[烛光生存狂]-【卫国战争老兵回忆】伊万·扎波罗特涅(Ivan Zabolotny)

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I was born on 6 August 1926 in a village of Zagnitkov, Kodym District, Odessa Oblast’ (province), Ukrainian Soviet Socialist Republic. The village was near the administrative border between Ukraine and the Moldavian Soviet Socialist Republic.

We were a very ordinary peasant family. Initially my father was a collective farm brigade-leader, later he worked as a forester, and my mother was an ordinary collective farm member. There were three children in the family: two boys and a girl. I was the youngest child.

On the threshold of the war our family material well-being was, I would say, quite good; we weren’t in need of anything. Our village was very large – around 16 000 inhabitants. There were four collective farms in the village and all of them were prosperous.

My brother and his classmates just completed their high school studies and they celebrated their graduation on the evening of 21 June 1941. It was a fine holiday in the village park. Generally life was right but the war shattered everything…

There was a club-house in our village. It was the place where the local youth liked to rest. We often played checkers there, heard recitals and so on. In that Sunday morning we were in the club-house backyard: I practiced on the horizontal bar and my friend climbed a cherry-tree. Because of the border zone military planes never flew over the village but at that moment we saw a Soviet plane flying very low over the center of the village. Both my friend and I literally fell down on the grass and began laughing at ourselves. (In a forest close to Zagnitkov a cavalry unit camped and in the neighboring village of Alexeievka an artillery unit was situated. So, perhaps that plane delivered to both of them some important information).

At noon a meeting was summoned and all of villagers came to know that the war began. I remember that it was a bolt from the blue for me. All of women including my mother began crying because of such a misfortune. At the same time most of the young villagers became enthusiastic. We were patriots and directed our steps to the voenkomat (the military enrollment and registration office) without delay. Naturally I was rejected as a minor, but a column of men including last night’s graduates left the village.

In order to help our motherland, we, the teens, offered to take part in constructing defense lines. For three weeks we drove during nighttime toward the Ukraine-Moldavia border and constructed the antitank ditches and several reserve trenches on the Dnestr River’s left bank. All of these works were well organized and our nourishment there was plentiful. (To be honest, now I think that there wasn’t a special need for these fortifications – their location was chosen poorly).

The head of our collective farm was summoned to somewhere and my uneducated father substituted for him. At that time our neighbor, who was a wagoner, fell sick and I offer to replace him. My mom categorically didn’t want me to do it but father allowed and I delivered special poles for the wire entanglements.

Not far from us the Red Army field-engineers constructed three pontoon bridges across the Dnestr River for our retreating troops as well as for a lot of Jewish inhabitants who crowded at the opposite bank. However, as soon as these crossings began functioning, a German reconnaissance plane flew in. Soon the bombers flew against the bridges and the parts of destroyed bridges along with people on them floated downstream. A lot of people perished before our eyes...

At that time I was the brigade-leader (elected as the only male in an all-female brigade). We were working on the riverbank under a steep slope and the bombs exploded not far from us. I should confess: it was the first time in my life when I felt a real fear. I pressed myself to the slope and saw the German pilots of the low-level planes laughing – they clearly saw that we were unarmed. So we had to leave that place immediately. My female subordinates helped me with their shovels to climb up the slope, then I took them out one after another.

Not far from that place a paved road lay and a lot of the Red Army weapons and equipment had been densely concentrated there. The German bombers flew in and a bombardment started. We were waiting it through in an orchard and I remember how apples fell on us following each explosion.

Can you imagine our feelings on that day?

Under German and Romanian Occupation

Everybody expected that the German troops would come from the west where we recently dug the defensive fortifications. However, they penetrated our defense somewhat further to the north and just passed round everything that we had prepared. Nevertheless, between Zagnitkov and Alexeievka our units strongly repulsed the enemy. During the battle the outskirts of our village were affected and there were even casualties among the villagers.

Some Red Army units retreated in the Odessa direction. We felt a bitter sorrow seeing how our retreating soldiers looked – tired, exhausted, dirty, with white stains of the dried sweat on their military blouses. They were very hungry as well. Our villagers tried to feed them up. My mom baked bread three times a day for them, we also gave them milk and eggs…

The German troops appeared in our village that afternoon. All our inhabitants hid themselves in basements and cellars. When it became quiet outside I sneaked out of the house and along with several of my friends reached the central part of Zagnitkov. There were also a few adults there.

Initially a group of German motorcyclists drove through. Shortly after an infantry column marched past us, then the armored troop-carriers drove. The Germans wondered at the absence of the Red Army soldiers in Zagnitkov. They also asked us which way had the Soviet troops retreated and departed to follow them.

At the head of the German infantry column was an well-aged gray-headed officer. Unexpectedly I saw our village tailor, a Jew, Gershko Shpigel’ directly approaching the officer while neighbors tried to stop him. Gershko asked the officer about something. Everybody wondered at the ease of Gershko’s manner to have contact with the German. Also his ability to speak German came as a surprise to us.

We stood not far from them but didn’t hear the conversation. We only saw that the German officer smiled and negatively shook his head. Later Gershko told us that his question was: “Is it the truth that the Germans will kill all the Jews?” And the officer calmed Gershko: “It’s just Stalin’s propaganda.”

And what do you think – we still could hear the cannonade when a German sondercommando (a special detachment) arrived. They arrested all local Jews and drove them away. It was said that the prisoners had dug a trench on their own before they were shot there and covered with earth…

There were many Jews in Zagnitkov before the war. Now part of them managed to go into hiding where they could and I definitely know that many villagers helped them. For example my father once encountered Dionis Lapushin in the forest and brought him into our house. We closed windows and took supper. When father suggested Dionis sleep on my bed he unexpectedly refused: “No, no, don’t worry. I’d better sleep under the bed.” The persuasion didn’t help, so we put enough straw on our clay floor for his bedding. The next early morning Dionis said goodbye to us and disappeared again…

After the Germans our new “masters” appeared – the Romanians. What can I say? It was a disgraceful army: all soldiers were dirty and ragged but at the same time they carried their very long rifles with attached bayonets (therefore they looked like short men).

The troops went through and the commandant’s office of two officers and a platoon of soldiers stayed in our village (it was a common office for three neighboring villages).

Do you know, the Romanian administration made our life unbearable. Romanians treated us as terribly as only they could. Initially they expropriated and took out the main collective farm’s property such as livestock and grain. Then they began inspecting the private housekeepings. Seeing the Romanians’ intentions people hid everything. Thereafter our “masters” started to take from people whatever they liked (for example, fur-hats). In that way I was deprived of my wonderful new shoes, a gift from my uncle, and I walked home barefoot. However there weren’t any show executions in Zagnitkov (maybe because all of local Communists abandoned the village beforehand). Nevertheless many of us were beaten unmercifully.

In fact, the Romanians kept our collective farm, they just renamed it into “community” – it helped them to control us easier. They promised to distribute the land among villagers when the war ended. And during entire three years of occupation we worked as members of that “community” for nothing. If only they would give us a kilogram of grain or some money! Everything up to the last bit had been transported under escort from the field direct to the railroad station, then to Romania. There were three water-mills and one windmill in Zagnitkov. Not a sack of grain was ground for these three years! How could our people survive? Only if they managed to hide anything that was edible or to steal it elsewhere. However, if you were caught stealing, a Romanian would beat you till you drop.

Yes, our life was very hard… Local schools were closed. Hungry, ragged, insulted villagers – that was our actual life. Sometimes you just went by a Romanian and got it with a stick in the neck for nothing…

I had an offer to work as a clerk in the administration’s office but I refused. I managed to work as a driver of an ox-drawn wagon. Sometimes I was lucky to put a handful of grain in my pockets.

We didn’t have the very elementary things, even matches. People made a fire with two pebbles. In the morning you look at the roofs of neighboring houses in order to find where the chimney smokes. Then you visit the household and they give you some punky piece…

The lack of salt was our special suffering. You can cook some kasha or soup of grain but you can’t eat it unsalted! I remember that once in 1943 mom told me that Romanians delivered salt to the local store. They didn’t sell it – you could only barter it for some food. Mom gave me a small bag of corn meal for exchange and I went there. There was already a very long line of our villagers near the store. A few tipsy Romanians with leashed police dogs walked along the line. They dragged out two very old men, about eighty years old, and suggested them: “You’d enter the store momentarily if you dance first.” I still remember how they laughed at the miserable “dancers.” (At the same time I don’t remember the result of my own mission).

While the overwhelmingly majority of our villagers hated the Romanian administration, a few of villagers willingly collaborated with the occupiers. I remember an one-handed veteran of the WW-1, who was on the Romanians’ side. Even my classmate and former friend Stepan Mogilevskii collaborated with them. He did it zealously, with all his heart. Stepan was an advanced student but at the same time he behaved like a hooligan and was a harmful teen. Also he hated Jews. Stepan was twice on the verge of being expelled from school but each time a group of parents stood up for him and he remained in our class. Also I know that Stepan was drafted after we were liberated. I don’t know whether he had fought at the front but soon after the war Stepan served in the railroad militia. He was caught taking away some goods from peasant passengers under the threat of arresting them. Stepan was arrested and our village received a letter of inquiry from the judicial investigators. They had asked the village council to send them the Stepan Mogilevskii’s testimonial and I revealed in it what a person he was (I was the secretary of our village council at that time).

Stepan was sentenced to a relatively short imprisonment. I knew where he lived after being in jail and I had several opportunities to visit that locality. However, I had absolutely no intention to see Stepan…

During the Romanian occupation several of our villagers became policemen. All of them were good people who tried not to harm anybody. Moreover, they always tried to help anybody. Therefore, after we were liberated all villagers spoke favorably of the former policemen. There were no criminal prosecutions against them…

There were in the village a couple of real traitors. I’d mention just two villagers of that kind whom I remember: Zhurba and Piletskii. They were actively loyal to the new rule and caused much harm to our villagers. After our village was liberated both traitors had been judged and then taken away. Piletskii had a son, Sergey, born in 1925. After the war he appeared in Zagnitkov being a junior lieutenant. His father’s fate was a surprise for Sergey. As far as I know, at that time he was demoted but what happened to him later is unknown to me…

As I had already narrated, most local Jews were shot by the German sondercommando. However, on that day several Jews managed to hide. What happened to them under Romanian occupation? First of all, some of them were hidden in our villagers’ homes. Then, I definitely know that out of my numerous Jewish classmates only two girls survived – Zhenia Shpigel’ and Tasia Fel’dman. I also know some more facts.

Once in winter my father being in the forest caught his sight of marks left in snow by the unshod feet. He followed these marks and found in a pile of brushwood our Jewish villager lady Enia. She began crying: “Uncle Dmytro! Don’t give me away…” Father calmed her, gave Enia his footcloths to wrap her bare feet and led her to the bee-garden in the old orchard. Enia was put into a lodge there. Soon he brought some food for her and Enia spent the night there. I don’t know where Enia hid later but she came through the war. I remember her postwar exclamation: “Our villagers are very kind people! In any other settlement I would be given away.”

By the way, there was in Zagnitkov one more lady Enia of Jewish origin. Long before the war she married a Ukrainian and had been baptized under name Efrosinia. Only her Jewish accent could disclose her, and the Romanians began finding fault with her origin. However, the villagers stood up for her so actively that the Romanians left her alone.

I remember one occasion in Zagnitkov when a local Jew was given away. My Jewish classmate Liusia Shpayer’s father had filed some profitable post that we ironically called in Russian a “warm place.” Before the war the Shpayers lived in clover, they even had a housemaid, and Liusia’s mother was so fat that she couldn’t walk without somebody’s assistance. Liusia was a beautiful girl, the best pupil in our class. When it became clear that the Romanians exterminated Jews, her father turned to his good acquaintance whose unmarried son Andrey hadn’t been called up for the Red Army service because of some health problem. Liusia’s father said: “My wife and I are doomed to death and the only chance to save Liusia is to marry her to your Andrey. If you agree I give you everything I own right up to the pants that I’m wearing…” Actually, a traditional Orthodox wedding ceremony had come about and Liusia began wearing usual Ukrainian women clothes. She became indistinguishable from other young female villagers. The couple existed for a short time. Evidently someone reported her to the Romanians. They took her to the same place were many Jews were killed by Germans. Liusia had been shot there as well…

After the war a monument to our killed Jewish villagers had been set up at the local cemetery…

Now a little about religious matters. According to the Soviet district administration’s decree, our church stopped functioning in 1939. The Romanians reopened it and brought their priest. I don’t know where they unearthed such a person: almost an invalid, cross-eyed, beggarly looking. Moreover, he preached in Romanian.

Once my mom’s friend lady Maria visited us and they had a long talk. Later my parents told me: “As lady Maria asserts, there is in the church a list of teens who didn’t attend public worships and you, Vania, are named in that list. The Romanian suspected these teens of being Komsomol members…” Since then I began attending the worships.

Let me turn to another topic – the underground actions. Up to me, there wasn’t a real underground in our Zagnitkov. Nevertheless, some unofficial breaking news from the front reached the villagers. It was spread secretly, whispering in neighbor’s ear. For example we knew about the Red Army victories near Moscow and in Stalingrad.

As a teen I didn’t hear a word about local guerillas but some facts made me sure that they acted. Two times the building of the local commandant’s office was damaged in a strong fire. Also not far from Zagnitkov a few freight trains were derailed.

Liberation. Military College

It was being felt that the front line became quite close to our village. In one wonderful morning of March 1944 father brought breaking news: the commandant’s office was already empty. Soon we got to know that the Romanians had time to burn to ashes the jail with political prisoners inside in the town of Rybnitsa. I’m sure that nothing of what have they done shall be forgotten

There weren’t serious battles in our locality, only rare short skirmishes took place. As I remember, our people bumped into an injured Red Army scout in the field. They picked him up and rendered first aid.

It is impossible to express in words the elation that gripped everybody in the village. People greeted the Soviet soldiers like their sons and brothers. We showed them the way where the Germans retreated. Some villagers even accompanied the troops as guides.

In a week or so I already was in the voenkomat as a member of a group of twelve local guys born in 1926, which were dispatched to military college in the town of Novograd-Volynskii. What was the reason to select me to that group? I think there were three factors: a Komsomol member; a guy decorated before the war with “Voroshilov’s Marksman;” I was the tallest and the strongest one among guys of my age.

Novograd-Volynskii was recently liberated and we were settled in some smashed up caserne without windows and doors. Seemingly there was a German military sewing workshop there – numerous ends and odds of German uniform were scattered all over the floor. Everyone made a bedding of them and put a brick for pillows – that was his bed. Every night the air alarm awoke us.

The study in the college was very intense it lasted all day long. I think that we were given enough important knowledge and skills. There were even movable targets at the training ground.

I was lucky to be trained by very good and experienced instructors in the college. They were hearty men, who tried to train us to the best of their abilities and treated us like their children. For example, the training company commander Abramov was recently disabled after injury at the front. Both our sergeant-majors, Podkovyrkin and Cherepanov, former frontline warriors, helped us as much as they could, they also deserved kind words.

At the same time the commander of the other training company was a young Armenian. You had no reason to take offense at him: he demanded everything from the cadets just according to regulations but how did he exhaust his company! It was pitifully to see the show. I remember how he demanded from them a cheerful marching song after the hard field training, while everybody was exhausted and overladen like a donkey. Moreover, the road was entirely sandy – each step wasn’t easy to perform… I can’t forget his shout: “I don’t see the spark in you!” Such a dry-as-dust and inhuman officer!

However, our study came to the end in some three weeks: our college was urgently dispatched to help the regular troops in the Korsun’-Shevchenkovskii area, where a big German force had been encircled.

It was a season of terrible roads – snow, mud… We were mixed with common soldiers and directed to form a defense line. We dug everything needed and held that line. Although there weren’t intense fights at that section of defense, we suffered there our first casualties. Nevertheless, we didn’t let the enemy pass through. That was my baptism of fire…

After that we returned to Novograd-Volynskii. There was a special formation summoned, and the chief of the college said: “Now you are battle-hardened warriors and you are ready to defense our Motherland!” All of us were given the rank of senior sergeant. Then we received the dry rations. The college’s small brass orchestra took part in the farewell ceremony. When the martial music sounded, many of us shed tears. Then we made for the front.

We marched toward the front only by night. Once the “buyers” appeared, and we found ourselves in different units. In such a way I became a military man of the 522nd Rifle Regiment of the 107th Rifle Division of the 60th Army of the 1st Ukrainian Front.

At the Front.

I was appointed the platoon commander and straight off we went into combat actions. We liberated the cities and towns of Shepetovka, Kremenets, Ternopol’ and many other settlements of Khmel’nitskii and Ternopol’ oblast’s. Kremenets and Ternopol’ were destroyed more than in half, never before and nevermore did I see such ruins. After the liberation of the L’vov oblast’ including the city of L’vov, we reached the Polish border near the city of Pshemysl’.

While in Poland, we tried to break through with a rush the defense line near the city of Zheshuv but failed. We lost many tanks during that attack. Then our battalion performed a successful reconnaissance attack. It was a high-priced success: only seven soldiers remained in my platoon. (I was awarded with the medal “For the Bravery” for that battle, however, our HQ hadn’t medals available – so I received just a certificate. Later it got wet in my pocket and finally became unreadable. So I remained without that medal). I think that a reconnaissance attack is a reasonable combat operation. It makes it possible to uncover the enemy’s weapon emplacements and to estimate its strength. As to losses, you can’t win the war bloodlessly…

After the mentioned mission we were shifted to the near rear for reinforcements, so other units realized the break through of the Zheshuv defense line.

Then we continued fighting in Poland. For the forced crossing of the Visla River and seizing the Sandomir bridgehead here many of us were decorated. For example, our company commander was recommended for the highest status of Hero of Soviet Union and I was awarded with the medal “For the Bravery.” What can I say regarding these fights? It was like an iron rain. Although we suffered numerous losses, we were lucky when being wet through and dog-tired we reached the opposite riverbank. While we were taking positions and trenching in there, my soldiers called me to look at an Italian soldier, who was chained to a machine gun. Thank God that he didn’t fire! The Italian began weeping and explaining with fingers that he is a father of three. Our guards led him to the rear…

We stayed some four months at the bridgehead. During that period we fortified our positions well although the Germans didn’t attack us. Instead they often transmitted by loudspeaker special propaganda broadcasts that urged us to give ourselves up.

Only on 12 January we started the offensive. The artillery bombardment before the attack was so powerful that some of our “freshmen” made water into their trousers…

We went ahead and there were victorious fights every day. It was said at that period “The Germans taught us how to advance, in return we taught them how to retreat.”

Next were successful fights for the encirclement of the Polish city of Krakow. Shortly after we began chasing the enemy there the reconnaissance reported that at the German rear some “camp of death” exists, where prisoners were incinerated.

A combined temporary detachment had been formed: about thirty tanks with six to eight armed to the teeth riflemen sitting on each tank. We were also given dry rations before setting off for the mission. On 26 January the attachment broke through the German defense and advanced toward their rear without any resistance. Occasionally we met some German trucks and destroyed them right on the spot. Our column got deeper into the German rear for forty something kilometers and encircled the camp and neutralized its armed guard. Then we dug our tanks in and the next morning our units reached the camp. As it turned out that camp was one of a group of camps named Osventsim # … (Osventsim is Auschwitz in German). In the entire Osventsim camp formations around four millions of people were annihilated.

As a participant of that raid I was awarded with the 3rd Class Order of Glory. I also know that the commander of that tank raid was Zharchinskii, a former principal of a high school in Moldavia…

On 2 February we forced the Oder (Odra – in Polish) River. It was not so wide there but its current was rapid and water was muddy and yellow. And on 6 February somewhere behind the city of Breslau I was injured. We attacked some small settlement. The roofs of its buildings were covered with red-white tiles. Perhaps some German HQ was situated in the settlement because the fire of long-range artillery prevented our attack. While saving myself from an explosion I dove into a shell-hole that was full of water. Of course, I got wet to the skin. We continued to try to advance and suddenly I felt that some mysterious force pressed me to the earth and at that moment a heavy shell exploded nearby… I don’t remember anything after that. I lost consciousness and came to my senses in a hospital. As it turned out I was injured in the left forearm and in the right ankle. One more fragment of a shell touched the top of my head. Besides, I was seriously shell-shocked…

Reminiscences and Reflections of the War

Let me start with the strongest feeling that I experienced at the front.

It is an inexplicable phenomenon or a mysterious fact that I came through the war. Indeed, many times I experienced such combat situations that I certainly was on the verge of being killed in action. I still don’t know who or what guided me – my fate or something else? Although I had been baptized in my infancy, I grew up a non-believer and in the wartime I didn’t wear a cross on my chest. The only item that could be considered as some kind of my talisman was the red handkerchief. My classmate, a good friend of mine, embroidered it with affecting words “To Vania as a token of remembrance.” She handed it in to me when I was leaving for the war.

I participated in three forced crossings over rivers. Now it is difficult even to imagine but at that time we didn’t feel anything special as if we were injected with some tranquilizer. I also remember that my overcoat was perforated in several places…

My only one hope was – let the damned war come to the end sooner.

In the next paragraphs I’d like to mention my closest frontline friends. As you may remember, there were twelve of our villagers who entered the military college. Only eight of them were dispatched to the front after the graduation. (One of the four was an excellent shoemaker, the second was a musician, and the third was a wonderful singer. The fourth of them deserves a special explanation. He was the worst cadet in the college, our officers-instructors rebuked him constantly. As a result of his poor progress in studies he was given the rank of just private first class and remained to serve in the college. He didn’t see the front at all).

And we, the eight villagers, tried to keep in touch during the combat period. Of course, each of us had his own platoon, his own duties. Sometimes you receive your friend’s conveyed hello or breaking bad news...

My best friends were my former classmates Kolia Kirsanov and Gavriil Kravets. We also studied at the military college together and were platoon commanders in the same battalion. My dear friend Kolia Kirsanov perished in action on 12 January 1945 in Poland near the city of Krakow. And Gavriusha Kravets was seriously injured. Later he rose to the rank of captain. We didn’t see each other for some thirty years but then we managed to exchange letters with each other and ultimately our unforgettable meetings took place…

Now I’d like to devote several paragraphs to the commanders.

I never saw our division commander Petrenko but by all accounts he was a good commander. Our regiment commander was Kul’chitskii; I don’t remember anything special regarding him. The well-aged battalion commander Kompaniets was like a father for us. There was something wrong with his feet, he could hardly walk. Usually we saw him on horseback. Nevertheless, he often visited our trenches and checked everything there. As I remember it, Kompaniets was decorated with the Kutuzov Order.

I saw our Front’s Commander Konev twice. Once he visited us on the occasion of handing the awards to our warriors before the solemn formation of our division. Many of us wondered why that high ranked commander arrived in the dangerous first-line zone. By all accounts Konev was a good military leader. At that time we didn’t hear a bad word about any Soviet commander of the highest level. For example, about Zhukov – we knew: Zhukov always brings the victory. Even Stalin took account of Zhukov. Of course, you can read all sorts of far-fetched and discreditable information yet.

Of course, my brightest memories concern my direct commanders. How wonderful was our company commander Kalabashkin! He was very young, a Muscovite born in 1923. Being a handsome and cheerful guy, he always crooned some song while walking, and we looked at him admiringly. I remember him wearing a green military blouse made of English cloth with several attached decorations. Instead of the greatcoat he just threw a waterproof cape over his shoulders. His terrible death was already just around the corner…

It happened one night in Poland. After a strong fight we were shifted to the nearby rear and fell deeply asleep. The sleep, not the food, was the only thing that we dreamed about in the trenches. So, during that night Kalabashkin, his orderly, a sergeant-major who was the Communist Party group organizer, and the cook along with his field-kitchen – all four men disappeared! Next day we went ahead and soon found Kalabashkin’s and the sergeant-major’s brutally bayoneted bodies. Nobody else was found. Unforgettable Kalabashkin was a cheerful and kind man. Soldiers liked him very much…

In general, I consider that I was lucky to deal with good people in my life, no matter where I had found myself. For example, since our first days in the rifle regiment the experienced soldiers treated us like their children – helped, supported, advised…

I took very hard the death of each frontline warrior. It was even unbelievable: just now both of you ate soup from one mess kit and now he is killed… Do you know, we got used to the deaths at the front line quite quickly. I was very young at that time but had never cried. Only being well-aged I became somewhat tearful, especially while watching some touching movie or hearing a popular song of war times…

Some people asked me to tell them what in the war gave the strongest impression to me and I answer confidently – the Osventsim. As you understand, I saw at the war a lot of blood and deaths around me, and everything was terrible, everybody deserved pity. However, when we saw in Osventsim these miserable children – it was something else. It was absolutely impossible to look at them: entirely ragged; their heads looking enormous on their famished little bodies; their eyes looking like two yellow onions… Watching that sorry sight you can’t think that they were born for life… And what a heavy smell was in the barracks… I often remembered Osventsim after the war in day-dream and in my sleep… Let me change the topic because I’m feeling bad while remembering Osventsim’s horrors.

I should only note that we didn’t punish the captured guards of the camp. We just transferred them to our HQ. I don’t know their further fate.

Although my combat experience was not as long, I’d like to share with you some more of my general reflections about the war.

- I already mentioned that I was lucky to deal with good people in my life. I would say the same regarding our military political workers. Our divisional Political Department managed to organize a few concerts for the troops. A truck was the stage and different actors, opera singers, and some variety performers entertained us. These concerts helped the warriors to relax and elated them.

I want to mention our well-aged Communist Party group organizer separately. In our company he was held in common respect for his kindness. He had been brutally murdered along with the company commander Kalabashkin.

As you know, the highest Soviet politician was Stalin. I still believe in him now as I believed at the war. I don’t justify his severe repressions but a lot of achievements that the country realized under Stalin and his personal modesty made mе a Stalin supporter.

- There were people of different ethnic origin in our company. Most were Russians and Ukrainians. Among the latter we had a few soldiers drafted in Western Ukraine, we called them zapadentsy (the Westerns). I’m a native Ukrainian, too, but they were somewhat different, even their language differed from mine. Nevertheless, we got on perfectly with each other and never separated them. I remember two zapadentsy who were excellent warriors – Zhuk, the hand machine gunner, and Maletskii, the “Maxim” machine gunner. I remember that after a strong fight Maletskii was decorated with the 2nd Class Order of the Patriotic War. I also remember that our PTR (anti-tank rifle) crew consisted of two Azerbaijanis: Aliev and Tuftaliev. They always made everybody laugh when they pretend to complain: “Just a small mess kit – for two of us. Why then is a heavy PTR for two of us as well?”

Despite our company’s multi-national composition we lived like brothers, without any conflicts. And generally, such brotherhood, mutual aid and friendship you could find only at the front line.

- In general, all our soldiers tried to contribute their individual share to our common Victory. Soldiers of my age didn’t even think of being captured, and so I was – I always kept one hand grenade for myself. Nevertheless, there were rare cowards and even deserters among our troops. Here is a story about one of them.

At that time we were holding defense at the Sandomir bridgehead. Sometimes the Germans broadcasted trough a loudspeaker funny “invitations,” namely: “Ivan, come here. I’ll give you a cigarette since your bitter tobacco came to an end!” Or: “Ivan, come here. I’ll pour for you 100 grams of vodka since your flask is dry for many days!” One of our zapadentsy newcomers believed the broadcast and decided to go. He was a tall bald-headed man aged around forty. That night our reconnaissance group entered the no-man’s-land and he followed their route. When the deserter bumped into their ambush he took them for Germans and shouted “Hail Hitler!” The recons escorted him back. The next day he was executed before the regimental formation… There was the only case of that sort in our unit.

- What can I say about German soldiers, their armament and Germany itself?

First of all the German soldiers should be given their due for the discipline and combat readiness. In fights German troops mostly relied on their combat experience, while we usually pinned our hopes on “hurrah” neglecting our losses.

Their armament was good. I had never used it but once Ostap Rogovets, my subordinate, made use of a seized German machine gun: his fire repulsed the enemy’s attack. After the fight Ostap praised that machine gun.

In comparison with us the Germans were very well equipped and supplied. When a German soldier became a prisoner you could find anything in his knapsack: bread, cookies, rum, even butter and honey.

No rage and no spite remained in me toward Germans. Both the German soldiers and we were just soldiers and carried out our commanders’ orders respectively. I don’t hold evil on the Romanian people except those who treated us so cruelly. During the war we had a special strict order regarding how to treat the POWs. The order prohibited killing or torturing any prisoner. I never saw anything of that sort.

It was noticeable that the living standard in Germany was definitely higher than in our country. So were also solid buildings and perfect roads. As a forester’s son, I paid special attention to German forests. They were well-groomed everywhere. On the other hand, the German soil is far not as fertile as ours is.

- I should say that we were supplied with armament and ammunition very well. My personal weapon was the PPSh (Shpagin submachine gun). It was a wonderful armament for that time. I remember one episode that happened on the outskirts of some small town. The Germans unexpectedly appeared nearby and I mowed them down point-blank. At that juncture my PPSh didn’t put me in a spot. Its only weak point was that a grain of sand disabled the PPSh. I don’t know how many Germans I killed in that fighting. I never made such a calculation.

In contrast to how we were fed while being cadets of the military college the food supply at the front was quite good, too. In that college we were supplied by the small rear rations, moreover, all meals were cooked disgustingly. It was just unbearable.

And at the front, in my opinion, we were fed well. Of course, usually our meals were tediously unvarying but quite ample. To tell you truth, I wasn’t a big eater during the war, maybe some soldiers weren’t so satisfied with food as I was. (Instead, I was a big smoker at the front).

Sometimes because of the combat situation our field-kitchen was unable to deliver the food to us, and we had no choice but to turn to local residents for something edible. I remember that people in Poland lived poorly, often without bread. Nevertheless, they gave us potatoes, sour or whole milk, and even milk soup. (In general, the Poles treated us somewhat cool, without warm greetings).

In mid January 1945 I became a commissioned officer in the rank of lieutenant, it also meant that I’ll receive an additional officer’s ration. Simultaneously I received the officer’s uniform including boots instead of shoes. I continued to wear the helmet. I used it not only to protect my head, but also as a scoop when my foxhole was half-waterlogged. Since the day when I became an officer my money allowance increased. There was no need of cash at the front so the entire amount of my monthly allowance was transferred to my personal saving-bank account.

- When I remember myself in a combat period I see a guy who was wet or sweaty or being chilled to the bone and was ever dirty and unwashed. Of course, at the first opportunity everybody tried to execute at least some primitive hygienic procedure. The most uncomfortable consequence of our grubbiness could be lice. Fortunately we were free of lice – it was a subject of regular examination. Quite often we were temporary shifted from trenches to a near rear for washing ourselves. On a chosen place in a forest each of us received a small wash-tub of hot water. You break several piny twigs for bedding under your feet, get on it and wash yourself. Only after finishing these procedures and drying yourself with a towel you would receive the clean underwear. Then you dressed yourself and the sergeant-major would give you 100 grams of vodka – you feel warmth as if you are on the Russian oven…

By the way, I want to express some alcohol-related reminiscences. As I remember, we had received the vodka ration only in winter. And I never saw a drunken soldier in a battle. More dangerous problem was alcohol-related poisoning.

When we liberated the Polish city of Krakow, many tank-wagons full of alcohol stood at the railroad station. Our Red Army soldiers pounced on them with mess kits or metal mugs in their hands. It was impossible to stop them. Those, who overdid their drinking remained on the spot (some of my platoon, too). That was the only case, never more did something like this happen. When I was transported to the hospital after being injured and later in the Priluki hospital I saw many soldiers who became blind from methyl alcohol. Some of them just cried, others hoped that their children would take care of them…

- There were among us those who loved looting. They inspected both deserted houses and the dead soldiers’ pockets. Most popular objects of their search were watches. Some looters collected dozens of cheap German die-cast wrist- and pocket watches. (At that time not many people in the USSR, especially in the rural area, possessed a watch and it was a sign of prestige to carry one).

A Temporary Disabled War Veteran. My Work and Late Retirement

On 6 February 1945 I was delivered to a hospital in the Polish city of Krakow where I had an occasion to see our “All-Union Seniorman” M. I. Kalinin. It turned out that he looked just like we got used to seeing him at his photos. Kalinin rounded there wards and cubicles and asked injured patients how were their families doing, what were their problems. Kalinin’s assistants noted down all requests.

Later I was transferred to Ukraine in the city of Priluki, evaco-hospital # 1932. I remember that there were many young women in the hospital’s staff – nurses and medical orderlies. There was a permanent shortage of blood for the blood transfusion at that time. And these girls were the main blood-donors. In the morning you would see her smiling, pink-cheeked and a few hours later she looked tired, almost turned blue.

(By the way, I can’t comment on different stories related to the “campaign wives” at the front. The fact is that there weren’t couples of such sort at the level of platoon commanders, at least in our regiment).

I wasn’t treated in the Priluki hospital to a full recovery. The matter was concerned with my mother’s poor health. She had a serious stomach ulcer. Father sent me a letter: “Vania, if you can, come home, mother is near death…” I produced the letter to the chief of the surgical division captain of the medical service Shuvalova but she refused: “By no means! Your forearm and ankle are still in a plaster…”

In every ward and cubicle of the Priluki hospital we had a radio loudspeaker. In a day or two after my meeting with Shuvalova everybody heard the long-awaited announcement of the capitulation of Germany. I’m unable to express in words the elation which gripped all of us… It was something absolutely special… Exclamations, weeping… Pillows, cups, even crutches flew up to a ceiling…

In some week or two a session of the committee that discharged recovered patients took place. During their meeting I walked here and there along the hallway and when the session came to the end I entered the room.

- What do you want, sonny? – some doctor asked me.

- I want home.

- You’ll never do it! You should be treated and treated…

At that moment Shuvalova said:

- His situation is a special one. I read the letter…

The committee went to meet me! Because I still couldn’t speak normally after being shell-shocked they qualified me to the first group of the disabled within one year. Instead of plaster my doctor put on some brackets and I left the hospital accompanied by a nurse. That was my end of the war…

I remember that day, May 23, in details. When we reached our family’s house the front door was open but I was afraid to enter not knowing what kind of news is waiting for me… In a moment father rushed out of the door and embraced me warmly… He gave us some refreshment and the next morning we went to the Kodyma railroad station. The nurse left back for Priluki and we had difficulties to reach Kotovsk, where my mom was treated in the local hospital. There weren’t normal trains in that direction so we boarded a freight train consisting of tank-wagons. We found a place at a short platform. As we stopped at Slobodka station, a militia (Soviet police) sergeant-major pulled us off and began finding fault with my father: “You are a law breaker…” He escorted us to the local militia-office. An easy-tempered middle-aged junior lieutenant was sitting there. You know, I was so hurt: just two days after the hospital, with blood oozing through the bandages, having all needed papers… The junior lieutenant sympathized with us. He drove out the sergeant-major from the suite and calmed me, gave me a glass of water. Then he helped us to board the next freight train.

In Kotovsk we visited the hospital: my mom was so weak after the surgery that she didn’t even recognize me. We three together returned home in two weeks…

As soon as I returned home, the head of the village council offered me to be the council secretary. After some hesitations regarding my wound and the terrible malaria agues, I accepted the post. There were only few men in the village, most either perished or were invalids. There wasn’t a man to work at the council. At the same time I agreed to hold one more office: to be a head of the local military registration board.

At that time my entire financial position was 16 000 rubles in the saving-bank account. Don’t think that it was a big sum. Everywhere in the country was such a ruin and famine, so one kilogram of grain cost more than 60 rubles. Not long before my marriage I bought a suit for 4 700 rubles. (I wore it during our wedding ceremony, however there were still my military boots on my feet: I couldn’t afford new shoes).

Along with others I was an eyewitness of the famine 1946-1947. At that time all Soviet peasants hadn’t passports or other identity certificates. So, they were unable to depart from their village anywhere because the paper examination was set up everywhere. Nevertheless, after seeing in the village council office many visitors who were swollen from starvation and knowing how the elderly people and especially children suffered from undernourishment, I dared myself to break the law. I had access to the official seal for legal documents and once when my chief left the village for some business trip, I wrote out and affixed the seal to about two hundred identity cards. Almost all of the people who had these cards went to the Western Ukraine, which wasn’t affected by famine. Unfortunately, quite soon the railroad militia discovered that inexplicably many travelers were from the same village, namely Zagnitkovo. I was unmasked. My chief experienced troubles, and I received a strong written scolding as a punishment. It was quite a safe end for these times…

I executed the mentioned duties in the village for four years running until the share-holders of our local consumers’ cooperative elected me the manager (I didn’t want to – but they persuaded me). I worked there diligently and we even won the all-district contest. Nevertheless I didn’t like that work and decided to follow in my father’s footsteps – to become a forestry specialist.

I was taken by the two-year forestry school in Moldavia. After the graduation I was dispatched to the Kotovsk Mechanized Forestry (KMF) as a divisional technician. It was a hard (we started there from nothing) but fruitful work during ten years running. Our KMF won the all-Union contests several times. Then it remained only to work calmly. However, the Moldavian Republic Minister of Forestry recommended me for a promotion. I resisted as hard as I could but they forced me to capitulate.

Again I had to start from zero level. That was the Bozieny Forestry where I worked for 25 years…

Besides my official duties many times after the war I was invited to speak at public meetings as a veteran of the Great Patriotic War. For example, in 1977 on the occasion of the Red Army Day I took the floor at the Culture House of the village of Bozieny, Kotovsk district. I narrated where and how I fought including my participation in the liberation of the concentration camp Osventsim. The next day a local inhabitant Guriuk Dmitrii Fedorovich, born in 1911, went up to me and tearfully narrated me his odyssey. He had been drafted in 1944 after Bozieny was liberated.

In a combat at the front Dmitrii was captured and shortly before the end of the war their group of prisoners was transferred to Osventsim. And just on their point of being placed into the oven, we liberated the camp! Guriuk told me: “Yesterday, while listening your speech, I was crying constantly…” Can you imagine, we were neighbors for 17 years but didn’t know how close at hand the fate had brought us together… Since then on when we met each other tears welled up in our eyes.

Our village lost almost one thousand inhabitants during the war. Being the head of the local military registration board, I organized the reburial of warriors who perished on the territory of our village. We found 27 scattered individual graves and reburied the remains in a common grave. 20 names were etched on the obelisk, seven fallen soldiers lie nameless. Later in the center of the village a fine monument was set up to the memory of our fallen villagers. All their names were etched on the monument.

Our family was lucky: all of us came through the war. My older brother Alexander, born in 1923, although covered with wounds, returned alive. He fought as a scout and was decorated many times.

I ‘d like to note that the participants of the Great Patriotic War were beyond the attention of the Soviet mass media during several years after the end of the war. It was inexplicable and even offensive… Sergey Smirnov, a writer and a Central TV-journalist raised that topic and roused the audience of many millions. In all mass media appeared columns such as “Veterans, respond!” I read these columns regularly and finally in 1977 I had written a response with my address to some Western Ukraine newspaper (our last reinforcements at the front were from that area). In some six months one soldier of my platoon, Zhuk by name, responded to me. Soon another, Maletskii by name, made himself heard. Do you know, they were my subordinates at the front but I had associated with them just a little. However when we met each other after the war we were like brothers. It turned out that both of them were injured shortly after me, therefore, I still don’t know where our division had fought up to the Victory Day, as well as who of my frontline friends had come through the war…

I retired only in 1985 – my health began “floundering” sometimes.

My wife and I brought up three children. We have now six grandchildren and even five great-grandchildren.

Interviewed, recorded and initially edited the Russian text by N. Chobanu.

Finally edited the Russian text and translated it into English by I. Kobylyanskiy.

Edited the English text by T. Marvin.

1926年8月6日我生于乌克兰苏维埃社会主义共和国敖德萨州科迪姆区的扎格涅特科夫镇，该镇处在乌克兰与摩尔多瓦苏维埃社会主义共和国的交界附近。我们家是非常普通的农民家庭。最初我父亲是集体农庄的生产队长，后来他成了看林人，我妈妈是一个普通的集体农庄庄员。家里有三个孩子：两个男孩和一个女孩，我是最小的一个。

在战争爆发前夕我们家的生活还算美满，我得说，挺不错的；我们不缺任何东西。我们镇很大—大约有16000名居民。镇里有四个集体农庄，都很繁荣。

1941年6月21日晚上，我哥哥刚从高等学校毕业，正在和他的同学们一起庆祝。那是在镇公园渡过的一个美好的假日。日常生活是如此的平和然而战争打破了一切……

在我们镇有一个俱乐部。当地的年轻人都很喜欢到那里休闲。我们经常在那里下跳棋、听别人唱歌或者有其他的什么娱乐。在那个礼拜天早晨我们在俱乐部的后院里：我正在玩着单杠，我朋友则在爬一棵樱桃树。因为是边境地带所以军用飞机很少飞临我们镇，但是当时我们看到一家苏联飞机以极低的高度飞过镇中心。我和我的朋友都摔到了草堆里，然后互相嘲笑对方。（在扎格涅特科夫镇附近的森林里有一个骑兵部队的军营而在邻近的阿列克谢耶卡镇部署着一支炮兵部队。所以那架飞机可能是去给两支部队传达什么重要的文件。）

下午的时候镇里召开了一次大会，所有前来开会的人们都得知战争爆发的消息我记得那对我来说是一个突发事件。包括我妈妈在内的所有妇女都为这一灾难而哭泣。同时大多数年轻人都群情激昂起来。我们都是爱国主义者，大家立刻一起赶往voenkomat（军事登记注册办公室，苏联的地方军事机构，字面意义可以理解为军事委员会，一般设在市或者州一个级别，主要职责为发布动员令，征召预备役人员，体检，预备役人员的登记与训练，授奖，预备役人员档案的保管等—译者注）。很自然的我因为未成年而被拒之门外，但是许多男人包括那些昨晚才毕业的学生都离开了镇子。

为了挽救我们的祖国，我们这些少年们，被征集起来参加构筑防御工事的劳动。在三周的时间里我们在晚上被送到乌克兰-摩尔多瓦边境，在德涅斯特河的左岸构筑反坦克壕和许多工事。所有的施工都组织的很好，而且给我们提供了丰富的营养。（实事求是得说，现在我觉得那些防御工事的构筑不是很必要—那个地点选的很糟糕）。

集体农庄的领导被召到了别的地方，我那个没怎么读过书的父亲接替了他的职务。当时我们的邻居，是个车夫，生病了，要我顶他的班。我妈妈特别不情愿但我爸爸批准了，我的工作是运输那些构建铁丝网所需的材料。

在离我们不远的地方红军的野战工兵部队在德涅斯特河上架起了三座浮桥，我军后撤的部队通过浮桥撤退，同时还有很多犹太人拥挤在河的对岸。然而，正当军民开始渡河的时候，一架德军侦察机临空。很快德军轰炸机前来轰炸浮桥，那些被炸断的浮桥连通上边的人一起漂到了下游。许多人就在我们眼前死去……

当时我是工作队的队长（因为整个队里除了我之外都是女人）。我们当时在一段陡坡下边的河岸干活，炸弹爆炸的地方离我们不愿。我得承认的是：那是我一生中第一次感觉到恐惧的时候。我奋力爬上了斜坡，看见了低空飞行的德国飞机中飞行员的笑脸—他们很清楚的看到我们手无寸铁。因此我们必须立即撤离该地。我的那些女队员们靠我拉着她们的铁锹爬上了河岸，我把她们一个一个的都拉了上来。

离那个地方不远有一条公路，上边密密麻麻的挤满了红军的武器装备。德军轰炸机立即飞临轰炸。我们在一个果园里等着，我还记得每一颗炸弹爆炸的时候就有苹果落在我们身上。

你能想象我们那天的感受么？

在德国和罗马尼亚占领下的生活

所有人都期望着德国军队自西袭来撞上我们构筑的那些防御工事。然而他们从该防线更北部的地方实施了突破，正好绕过了我们给这些家伙准备好的一切防御。然而，在扎格涅特科夫与阿列克谢耶卡之间的地带，我军狠狠地教训了敌人。战斗波及到了我们那个镇子的郊区，甚至平民也出现了伤亡。

一些红军部队撤到了敖德萨方向。当我们看到红军士兵撤退的情景感到极其痛苦—疲惫不堪、精疲力竭、肮脏的军用背包上布满了干涸的白色五点。他们同时也饥肠辘辘。我们村里的平民给他们提供不少吃的东西。我妈妈为了他们一天烤了三次面包，我们也给了他们一些牛奶和鸡蛋……

德军在当天下午占领了我们镇。所有居民都藏进了地下室和地窖。当外边平静下来的时候我和我的几个伙伴一起偷偷的跑出了家，来到扎格涅特科夫镇中心，那也有几个成年人。

最开始是一群德军摩托车穿行而过。紧随其后是步兵纵队，然后开过来的是装甲输送车。德国人对于扎格涅特科夫没有红军感到很惊讶。他们也问我们苏军是向哪个方向撤退的并且紧随其后展开追击。

在德军步兵队列前列的是一个年纪比较大的灰白头发的军官。我惊讶的看见镇里的裁缝，犹太人格尔什科施皮格尔不顾一个邻居的阻拦直接向那个德国军官走过去。格尔什科去问那个军官什么事情。所有人都惊讶的看着格尔什科无所拘束的和德国人交谈。同时我们也很惊讶于他会说德语。

我们站在离他们不远的地方但听不到他们在说什么。我们只看见那个德国军官微笑着摇了摇头。过了一会儿格尔什科告诉我们他问：“德国人要屠杀所有的犹太人是不是真的？”那个军官镇定的告诉格尔什科：“那不过是斯大林的宣传而已。”

接下来你会想些什么呢？当德军的sondercommando（特遣队）抵达的时候一直听到跑向。他们搜捕了当地所有的犹太人并押往别处。据说这些囚犯在被射杀以前会被迫给自己挖掘墓穴，之后就被掩埋起来……

战前扎格涅特科夫住着许多犹太人。现在其中的一些人设法前往任何找得到的藏身之所，而且我清楚的记得许多村民都帮助了他们。比如有一次我父亲在森林里遇到了迪奥尼斯拉普辛并把他带回了家。我们把窗户关上以后开始吃完饭。当我爸爸建议他睡在我的床上的时候，他居然拒绝了：“不，不，没关系的。我最好睡在床底下。”我们没能说服他，只好把稻草铺在地上给他当褥子用。第二天早晨迪奥尼斯向我们告别后又消失了……

在德国人之后我们的新“主子”出现了—罗马尼亚人。我能说什么？那是一支为人所不齿的军队：所有的士兵都脏兮兮的，而且衣衫褴褛，但同时又背着上了刺刀的长长的步枪（结果就是他们看上去像矮人一样）。

这支部队检查之后，其指挥部里的两名军官和一个排的士兵驻扎在我们镇里（在邻近的三个村庄里也有类似的占领机构）。你知道么，罗马尼亚统治者让我们民不聊生。罗马尼亚人对我们极其残酷。起初他们征用并运走了集体农庄诸如牲畜和谷物之类的大部分财产。然后他们开始搜查私人的财务。人们在明白罗马尼亚人是怎么回事以后开始把一切东西都藏起来。从那以后我们的“主子”开始掠夺只要他们喜欢的任何东西（比如说，皮帽子）。我叔叔送给我的一双很漂亮的新鞋就是那样被抢走的，我光着脚走回了家。但尽管如此在扎格涅特科夫占领军并没有杀过人（可能是因为当地的共产党员在此前就已经逃走了）。然而许多平民还是遭到过毒打。

实际上，罗马尼亚人保留了我们的集体农庄制度，不过是给改了个名字叫“社团”而已—这能让他们更容易的统治我们。他们许诺在战争结束以后会把土地分配给农民。而在整整三年的占领期间，我们只能在“社团”里干活，除此外没得到过别的什么。他们只给我们一公斤粮食或一些钱!其他一切的东西都在他们的押送下一点不剩的运到了火车站，并运往罗马尼亚。扎格涅特科夫有三台水磨和一台风车。三年来占领军把大量的谷物都送到那加工！平民是怎么活下来的？只能靠那些藏起来的食物或者去别地偷东西。而且，如果在偷东西的时候被抓住，罗马尼亚人会把你打得趴在地上爬不起来。

就这样，我们的生活非常艰难……当地的学校停课了。人们缺吃少穿，屈辱的生活—这就是我们当时真实的写照。很多时候我们不过是从罗马尼亚人旁边走过就会脖子上就会无缘无故的挨一棍子……

我拒绝了在占领机构中当一个小职员的工作建议。我只想当一个牛车车夫。有时候我能走运的往自己的口袋里装一点粮食。

我们甚至连火柴这样的基本生活用品都没有。人们只得用两块鹅卵石来打火。早上的时候人们就会去找哪个邻居家的烟囱在冒烟。然后就到人家家里讨要一些引火用的木柴……

对我们来说最难以忍受的是没有盐。要是用粮食做成粥或者汤，却没有盐可怎么吃呢。我记得有一次是在1943年，我妈妈告诉我说罗马尼亚人要在当地的车站转运食盐。他们从来不卖盐—只能用食品交换。我妈给了我一袋玉米面让我去换点盐回来。等我到的时候村子里来换盐的人已经排成了一条长队。几个喝的醉醺醺的罗马尼亚人牵着警犬在队伍旁边溜达。他们刁难两个八十多岁的老人，说什么：“你们要是先跳舞的话才能进去。”我现在还记得他们是怎么嘲笑那两个可怜的“舞者”。（同时我也没忘了我来是干嘛来的）。

当时村子里的绝大多数人都十分痛恨罗马尼亚统治者，但仍有一些人自愿和占领军合作。我记得有一个只有一只手的一战老兵，他就和罗马尼亚人合作。甚至我的同班同学，以前的朋友斯捷潘毛吉列夫斯基都选择了通敌。他是死心塌地的和敌人合作。斯捷潘以前是高年级的学生，但当时他的表现就像个流氓一样，一个不良少年。他也很痛恨犹太人，斯捷潘有两次差点被学校开除，但每一次他的家长都护着他，最后他还是接着留在我们班里。我也知道斯捷潘在苏军解放之后应征入伍了。我不知道他是否曾经参展，但是在战后斯捷潘成为了一名铁道民兵。他后来因为胁迫农村旅客，抢劫财物而被捕。斯捷潘被捕后法院向我们村发来了调查函。对方要求村委会出具斯捷潘毛吉列夫斯基的个人证明，而我则就他的所作所为出具了相关的证词（我当时是村委会的秘书）。

斯捷潘因此短暂入狱。我知道他被关押在什么地方，而且我曾经去过那个地方几次。当然我绝对不是为了去看望他……

在罗马尼亚占领期间我们村里有几个人成为了警察。当然他们都是好人，并不想伤害任何人。而且，他们总是尽力帮助别的人。所以，在解放以后所有村民都为那些前警察们说好话。因此他们并未遭到通敌罪名的起诉……

村里也有几个人是真正的叛国者。我可以说说我记得的这么两个人：茹尔巴和皮莱特斯基。这俩人是占领军忠实的走狗，对村子里祸害不浅。在村子解放以后所有的卖国贼都被甄别出来后逮走了。皮莱特斯基有个儿子，叫谢尔盖，1925年出生的。在战争结束以后他成为一名少尉又回到了扎格涅特科夫。他父亲的所作所为让谢尔盖非常吃惊。我只知道当时他被降职了，但是之后的事情我就不知道了……

正如我之前所述，大部分当地的犹太人都被德国人的特遣队（德军专门负责枪杀囚犯的集中营部队，sonderkommando elbe—译者注）枪杀了。当然还是有一些犹太人想方设法藏了起来。你问罗马尼亚人治下是怎么对待犹太人的？首先，其中一些犹太人在我们村民的家里躲了起来。后来，我很清楚地知道我所有的那些犹太同学只有两个女孩最终活了下来—叶妮娅施皮格尔和塔西娅费尔德曼。我也知道更多的事情。有一次是冬天，我父亲在森林里看见雪地上留下了明显是赤脚走过的祖籍。他循着祖籍找到了在一堆灌木丛里躲着的我们村里的犹太人叶妮娅婶子。她冲着我爸哭诉：“德米特罗大叔！求你别丢下我……”我爸爸安抚了她一阵，用他的毯子裹住叶妮娅的赤脚然后把她带到旧果园的一间蜂蜜场里安顿了下来。很快我爸爸给她弄了些吃的，叶妮娅就在那里过了一夜。我不知道叶妮娅后来去了哪，但是她还算是熬过了战争。我记得她在战后曾经感慨道：“我们的村民都是最善良的一群人！任何情况下都不会有人丢掉我不管。”

顺便说一句，在扎格涅特科夫不止叶妮娅婶子一个人有犹太血统。在战前很久以前她嫁给了一个乌克兰人，之后受洗改名为叶夫罗西尼娅。只有她说话时有浓重的犹太口音会暴露自己的身份，然后罗马尼亚人开始在她的血统方面找茬。但是我们全村人都很积极的保护她，因此罗马尼亚人也就放过了她。

我还记得扎格涅特科夫犹太人被带走时的一个场景。我的犹太同学柳西娅什帕耶尔的父亲谋到了一个安逸的职位，我们经常用俄语中所谓的“安乐窝”来讽刺他的父亲。在战前柳西娅的生活非常优裕，她们家甚至还有女仆，而她母亲居然胖到了没有人搀扶就不能走路的地步。柳西娅是个漂亮女孩，是我们班最好的学生。在罗马尼亚人马上就要开始清洗犹太人的危急时刻，他的父亲找到了他最好的朋友的未婚子安德烈，安德烈由于一些健康问题当时未被红军征召入伍。柳西娅的父亲跟他说：“我的妻子跟我注定是要没命了，现在柳西娅唯一活下来的机会就是和你们家安德烈结婚，如果你同意的话，我就是倾家荡产也愿意，连我穿的裤子都能脱下来给你…..”在此之后，柳西娅在经历了一次非常传统的婚礼之后也穿上了乌克兰家庭主妇所穿着的服饰。她和其他的女性村民在外表上完全没什么不同。但是这对小夫妻仅仅生活了很短的一段时间，很显然某些人向罗马尼亚人告了密。他们把她同许多其他犹太人一起送到了德国人的屠场。在那里柳西娅很快就被枪杀了……

战后在当地的公墓里为了纪念碑被害的犹太村民，人们树立了一座纪念碑以示悼念……

同时还得谈一些宗教事务。根据苏联地方行政管理的法令，我们的教堂在1939年时被勒令关闭。罗马尼亚人则重新开放了教堂，并且把他们的牧师带了来。我不知道他们是从哪弄来的这么一个人：几乎可以说是个残疾人，斜眼，看人总是低眉顺眼的。当然，他是个罗马尼亚人带来的鼓吹手。

有一次我妈妈的密友玛利亚太太到我们家串门，她们聊了好长时间。之后我的父母告诉我说：“玛利亚太太说，教堂方面掌握了一份名单，上边记载着那些从不参加礼拜活动的青少年的名字，有你和瓦尼亚的名字。罗马尼亚人怀疑这些十几岁的青年人都是共青团团员……”打那以后我就开始参加礼拜了。

现在我再说说另一个话题—地下组织的行动。就我而言，在我们扎格涅特科夫镇我不认为有什么真正意义的地下活动存在。不过，有时候会从前线传来的一些小道消息，流言蜚语四处传播。比如说我们得知红军在莫斯科和斯大林格勒胜利的消息。虽然让我比较烦闷的是，从来没听到过关于当地游击队的只言片语，但是一些事情使我相信他们正在行动着。有两次，当地占领军司令部所在的办公楼都遭到了射击而损毁。而在扎格涅特科夫不远的地方也有一些货车被颠覆而出轨。

解放军校生活

在我们村子里能够感觉到前线离我们越来越近了。在1944年一个风和日丽的早晨，我爸爸给我带来了一个好消息：占领军司令部已经空空如也了。很快我们就知道罗马尼亚人在撤退之前还放了把火，烧掉了位于雷布尼察镇的关押着政治犯的监狱。我敢肯定的是人们肯定会记住这帮家伙都干了些什么。

我们这里并未发生激烈的交火，只经历了很短暂的交战。我记得，村民们在田野里偶然发现了一个受伤的红军侦察兵。大家把他抬走并且送到了医院治伤。

当时全村每个人那欣喜若狂的心情是无法用言语形容的。人们向红军士兵们致以热烈的问候，就像对待自己子弟一样。我们告诉他们德国人向哪个方向逃跑。有的村民甚至为红军充当向导。

大约一周之后，我作为当地出生于1926年的一批男青年中的一员，被当地军事委员会送往位于诺夫哥罗德—沃伦斯基镇的军事院校学习。为什么我会入选？我觉得应该有三个原因：第一我是一名共青团员；第二我在战前曾经荣获“伏罗希洛夫神射手”奖章（似为前苏联一种准军事训练的徽章—译者注）。第三，我在这个年龄的这群男孩子中是最高也是最壮的一个。

诺夫哥罗德—沃伦斯基当时刚刚被解放，我们迁入了一座已经严重损毁，没有窗户和门的兵营。看上去这里以前可能是德军的一个被服厂—地上到处都散落着已经完成和未完工的德军制服。所有人都只有一床被褥，然后拿一块砖头当枕头—这就是我们的床了。几乎每晚我们都会被防空警报吵醒。

在军校的学习生活每天都相当的充实。我想我们学到了足够重要的知识和经验。学校甚至组织在训练场地进行移动靶的射击训练。

很幸运的是在军校里我的教官们是一群非常优秀而且经验丰富的军人。他们精力充沛，他们尽自己的能力希望把我们训练成最优秀的一群人，而且对我们就像对孩子一样关心。比方说，教导连连长阿布拉莫夫，是个刚因为受伤从前线下来不久的军人。我们的两个大士，波德科维耶金和切列帕诺夫，都曾经是前线的士兵，他们尽其所能的帮助我们，因而也对得起我们所给予他们的溢美之词。

而同一时期另外一个教导连的连长则是个年轻的亚美尼亚人。学员们对他可以说是怨气冲天：他死板的按照条例要求学员们如此这般，全连都会被他给累死！那种场景实在是令人同情。我还记得有一次他是如何在艰难的行军之后要求大家唱歌的，当时每个人都精疲力竭而且背着沉重的装具。更糟的是道路上都是沙子—每一步都很艰难…..我至今仍记得他在大吼：“我看不到你们的朝气在哪里！”他就是这么一个枯燥乏味又野蛮的军官！

然而，我们的学习生活在大约三周时间以后就暂告段落了：由于我军在科尔逊舍甫琴科夫斯基地区附近包围了大批德军，因此学校急切的要将我们补充进入部队。

这是一个路况相当糟糕的季节—路上满是积雪和泥泞……我们和普通士兵一起，被分配到了防线上。我们挖掘一切需要的掩体并守卫战线。尽管在我们这里并没有发生什么太激烈的战斗，我们还是遭受了第一批伤亡。尽管如此，我们仍没有让敌人从我们这里前进一步。这就是我初上战场的洗礼……

在我们返回诺夫哥罗德—沃伦斯基之后。校方组织了一次特殊的仪式，校长向我们发言：“现在你们已经是经历过战火历练的军人了，你们应该已经准备好为了保卫祖国而战！”我们所有人都被授予了上士军衔。然后又给我们分发了干粮。学校的一支小管弦乐队在毕业典礼上演奏了一番。当军乐响起的时候，很多人都不禁流下了热泪。在此之后我们就正式的赶往前线。

我们仅用了一晚的时间就抵达了前线。一旦“买主”（应为接收部队的戏称—译者注）出现，我们就被分配到了不同的单位。就这样，我成为了乌克兰第一方面军第60集团军107步兵师522团的一名军人。

前线生涯

我被任命为排长，并立即率部投入了战斗。我们解放了舍佩托夫卡、克列缅涅茨、捷尔诺波尔在内的许多城镇以及赫梅利尼茨基州和捷尔诺波尔州的多个居民点。克列缅涅茨和捷尔诺波尔已经被毁掉了大半，我在之前和此后都没有见过如此惨烈的场景。伺候我们解放了包括利沃夫在内的利沃夫州，此后抵达了波兰边境附近的Pshemysl’城。

在波兰境内，我军试图以迅猛的攻势突破德军在热舒夫附近的防线但未能成功。我军在进攻中损失了许多坦克。此后我们营实施了一次成功的威力侦察行动。这是一次代价惨重的胜利：我们排只有七个人生还。（我还因为这次战斗荣获“勇敢”奖章，但是由于指挥部没有可以颁发的奖章，我其实只是得到了证书而已。结果后来我把证书塞在口袋里，结果弄湿了，证书上的字迹无法辨认。因此我到底还是没有得到奖章）。我认为这次威力侦查是一次合理的战斗行动。使得我军可以弄清楚敌人火力点的位置并估计其兵力。至于说损失嘛，你怎么可能指望不流血就赢得战争呢……

在这次任务结束之后我们被调到了后方进行整补，之后其他部队突破了热舒夫附近的敌军防线。

此后我们继续在波兰境内投入战斗。在部队渡过维斯瓦河并夺取桑多每日桥头堡的战役中，许多战友都荣获了勋章。比如，我们的连长被上级推荐荣获苏联英雄这一最高级别的荣誉，而我也获颁“勇敢”奖章。我对这些战斗还记得些什么？那场面真是弹如雨下。尽管我们遭受了严重的损失，但仍然幸运的拖着浑身湿透且精疲力竭的身体登上了彼岸。正当我们在占领阵地，挖掘掩体的时候，我排里的一名士兵突然冲我喊，他看到了一名被和一挺机枪锁在一起的意大利士兵。谢天谢地！他并未朝我们开火。那个意大利人开始哭泣，然后打着手势告诉我们他是三个孩子的父亲。我们的警卫把他押到了后方……

我们在桥头堡阵地中呆了四个月。在那段时间里尽管德军并未向我进攻，我们仍一直在加固现有阵地。德国人在此期间总是用大喇叭广播，向我们展开宣传攻势，劝诱我军士兵投诚。

直到来年的1月12日我军又转入了进攻。在进攻开始之前，我军强有力的炮火轰击使得有的“新兵蛋子”都尿了裤子……

自进攻开始以来，我军一路势如破竹，斩关夺隘。这个时期的战局可以用这么一句话来描述：“德国人教会了我们怎么组织进攻，作为回敬，我们教给他们如何撤退。”

接下来我军又在波兰城市克拉科夫地区成功的组织了围歼战。我们在此之后向逃敌展开了追击，我军根据侦查情报得知在德军后方有一些专门负责杀戮并焚烧囚犯的“死亡集中营”。

我军组织了一个临时的多兵种特遣部队：大约三十辆坦克，每辆坦克上搭载6-8名全副武装的步兵。在出发之前给我们分发了干粮。1月26日特遣队突破德军防线，并在未遭抵抗的情况下突入德军后方。有几次我们在路上和德军卡车遭遇，就立即当场将对方击毁。我部突入德军纵深大约40公里，包围了集中营并解除了守卫人员的武装。我们在当地依托坦克掘壕固守，等到第二天早上的时候，大部队也前来和我们会师。在我军解放的集中营里，有一个集中营就叫做奥斯维辛（奥斯维辛在德语中拼写为Auschwitz）。在整个战争中，奥斯维辛集中营中总共有四百万人罹难。

在此次战斗之后我荣获三级光荣勋章。我后来也知道指挥这次坦克突袭作战的是扎钦斯基，曾是摩尔多瓦一所高校的校长……

2月2日我们开始强渡奥德河。奥德河的河面并不算宽，但是水流湍急，而且裹挟了大量泥沙的河水呈黄颜色。2月6日，在布雷斯劳作战时我负伤了。我们向一个小居民点发起进攻。当地建筑物的房顶上通常覆盖着红白相间的瓦片。可能是因为当地驻扎着德军的某个司令部，因而我们遭到了远程火炮的轰击，进攻被迫中断。当时我钻进了一个满是积水的弹坑中以躲避炮轰。当然我再爬出来的时候浑身湿透了。此后我们继续展开进攻，突然我感觉到有一股神秘的力量压迫着我趴在地上，过了一会一枚重炮炮弹就在附近爆炸了…..后来的事情我就完全记不清了。我当时丧失了意识，直到在医院的时候才恢复了知觉。当时我的左前臂和右脚脚踝受伤了。数枚弹片从我的头顶划过。除此之外，我患上了严重的“炮弹休克”……(弹震症：任一种源于现代战争中的神经官能症，往往在遭受过剧烈的创伤后得此病，常表现为歇斯底里—译者注)

战争的回忆与反思

现在让我来讲讲我在前线所获得的经验以及最强烈的感受。

在我的战争经历中始终有一种无法解释或者说神秘的现象纠缠着我。

在我所经历的战斗中，有许多次我都游走在死亡的边缘。我至今也不清楚是谁或者什么力量引导着我—天数或者其他的什么？尽管在幼年的时候我曾经受洗，但长大以后我还是变成了一个无神论者，同时我在战时从来也不会在胸前挂上一枚十字架。唯一和这类东西沾点边儿的就是我一直随身携带的护身符，一条红色的手帕。这是我的同学，我的好朋友送给我的，上边绣着一句话“致瓦尼亚留念”。当我参军奔赴战场的时候是她亲手把这条手帕送给了我。

我曾经参加过三次强渡江河的作战。现在回想起来这显得有点不可思议，不过当时我们确实没有感到这是什么特别的事情，就好像我们注射了镇定剂一样。我也记得我的军大衣上有好几个地方都被凿出过窟窿眼……

我当时唯一的心愿就是—赶快让这场该死的战争结束吧。

在下一段里我会谈谈我在前线最亲密的朋友们。你们可能还记得，我们镇子里有十二人一起参军，进入军校学习。在毕业后其中只有八个人被分配到了前线（另外四个人中的一个是个出色的鞋匠，另一个则是音乐家，第三个人是个优秀的歌手，而第四个人的情况则需要特别的解释一下，他是这些学员里最差的一个，经常遭到教官的责骂。最后他的学业也没有什么起色，因此仅被授予一等兵军衔，留校工作。他压根也没上过前线）。

而我们，八个奔赴前线的同学，在战争期间我们这些同学一直保持着相互间的联系。当然，我们每个人都有自己的排，都有自己的职责。有时候会收到来自朋友的问候或者是噩耗……

我最好的朋友就是以前的同班同学，科利亚基尔萨诺夫和加夫里尔克拉韦茨。我们在军校也是同学，而且都在同一个营里担任排长。我亲爱的朋友科利亚基尔萨诺夫不幸于1945年1月12日在波兰克拉科夫附近阵亡。而加夫里尔克拉韦茨则受了重伤。后来他被晋升为上尉。此后我们大概有三十年没有见过面了，但仍然一直坚持通信，然而最后我们终于还是迎来了一次令人难忘的重逢……

现在我还得再来说说指挥员的事情。

我从来没见过我们师的师长彼得连科，但大家都说他是一个很好的指挥员。我的团长叫库利奇茨基；对于他我没有什么特殊的印象。我们的营长是个正当年的人，他待我们就像父亲对儿子一样。他的腿有些毛病，走起路来总是很困难。我们看到他的时候基本上都是在马背上。尽管有腿疾，他仍然总是来到我们的战壕里，四处检查。我记得营长曾经荣获过库图佐夫勋章。

我曾经两次见过方面军司令员科涅夫。一次是他来到我们师，在整齐的队列前为战士们亲手授勋。我们许多人都为如此高级别的指挥员会深入危险的一线而惊讶。据大家所说科涅夫是一名优秀的统帅。当时我们从来没有听说过关于苏联高级将领的任何不利言辞。比如说，关于朱可夫—我们知道：朱可夫是个常胜将军。甚至连斯大林都很其中朱可夫。当然，关于这些将领，也有各式各样的或牵强附会或不那么光彩的传闻。

当然了，我记忆中最闪光的人就是我的直接上级。我亲爱的连长卡巴拉什！他是个非常年轻的人，是个1923年出生的莫斯科人。是个即英俊有风趣的小伙子，在走路的时候总是会低声唱歌，我们总是用钦佩的眼光注视着他。我记得他总是穿一件挂着几枚勋章的英国人提供的绿色军上衣。他总是会在肩膀上披上一条防雨披肩，而不会穿大衣。然而不久之后他却不幸死于非命……

这件事发生在波兰境内的一个晚上。在经历了一场激战之后我们撤到了浅近后方，大家都睡得很沉。对于在战壕中苦战的我们来说，美美的睡上一顿比吃东西更令士兵们渴望。然而，到了晚上，卡巴拉什，他的传令兵，一名身为共青团支书的大士，还有野战厨房的炊事兵—这四个人统统消失了！而第二天我们向前开进的时候，很快就发现了卡巴拉什和那个大士被刺刀扎的惨不忍睹的尸体。而另外两个人则还是无影无踪。我永远都难忘卡巴拉什是个多么风趣而善良的人。士兵们都非常爱戴他……

总的来说，我认为我在生命中幸运的遇上了一群好人，无论身处何地都是如此。比如说，我们到步兵团的第一天，那些老兵们就像对待孩子一样的关心我们—提供帮助、关心和建议……

每一个身处前线的战友的牺牲都令我万分悲痛。这真是不可想象的：直到今天我仍可以平静的在家里吃饭，而他则早已牺牲了……你知道么，我们几乎已经习惯了前线士兵如流星般消逝。我当时还非常年轻，但从来没有因此而哭泣过。仅仅是在年纪稍微长了一些之后，特别是看到一些触动我记忆的电影或有关战争的流行歌曲时，我才会热泪盈眶……

很多人都问我，在这场战争中对我的感情冲击最强烈的事情是什么，我可以肯定得回答你—奥斯维辛。你应该懂得，在这场战争中我已经在身边看到了太多的鲜血和死亡，每件事情都那么的可怕，每个人都如此的可怜。尽管如此，当我们亲眼目睹奥斯维辛那些受尽折磨的孩子时—其他事情都不算什么了。你绝对想象不到他们当时的样子：衣衫褴褛；由于饥饿，他们的躯干都瘦骨嶙峋，而脑袋因此显得特别的大；眼睛就像两个黄色的大窟窿一样……看着如此悲惨的景象，你可能都会恍惚觉得他们已经不是活生生的人了…….而集中营里到处都弥漫着刺鼻的气味…直到战争结束以后我还是会经常在睡梦中梦见奥斯维辛的惨景……算了，咱们还是换个话题吧，每次想到奥斯维辛的时候我都会感觉很不好。

我们当时并没有惩处那些被俘的集中营看守。我们只是把他们押回了司令部。至于他们后来的下场我就不太清楚了。

尽管我的战斗经历算不上多长，不过我还是乐于跟你分享一些我在战争中的经历。

-我之前也说到了，在我的生命中总是能很幸运的碰到一些好人。我得说的是，那些部队里的政治工作者也在此列。我们师的政治部曾经在部队里组织过数次音乐会。一辆卡车就能组成一个舞台，各种各样的演员、歌手和其他的演出者都曾经为我们表演过节目。这些节目帮助战士们很好的放松紧张的情绪，并激励着大家的士气。

接下来我再说说那个风华正茂的党支部书记。在我们连队里他是个备受尊敬的人。后来他和连长卡拉巴什一起被敌人残酷的杀害了。

正如你所知，苏联当时的最高领导人是斯大林。我直到今天仍坚定地信仰他，正如在战争时期一样。我并不想为他犯下的诸多错误而辩护，但是在斯大林的领导下，这个国家确实取得了长足的发展和进步，而他个人的品格则使我成了一位坚定的斯大林的支持者。

我们连队里的官兵哪个民族的都有。大多数人是俄罗斯人和乌克兰人。在战争末期我们部队里补充进了许多西乌克兰人，我们称之为zapadentsy（即西部人）。我自己当然也是个乌克兰人，但是他们和我们这些人还是有些区别的，甚至连语言都和我所说的不同。尽管如此，我们之间的关系还是十分融洽的，没有人把他们当做异类看待。我还记得有两个西乌克兰士兵是非常出色的战士—茹科，一位轻机枪手，另一个叫马列茨基，是“马克西姆”重机枪手。我记得马列茨基曾经在一次激战之后荣获二级卫国战争勋章。我还记得我们的反坦克枪组是两个阿塞拜疆战士：阿利耶夫和图夫塔里耶夫。每次他们俩假装发牢骚的时候都会逗得大家哈哈大笑：“就跟我们俩这么小的饭盒。可为什么我们要扛这么沉得反坦克枪呢？”

尽管连队里的战士们来自各个民族，但我们的关系亲如手足，从没有过什么不快。而且可以这么说，这种兄弟情谊，互相扶助的友谊只能在前线才能看到。

-一般来说，所有的战士都会为了赢得战争的胜利而努力贡献自己的一份力量。像我这个年纪的士兵甚至从来没想到过被俘，而我-总是会随身携带一枚手雷，这是给我自己准备的。当然，我们的部队里也有一些胆小鬼和开小差的士兵。接下来我就讲讲这种人的故事。

当时我们正据守着桑多梅日桥头堡阵地。有时候德国人那边会用扩音器广播，内容则是可笑的“招降纳叛”之类的东西，一般来说无非就是“伊万，过来吧，我会给你香烟抽，以后再也不用抽劣质烟草了！”或者是“伊万，过来吧，每天给你一百克伏特加，让你一次喝个够！”我们队伍里有一个新入伍的西乌克兰人，他就相信了德国人的宣传打算叛逃。那是个个子高高的，大约四十岁上下，秃顶的中年男人。有一天晚上侦察兵潜入无人地带执行任务的时候，他也跟着过去了。结果这个逃兵撞上了那些埋伏的侦察兵，错以为是碰见了德国人，于是就高呼“嗨！希特勒！”侦查员们把他给押了回来。第二天在全团的面前这个逃兵被处决了……这是我们部队里仅有的一例此类事件。

我对于德国军人、德国武器和这个国家的看法？

首先所有德国士兵都经受了严格的训练，严守纪律而且做了充分的作战准备。在战斗中德国军队通常依靠他们的作战经验，而反观我军则总是不计伤亡的进行“万岁冲锋”。

德国人的武器也很优秀。我从来没用过德制武器，只有一次，我排里的士兵奥斯塔普罗戈维特斯缴获了一挺德制机枪：他用这挺机枪击退了德军的进攻。此战之后奥斯塔普一直在夸耀这挺机枪。

两相比较之下，德国人的装备和补给都比我们要好。如果你俘虏了一个德国士兵的话，就能在他的背包里发现很多东西：面包、饼干、朗姆酒，甚至还会有黄油和蜂蜜。

我对于德国士兵并没有什么仇恨或者敌意。所有的德国士兵和我们一样，无非是普通一兵，都在执行着各自军官的命令。即使是罗马尼亚人，只要不曾对我们施暴，我也不会对他们报以成见。在战争期间，关于如何处置战俘，我们曾经接到过特别严格的命令。该命令禁止处决或拷打被俘敌军。我从来没有过目睹过类似事件。

显而易见的是，德国人的生活水平明显比我们苏联人要高。当然还有高大的建筑和出色的公路体系。作为一个看林人的儿子，我对于德国的森林也特别加以关注。每个地方的树木都被照管的很好。但从另一个角度来说，德国境内的土壤要比我国的肥沃的多。

-不过我得说我们得到的武器弹药的补给也非常充足。我本人就使用一支PPSh冲锋枪（什帕金冲锋枪）。在那个时代这是一支出色的冲锋枪。我记得在一个小镇外边曾经发生过这么一件事。德国人出乎意料的在我附近突然出现，我正是用冲锋枪在近距离扫射，才把他们打趴下的。我的PPsh冲锋枪在关键时刻从来都是可靠的伙伴。PPsh唯一的缺点是容易被沙子弄坏。我也不记得我曾经在战斗中射杀过多少德国人，我从来没有记过这种数。

如果和在军校上学时候的伙食对比的话，在前线的伙食也可以说是不错的了。在军校的时候是按照后方部队的标准配发口粮，而且食堂的烹饪水平也很差。饭做的简直让人无法下咽。

而在前线的伙食，就我来看，吃的还是不错的。当然了，一般来说吃的东西总是一成不变，但量是足够的。实话跟你说吧，在战争时期我吃的其实并不多，恐怕没有哪个士兵会想我一样对伙食这么满意。（在另一方面，我在前线的时候则是个大烟枪）。

1945年1月中旬我被晋升为中尉，这也意味着我可以享受额外的军官配给。同时还配发给我军官制服，包括军靴，以替代士兵用鞋。我总是戴着钢盔，这东西不但能保护我的脑袋，而且在积水的散兵坑里可以当铲子用。从被晋升为军官开始我的津贴也随之水涨船高。因为在前线根本用不着花钱，所以所有的津贴都被存入了我的个人账户、

我还记得有一次在战斗期间，看到过一个小伙子，浑身不知是水还是汗，而且被冻的要死，看上去很久没有洗过澡了。当然，在前线的时候只要一有机会每个人还是会保证最基本的个人卫生。如果身上有虱子的话那是最难受的事情。幸运的是我们从未受到过虱子的困扰—这几乎是从军者的必修课。我们经常会被从前线调回到后方去洗个澡。在森林里给我们找块地，每个人发一盆热水。大家折几个松枝垫在脚底下，然后洗澡。洗完了以后用毛巾擦干了，会发给你干净的内衣裤。穿上衣服以后大士会发给你100克伏特加—喝下起以后感觉就像在俄罗斯烤箱里一样暖和…

我顺便插一句，关于酒的一些事情。我记得我们只发过掺水的伏特加。我从来没在战斗中见过喝的醉醺醺的士兵。最危险的问题其实是酒精中毒。

我记得在解放波兰城市克拉科夫以后，在火车站发现了许多装满酒的卡车。红军士兵们纷纷手持饭盒或者杯子扑向那些卡车。当时根本就不可能拦住他们。那些饮酒过量的士兵们因此有酒精中毒的危险（有些也是我们排的士兵）。不多在战争中类似的事情仅此一例，从来没有再发生过。后来当我因伤被送往医院，以及在普里卢基医院住院期间，就看到过很多因为引用甲醇而双目失明的士兵。有的人只是在那痛哭，而有的人则寄希望于以后他们的孩子能给他们养老…..

我们中间的有些士兵喜欢抢掠战利品，他们检查每一间废弃的房间和每一个阵亡士兵的口袋。他们最喜欢的东西是手表。有些人搜罗了许多便宜的德国腕表和怀表。（当时在苏联，尤其是乡下人很多人都没有手表，带上一块表甚至是地位的象征）。

受伤的老兵，我的战后生活

1945年2月6日，我被送到了位于克拉科夫的医院，在那里我见到“全联盟最年长的人”M.I.加里宁。我们见到了以前只能在照片上见到的加里宁。加里宁在病房之间穿行，不断地询问受伤的士兵们，他们家里是做什么的，他们个人有什么困难。加里宁的助手则记下所有的要求。

此后不久我就被后送到了位于乌克兰普里卢基的第1932后方医院。我记得医院里有好多年轻姑娘—有护士，也有医务兵。那时候只要碰上需要输血的手术，一定会遇到血源短缺问题。那些女孩子们就成了最主要的献血者。有可能早上起来的时候你看到她白里透红的脸上挂着微笑，过上几个小时就会看到她疲惫不堪，脸都快变蓝了。

（顺便说一句，我对于所谓“战地妻子”的话题不打算做过多评论。事实上，排一级的军官是没有可能和一个姑娘出双入对的，起码在我们团是如此）。

我没有等得及完全康复就从普里卢基医院出院了。主要是因为我担心我母亲糟糕的身体状况。她患有严重的胃溃疡。爸爸给我发了一封电报，写到：“瓦尼亚，如情况允许速归家，母病危……”我拿着这封电报找到了主治医生，外科主任舒瓦洛娃，但是却被她一口回绝了：“绝不可能！你的前臂和脚踝还打着石膏呢”

普里卢基医院的每一间病房里都有一个收音机的喇叭。在我跟舒瓦洛娃申请出院回家之后的大约一到两天以后，医院里的所有人都听到了一条大家期盼已久的喜讯：德国宣布无条件投降了。我实在没法用语言形容当时那种欣喜若狂的情景……那真是一个特别的时刻…….有人欢呼，有人哭泣……枕头、杯子甚至拐杖都被扔上了天……

大约一两周之后，医院组织了一个专门的委员会以检查伤员的恢复情况，并办理出院。在他们检查的时候我就在楼道里走来走去，直到最后才轮到我进去接受检查。

“你有什么要求，小伙子？”-一个医生问我。

“我想回家。”

那可不行！你得留在这继续养伤…..

这时候舒瓦洛娃发话了：

“他的情况比较特殊，我看过他的电报……”

委员会终于同意会见我了！我的情况还不能说是完全伤愈，他们还是将我列为一年之内第一批出院的伤员之列。为了代替石膏医生专门给我做了一个支架，我在一个护士的陪伴下出院了，我的战争就此结束了……

我记得很清楚，那是5月23日，我回到了家乡，站在我们家的大门口，门是开着的，但是我当时不敢进去，因为我不知道有什么样的消息在等着我……过了一会我父亲跑了出来，紧紧地和我拥抱在一起……他给我们端出了一些点心。第二天早上我们赶往科德马火车站。那个护士返回了普里卢基医院，我们父子俩则赶往科托夫斯克，我妈妈就在当地的医院里。当地不通客车，所以我们不得不乘坐货车。我们在一节车厢上找到了一小块平台。车停在斯洛博德卡站的时候，一个民警把我们俩带了下来，然后开始批评我爸爸：“您这是违反规定……”他把我们带到了当地的警察局。我们在那里遇到了一个脾气温和的少尉衔民警。你知道，我当时因为受伤非常的痛苦：离开医院才两天，血就已经浸透了绷带，只能用纸来擦拭……那个少尉很同情我们。他把那个民警打发出去以后，缓和的安慰我，给了我一杯水。后来他帮助我们登上了下一列货车。

我们最终抵达了科托夫斯克的医院：手术之后的母亲非常虚弱，以至于她甚至都没认出我来。我们一家三口在两周之后踏上了回家的路程……

很快我就回到了家乡，镇委会的领导任命我为政府秘书。我在熬过了伤势反复发作和可怕的疟疾之后才正式开始工作。战争之后镇子里的人口非常少，很多人不是死了就是残了。镇政府里几乎没有一个男性。而同时我也开始担任另外一个更高阶的职位：当地军事登记动员机构的负责人。

当时我的银行账户里有我的全部财产16000卢布。想都不用想这是一笔巨大的财富。当时我们的国家到处都充斥着贫穷和饥饿，一公斤粮食就要60多卢布。在我结婚前不久，我花了4700卢布买了一件新衣服（我在婚礼上穿着这件衣服，但当时我脚上穿的还是军靴，因为我买不起新鞋）。我是这个国家1946-1947间饥荒的目击者之一。当时所有的苏联农民都没有任何可以证明身份的东西，因此他们离开自己的村庄就寸步难行，因为到处都要检查证件。然而，我在村委会工作期间看到了许多来访的人们，因饥饿而浮肿，并且我也知道许多上了年纪的老人以及孩子在忍受着营养不良的折磨。我决定冲破法律的束缚，当时只要是镇里的主要领导出公差，那么使用公章的权利就移交到我的手中，当时我给大约两百份身份证明文件加盖了公共长。几乎所有人都逃到了还未遭受饥荒影响的西乌克兰。不幸的是，很快铁路系统的民兵就发现从一个叫扎格涅特科夫镇出来的人不同寻常的多。结果就是我被揪了出来。我的领导也被牵连了进去，而我则受到了一个措辞严厉的处分。在那个时候这已经是一个很不错的结果了……

四年过去了，我们当地的合作社选举的时候我被推选成了经理（我本来不想干，但还是被说服了）。我勤勤恳恳的工作，此后我们的成绩甚至在整个地区都名列前茅。但我毕竟不喜欢这个工作，因此还是决定追随我父亲的脚步—成为一名林业专家。

我在摩尔多瓦的一所林业学校学习了两年。毕业以后被分配到科托夫斯克机械化林业区成为了一名专业技师。当时的条件很艰苦（我们几乎可以说是白手起家）但是十年以后成果颇丰。我们科托夫斯克林区数次赢得全联盟劳动竞赛。此后我的工作生活一直波澜不惊。后来我得到了摩尔多瓦共和国林业部长的提拔。我认为我没法胜任这项工作，但他们迫使我做出了让步。

我再一次要在新的岗位上从零开始。此后我在波基耶尼林区工作了25年…..

除了公务之外，我还曾经数次作为卫国战争参战老兵参加各种各样的机会。比如说，1977年红军节那天，我受邀前往科托夫斯克区波基耶尼镇文化馆。我讲述了自己在战争中四处转战，包括解放奥斯维辛的经历。第二天，当地一个叫古里尤克德米特里费奥多罗维奇的居民，他生于1911年，找到了我，声泪俱下的向我讲述他的遭遇。他是在1944年波基耶尼被解放以后参的军。

德米特里在一次战斗中被俘，在战争结束前不久他和其他一批战俘被押到了奥斯维系。就在他们马上要被送进毒气室的时候，我们解放了集中营！古里尤克告诉我：“昨天，我是流着眼泪听完你讲话的…..”你能想象么，我们必须做了17年的邻居却不相识，是命运把我们联系在了一起……从那以后我们每次见面的时候都眼含着热泪。

战争期间我们镇损失了大约一千名居民。作为当地军事登记机构的负责人，我组织大家将那些牺牲在我们镇子附近的烈士遗体重新安葬好。我们找到了27个分散的阵亡烈士墓，后来将他们合葬在一处公墓里。方尖碑上刻着20名烈士的姓名，另外7个战士则是无名烈士。在镇中心竖起纪念碑的同时，我们这些活下来的人心中也竖起了一座纪念碑。所有烈士的姓名都被刻在碑上。我们家是很幸运的：所有人都活到了战后。我的大哥亚历山大，生于1923年，尽管伤痕累累，但还是活着回到了家乡。他作为一名侦察兵参战且功勋卓著。

我非常欣慰的注意到，在战争结束这么多年以后，苏联的媒体将注意力集中在那些参加过卫国战争的老兵身上。这股潮流来的实在太快，也令人费解。那位作家兼中央电视台的记者，谢尔盖斯米尔诺夫首先提及了这个话题，很快就在数百万观众中间引发了反响。几乎所有的媒体都出现了这么一些专栏诸如“老兵们，你们在哪里！”我很仔细的阅读了类似的专栏，然后在1977年我给西乌克兰的一家报纸寄去了我的地址（我们在前线最后的一批补充兵员就来自哪个地区）。在大约六个月后，曾经在我们排服役的那个叫茹科的士兵给我写了回信。很快另一个马列茨基的士兵也传来了回信。你知道，他们都是我在前线时候的下级，但我和他们共事的时间很短。但是无论战后我们在哪里重逢都还是亲如兄弟。他们俩在我之后不久也双双负伤，因此我直到今天还不知晓胜利日当天我们师打到了哪里。而且也不知道那些前线的战友们谁活到了战后……

我直到1985年才退休—当时我的身体状况时好时坏。

我和我的妻子共同养育了三个孩子。我们有六个孙辈，甚至还有五个重孙辈。

采访记录及俄文初校：N.乔巴努

俄文校对及俄译英：I. 科贝良斯基

英文校对：T 马文

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此贴已由管理员在 2010-7-15 23:41:33 执行 +300分 操作

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