A huge number of letters sent by soldiers from the front lines during the Great Patriotic War have been preserved. Some of them are on diletant.media.
***
Misha, Styura, Valya!
Live together, don’t quarrel, don’t offend each other, listen to your mother. In summer, don't forget to read and write and draw. Before you play, first do what you were instructed to do, and then you can play. Whatever you want to do, always ask your mother's permission.
Your dad, Belonosov V.
***
Beloved daughter, I received your handkerchief and am delighted with your handicraft.
How smart you are, my mother is very pleased with you.
Always be an obedient and hardworking girl and love your daddy dearly.
Darling, for some reason you didn’t write to me, how much you liked my handkerchiefs, they are only for your snub nose.
My dear girl, my mother invites me to come to you on vacation. This cannot be done now, but soon we will finish with the Germans and dad will come home with victory.
Katuska, okay and listen to mommy in everything. And no more pain.
Who are your friends, and do they visit you?
Do you have a sled?
Are your feet warm?
I kiss you, baby.
Your daddy
Mikhail Novikov, 1943
***
Dear front-line comrades, my dear friend Nina. If I die in this battle, then after death, tell my mother that I, her daughter, honestly fulfilled my duty to the Motherland. Yes, of course, I am sorry that my life ended so early, but others will avenge me. Nina, I was a nurse. After all, this is the most beautiful thing - saving the life of a person who fights for us, protects our Motherland from an insidious enemy, fights for our future.
That's all I ask you to tell my mom. Valya Kolesnikova.
***
Hello mom!
I send you warm, heartfelt greetings and wish you all the best in your single life. I inform you that I have been discharged from the hospital. He was in Smolensk. From there I went and visited some places. Like, for example, in Moscow. I was and now, here I am in Kaluga and I’m even writing to you at the post office. From here, of course, not today, but tomorrow I will leave for the front again. I was close to you, but I didn’t have to go home. War again, but nothing.
Mom, did you receive my letters from the hospital - I wrote from there. Bye see you. I kiss you deeply.
***
Hello dear sister Frosya!
I send greetings from the front, your brother Mikhail. Hello Ole, Tole, Valya.
Frosya, I decided to try to write a letter to you, but I have no hope of receiving an answer from you, since throughout my entire life at the front, I have not received an answer from you.
To all my written letters, I report about my life:
I still live. We mercilessly crush the German fascists. During all this time I was and currently remain unharmed.
Frosya, what confuses me is that I haven’t received any letters from you from anyone. Frosya, if you manage to get my address, then at least write a letter addressed to the commander of unit 24539.
As long as I remain alive and healthy.
Swarovsky Mikhail G.
***
Hello, unfamiliar mother of Alexander Petrovich Balandov.
Kozlenko Fedor Nikiforovich, a friend of your son, and I want to inform you that if you do not know this message, it will be a great misfortune for you - your son Balandov Alexander Petrovich died for his Motherland on September 11, 1944.
He was buried in the city of Radzymin, Poland. In this letter I am sending you to tell you that your son, we buried him well and swore over the grave to take revenge on the enemy for his death. This is what I can tell you about your son, with whom I served for a long time and knew him well.
Mom, I will be waiting for a letter from you, but now goodbye, I send you a low bow.
Kozlenko Fedor Nikiforovich
***
Hello, my Varya!
No, you and I will not meet. Yesterday at noon we smashed another Nazi column. The fascist shell pierced the side armor and exploded inside. While I was driving the car into the forest, Vasily died. My wound is cruel. I buried Vasily Orlov in a birch grove. It was light inside. Vasily died without having time to say a single word to me, without conveying anything to his beautiful Zoya and white-haired Mashenka, who looked like a dandelion covered in fluff.
So out of three tankers, only one remained. In the dark I drove into the forest. The night passed in agony, a lot of blood was lost. Now, for some reason, the pain burning through my entire chest has subsided and my soul is calm. It's a shame that we didn't do everything. But we did everything we could. Our comrades will chase the enemy, who should not walk through our fields and forests.
I would never have lived my life like this if it weren’t for you, Varya. You always helped me: at Khalkhin Gol and here. Probably, after all, those who love are kinder to people. Thank you, dear! A person gets old, but the sky is forever young, like your eyes, which you can only look into and admire. They will never grow old or fade.
Time will pass, people will heal their wounds, people will build new cities, grow new gardens. Another life will come, other songs will be sung. But never forget the song about us, about the three tankmen. You will have beautiful children, you will still love.
And I am happy that I am leaving you with great love for you.
Yours, Ivan Kolosov
***
Hello Tasenka!
I received your letters. There’s no time to write widely, you know it yourself.
Alive and healthy.
They say the war is ending. Today we met with the troops of our allies on the river. Elba. We are always on the road in Germany, lately there have been no fights at all.
Yes, now is the most interesting, not very clear, political situation on a global scale.
The letter I wrote to Vanya at the hospital was returned.
Hi all.
loving you
Timofey Shugaliy
Many of these letters outlived their authors for many years. These news from the front were carefully kept in families, transferred to museums and published in newspapers. And now, decades after the victory over Nazi Germany, lines from front-line letters still penetrate to the very heart.
Drawing from the front for my daughterFrom the last letter of Lieutenant Pyotr Glukhov, 1943
“Your eyes... When I looked into them, I experienced an inexplicable feeling of delight and some kind of quiet joy. I remember your glances, sideways, with a slight slyness. Only now I realized that in these moments, in these glances, your love was best and most expressed. The future for me is you. However, why am I talking about the future? After all, when you receive this letter, I will be gone. Goodbye. Be happy without me. You will be able to find yourself a friend, and he will be no less happy with you than I am. Be cheerful. In the days of the glorious victories of our people, rejoice and celebrate together with everyone. I just want that on days like these, on days of fun and happiness, the hidden, tender sadness for me does not leave you, so that your eyes suddenly for a minute become the way they look at me now from the portrait. Sorry for such a desire. I hug you tightly and warmly. Greetings. Peter".
A person gets old, but the sky is forever young, like your eyes, which you can only look into and admire.
commander of the partisan detachment Alexander German, 1942
“Fainushka, no matter what trials lie ahead of you, always be a strong, persistent Soviet woman. Now help with everything you can to beat the enemy, in word and deed, the people will thank you later. Raise Aliuska this way too. Bye then. I hold you and Aliuska tightly to my heart. Your Shura."
From a letter from Major Dmitry Petrakov to his daughter, 1942
“My black-eyed Mila! I am sending you a cornflower... Imagine: there is a battle going on, enemy shells are exploding all around, there are craters all around, and a flower is growing right here... And suddenly another explosion... The cornflower is torn off. I picked it up and put it in my tunic pocket. The flower grew and reached towards the sun, but it was torn off by the blast wave, and if I had not picked it up, it would have been trampled. Papa Dima will fight the fascists until the last drop of blood, until the last breath, so that the fascists do not treat you like they did this flower.”
From letters of Moses Martynov to his wife, 1945
“Dear Tomochka! All the time I was in conditions where I could not write to you. Came back yesterday. I didn’t sleep the whole night, as they fired from all types of weapons, and I also fired more than one clip from my pistol. Here it is, the victory that we all dreamed of so much during these long, difficult years... I can’t even believe that I’ll see you again. I will kiss your lips, neck, hold your hand in mine. Will this ever happen?
I believe in our future. It is bright, young and beautiful
Tank driver Ivan Kolosov, 1941
“I would never have lived my life like this if it weren’t for you, Varya. Thank you, dear! A person gets old, but the sky is forever young, like your eyes, which you can only look into and admire. They will never grow old or fade. Time will pass, people will heal their wounds, people will build new cities, grow new gardens. Another life will come, other songs will be sung. You will have beautiful children, you will still love. And I am happy that I am leaving you with great love for you. Yours, Ivan Kolosov."
From the last letter of Vasily Ermeychuk, 1943
"Dear Olga! Today marks exactly two years since I have not received warm, sincere words from you that warm you on cold autumn nights and caress your soul. If you only knew how much I miss you. If you knew how much I want to tell you... I've learned a lot in these two years. The war has made me bitter. When I remember the past, it seems to me that I was a boy, and now I am an adult who has only one task - to take revenge on the Germans for everything that they did.”
They have long remained in history. There are fewer and fewer people today who remember these terrible years. But the echo of war does not subside. Unexploded shells are still found on the battlefields, and military triangle letters and postcards are kept in family archives as a memory of the heroism of our fathers and grandfathers.
Front mail
Even in the USSR, the government paid special attention to the connection between front-line soldiers and their relatives. But the only way to do this in the early 40s was by mail. It was believed that a letter from home greatly increases a soldier’s fighting strength. Therefore, a postal message was organized. Machines for transporting correspondence were prohibited from being used for other purposes. had the same priority as wagons with ammunition. Therefore, they were allowed to be attached to any train so that military triangle letters from the front would reach their recipients.
All correspondence to the front and rear was free. The only exceptions were parcels. But the letters did not always arrive on time. There were cases that triangles came ten and twenty years after the end of the war.
Type of correspondence
Due to the great need for letters, the national economy began to widely produce envelopes, postcards and letter blanks. They had a colorful artistic design of a patriotic nature. On postcards, for example, caricatures of Germans were printed and they were signed with beautiful slogans: “I shoot so hard that not a bullet hits a German,” “Death to the German occupiers.”
But these preparations practically did not reach the front. And there wasn’t always enough plain paper for letters. Therefore, military triangle letters became widespread. Even a child knew how to fold them, since there were practically no envelopes then.
Newspapers and leaflets came to the soldiers, which raised morale and told about news that happened in the rear and on other fronts. But it was always meager and irregular, since wartime required caution. And with the message, everything was not always perfect, since postal vehicles were often ambushed and looted.
Triangular letters
Today it may not be clear why military triangle letters were sent. This form seems pointless and impractical. As the practice of the war years showed, this is absolutely not the case. The simple form allowed one to refuse envelopes and send free letters to any city in the Motherland.
Every soldier sent home military equipment, even a novice in military affairs knew it. To do this, a rectangular sheet of paper was folded diagonally from right to left, and then in half - from left to right. Since the sheets were rectangular, there was always a narrow strip at the bottom. It served as a kind of valve, which was tucked inside a triangle with pre-bent corners.
The letters were not sealed and did not require stamps. Addresses were written on the front side, and the back was left blank. The rest of the page was covered in small handwriting in order to communicate as much information about oneself as possible to loved ones, since letters were sent infrequently.
"Censored"
Since it was wartime, the letters could fall into the hands of the enemy. In order not to reveal secrets with them, censorship checked military triangle letters. This is where it becomes clear why they were not sealed, but simply wrapped in a special way. This made it easier for the censor to read them, so as not to damage the paper, and along with it, information valuable to relatives.
There were cases when fighters were accidentally able to describe the location of their position, the number of troops, or plans for further maneuvers. Such information was carefully sketched out in black paint so that no one could read it.
To bypass censorship and hint to loved ones about their condition or whereabouts, soldiers included small clues in their letters. There are cases when relatives received triangles with wormwood branches, which hinted at a bitter life in the field. Cuttings from newspaper leaflets were also used as hints.
Letters approved for sending were stamped “Censored”, which allowed further sending to the addressee.
The special meaning of the triangle letter
During the war years there were almost always problems with the delivery address. Firstly, people in the rear often moved to escape the fighting. Secondly, they also did not stand still. Thirdly, recipients often died or went missing. In such cases, military triangle letters became a kind of signal of joyful or sad news. History knows many cases when they arrived with a delay, much later than the official “funeral”. This gave hope to the family that the soldier was alive and well and would soon return home.
If the addressee died in war, the delivery address was crossed out and the letter was returned. This was tantamount to a funeral that might never come. It is for this reason that letters were never returned if the addressee moved to an unknown address or ended up in the hospital, but the post office did not know which one.
Today, various unreceived war triangle letters are kept in museums. Photos of them serve as a source for studying the history of the Great Patriotic War, since the sheets of paper themselves are already dilapidated and can collapse from frequent touching.
Subjects of letters
Since there was strict censorship at the front, military triangle letters had a special style. The fighters rarely told sad details about themselves. They were brave and expressed great optimism that the war would soon end.
In response, they asked to tell us about their relatives and news that happened at home. Soldiers often expressed concern about the health of relatives. The tone of almost all letters is solemn. And the messages themselves are filled with sincerity, which can be read in every word.
Today we know that if the fighters had not known how to make a military triangle letter, we would not have known what the war was really like. After all, it’s no secret that official data did not always coincide with real events.
The old paper stubbornly curls along the folds that were pressed more than sixty years ago. The ink has faded and the printing ink on postcards has faded. Letters from the front are still carefully kept in many families. Each triangle has its own story: happy or sad. It also happened that sometimes news from the front that a loved one was alive and well came after a terrible government envelope. But the mothers and wives believed: the funeral came by mistake. And they waited - for years, decades.
Letters from the fronts of the Great Patriotic War are documents of enormous power. In the lines that smell of gunpowder - the breath of war, the roughness of harsh everyday life in the trenches, the tenderness of a soldier’s heart, faith in Victory...
During the war years, great importance was attached to the artistic design of postal correspondence connecting the front and rear - envelopes, postcards, paper.
This is a kind of artistic chronicle of the hard times of war, an appeal to the heroic past of our ancestors, a call for a merciless fight against the invaders.
16-year-old Sonya Stepina did not immediately decide to write a letter to former mathematics teacher Mikhail Yeskin at the front and confess her love to him. And only after several letters that the school staff received from him, Sonya sent Mikhail a message. In it, the girl wrote: “I often remember your lessons, Mikhail Petrovich. I remember how I trembled and trembled at every sound of your voice..."
And soon platoon commander Mikhail Eskin answered Sonya: “I read your letter with great joy. You can’t imagine how happy people are here, reading letters from friends and relatives.” The correspondence became constant. When Mikhail told Sonya that he was “a little scratched and is now resting in the medical battalion,” the girl answered passionately: “I would fly if I had wings...” The young people fell in love with each other.
This correspondence lasted almost three years. In 1944, Mikhail and Sonya got married.
With the outbreak of hostilities, millions of people found themselves in the active army. There was a mass evacuation from the front line. Many people changed their addresses and places of residence. The war separated thousands of families. All hope was in the mail, which helped find loved ones - in the rear and at the front. Thousands of letters, postcards, newspapers and magazines went to the front every day. No less letters were sent from the front - to different cities, towns and villages, to where relatives were left behind.
Many letters from fighters are written in simple language, mainly about what worried them. It’s just difficult to read these lines - a lump gets stuck in your throat, and tears well up in your eyes. Vasily Ivanovich Volkov, a resident of Altai, where his family remained, addresses his wife in a letter: “Dear Manya! I send greetings to the children - Zoya, Kolya and Valya. I'm alive and well. Manechka, take care of the children. Pay attention to Zoe's health. She's weak for us. She needs to drink milk."
The war spared no one. She treated this family cruelly too. Vasily Volkov had two brothers killed during the war. His sister Maria lived in Leningrad, where she was in charge of a kindergarten. While crossing the “Road of Life”, a car with children went under the ice from shelling before her eyes. Shocked by what she saw, Maria became seriously ill and died in 1947. The brothers of Vasily Volkov’s wife also died in battle. Senior Lieutenant Vasily Volkov himself died a heroic death in 1943. It was difficult for Mana Volkova. At this time, Zoya had just turned 10 years old, her sister Valya was 7, and her brother Kolya was 3 years old.
Today it is almost impossible to find a museum or archive that does not contain letters from front-line soldiers, which sometimes researchers “can’t get around to.” But the history of the Second World War through the eyes of its participants is an important historical source. And experts believe that the work of collecting letters from the front must continue, because the keepers of soldiers’ letters are passing away.
For almost 60 years, Muscovite and retired major Yuli Solomonovich Lurie has been collecting letters from front-line soldiers. The first letter in this large collection was a letter from his father from the front, which Yuli's family received in 1941. Julius himself was a teenager at that time. In a large collection of letters from Lurie, there are front-line messages from soldiers - from soldier to marshal. Thus, private Vitaly Yaroshevsky, turning to his mother, wrote: “If I die, then I will die for our homeland and for you.” Pyotr Sorokin, who went missing in 1941, managed to write only a few letters to his family. Here are the lines from one of the latter.
“Hello, mommy! Don't worry about me... I've already been through my baptism of fire. We’ll be in Kronstadt, I’ll be sure to send you silk for your dress.” But I didn’t have time.
Alexey Rogov, a squadron commander of an air regiment who flew more than 60 flights, sent his news to his wife and little son in his hometown. In each of his addresses to his wife, one can feel genuine love and concern for his loved ones. “My girl,” Alexey wrote to his wife from Novocherkassk, “prepare yourself for separation. Ahead is 1942. Live, like me, in the hope of meeting.” He sent the following letter home from the Moscow region: “Hello, Verusinka, and son Edinka! Verushechka, don't be sad. Get ready for winter. Buy felt boots for your son and sew him a fur coat. Love you. Alexei". The last letter is dated early October 1941. Alexey wrote it a few days before his death. He received the title of Hero of the Soviet Union posthumously.
Nikolai Dronov, who died near Kerch in 1942, dreamed of living to see victory. “...There is little free time. You have to learn a lot on the go. But don't be discouraged. We will win. Mom, dad and grandma, don't worry about me. Do not Cry. Everything is fine. Your son Kolya."
There was not a person at the front who did not miss his home. It is no coincidence that almost all letters begin with an address to family and friends: “dear mother”, “my relatives”, “my dear children”, “beloved Masha”, etc. As a rule, in the letters of soldiers there are short narratives about the war. They sent poems, photographs, newspaper clippings and leaflets to their relatives. Since letters were written directly from the battlefield, “from the front line,” as the war progressed, front-line soldiers increasingly indicated the places where the battle was taking place. Usually just one line: “I’m writing from Prussia,” “we defended the Oder,” “greetings from Belarus.”
Guard sergeant major Natalya Chernyak fought until the victory. In her letter to her mother, she wrote: “Dear mother! Yesterday we had a big holiday in our unit. Our corps was awarded the Guards Banner. Mommy, they gave me new boots. My size is 36. Can you imagine how pleased I am? It's 3 am now. I'm sitting on duty and writing to you. I read Mayakovsky in my free time. Yes, I almost forgot, mommy, send me the sheet music: Strauss’s waltzes “Voices of Spring”, “On the Blue Danube”, Ukrainian and Russian songs. This is necessary for our orchestra.”
Letters from Fadey Fadeevich Zenko from the front were kept in the Zenko family of Muscovites for a long time, until his relatives handed them over to the museum. Fadey Zenko died shortly after the victory. His letters are addressed to his wife Anna and children. Together with employees of the Institute of Railway Transport Engineers, she was evacuated to the Urals. Anna Ivanovna and her two children settled in the village, where she was elected deputy chairman of the collective farm.
It was difficult, difficult. But letters from her husband helped her survive. He was worried about how his wife and children would survive the Ural frosts: “It’s great that you bought felt boots. We need to sew hats with ear flaps so that our kids don’t freeze. Anya, don’t forget to think about yourself.” One can feel the husband’s great desire to somehow protect his wife and children from adversity. The children of Fadey Zenko recalled that their mother, reading letters from the front, either cried or laughed. They charged her with their optimism.
The collective farm did not have enough people, there was not enough equipment, and there were difficulties with seeds. For Anna Zenko, yesterday an engineer at one of the leading Moscow institutes, it was not at all easy for her to adapt to rural life. The fact that she worked tirelessly was stated in her husband’s next message: “Anya, I learned in your letter that the reviews of the district leaders about you are good. I am very happy and proud. Your successes are our successes."
Many war postcards were accompanied not only by pictures, but also by an official quote from Stalin: “We can and must cleanse our land of Hitler’s evil spirits.” People wrote in letters and postcards, bringing victory closer: “I will beat the enemy to the last strength ...”, “... I will avenge the destroyed village”, “I believe that we will get even with the Krauts”, “Mom, he’s running away from us, we broke their teeth "...
There weren't enough envelopes. Triangle letters arrived from the front. They sent them for free. The triangle is an ordinary sheet from a notebook, which was first folded to the right, then from left to right. The remaining strip of paper was inserted inside the triangle.
The correspondence of loved ones of that time has long ceased to be a private matter. This is already history. The historical museum of the city of Roslavl contains a large collection of letters from the front. Nikolai Ievlev wrote his letter home 3 weeks before the start of the war: “Mom, don’t worry about me. Everything is fine. It's a pity that there is no one to take care of our garden. We have wonderful apple trees. The place where our military school is located has very beautiful forests. You can see moose in the morning.”
Leonid Golovlev could not find his family for almost two years. Only in 1943 did his relatives receive a letter from him: “I didn’t know anything about your fate, I was worried. I can’t imagine how you survived the occupation. Let's hope everything will be fine now. What can I say about myself? I'm fighting. Alive and well". Leonid went missing in 1944. Nikolai Feskin's letters are full of fatherly love. In the rear he left behind his wife Evdokia and three children. Here are a few phrases from the front-line soldier’s letter: “...I kiss you many times. I really want to see. Children - Valya, Vitya and little Mirochka - I dream about.”
In 1995, Nikolai Feskin’s daughter Mira Kolobneva donated her father’s letters to the museum.
A person always remains a person, even in the most difficult conditions. During the war years, young people often corresponded by correspondence. So, an officer in the active army sent Ekaterina Kataeva, a stranger to him, a letter from the front. Ekaterina Karpovna said, remembering this time: “Our suitors were killed in the war. My boyfriend died at Stalingrad. And then a letter arrived from Semyon Alekimov. At first I didn’t want to answer. And I thought about how our soldiers are fighting there and waiting for letters, and I decided to answer.”
Life was not easy for Katya. My mother had five of them. My father died in 1936. The more the young people corresponded, the stronger their feelings became. Senior Lieutenant Alekimov was on the verge of death more than once. He remembers how he miraculously survived the bombing, when their platoon was crossing the Berezina River, and how they were under fire from German planes. After the war, Semyon Alekimov will say: “In one day in war you live ten lives and ten deaths. But I always dreamed of my Katyusha.” Katya and Semyon managed to survive all the hardships, fate united them.
In almost every soldier's letter you can read lines about comrades who died in battle, and the desire to avenge them. The words about the death of loyal friends in a letter from Private Alexei Petrov sound briefly but dramatically: “Our tank corps left the battle, and many people died.” And here is what son Ivan wrote to his father in the village: “Dad, what heavy battles are going on... If only you knew how my comrades are fighting.”
Soldier Vladimir Trofimenko told his loved ones in the Sumy region: “We dealt a heavy blow to the Germans near Bobruisk. I would like 1944 to be the last year of the war. Now the Germans are raising their hands in front of us, young soldiers in dusty tunics. I can already see the future peaceful time, I hear the singing of girls, the laughter of children...” This letter, like other news from Vladimir, ended up in the local museum. Over the years, the paper has become completely transparent. But the author’s words are clearly visible. There are also crossed out lines in the letter. This censorship tried. There are marks everywhere: “checked by military censorship.”
Back in August 1941, the Pravda newspaper wrote in an editorial that it was very important that letters find their addressee at the front. And further: “Every letter, parcel…. they pour strength into fighters and inspire them to new feats.” It is no secret that the Germans destroyed communication centers and destroyed telephone lines. A military field postal system was created in the country under the supervision of the Central Field Communications Directorate.
Only in the first year of war, the State Defense Committee made several decisions that related to the promotion of correspondence between the front and the rear. In particular, it was prohibited to use postal transport for business work. Mail cars were connected to all trains, even to military trains.
The service of military postmen was not easy. In the staffing table, the postman's position was referred to as a forwarder. The postman Alexander Glukhov reached Berlin. Every day he walked around all the units of his regiment, collected letters written by the soldiers, and delivered them to the field post office. I had to be in battle more than once. In his huge bag there was always room for postcards, paper and pencils for those who did not have time to stock up on these necessary supplies.
Alexander Glukhov recalled years later that he knew the names of many fighters. However, after almost every battle there were losses of personnel. Already at the regimental headquarters, he marked “left the unit” on letters that did not reach the recipients. The front-line soldiers themselves called such letters “unhanded.”
It was no easier to work as a postman in the rear. Valentina Merkulova was assigned to be a postman when she was in the 4th grade. Before lunch she studied at school, and after classes she was busy delivering letters. From the village of Bulgakovsky, in the Oryol region, where she lived with her sick mother, this little girl went with letters to nearby villages every day, in any weather. Later, Valentina, recalling wartime, shared her impressions with readers of the local newspaper: “I didn’t have warm clothes, but my mother got a sweatshirt and rubber galoshes from one of the neighbors. That’s how I went.”
Even then, young Valentina had to face both grief and joy. Some letters were read by people to the whole village or village. Everyone was interested in news from the front. But there were also many funerals. The misfortune did not spare their family either. Valentina's mother lost two brothers in the war. Valin's father died later, when he returned from the front.
Heroes of the Great Patriotic War,
fallen on the battlefields,
dedicated...
The nerves have become thinner...
She only walked two blocks...
Girly 14 years old
Tired of carrying
with a funeral envelope.
There is no worse, no more terrible news;
And this cry is unbearable to listen to:
“Why did God give me children?! —
Mom will cry. - Petenka! Petrusha!
There is no worse, no more terrible news,
The burden seems unbearable to her:
“Well, how can I raise three children?! —
the wife will cry. - My Alyoshenka! Alyosha!!!"
When Raisa handed over the triangles,
The whole street sang and danced!
And, having received greetings from the front line,
Mother wipes away a tear:
“My son! Alive!"
…
The luminous flux from the sleeve is
Where is the cotton wool in the kerosene?
Eternally smoky wick
Throws shadows at the ceiling
The headquarters dugout in three rolls.
While it's quiet and bye
A drop of light shines in the darkness
Don't sleep, soldier, by the light,
And tell me from afar
Words of love, words of hello...
Let it be in a notebook without borders
Confession slides obliquely
Into the depths of dear dear fields
Under the sails of poplars,
Not expecting a bow from you.
Say hello with a pen
Screwed to a splinter with a thread,
With my home over the hill,
With rows of apple trees outside the yard,
With a welcoming gate.
While it's quiet and bye
The wick is breathing slightly,
Born after line line: 
On the eve of Victory Day, people waited for letters with special feeling.
Armenian Eduard Simonyan fought in a tank brigade, which was part of the Stalingrad Corps. In 1944, only 7 people remained in their brigade. He was wounded more than once and was hospitalized. At the end of the war, his mother received notice of the death of her son. And suddenly, unexpectedly for her, a letter arrived, a treasured triangle, in which Edward wrote: “Dear mother, I was wounded in Latvia. I'm in the hospital. The wound on my left leg is slowly healing. Soon we will win a little, then we will live cheerfully and happily.”
And these are the lines from a letter from Mikhail Martov on May 9, 1945, addressed to his wife: “Dear Tamara! I didn't sleep all night. They fired from all types of weapons. Here it is, victory! What we have been dreaming about all these years has come true... We are now in East Prussia. It’s beautiful here, it’s spring.”
Artilleryman Nikolai Evseev told his relatives in the village of Novocherkasskoye: “On May 9, I was returning from Vienna with my colleagues, but my car broke down on the way. Everyone got out of it. We hear shots being fired somewhere up. A line appeared across the sky, then a second one... Then it became clear to everyone - this is the end of the war!”
Today, almost every family has a box where they keep letters from the front, photographs and military awards. Every family has its own story. But everyone has one thing in common - a common involvement in the tragic events of World War II. To this day, letters from the front, burnt, torn, half-decayed, touch us to the depths of our souls.
Over the years, the lessons of that war are not forgotten - bitter and victorious. And every time on May 9th the words sound somehow especially solemn:
"The feat of the people is immortal."
“We drove for many days... We left with the girls at some station with a bucket to get water. They looked around and gasped: one train after another was coming, and there were only girls there. They sing. They wave at us - some with scarves, some with caps. It became clear: there weren’t enough men, they were dead in the ground. Or in captivity. Now we, instead of them... Mom wrote me a prayer. I put it in the locket. Maybe it helped - I returned home. Before the fight I kissed the medallion..."
“And the girls were eager to go to the front voluntarily, but a coward himself would not go to war. These were brave, extraordinary girls. There are statistics: losses among frontline medics ranked second after losses in rifle battalions. In the infantry. What does it mean, for example, to pull a wounded man out of the battlefield? I’ll tell you now... We went on the attack, and let’s mow us down with a machine gun. And the battalion was gone. Everyone was lying down. They were not all killed, many were wounded. The Germans are hitting and they don’t stop firing. Quite unexpectedly for everyone, first one girl jumps out of the trench, then a second, a third... They began to bandage and drag away the wounded, even the Germans were speechless with amazement for a while. By ten o'clock in the evening, all the girls were seriously wounded, and each saved a maximum of two or three people. They were awarded sparingly; at the beginning of the war, awards were not scattered. The wounded man had to be pulled out along with his personal weapon. The first question in the medical battalion: where are the weapons? At the beginning of the war there was not enough of him. A rifle, a machine gun, a machine gun - these also had to be carried. In forty-one, order number two hundred and eighty-one was issued on the presentation of awards for saving the lives of soldiers: for fifteen seriously wounded people carried out from the battlefield along with personal weapons - the medal “For Military Merit”, for saving twenty-five people - the Order of the Red Star, for saving forty - the Order of the Red Banner, for saving eighty - the Order of Lenin. And I described to you what it meant to save at least one person in battle... From under bullets...”
“I remember they let me go. Before going to my aunt, I went to the store. Before the war, I loved candy terribly. I say: “Give me some candy.” The saleswoman looks at me like I'm crazy. I didn’t understand what cards were, what a blockade was? All the people in line turned to me, and I had a rifle bigger than me. When they gave them to us, I looked and thought: “When will I grow up to this rifle?” And everyone suddenly started asking, the whole line: “Give her some candy.” Cut out the coupons from us.” And they gave it to me."
“I had night duty. I went into the ward of the seriously wounded. The captain is lying there... The doctors warned me before duty that he would die at night and would not live until the morning... I asked him: “Well, how? How can I help you?" I’ll never forget... He suddenly smiled, such a bright smile on his exhausted face: “Unbutton your robe... Show me your breasts. I haven’t seen my wife for a long time...” I felt ashamed, I answered him something. She left and returned an hour later. He lies dead. And that smile on his face.”
“I returned from the war gray-haired. Twenty-one years old, and I’m all white. I was seriously wounded, concussed, and I couldn’t hear well in one ear. My mother greeted me with the words: “I believed that you would come. I prayed for you day and night.” My brother died at the front. She cried: “It’s the same now - give birth to girls or boys.”
“I’m bandaging the tanker... The battle is on, there’s a roar. He asks: “Girl, what’s your name?” Even some kind of compliment. It was so strange for me to pronounce my name in this roar, in this horror - Olya.
“They also received a tank there. We were both senior driver mechanics, and there should only be one driver in a tank. The command decided to appoint me as commander of the IS-122 tank, and my husband as senior mechanic-driver. And so we reached Germany. Both are wounded. We have awards. There were quite a few female tankers on medium tanks, but on heavy tanks I was the only one.”
“As long as he hears... Until the last moment you tell him that no, no, is it really possible to die. You kiss him, hug him: what are you, what are you? He’s already dead, his eyes are on the ceiling, and I’m still whispering something to him... I’m calming him down... The names have been erased, gone from memory, but the faces remain...”
“The whole war I was afraid that my legs would be crippled. I had beautiful legs. What to a man? He’s not so scared if he even loses his legs. Still a hero. Groom! If a woman gets hurt, then her fate will be decided. Women's destiny..."
“We strived... We didn’t want people to say about us: “Oh, those women!” And we tried harder than men, we still had to prove that we were no worse than men. And for a long time there was an arrogant, condescending attitude towards us: “These women will fight…”
“I reached Berlin with the army... I returned to my village with two Orders of Glory and medals. I lived for three days, and on the fourth my mother lifted me out of bed and said: “Daughter, I put together a bundle for you. Go away... Go away... You still have two younger sisters growing up. Who will marry them? Everyone knows that you were at the front for four years, with men...” “Don’t touch my soul. Write, like others, about my awards...”
“We were young and went to the front. Girls. I even grew up during the war. Mom tried it on at home... I have grown ten centimeters..."
I confess that I could not hold back my tears when I read these memoirs. I bow my head to those brave women who stood under bullets and defended our lands from enemy attacks in those terrible war years. Happy memory to all those who gave their lives for their Motherland without seeing the long-awaited victory. We simply have no right to forget!
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