Curious cases with tanks from the Second World War. Funny stories. Military stories. Like plywood over a barn

Each soldier had his own path to Victory. Guard Private Sergei Shustov tells readers about what his military path was like.

I was supposed to be drafted in 1940, but I had a deferment. Therefore, he joined the Red Army only in May 1941. From the regional center we were immediately taken to the “new” Polish border to a construction battalion. There were an awful lot of people there. And right before the eyes of the Germans, we all built fortifications and a large airfield for heavy bombers.

It must be said that the “construction battalion” of that time was no match for the current one. We were thoroughly trained in sapper and explosives. Not to mention the fact that shooting took place constantly. As a city guy, I knew the rifle inside and out. Back in school, we shot a heavy combat rifle and knew how to assemble and disassemble it “for a while.” The guys from the village, of course, had it more difficult in this regard.

From the first days in battle

When the war began - and on June 22 at four o'clock in the morning our battalion was already in battle - we were very lucky with our commanders. All of them, from company commander to division commander, fought during the Civil War and did not suffer repression. Apparently, that’s why we retreated competently and didn’t get surrounded. Although they retreated fighting.

By the way, we were well armed: each fighter was literally hung with pouches with cartridges, grenades... Another thing is that from the very border to Kyiv we did not see a single Soviet aircraft in the sky. When we, retreating, passed by our border airfield, it was completely filled with burnt planes. And there we came across only one pilot. To the question: “What happened, why didn’t they take off?!” - he replied: “Yes, we are still without fuel! That’s why half the people went on leave over the weekend.”

First big losses

So we retreated to the old Polish border, where we finally got hooked. Although the guns and machine guns had already been dismantled and the ammunition removed, excellent fortifications remained there - huge concrete pillboxes into which the train could freely enter. For defense then they used all available means.

For example, anti-tank posts were made from tall thick pillars around which hops curled before the war... This place was called the Novograd-Volynsky fortified area. And there we detained the Germans for eleven days. At that time this was considered a lot. True, most of our battalion died there.

But we were lucky that we were not in the direction of the main attack: German tank wedges were moving along the roads. And when we had already retreated to Kyiv, we were told that while we were sitting in Novograd-Volynsk, the Germans had bypassed us further south and were already on the outskirts of the capital of Ukraine.

But there was a General Vlasov (the same one - author) who stopped them. Near Kiev, I was surprised: for the first time in our entire service, we were loaded onto cars and driven somewhere. As it turned out, it was urgent to plug the holes in the defense. This was in July, and a little later I was awarded the medal “For the Defense of Kyiv.”

In Kyiv, we built pillboxes and bunkers in the lower and basement floors of houses. We mined everything we could - we had mines in abundance. But we did not fully participate in the defense of the city - we were transferred down the Dnieper. Because they guessed: the Germans could cross the river there.

Certificate

From the very border to Kyiv we did not see a single Soviet aircraft in the sky. We met the pilot at the airport. To the question: “Why didn’t they take off?!” - he replied: “Yes, we are still without fuel!”

Timeline of the Great Patriotic War

As soon as I arrived at the unit, I was armed with a Polish carbine - apparently, during the hostilities of 1939, the trophy warehouses were captured. It was our same “three-line” model of 1891, but shortened. And not with an ordinary bayonet, but with a bayonet-knife, similar to a modern one.

The accuracy and range of this carbine was almost the same, but it was much lighter than its “ancestor”. The bayonet-knife was generally suitable for all occasions: it could be used to cut bread, people, and cans. And during construction work it is generally indispensable.

Already in Kyiv I was given a brand new 10-round SVT rifle. At first I was happy: five or ten rounds in a clip - that means a lot in battle. But I fired it a couple of times and my clip jammed. Moreover, the bullets flew anywhere but to the target. So I went to the foreman and said: “Give me back my carbine.”

From near Kyiv we were transferred to the city of Kremenchug, which was completely on fire. We set a task: to dig a command post in a coastal cliff overnight, camouflage it and provide communications there. We did this, and suddenly there was an order: straight off the road, through a corn field - to retreat.

Through Poltava to Kharkov

We went, and the entire - already replenished - battalion went to some station. We were loaded onto a train and driven inland from the Dnieper. And suddenly we heard an incredible cannonade to the north of us. The sky is on fire, all the enemy planes are flying there, but there is zero attention to us.

So in September the Germans broke through the front and went on the attack. But it turns out that we were taken out on time again, and we didn’t get surrounded. We were transferred through Poltava to Kharkov.

Before reaching it 75 kilometers, we saw what was happening above the city: anti-aircraft fire “lined” the entire horizon. In this city, for the first time, we came under heavy bombing: women and children rushed about and died before our eyes.

There we were introduced to engineer-Colonel Starinov, who was considered one of the main specialists in the Red Army in laying mines. Later, after the war, I corresponded with him. I managed to congratulate him on his centenary and receive an answer. And a week later he died...

From the wooded area north of Kharkov we were thrown into one of the first serious counter-offensives in that war. There were heavy rains, which was to our advantage: aircraft could rarely take off. And when it rose, the Germans dropped bombs anywhere: visibility was almost zero.

Offensive near Kharkov - 1942

Near Kharkov, I saw a terrible picture. Several hundred German cars and tanks were stuck tightly in the soggy black soil. The Germans simply had nowhere to go. And when they ran out of ammunition, our cavalry cut them down. Every single one of them.

On October 5 the frost had already hit. And we were all in summer uniform. And they had to turn their caps inside their ears - that’s how they later portrayed prisoners.

Less than half of our battalion was left again - we were sent to the rear for reorganization. And we walked from Ukraine to Saratov, where we arrived on New Year’s Eve.

Then, in general, there was a “tradition”: from the front to the rear they moved exclusively on foot, and back to the front - in trains and in cars. By the way, we almost never saw the legendary “one and a half” at the front: the main army vehicle was the ZIS-5.

We were reorganized near Saratov and in February 1942 we were transferred to the Voronezh region - no longer as a construction battalion, but as an engineer battalion.

First wound

And we again took part in the offensive on Kharkov - that infamous one, when our troops fell into a cauldron. However, we were missed again.

I was then wounded in the hospital. And a soldier came running to me right there and said: “Get dressed urgently and run to the unit - the commander’s order! We are leaving". And so I went. Because we were all terribly afraid of falling behind our unit: everything was familiar there, everyone was friends. And if you fall behind, God knows where you’ll end up.

In addition, German planes often targeted red crosses specifically. And in the forest there was even more chance of survival.

It turned out that the Germans had broken through the front with tanks. We were given an order: to mine all bridges. And if German tanks appear, immediately blow them up. Even if our troops did not have time to retreat. That is, leaving your own people surrounded.

Crossing the Don

On July 10, we approached the village of Veshenskaya, took up defensive positions on the shore and received a strict order: “Don’t let the Germans cross the Don!” And we haven't seen them yet. Then we realized that they weren’t following us. And they scampered across the steppe at great speed in a completely different direction.

However, a real nightmare reigned at the crossing of the Don: she physically could not let all the troops through. And then, as if ordered, German troops arrived and destroyed the crossing on the first pass.

We had hundreds of boats, but they were not enough. What to do? Cross with available means. The forest there was all thin and not suitable for rafts. Therefore, we began to break down gates in houses and make rafts from them.

A cable was stretched across the river, and improvised ferries were built along it. Another thing that struck me was this. The entire river was strewn with caught fish. And local Cossack women caught this fish under bombing and shelling. Although, it would seem, you need to hide in the cellar and not show your nose from there.

In Sholokhov's homeland

There, in Veshenskaya, we saw Sholokhov’s bombed house. They asked the locals: “Is he dead?” They answered us: “No, just before the bombing he loaded the car with children and took them to the farm. But his mother remained and died.”

Then many wrote that the entire yard was strewn with manuscripts. But personally, I didn’t notice any papers.

As soon as we crossed, they took us into the woods and began to prepare us... back for the crossing to the other side. We say: “Why?!” The commanders replied: “We will attack in another place.” And they also received an order: if the Germans were crossing over for reconnaissance, do not shoot at them - only cut them, so as not to make a noise.

There we met guys from a familiar unit and were surprised: hundreds of fighters had the same order. It turned out that it was a guards badge: they were one of the first to receive such badges.

Then we crossed between Veshenskaya and the city of Serafimovich and occupied a bridgehead, which the Germans could not take until November 19, when our offensive near Stalingrad began from there. Many troops, including tanks, were transported to this bridgehead.

Moreover, the tanks were very different: from brand new “thirty-fours” to ancient, unknown how surviving “machine gun” vehicles produced in the thirties.

By the way, I saw the first “thirty-four”, it seems, already on the second day of the war, and then I first heard the name “Rokossovsky”.

There were several dozen cars parked in the forest. The tankers were all perfect: young, cheerful, perfectly equipped. And we all immediately believed: they’re about to go crazy and that’s it, we’ll defeat the Germans.

Certificate

A real nightmare reigned at the crossing of the Don: she physically could not let all the troops through. And then, as if ordered, German troops arrived and destroyed the crossing on the first pass.

Hunger is not a thing

Then we were loaded onto barges and taken along the Don. We had to eat somehow, so we started lighting fires on the barges and boiling potatoes. The boatswain ran and shouted, but we didn’t care - we wouldn’t die of hunger. And the chance of burning from a German bomb was much greater than from a fire.

Then the food ran out, the soldiers began to board boats and sail away for provisions to the villages we were sailing past. The commander again ran with a revolver, but could not do anything: hunger was no problem.

And so we sailed all the way to Saratov. There we were placed in the middle of the river and surrounded by barriers. True, they brought packed rations for the past time and all our “fugitives” back. After all, they were not stupid - they understood that the matter smelled of desertion - an execution case. And, having “fed up” a little, they showed up at the nearest military registration and enlistment office: they say, I fell behind the unit, I ask you to return it back.

New life of Karl Marx's Capital

And then a real flea market formed on our barges. They made pots out of tin cans and exchanged, as they say, “sewn for soap.” And Karl Marx’s “Capital” was considered the greatest value - its good paper was used for cigarettes. I have never seen such popularity of this book before or since...

The main difficulty in the summer was to dig in - this virgin soil could only be taken with a pickaxe. It’s good if you managed to dig a trench at least half its height.

One day a tank passed through my trench, and I was just thinking: will it hit my helmet or not? Didn't hit...

I also remember back then that the German tanks didn’t “take” our anti-tank rifles at all - only sparks sparkled across the armor. That’s how I fought in my unit, and I didn’t think that I would leave it, but...

Fate decreed differently

Then I was sent to study to become a radio operator. The selection was strict: those who did not have an ear for music were rejected immediately.

The commander said: “Well, to hell with them, these walkie-talkies! The Germans spot them and hit us directly.” So I had to pick up a spool of wire and off I went! And the wire there was not twisted, but solid, steel. By the time you twist it once, you’ll rip off all your fingers! I immediately have a question: how to cut it, how to clean it? And they say to me: “You have a carbine. Open and lower the aiming frame - that's how you cut it. It’s up to her to clean it up.”

We were dressed in winter uniform, but I didn’t get felt boots. And how ferocious she was - a lot has been written.

There were Uzbeks among us who literally froze to death. I froze my fingers without felt boots, and then they amputated them without any anesthesia. Although I kicked my feet all the time, it didn’t help. On January 14, I was wounded again, and that was the end of my Battle of Stalingrad...

Certificate

Karl Marx's "Capital" was considered the greatest value - its good paper was used for cigarettes. I have never seen such popularity of this book before or since.

Awards have found a hero

The reluctance to go to the hospital came back to haunt many front-line soldiers after the war. No documents have been preserved about their injuries, and even getting disability was a big problem.

We had to collect testimonies from fellow soldiers, who were then checked through the military registration and enlistment offices: “Did Private Ivanov serve at that time together with Private Petrov?”

For his military work, Sergei Vasilyevich Shustov was awarded the Order of the Red Star, the Order of the Patriotic War of the first degree, medals “For the Defense of Kyiv”, “For the Defense of Stalingrad” and many others.

But he considers one of the most expensive awards to be the “Front-line Soldier” badge, which began to be issued recently. Although, as the former “Stalingrader” thinks, now these badges are issued to “everyone who is not too lazy.”

DKREMLEVRU

Incredible incidents in war

Despite all the horrors of the war, the most memorable episode in his epic was the incident when there was no bombing or shooting. Sergei Vasilyevich talks about him carefully, looking into his eyes and, apparently, suspecting that they still won’t believe him.

But I believed it. Although this story is both strange and scary.

— I already told you about Novograd-Volynsky. It was there that we fought terrible battles, and most of our battalion died there. Somehow, during breaks between battles, we found ourselves in a small village near Novograd-Volynsky. The Ukrainian village is just a few huts, on the banks of the Sluch River.

We spent the night in one of the houses. The owner lived there with her son. He was ten or eleven years old. Such a skinny, always dirty boy. He kept asking the soldiers to give him a rifle and shoot.

We only lived there for two days. On the second night we were awakened by some noise. Anxiety is a common thing for soldiers, so everyone woke up at once. There were four of us.

A woman with a candle stood in the middle of the hut and cried. We were alarmed and asked what happened? It turned out that her son was missing. We calmed the mother down as best we could, said that we would help, got dressed and went out to look.

It was already dawn. We walked through the village, shouting: “Petya...” - that was the boy’s name, but he was nowhere to be found. We returned back.

The woman was sitting on a bench near the house. We approached, lit a cigarette, and said that there was no need to worry or worry yet, it was unknown where this urchin could have run away.

When I was lighting a cigarette, I turned away from the wind and noticed an open hole in the back of the yard. It was a well. But the log house disappeared somewhere, most likely, it was used for firewood, and the boards that covered the hole were moved.

With a bad feeling, I approached the well. I looked in. The body of a boy was floating at a depth of about five meters.

Why he went into the yard at night, what he needed near the well, is unknown. Maybe he took out some ammunition and went to bury it to keep his childhood secret.

While we were thinking about how to get the body, while we were looking for a rope, we tied it around the lightest of us, while we were raising the body, at least two hours passed. The boy's body was twisted and stiff, and it was very difficult to straighten his arms and legs.

The water in the well was very cold. The boy had been dead for several hours. I saw many, many corpses and I had no doubt. We brought him into the room. Neighbors came and said that everything would be prepared for the funeral.

In the evening, the grief-stricken mother sat next to the coffin, which a neighbor carpenter had already managed to make. At night, when we went to bed, behind the screen I saw her silhouette near the coffin, trembling against the backdrop of a flickering candle.

Certificate

Despite all the horrors of the war, the most memorable episode in my epic was the incident when there was no bombing or shooting

Scary unexplained facts

Later I woke up to whispers. Two people spoke. One voice was female and belonged to the mother, the other was childish, boyish. I don’t know the Ukrainian language, but the meaning was still clear.
The boy said:
“I’ll leave now, they shouldn’t see me, and then, when everyone has left, I’ll come back.”
- When? - Female voice.
- The day after tomorrow night.
-Are you really coming?
- I’ll come, definitely.
I thought that one of the boy’s friends had visited the hostess. I got up. They heard me and the voices died down. I walked over and pulled back the curtain. There were no strangers there. The mother was still sitting, the candle was dimly burning, and the child’s body lay in the coffin.

Only for some reason it was lying on its side, and not on its back, as it should be. I stood there in a daze and couldn’t figure anything out. Some kind of sticky fear seemed to envelop me like a cobweb.

I, who walked under it every day, could die every minute, who tomorrow would again have to repel the attacks of an enemy who was several times superior to us. I looked at the woman, she turned to me.
“You were talking to someone,” I heard my voice hoarse, as if I had just smoked a whole pack of cigarettes.
- I... - She somehow awkwardly ran her hand over her face... - Yes... With herself... I imagined that Petya was still alive...
I stood there a little longer, turned around and went to bed. All night I listened to sounds behind the curtain, but everything was quiet there. In the morning, fatigue finally took its toll and I fell asleep.

In the morning there was an urgent formation, we were again sent to the front line. I came in to say goodbye. The hostess was still sitting on the stool... in front of the empty coffin. I again experienced horror, I even forgot that there was a battle in a few hours.
-Where is Petya?
- Relatives from a neighboring village took him at night, they are closer to the cemetery, we will bury him there.

I didn’t hear any relatives at night, although maybe I just didn’t wake up. But why didn’t they take the coffin then? They called me from the street. I put my arm around her shoulders and left the hut.

What happened next, I don’t know. We never returned to this village. But the more time passes, the more often I remember this story. After all, I didn’t dream it. And then I recognized Petya’s voice. His mother couldn't imitate him like that.

What was it then? Until now, I have never told anyone anything. Why, it doesn’t matter, either they won’t believe it or they’ll decide that in his old age he’s gone crazy.

He finished the story. I looked at him. What could I say, I just shrugged my shoulders... We sat for a long time, drinking tea, he refused alcohol, although I suggested going for vodka. Then they said goodbye and I went home. It was already night, the lanterns were dimly shining, and the reflections of the headlights of passing cars flashed in the puddles.

Certificate

With a bad feeling, I approached the well. I looked in. A boy's body floated at a depth of five meters

Fast news today

This happened on the Kursk Bulge, when the target of an armor-piercing projectile fired by our 76-mm cannon was the Borgward mine carrier tankette, which at that moment was on a German medium carrier tank. Primitive “combat robots” “Borgward” were used by the Nazis to clear mines or blow up pillboxes. One way or another, the wedge, filled with a large volume of explosives, detonated from a direct hit from a projectile, also provoking the detonation of the tank’s ammunition load. This entire pile of metal, engulfed in flames, flew into the air and fell on the Ferdinand heavy self-propelled artillery unit standing next door. Result: one shell irretrievably destroyed three enemy combat vehicles.

Another case of such luck in combat conditions occurred at the beginning of the war, when the Soviet heavy KV-1, which had gone on the offensive, stood right in the middle of the battlefield not far from the German positions: the engine stalled. This sometimes happened: our crews did not always have time to master well the material part of the new military equipment entrusted to them. There was not enough knowledge, time and, accordingly, experience. Having lost speed and control, the tankers decided to give the last battle, opening fire on the Nazis with cannons and machine guns. But they soon ran out of ammunition.

Realizing that the Red Army soldiers had fallen into a trap and had nowhere to go, the Germans invited the crew to surrender. Our tankers responded with a categorical refusal. Having come close to the now harmless heavy tank, the Nazis, in turn, admired the miracle of Russian technology, praising and tapping on all parts of the armor. At the same time, they, of course, did not want to get into trouble, trying to open the hatch. No one was going to destroy the KV-1 either: the Nazis, on the contrary, always tried, as far as possible, to replenish the collection of Wehrmacht trophies with another new product or simply a well-preserved copy of enemy equipment.

In a word, the Nazis decided to transport the KV-1 to their positions by attaching two of their light Panzerkampfwagens (T-2) to it with cables. The engines roared, the clutches tightened... And then (lo and behold!) the unexpected happened. It turns out that through their own efforts the German tanks started our KV-1. And then everything was a matter of technique: having received such timely help from the enemy, the driver engaged the reverse gear and accelerated properly. Well, what are two German 9-ton "bugs" against an almost 50-ton Soviet giant!

The heavyweight, like two toys, pulled the enemy equipment towards its own positions. The fascist crews could only quickly leave their vehicles in panic and retreat. Thus, the potential victim himself acquired a good batch of trophies.

During the Novorossiysk-Maikop offensive operation, Nikolai Averkin’s plane was shot down. The pilot had to “land” on the lead waves of the Black Sea, then already as warm as those days with which we always associate this sunny region, because it was the winter of 1943. And the downed pilot did not have any available means of fighting the waves, the wind, or the cold. Even according to the state, this was not allowed, since Nikolai’s flight unit did not belong to naval aviation.

Having plunged into the icy waves, the pilot felt the full horror of his unenviable position: he would not have long to flounder in the icy water, if only a miracle had not happened... And it happened! Fighting the wind and cold waves, he suddenly saw a submarine floating a few meters away from him. There was still a danger that it would turn out to be an enemy submarine, which sometimes happened: the “valiant wolves” of the Kriegsmarine sometimes did not disdain to seek out and select (take prisoner) enemy sailors and pilots. But then Nikolai heard such a welcome Russian speech: “It’s good to swim there, catch the end!” Having caught the lifebuoy, he quickly reached the boat. And within a few minutes, having climbed aboard the Soviet submarine, he was finally saved.

It is difficult to imagine that this could happen in the Black Sea in broad daylight (and this is exactly what happened). After all, in 1943, enemy troops still reigned on land and sea: German ships and submarines reigned supreme on the water, and the Luftwaffe reigned supreme in the air. Everything that appeared on the surface was simply drowned. Therefore, Soviet submariners behaved quietly and below the grass. If our submarines surfaced to charge batteries, it was only at night and far from their native shores. What happened in the case of Nikolai was purely an accident: the boat was simply forced to make an emergency ascent. And this had to happen - precisely at that time and in the place where, it would seem, Nikolai Averkin was already saying goodbye to life. But fate, apparently, was favorable to the Soviet pilot.

The Red Army soldier was saved by a guardian angel

She also kept Red Army soldier Dmitry Palchikov, the driver of the Studebaker. During the Battle of Moscow, he ran into an anti-tank mine in his Lend-Lease truck. At that time, Dmitry Grigorievich drove the soldiers to the front line, in addition, the Studebaker itself was used as a tractor for the heavy gun. After the explosion, nothing remained of the Red Army soldiers sitting in the back, nor of the gun, nor of the truck itself. The cabin in which Dmitry was sitting was torn off and thrown far forward, and he himself... escaped with light scratches. The problem was that there was a terrible frost outside, and everyone who operated equipment (no matter what - tanks, trucks, tractors) was forbidden to leave it until their own arrived.

The Red Army soldier was saved by a guardian angel

There are even cases when our tank crews had to spend hours next to their tank destroyed in battle (sitting, say, somewhere nearby in a shell crater) until the “technician” (repair service) arrived on the battlefield. So this time Dmitry was lucky: for two and a half weeks (!) he had to be on duty next to the remains of the truck. He lit a fire, slept only in fits and starts, but did not leave his post. Red Army soldiers driving and passing by helped him escape from the severe frost, feeding and encouraging the soldier. As a result, he remained alive, did not get frostbite and did not get sick. In such cases, people say: a guardian angel saved.

The family found their husband and father themselves

The war, as we know, led to the fact that millions of people found themselves separated from their families over a vast territory. Finding your loved ones in such conditions was also real luck. It happened that a soldier fighting at the front lost contact with his wife and children only because the train in which they were being evacuated was bombed while on the move. Imagine that the soldier was transferred to another unit, and the family, on the other hand, completely lost the thread of correspondence. In such cases, only a miracle could help.

Often anonymous parcels arrived at the front, titled, for example: “To the bravest fighter.” One of these came at the end of 1944 to one of the artillery regiments. After consulting, the fighters decided to give it to their comrade Grigory Turyanchik, who had confirmed such a high rank more than once in battle. His relatives were evacuated from the blockade while the fighter himself lay seriously wounded in the hospital. He hasn't heard anything about them since then. Having received the parcel, Grigory opened it and the first thing he saw was a letter lying on top of the gifts, which conveyed greetings to him from the rear. And at the end of the letter he read: “Dear fighter, if there is such an opportunity, write if you have met my husband Grigory Turyanchik somewhere on the front line. With deep respect, his wife Elena."

During the Great Patriotic War there were cases of Russian psychic attacks. This is how eyewitnesses tell about it: “The regiment rose to its full height. An accordion player walked from one flank, playing either the Vologda picks “Under the Fight”, or the Tver “Buza”. Another accordion player walked from the other flank, playing the Ural “Mommy”. Young, beautiful orderlies walked to the center, waving their handkerchiefs, and the entire regiment uttered the traditional mooing or grunting, which dancers usually emit when things are heading towards a fight, to intimidate the enemy. After such a psychic attack, the Germans could be taken in the trenches with bare hands, they were on the verge of mental insanity.

Story 1.
My grandfather fought from the first days of the war and ended it near Keninsberg.
The story that happened to my grandfather happened after another injury. Having received another bullet in the leg during the battle, my grandfather ended up in the hospital. Despite the level of medicine at that time, but thanks to the professionalism of military doctors (for which the Russian Army has always been famous), the wound healed successfully, and my grandfather was getting ready to go back to the front. And then one evening, after lights out, he felt severe pain in his lower abdomen. Got out of bed and went to the doctor. And the doctor was an old Russian grandfather who had been a doctor, probably, back in the First World War. The grandfather complained to him of pain and asked for some pill. The doctor felt his stomach, went into his closet and took out a large bottle of alcohol. I took two glasses and filled them to the brim. “Drink,” said the doctor. Grandfather drank. The doctor waved another glass himself! “Lie down,” the doctor commanded. Grandfather lay down on the table. From such an amount of alcohol, drunk on an empty stomach (war!), the grandfather immediately passed out... He woke up in the ward. No appendix. But with a headache... These are the people who defeated fascism!

Story 2.
My grandfather had a friend Misha, a terrible goofball, but at the same time an artillery lieutenant.
This friend commanded a multiple rocket launcher (as it is now called) called "Katyusha". It was good, or bad command, but the machine ran and made a lot of noise.
It was the summer of 1942. A Katyusha battalion was redeployed near Stalingrad; one of the cars simply stalled along the way (the auto industry is the auto industry, either in 1942 or 2010). We dug around and repaired it as best we could using improvised means. They rolled it up, of course, for a successful repair. Well, let's go catch up with ours. According to the Russian reliability of the maps, naturally, we got lost...
The steppe, the road to an unknown destination, and then suddenly they see a column of dust in the steppe. They are slowing down. Binoculars to your eyes - a German tank column. Rushing like at home - brazenly, like at a parade, above the tower hatches are the sleek faces of the Krauts.
Uncle Misha, either out of fear or out of impudence after drinking alcohol, turns the car with its front wheels into a ditch (Katyusha is a terrible weapon, but the aiming ability is almost zero, and it only hits squares with a canopy) and fires a salvo with almost direct fire. The first rows were set on fire - the devil was in a panic. Such a mess - 8 tanks are about to be scrapped..
Well, “Katyusha”, on the quiet - “legs, my legs”... They gave Uncle Misha a Hero (the crew - Slava), but they only took him away immediately for being 20 minutes late from vacation to the train (immediately after the award - okay, they didn’t put him in the penalty box ). The special officer turned out to be a bastard; the train remained in Moscow for another day. It looks like a fairy tale, but General Paulus stopped the offensive for a day. These days, German intelligence frantically searched for the positions of our troops. Well, they couldn’t believe in the one and only “Katyusha” that shot out of a drunken fright...

Story 3.
One day, one Soviet unit on the march went too far ahead, and the field kitchen was left somewhere behind. The unit commander sends two Kyrgyz soldiers to find her - they don’t speak Russian, it’s of little use in battle, in short, bring it and give it. They left, and there was no news from them for two days. Finally, they come with backpacks filled with German sweets, schnapps, etc. One of them has a note. It is written (in Russian): “Comrade Stalin! For us they are not languages, and for you they are not soldiers. Send them home.”

History 4.
In August 1941, in the Daugavpils area, Ivan Sereda was preparing lunch for the Red Army soldiers. At this time, he saw a German tank moving towards the field kitchen. Armed only with a carbine and an ax, Ivan Sereda took cover behind her, and the tank, driving up to the kitchen, stopped and the crew began to get out of it. At that moment, Ivan Sereda jumped out from behind the kitchen and rushed to the tank. The crew immediately took refuge in the tank, and Ivan Sereda jumped onto the armor. When the tankers opened fire with a machine gun, Ivan Sereda bent the barrel of the machine gun with blows of an ax, and then covered the tank’s viewing slots with a piece of tarpaulin. Next, he began to hit the armor with the butt of the ax, while giving orders to the Red Army soldiers, who were not nearby, to throw grenades at the tank. The tank crew surrendered, and Ivan Sereda forced them to tie each other's hands at gunpoint. When the Red Army soldiers arrived, they saw a tank and a tied-up crew.

History 5.
My grandfather served in aviation. At the field airfield, in the distance, there was a toilet... Sitting there, that means my grandfather, doing his business... It was getting dark. There were knots knocked out of the boards in the wall of the toilet. So my grandfather noticed three German intelligence officers coming out of the forest. Well, when they approached, he shot them down with a pistol. Received the Order of the Red Star.
The dudes clearly did not expect that fire would be opened on them from the toilet...

History 6.

Memories of one of the veterans

At the beginning of December of the same 1942, we stood on the defensive in the Round Grove area. Soon I had the opportunity to meet the foreman again. It was like that. He comes up to me and says:
- As directed by the platoon commander, assign me three soldiers. We need to bring a hot lunch and vodka from the field kitchen. She is two kilometers from our front line, in the forest.
I carried out the order. The sergeant major and three soldiers took the empty canisters and went to the company kitchen. To get to it, they had to go through the forest, then pass through a small clearing in which there was not a single tree, and then go back into the forest, where there was a kitchen.
The unexpected happened (although can this be called unexpected in a war?). When leaving the forest, one of the fighters was killed. Fortunately for the survivors, this happened when leaving the forest into a clearing.
The fact is that tanks had previously passed through this clearing and made a deep rut. One soldier lay down in it, and the sergeant major and the other soldier quickly returned to the forest and disguised themselves.
The one lying in the rut was relatively safe. He tried to slowly crawl across the clearing, but heard the whistle of bullets next to him. However, the soldier was not at a loss.
He quietly took the stick, took off his helmet, put it on the stick and raised it above him. Continuing to move in this position, I heard that shooting was coming at the helmet. This lasted more than an hour. Finally the shooting ended. From fatigue and tension, the fighter dozed off right in the rut...
The sergeant major and the soldier, who were in the forest, realized that the German “cuckoo” sniper, who was firing and hiding in a tree, had run out of ammunition. They began to slowly approach this very tree. Approaching the pine tree, they saw a “cuckoo”.
The foreman shouted: “Hyunda hoch!” - and began to aim at the German with a machine gun. There was a rustling sound. A rifle with an optical sight flew from above. Then the shooter himself came down.
The foreman and the soldier searched him, took away his weapon, lighter and smoking pipe. The German was sorry to part with the pipe. Muttering incomprehensible words, he began to cry. The pipe was really great. It depicted a dog's head with glass eyes. When the smoker inhaled the smoke, the dog's eyes began to glow.
Having made sure that the former sniper was disarmed, the foreman pointed his finger at him - they say, go to where you shot, there the Russian Ivan is lying in a tank rut, bring him to us.
The German understood and approached the sleeping soldier.
“Rus Ivan, com,” said the fascist. The fighter woke up and saw a German in front of him. The sergeant major and the second soldier, having watched what was happening, burst out laughing. The same two were not laughing. The foreman patted the shoulder of the man lying in the tank rut and said:
- Instead of a hundred grams, you will get half a liter and a can of American stew. This is how this tragic and at the same time funny story ended.
Unfortunately, due to the passage of time, I have forgotten the names of the characters involved. Not a single meeting of fellow soldiers of the 80th Guards Lyuban Order of Kutuzov Rifle Division took place without memories of this curious incident.”