen for tens of kilometers.
After the raid, the fascist generals reported to Hitler: the city has been destroyed!
And they received an order: take Stalingrad!
The Nazis managed to break through to the outskirts of the city, to the tractor factory and to the Oak ravine. But there they were met by battalions of volunteer workers, Chekists, anti-aircraft gunners and cadets of a military school.
The battle went on all day and all night. The Nazis did not enter the city.
Vladimir Bogomolov. Fedoseev Battalion
Enemy soldiers managed to break through to the railway station of the city.
There were fierce battles at the station for fourteen days. The fighters of the battalion of senior lieutenant Fedoseev stood to the death, repelling more and more new attacks of the enemy.
Our command kept in touch with Fedoseev's battalion, first by telephone, and when the Nazis surrounded the station, then by radio.
But Fedoseev did not answer the call signs of the headquarters. They called him all day, but he was silent. It was decided that all the soldiers of the battalion were killed. Morning came, and over the broken roof of one of the houses they saw a red banner fluttering. This means that the Fedoseyevites are alive and continue to fight the enemy!
The army commander, General Chuikov, ordered that the order be delivered to Senior Lieutenant Fedoseev, so that he and the soldiers retreated to new positions.
Sergeant Smirnov was sent as a messenger. The sergeant somehow got to the ruins of the station and found out that only ten people remained from the battalion. The commander, Senior Lieutenant Fedoseev, also died.
The messenger asks: “Why are you silent? Why don't you answer the calls of the headquarters?
It turned out that the projectile broke the radio. The radio operator was killed.
The fighters began to wait for the night to retreat to new positions. And at this time the Nazis again launched an attack.
Tanks in front, and machine gunners behind them.
The Fedoseyevites lay down in the ruins.
The enemy soldiers are advancing.
Getting closer. Closer.
Fedoseevtsy are silent.
The Nazis decided that all our soldiers had died ... And, rising to their full height, they rushed to the station.
- Fire! - came the command.
Machine guns and machine guns fired.
Molotov cocktails flew into the tanks.
One tank caught fire, another stalled, a third stopped, a fourth turned back, followed by fascist submachine gunners...
The fighters took advantage of the panic of the enemy, removed the banner pierced by fragments and went to their cellars to their new positions.
The Nazis paid dearly for the station.
In mid-September, the Nazi troops intensified their attacks again.
They managed to break into the city center. There were battles for every street, for every house, for every floor...
From the station, grandfather and grandson went to the Volga embankment.
Let's go after them.
Near the house where they stopped, a tank turret is mounted on a gray square pedestal.
Here, during the battles for the city, the headquarters of the main, central, crossing was located.
To the right and left of this place, trenches stretched along the entire Volga coast. Here our troops defended the approaches to the Volga, from here they repulsed enemy attacks.
Such monuments - a green tank tower on a pedestal - stand along our entire line of defense.
Here the soldiers-Stalingraders took an oath: "Not a step back!" Further, to the Volga, they did not let the enemy in - they protected the approaches to the crossings across the river. Our troops received reinforcements from the other side.
There were several crossings across the Volga, but the Nazis were especially fierce near the central one.
Vladimir Bogomolov. Flight "Swallows"
Enemy bombers hovered over the Volga day and night.
They chased not only tugs, self-propelled guns, but also fishing boats, small rafts - sometimes the wounded were transported to them.
But the rivermen of the city and the sailors of the Volga flotilla, in spite of everything, delivered the goods.
Once upon a time there was...
Sergeant Smirnov is summoned to the command post and given the task: to get to the other side and tell the head of the rear of the army that the troops will hold out at the central crossing for the night, and in the morning there will be nothing to repel enemy attacks. Ammunition needs to be delivered urgently.
Somehow, the sergeant got to the head of the rear, handed over the order of the commander, General Chuikov.
The fighters quickly loaded a large barge and began to wait for the launch.
They wait and think: “A powerful tugboat will come, pick up a barge and quickly throw it across the Volga.”
The fighters are looking - an old steamer is plopping, and it is somehow inappropriately named - "Swallow". The noise from it is such that plug your ears, and the speed is like that of a turtle. "Well, they think - you can't get to the middle of the river on this one."
But the barge commander tried to reassure the fighters:
- Don't look that the little steamer is slow. He transported more than one barge like ours. The team at the "Swallow" is fighting.
Suitable "Swallow" to the barge. The fighters are watching, but there are only three teams on it: a captain, a mechanic and a girl.
Before the steamboat had time to approach the barge, the girl, the daughter of the mechanic Grigoriev - Irina, deftly hooked the hook of the cable and shouted:
- Let's get a few people on the longboat, you will help fight off the Nazis!
Sergeant Smirnov and two fighters jumped onto the deck, and the "Swallow" dragged the barge.
As soon as they reached the reach, German reconnaissance aircraft circled in the air, rockets hung on parachutes over the crossing.
It became as bright as day.
Bombers swooped in behind the scouts and began to dive first onto a barge, then onto a longboat.
Fighters from rifles hit the planes, bombers almost touch the pipes, the masts of the longboat with their wings. To the right and left along the sides are columns of water from bomb explosions. After each explosion, the fighters look around anxiously: “Is that all. Got it?!" They look - the barge is moving towards the shore.
The captain of the Swallow, Vasily Ivanovich Krainov, an old Volgar, know the steering wheel turns left and right, maneuvers - takes the longboat away from direct hits. And all - forward, to the shore.
German mortars noticed the steamboat and the barge and also began to fire.
Mines howl flying by, splashing into the water, shrapnel whistling.
One mine hit the barge.
A fire started. The flames ran across the deck.
What to do? Break the rope? The fire is about to get close to the boxes with shells. But the captain of the longboat turned the helm sharply, and ... The Lastochka went to approach the burning barge.
Somehow they moored to the high side, grabbed hooks, fire extinguishers, buckets of sand - and onto the barge.
The first is Irina, followed by the fighters. Fall asleep fire on deck. They knock him off the boxes. And no one thinks that any box can explode every minute.
The fighters threw off their overcoats, pea jackets, they cover the flames with them. Fire burns hands and faces. Stuffy. Smoke. Breathing is difficult.
But the fighters and the Lastochka team turned out to be stronger than the fire. The ammunition was salvaged and brought to shore.
All the longboats and boats of the Volga flotilla had so many such flights that they could not be counted. Heroic flights.
Soon in the city on the Volga, where there was a central crossing, a monument to all rivermen-heroes will be erected.
Vladimir Bogomolov. 58 days on fire
From the central crossing to Lenin Square, the main square of the city, very close.
Even from a distance, passers-by from the wall of the house, which overlooks the square, notice a soldier in a helmet. The soldier looks attentively and seriously, as if asking not to forget about those who fought here, on the square.
Before the war, few people knew this house - only those who lived in it. Now this house is famous!
Pavlov's House! Soldier's House!
This house was then the only surviving house on the square, not far from the crossing.
The Nazis managed to capture him.
Having placed machine guns and mortars on the floors, the enemy soldiers began to fire at our positions.
The commander of the regiment Elin summoned scouts - Sergeant Yakov Pavlov and fighters: Sasha Alexandrov, Vasily Glushchenko and Nikolai Chernogolov.
"Here's what, guys," said the colonel, "go visit the Fritz at night." Find out how many of them are there, how best to get to them and whether it is possible to knock them out of there.
This house is a very important object in a strategic sense. Whoever owns it keeps the entire Volga region under fire ...
At night at that time the streets were as dark as a cave. The Nazi soldiers were very afraid of the dark. Every now and then they fired flares into the night sky. And as soon as they notice any movement on our part, something suspicious, they immediately open a hurricane of fire.
On such a disturbing night, Sergeant Pavlov and his comrades went on reconnaissance. Where bent over, and where they crawled in a plastunsky way, they reached the extreme wall of this house.
Lie down, not breathing. Listen.
The Nazis in the house are talking, smoking, shooting from rocket launchers.
Pavlov crawled up to the entrance and hid. He hears someone coming up from the basement.
The sergeant prepared a grenade. Then a rocket lit up the sky, and the scout saw an old woman at the entrance. And she saw the fighter, was delighted.
Pavlov quietly asks:
— What are you doing here?
“We didn’t have time to leave for the Volga. There are several families here. The Germans drove us into the basement.
- It's clear. Are there many Germans in the house?
- In those entrances we do not know, but in ours there are twenty people.
- Thank you, mother. Hide quickly in the basement. Tell the rest: do not go out to anyone. We are going to arrange a small fireworks display for the Fritz.
Pavlov returned to his comrades and reported on the situation.
- Let's act!
Scouts crawled up to the house from two sides, got used to it and threw a grenade at the window frames.
One after another, there were powerful explosions. A flame erupted. It smelled of burning.
The fascists, dumbfounded by the unexpected attack, jumped out of the entrances, jumped out of the windows - and to their own.
- Fire on the enemy! commanded by Pavlov.
The scouts opened fire with machine guns.
- Behind me! Take the floors!
On the second floor, the fighters threw a few more grenades. The enemies thought that a whole battalion had attacked them. The Nazis abandoned everything and rushed in all directions.
The scouts examined the floors in all the entrances, made sure that not a single living fascist was left in the house - and Pavlov gave the command to take up defense. The Nazis decided to recapture the house.
For a whole hour they shelled the house with cannons and mortars.
The firing is over.
The Nazis decided that the battalion of Russian soldiers could not stand it and retreated to their own.
German submachine gunners again moved to the house.
- Do not shoot without a command! Sergeant Pavlov told the soldiers.
Here are the machine gunners at the very house.
Well-aimed turns of the Pavlovites mowed down the enemies.
The Nazis retreated again.
And again, mines and shells rained down on the house.
It seemed to the Nazis that nothing living could remain there.
But as soon as the enemy submachine gunners rose and went on the attack, they were met by well-aimed bullets and scout grenades.
For two days the Nazis stormed the house, but they could not take it.
The Nazis realized that they had lost an important object from where they could fire on the Volga and all our positions on the shore, and decided to knock out of the house at all costs Soviet soldiers. Fresh forces were thrown up - a whole regiment.
But our command also strengthened the garrison of scouts. Machine gunners, armor-piercers, machine gunners came to the aid of Sergeant Pavlov and his soldiers.
For 58 days, Soviet soldiers defended this home-line.
You can get to the Krasny Oktyabr plant by trolley bus along Lenina Avenue.
Vanya perched at the window and every time they drove past the tank towers on pedestals, he joyfully shook his grandfather and shouted: “More! One more!.. Again!.. Look, grandfather! Look!.."
- I see, granddaughter! I see! This is the front line of our defense. Here the fighters fought to the death, and the fascist troops could not break through further.
The trolleybus stopped.
“Next stop is Red October!” the driver announced.
- Our granddaughter! Get ready to leave.
Factories of Stalingrad.
In their workshops, city workers stood at the machines in two or three shifts - they cooked steel, assembled and repaired tanks and guns disabled by the enemy, and made ammunition.
Militia workers went from the shops to fight the enemy for hometown, for the native plant.
Steelworkers and rolling mills, assemblers, turners and locksmiths became soldiers.
Having beaten off the attacks of the enemy, the workers again returned to their machines. Factories continued to operate.
Hundreds of brave workers became famous defending their native city, native plant, and among them - the first female steelworker Olga Kuzminichna Kovaleva.
Vladimir Bogomolov. Olga Kovaleva
The enemy is one and a half kilometers from the tractor plant, in the village of Meliorativny.
A detachment of militiamen received the task of dislodging the Germans from the village.
The battle began at the village, on the outskirts of it.
The militias went on the attack. Among them was the squad leader, Olga Kovaleva.
The Nazis opened heavy fire on the attackers from machine guns and mortars ...
I had to lay down.
The militias clung to the ground, they can not raise their heads. Look - the Germans went on the attack. Here they go around.
At this time, the chain of fighters reported that the commander of the detachment had died.
And then Olga Kovaleva decided to raise the fighters in a counterattack. She stood up to her full height and shouted:
Follow me, comrades! Let's not let the enemy to our factory! To our city!!!
The workers heard the call of Olga Kovaleva, got up and rushed towards the enemy.
- For the native plant! For our city! For the Motherland! Hooray!..
The Nazis were driven out of the village.
Many militias were killed in that battle. died
and Olga Kuzminichna Kovaleva.
In honor of the militia heroes, monuments were erected at the factory gates.
On the marble slabs are the names of those who gave their lives in battles for the city, for their native factory.
Workers go to the factory and swear to the fallen to work in such a way as not to disgrace their military honor.
They return from the shift - they mentally report what has been done during the working day.
A real T-34 tank is installed at the tractor factory at the central entrance.
Such combat vehicles were produced here in the war.
When the enemy approached the city, the tanks were heading straight from the assembly line into battle.
Quite a few heroic deeds made by Soviet tankers in the days great battle on the Volga.
