I hope it is interesting to others.
Publishig… that is kind of what I am doing with it by placing it here.
I hope it is interesting to others.
Publishig… that is kind of what I am doing with it by placing it here.[/QUOTE]
Well, I meant in book form - possibly in Russian and English language editions 
I got you alright! Just was being modest… on behalf of my granddad. 
No, this is not true. Soviet troops went after Polish militay and Polish reserve first. Being sent to Siberia started Feb. 10, 1940. As soon as Hitler Sept 1939 attacked from 3 directions, Stalin attacked eastern Poland. Many of the military and even citizens from the area that were Ukraine and Jewish were working with Soviets at this point. Jewish were not killed in large numbers until 1941.
Guys, could you, PLEASE, go and argue in an other thread?
Yeah, *** off.
Egorka is going to the trouble of translating his grandfather’s memoirs so we can all get an insight into his grandfather’s personal experiences in extraordinary times.
Egorka deserves more respect than hijacking his thread to continue these interminable eastern European squabbles.
If you want to have that debate, start another thread. Or just continue one of the many along similar lines.
- 4 -
The last days of March 1944 were sunny and warm. The snow had vanished everywhere. The granite roadway on the “Kulikovo pole” was dry, but dusty from masses of retreating Wehrmacht trucks and the horse carriages. The city’s inhabitants lurked in their hiding places expecting something. The city market was empty and deserted.
Semen Vikentievich and Fenja Ivanovna [parents of my my grandfather’s girlfriend] had already in February slaughtered their piglet, which was previously kept in the shower room of the apartment. Now the salted meet and salo [salted or smocked pig fat] was much appreciated. Fenja Ivanovna was a good cook. I especially liked her mamaliga [ “A dish made out of yellow maize. It is better known to the rest of the world in its Italian form, polenta.” ], which replaced bread and was our main ration at that time. She had a special cast iron pot for that. Corn flour was dropped into boiling water that was being vigorously stirred with a wooden stick. Then the pot was covered with a piece of winter clothing for “stewing”. Meanwhile chopped onions with salo were fried in a pan. Mamaliga was served up on plates and was generously covered with the fried onions. It was delicious!
April 1944 was windy and rainy. Sometimes it was snowy. All sorts of wild rumours were flying about. Some claimed that our forces had liberated Nikolaev. Others suggested that the Russians had already captured the station at Razdelnoe and that the town of Tiraspol was just about to be liberated. It was believable that the RKKA had taken Nikolaev. It was logical from the military point of view. The railway station at Razdelnoe was the main railway juncture of the German and Rumanian retreat routes out of Odessa and the whole Black Sea coast area. It was too much to hope for. People felt uneasy thinking what the occupier might do to the civilians of the town. The fate of Krasnodar, Rostov, Marioupol, the small and big towns of Donbass region showed that before a siege began, all the inhabitants were forced to leave. Vlasov’s army and the military units from Caucasus and Middle Asia were made responsible for enforcing this order. It scared the inhabitants a great deal. The rumours of their brutality were widespread and terrifying. Everyone hiding, if found, would be killed on the spot; they would throw a grenade into house cellars. Nonetheless, I decided to set up a hiding place. In our house each apartment had a designated cellar space for storing firewood. In our cubicle I arranged the firewood in such a manner that there would be a hiding place between the firewood and the back wall. There was room for only one person to lie down. I also stashed some food there for 3-5 days (bread, salo and water). I practiced lying in my hole, but could not do it for more than an hour without having to move. The only way to get in was to slide in feet first and then mask the entrance with my hands. Dark, humid and silent: like a grave. Beside me was a ceramic sewage pipe laid in the cellar and giving off a stench. I decided it would be used only as the last resort, so I went to explore the building’s garret. There was a ladder on the outer wall of the building on the yard side. Luckily for me it was located just beside our kitchen window. I could just open the window and step directly from the windowsill to the metal ladder steps. The disadvantage was that the ladder was located in the yard of the neighbouring building and if any strangers saw me climbing it, it could arouse their suspicions. Despite that, one early morning I climbed the ladder for the purpose of reconnaissance. I quickly reached the roof and got into the garret through the dormer-window. It was dark and empty inside. When the daylight came in I could only see some pillars holding the roof and many chimneys. One of the dormer-windows was facing the city centre and the Kulikovo field. Through that window there was a good view over the central railway station, the last tramway station of the “Big Fountain” line and to Kanatnaya Street in the direction of the sea port. I could see that there were many fires in the city, especially in the sea port area. From time to time explosions could be heard. Then incendiaries began the annihilation of the important city establishments… For my self I decided that this place was better than laying in a humid, stinky hole in the cellar.
What was going on in the city? We all were interested to know, but everyone was afraid to go outside. My curiosity was so intense that despite Olga’s attempts to reason me, I decided to get to the city centre and sea port and find out what was happening. From a common sense point of view it was a very dangerous thing for me to do. I could attract the attention of a German patrol: a young Russian male, without a travel permit and with no apparent reason to be wandering around the city… Being detained for investigation would mean certain death… Looking back, I realise that I acted recklessly. By good fortune, my luck held; though, whenever I saw a patrol I would try to go around it. There were some pedestrians about, but only few. Old women would hurry off somewhere, often accompanying children. There were also men (probably workers) with travel permits.
Soon I reached the Richelieu monument on Primorsky Boulevard, just next to the “Potemkin Stairs”. In the port speedboats were going back and forth and there were many ships and barges. There was fire on a ship in the repair dock.
[ see part 5 ]
- 5 -
The buildings that faced the “Potemkin Stairs” and Richelieu monument were enclosed in barbed wire and were secured by German guards. Russian and Ukrainian faces stared from all of the windows of those three-storey houses. The windows were without glass (probably blown out by the explosions in the seaport). It was said that the men had been brought on barges from Crimea and were waiting for a decision on their fate. Later I learned that many of them died at sea in locked barge holds as they were being transported to the Rumanian seaport of Constanta. Looking back, I think I could have quite easily been detained right there on the boulevard and without more ado been thrown into that temporary camp for those Russian boys! Back then I realised that I should immediately take to my heels and, God willing, avoid any patrols. It seems I was born lucky and was spared on that occasion too.
The same day the flow of fleeing truck columns and separate groups of German soldiers changed. Now they would ask how to get to the road to Ovidiopol and Akkerman. Seems it was true that the railway junction at Razdelnoe was closed for them now and they were trying to escape by the only remaining road along the coast.
In the evening Semen Vikentievich had three German soldiers billeted on him for the night. One of them, a warrant officer [Feldwebel ], asked in broken Russian for some food. He took out a bottle of schnapps, hardtack and what appeared to be a can of jam. Also a loaf of bread. Everything was laid on the table. Fenja Ivanovna put on the table rest of the borsch, and set up a tea kettle. They ate and drank alone and did not invite their hosts to the table. Later they took the apartment’s main and largest room for the night. Before bed time the warrant officer took out his Parabellum [ Luger P08 pistol ] and put under the pillow on the couch. The other two lay on the floor on the mattresses. I had to settle somehow in the small room next to an unused lathe. It was apparent that they were on the run by themselves. In the morning they asked for directions to Ovidiopol. Why? It must mean that there is no escape for them through Razdelnoe!
Throughout the night there was a great deal of truck and armoured carrier traffic in the city. It moved mainly on two roads: the “Big Fountain” road and Lystdorf Road. We heard explosions and the machinegun fire. The morning of 10th April 1944 came. It was unusually quiet, though there were occasional explosions and in some places fires continued to burn for over a week. In the grey light of an early morning I climbed to the buildings garret to see what is going on in the city. In the seaport something was repeatedly exploding and dark thick smoke climbed into the sky. I was attracted by firelight on the pillars. It came through another dormer-window. At first I thought our building was on fire. Are we burning? It might be expected because our building was marked with cross by the incendiary and demolition detachment. Everyone was afraid of it and all the tenants kept a watchful eye. But soon I realised that it was a building on the other side of the street that was burning. During the last days it was occupied by some German rear military organisation. It was apparent that they had set the building on fire after leaving it.
My attention was drawn to a motorcycle with side-car, which was approaching rapidly from the direction of railway station, crossing the Kulikovo field. As it approached I could see that there were two on the motorcycle; Germans soldiers wearing mackintoshes and helmets drove. An officer in greatcoat and service cap sat in the sidecar. He was asleep, head down. A machinegun was attached to the sidecar. I regretted that I did not have a weapon. What a perfect target! But the motorcycle turned into Kfnftnaya Street and I lost sight of it.
I sat in the garret for more than two hours. It was already daylight, but there were no people to be seen on the Kulikovo field. What had happened? Where were the Germans? I got the impression that Odessa has been left by all the rear German units and the field units were about to move in instead. They would fight to defend the city. It was nearly 09:00. The neighbouring building had already stopped burning and was just smouldering. I could not see flames anymore but the smoke still got in through the window.
I leaned out of the window in order to see better what was going in front of our house and accidentally noticed on the opposite side of the Pirogovskaya and Kanatnaya Streets three soldiers in green greatcoats. One of them had a box with antenna on his back. No big deal to realise that it was a portable radio transmitter. The other soldier held a microphone and talked to someone. All three had shoulder marks, but their heads are covered with, so known and dear to Russians, Ushankas made of artificial fur. Who were they? I wished so much that they were our Soviet soldiers. But why do they have green greatcoats like Rumanian troops? Why with shoulder marks? Well, I had heard that new uniforms for commanders had been introduced into the RKKA, including shoulder marks, but I thought it was just talk. I had never seen a Red Army soldier with shoulder marks. From some imperceptible signs, from their boots, from the way they acted on the void streets of Odessa, I intuitively sensed: Russians!
[ see part 6 ]
DONE! Responses split out into separate thread; Please do not go so off topic to the thread in question when in hostile debates. Start a separate thread!
Thank you for your assistance. Egorka is providing valuable original content to this site, respect that!
Please refer too http://www.ww2incolor.com/forum/showthread.php?t=6985 for all nationalistic pissing matches regarding who owns what now!
Thanks, Nick!!!
I hate to be pedantic, old sport, but there are four asterisks in **** off.
Well, **** you too! I’m not a big fan of language censorship programs though. 
No problem, just doing my job…
ROFLM*******AO :mrgreen:
Mate, your grasp of the language qualifies you as an Aussie. You’re the fourth person to say that to me today, and the others were equally affectionate.
- 6 -
I rolled head over heals down the stairs into the yard. Through the fence I watched them again. All doubts disappeared. Ours! But what if this was a trap? Several women from the next house run into the street. Then more and more people come out and rush to the first Soviet soldiers. Arms and kisses, tears on their eyes. Soon several, unusually looking for us, trucks approached. These were “Studebakers”. One of them was towing a cannon. The soldiers jumped out of the vehicles. Something of a spontaneous rally occured on the spot around our liberators. The women treated the tired and dusty soldiers to meat rissoles and wine brought in a kettle. Everyone was rejoicing and the joy was unbounded. It occurred to everyone that the soldiers were either very young or old men, dressed mainly in boots with puttees over them. Some of them were wearing thin aged grey greatcoats. But the Odessits did not pay any attention to that – they saw hero-liberators before them. A captain with the Order of the Red Star on his chest answered questions. I managed to squeeze myself through and asked him where and why he was given the decoration. His answer was somewhat unexpected: “In Crimea, for the partisan activity.”
Me: “How come?”
“I was in partisan movement last year, was wounded and evacuated by plane to the “big land”, spend time in hospital” – was his answer.
Yes, it was something to think over.
Suddenly we heard several machine gun bursts from a car that sped rapidly along Kanatnaya Street from the “Big Fountain” direction… The crowd immediately dispersed from the road crossing. During the commotion the car rushed by the crossing and disappeared in the direction of the seaport. The captain gave a belated order and the soldiers quickly unhooked the cannon and set it up facing the direction where the rushing car came from. Soon whole Kulikovo field was covered with trucks and talking, smoking soldiers.
How we had waited for that day! Just that morning we had been worried by the uncertainty of the upcoming day, afraid of furious fighting in the city. And then, suddenly, the joy of freedom and the feeling of oppression lifted from our shoulders…
The fire in the neighbouring house had not picked up. Fleeing from Odessa the Germans did not want to waste gasoline. That old building had a large hall from which a big marble staircase led up to the second floor. That is where the Germans had piled some chairs, tables, and some papers and set them alight. The furniture had burned out but the building self did not catch fire. Not far from the house, on the tramway tracks stood a German armoured personnel carrier abandoned during the night. The reason was apparent – one of the tracks had broken. Our house was chosen to be headquarters of one of the RKKA detachments. It met all the requirements for the purpose. First of all it stood on the corner, providing a good overview to the Kulikovo field and all the trucks and carts on it. Secondly it could be accessed from all four directions and it location could easily identified from a verbal description. In the evening a lieutenant brought whole platoon for lodging. They moved quickly, like they were in their own house, settled in the first room, the kitchen and even the little working room. The sergeant-major made him self comfortable on “my” couch. The soldiers – on the floor. They lay on their greatcoats and put their backpacks under their heads. The transportable machine gun and the rifles were put in the corner. Their submachine guns, PPSh, were next to them. While they washed themselves and their clothes, Fenja Ivanovna cooked up a big pot of borsch soup and corn-mamaliga. A large bottle of grape wine was produced. A few soldiers were sent off by the sergeant-major to some task (I think they had to guard Kulikovo field).
Just as we sat at the dining table a patrol brought in three detained German soldiers. The dining stopped, but the table was served and the plates are waiting. The Germans, one of them was a corporal, had already overcome the first moment of fear. They stood silently with heads down. One of them had a nervous tremor. It was very apparent when they all were sat at the served table. His trembling was so severe that whenever his legs or hands touched the table we could hear the clatter of crockery. But he could not help himself. Even the corporal passed some rude remark about it. It was Fenja Ivanonvna who by the right of the hostess suggested inviting the Germans to the table. The sergeant-major had no objection. And so the enemy, so recently involved in the fighting, sat at the same table. After emptying glasses with red wine (the Germans were not offered wine) they engaged the borsch, food and at the same time interrogation of the prisoners. Or rather to say questioning. The trembling German was the youngest, maybe 18 years old or so. From his words, which I and Olga translated, it transpired that he was serving as a medic and was relocated to the front two months earlier. Two others looked older, but not more than 40 years of age. The corporal was tall, slender and neat. Even in captivity in front of our solders he looked like clean, neat intellectual. Both of them were drivers and served in a truck regiment [автобат = truck battalion]. Gradually the prisoners calmed down and the sergeant-major ordered two soldiers to escort them to the POW assembly point of the division…
Only now could we sit at the table with the sergeant-major and two other soldiers. We filled our glasses with wine and expressed our gratitude to our liberators.
Unwillingly we started talking about the Russian soul in connection to the fact that the Germans were undeservedly allowed at the table instead of being starved or killed by the raging mob. The sergeant-major first took me for the host’s son, but he was pleased when he found that I was from Siberia and learned that my parents live in the Kurgan region. He called me his “fellow countryman”, though he himself was from Petropavlovsk. But I could see on their faces that they were wondering how come I was not in the army, but instead lived with a young girl, while they shed their blood and through the bitter cold and mud had to carry their burden. “Why?” – could I read it in their eyes. I understood immediately and without a word showed them my “hammer and sickle” passport and the “discharge from the military duty”, which was issued to me in 1938 by the Military Recruitment Centre in my home town of Petuhovo. This convinced them but they assured me that nowadays I would be found to be in a suitable medical condition for active service.
The sergeant-major gave me a postcard on which I wrote to my parents my first message from the liberated Odessa. It was 10th April 1944. I wanted to let my mama and papa to know that I was well and in good health and hoped to see them soon. The sergeant-major took the postcard and said he would send it via his field post. I am grateful to him. He did not deceive me. That postcard actually reached my parents. My mother could not believe her luck, that I was alive and well… That is how she later described the day that she marked in the calendar – 10th April 1944.
My mother told me that she often saw me in her dreams; 1941, 1942, 1943, especially in winter time, knocking on the window of their little house on the Soviet street. Sometimes she saw me as a distant pedestrian, barely walking and dressed, for some reason, in raincoat with hood over my head.
“In those minutes I prayed to God he would save you,” she said. And God granted her wish.
Now after all those years I regret I did not write down the names of the soldiers who have every right to be called my liberators. I still remember them to this day…
[ see part 7 ]
- 7 -
“My dear Odessa faded into the fog…”
The next day, 11th April 1944, my life turned around. The sergeant-major brought a stack of Moscow newspapers early in the morning. They told of the successful Soviet offensive in the Crimea, about liberation of Odessa and many other settlements in the Odessa region. I eagerly read “Pravda”, “Red Star”, and other papers. I read about the orders of the supreme commander I.V.Stalin about the awarding of honour names to the regiments, divisions and armies, about the artillery salute salvos in honour of liberation of the cities, and of many other things. I read everything from the first word to the very last. For almost three years I did not have a Soviet newspaper in my hands, it seems I missed them.
The day started with information that some Germans had been shot in the yard of the house located close to the Agrarian Institute. Some teenagers 15-16 year of age, armed with rifles left behind by fleeing Germans and Rumanians, sought out the Germans hiding in garrets and cellars and took the reprisal into their own hands. Seven corpses of Germans executed in this manner were discovered, but their executioners were never found. I was thinking that “our” Germans were lucky to fall in to the hands of such guys (the RKKA soldiers lodging in the apartment). It was not without reason that one German had been trembling… he was lucky.
I was impatient to see the centre of the city. So, right after lunch, I rushed there. The first thing that caught my eye was that the soldiers exchanged wristwatches. It was done by inviting other soldiers by just saying: “Lets barter without a peek”. Apparently there was a captured truck with a case in it full of wristwatches. They had labels with the “Fritz’s” names on them. I do not know for sure, but I think they were collected to be returned to the families or perhaps to be repaired. The fact is that the watches were used, not new. A soldier standing in back of the truck was giving them left and right to everyone who would reach out. I got one that was not working…
Even from a distance it was apparent that the central railway station had been damaged by explosions. All the windows were knocked out; the left wing of the building was completely in ruins. In the yard in front of the station there was some kind of commotion. Several soldiers were arranging something resembling a gallows. Could it really be for an execution? The gallows were ready with a noose made of telephone cable. Only now I noticed an open truck parked next to the station. In it there were two soldiers armed with submachine guns watching over a sitting Rumanian soldier. Only his head in a Rumanian uniform cap was visible to me. Then the truck drove under the gallows. The sides of the trucks body were opened and the Rumanian soldier made to stand up… An officer announced an order which among other stated: “For marauding and rape of Soviet women”. The noose was fastened around his neck and the truck drove forward… Later while returning from the city I again approached the still hanging corps. Somebody had already taken the boots from his feet. His head leaned to the side, green snot hanging from his nose… It was a disgusting scene to look at.
I walked to the centre along the Pushkinskaya Street. A column of German and Rumanian prisoners of war was being escorted in the other direction. Many of the city’s inhabitants watched this escort and rightfully reviled them… Some individuals even managed to kick them or hit them with a stick, though the escort did not allow reprisals.
When I reached “Primorsky Boulevard” I was astonished by the devastation. The big refrigerator building was demolished. The grain elevator was destroyed and emitting smoke from the burning grain. The hoisting cranes and the piers were blown up too. Right there I noticed a group of generals surveyed the seaport from the height of the boulevard and were chatting about something. I could hear the words of regret that it was not possible to save the grain in the grain elevator… It was in such great need in the country…
But on the other hand the building of the famous Odessa Opera House survived, even though it was said to be mined and prepared for demolition. It was saved by some underground resistance people who had managed to remove the detonators in time. Many streets had all of the telephone cable wells blown up. The sewerage and water wells suffered the same fate. Some large administrative buildings were burned out… But as a whole, Odessa remained just as when it was abandoned by the Red Army in 1941. The weather was wonderful and sunny and all the citizens were roaming the streets.
The next day the orders of the city’s commandant were hung on the street: “All males aged 18 to 55 are to report to the military registration and enlistment office in their district, having with them an extra set of clothes, a spoon, a mug and five days provisions.” My military registration and enlistment office for the Kaganovich district was very close to our house. Just a short walk across “Kulikovo field”. It was located in our institute building, the address was 13 Chizhikova Street. That used to be our map and plan drawing workshop as well storage for the geodesic instruments. Now it was occupied by the military registration and enlistment office. Me and Olga decided to go there and first just take a look around. The public garden next to the building was already full of people. There were not only men present, but even more women and children. They saw off to the war their fathers, husbands and sons… Tears and laughter – everything mixed. But in general it was a sad occasion for every family, for every man. Every two or three hours, a 200-250 man strong columns of “new conscripts” led by a few sergeants would march away. They allegedly were going to Berezovka located 50-60km north of Odessa. A reserve regiment of the Third Ukrainian Front was stationed there. The medical exam and other check were also conducted there.
I put everything required into my back sack and said goodbye to Semen Vikentievich and Fenja Ivanovna and to the house warden. Me and Olga went to the office. We spent half a day waiting for our turn. We talked about many things, but did not touch on the subject of our personal affairs. And then I entered the military office. On the second floor, where we previously had a dressing room, the office officials were sitting behind desks. After my introduction they wrote down my full name, date and place of birth and so on. They took my documents and, barely opening them, threw them on a pile of similar passports and the military registration cards in the corner of the room. I was astonished at that. I had spent so much effort preserving and keeping all my documents intact during the occupation, since only my documents could protect me from some of the life’s problems, which were more than enough in war time. A doctor in a white coat asked me if I had any health problems. I told him about my physical shortcomings, which were the reason for me being free for military duty before the war. He examined my leg and asked me to squat several times. “Fit for non-frontline service” – was his conclusion. Then I had to wait for some time until there could be assembled a group of 200 new recruits. Outside once again we quickly assumed a formation. Olga and I kissed each other and the command “Forward!” was given and our disorderly ranks silently moved across the city towards the Peresip district. Our first stop was on the road along side the Hadzhibey Estuary. Among us were people of different ages and health conditions. Our column occasionally stretched out too far and the sergeants would issue reprimands, to put it politely, to the ones at the end. Unlike some among us, I was not afraid of the military service …
When our column reached its highest point I could see the plains stretching ahead to the horizon. And behind us, still in sight, was sweet Odessa, so dear to me. Farwell, dear city!
The sun was already about to set when we reached a big settlement and halted on its outskirts. White huts of daub and wattle were abandoned. It was not clear if the inhabitants had been deported by the Germans or whether it had been a German settlement whose occupants had fled to the West. In half a day we had covered not more than 20km but were, nonetheless, exhausted. Our officers instructed us to use several of the huts as temporary accommodation. Others before us had already covered the clay floors with straw. It seems that the previous groups had stayed overnight here and had taken care of it. Water was drawn from a well. Some of us drank thirstily, other washed themselves, but mostly people just fell on the heaps of straw and snatched a mouthful of whatever they had to eat. Each hut had to come up with an orderly for guard duty. That is how the first night passed. The next morning when it was barely light we heard the command: “Assume formation!” Roll call was conducted and soon our column moved again. Around noon we reached a wide macadam road. The sides of the road were covered with carts, boxes, burnt-out German cars and, sometimes, armoured personal carriers and, even, tanks. The whole road and roadsides surface was eroded by ruts left by heavy trucks. It was evident that Germans had used this road to flee and had abandoned behind everything that was slowing them down. A long halt was ordered for the lunch break. Studebaker trucks infrequently drove by in both directions. The army headquarters, located we had heard in Berezovka, were 15km away, i.e. not more than 3 hours marching.
[ see part 8 ]
- 8 -
One of the passing “Willis” suddenly stopped. A major with golden shoulder marks jumped out of it and asked for our sergeant major. We could not hear them talking, but soon we were informed that the reserve regiment had been relocated from Berezovka closer to the front line and now we had to march this road to a settlement called Fensterovo.
We reached Fensterovo at about 17:00. We were all very tired and nervous. Many could barely move their legs, some were limping due to blisters. Fensterovo was a small farm located away from the main road and by the side of a large glen. It was actually an abandoned cattle farm consisting of several barns. We were formed up by our squads, roll call was conducted in front of several officers, were presented to the sergeants and officers who would, at least temporally, be our commanders. Then we were shown where we should stay until dinner. Most of all we were cheered that a dinner awaited us. We were still as naive as all children are. But the experienced and time-served “recruits” took these words lightly. They gave a look at the kitchen and said right away that the dinner would consist only of boiling water. Every squad sent a few men to help in the kitchen. I was among them. The “caboose” constituted a ravine slope with approximately 15 metal barrels previously used for petrol or kerosene each with one of the ends taken out. Some holes had been made in the ravine slope that allowed them to function as small furnaces. The barrels with water or broth were placed above them. Because there was a continuous stream of new arrivals at the reserve regiment, no one knew how many people needed to be fed on a particular day. The new arrivals were ordered to draw water from the bottom of the ravine and fill the barrels. Others were directed to collect firewood (which in practice meant pillaging a wooden fence and a shed). When the work was done and the water came to boil, the cook drew 3 full buckets from another barrel, which had something boiling there under his supervision, and emptied them into a barrel of boiling water. That was our evening hot meal. Rumour had it that the next morning a whole carcass (a cow or a horse) was delivered and was finished in just one day by many thousands of people of the reserve regiment. We also got German canned vegetables - war trophy, and one sixth of a loaf of bread. You can imagine what kind of dining it was! There was no smell of the “morning meat” in the mess-tin and the trophy cans had neither fat nor meat. But people were happy to have what they got, especially because they still had some provision from home (I was one of them). But there were also some who did not have anything.
We spent the night under an open sky. All the barns were occupied by other people. People not only arrived almost every hour, but they also left at the same pace. Sometimes people marched away; sometimes columns of 15-20 trucks would drive them away. The next day we were put through the recruiting commission and the medical exam and were sorted accordingly. As a result I was assigned to the company of “fit only for non-combat duty”. Everyone in that company either had some physical shortcoming or was old man of 55 or more. All of my new acquaintances from the last two days ended up in other companies. All fit for combat duty, they did not hang around there for long, except some people with military specialities, and were sent as reinforcement to the front line divisions. All the ones possessing a military speciality – truck driving, medicine, tank driving, artillery, sappers, pilots, military-engineers etc. – were assembled into dedicated units and were the reserve of the corresponding arm of service. The rest – to the infantry. I spent about five days in that reserve regiment until I was “taken by a buyer”. It happened like this: the commander of our “non-combatants” company would, upon arrival of a senior officer, order us to line up in single file. And the “officer buyer” would go along the line asking everyone what his ailment was and about his health problems. But we were never told beforehand whether the officer was seeking people for the front or for the rear areas. The “officer buyer” made his own decision as to whether or not he should he take a particular person. There were rumours among us that some groups were being sent for labour in the rear: in the mines and woodcutting industries, in the reconstruction of the factories in the liberated occupied territories. All were afraid to be drafted to the labour force, especially to the Ural and Siberian regions. For some reason I was not worried about that. But the more experienced said that it is better to be send towards front line than to the rear to die of starvation.
Finally it was my turn. We were lined up one morning and an aged, slender lieutenant-colonel, accompanied by three lieutenants, was walking along our formation. Going from the head of the formation he asked people about their ailments and ordered many of them to make five steps forward and take place in a new line. He asked me the same and ordered me to take the five steps. No one knew what it was for and where this group was to be sent. The new line consisted mainly of young people who had no problems with their limbs. In this manner I became a member of a new group of 120 people. The order was issued: “After lunch assume marching formation with all personal belongings”.
The reserve regiment in Fensterovo consisted mainly of newly recruited and they were dressed in the civilian clothes. But there were also soldiers discharged from hospitals and other units. They could easily be distinguished by their uniform. Due to the season of bad roads the rear services were lagging behind the front line and the ration and uniform deliveries were being delayed.
In squad formation our column marched again led by the lieutenants. On the first halt it was known that we are to make a 40km march. Our destination was Razdelnoe Station where we were to arrive late in the evening.
[ see part 9 ]
If you have read that far - reply “Mooooo”
- 9 -
Our route followed a country road that was in a terrible condition. It was the very same road used by General Pliev’s horse-mechanised group for its rapid advance in the first days of April. It is to him that Odessa should be thankful for the avoidance of heavy urban fighting. In the deep spring mud, when no vehicles of any kind could master such roads, Don and Kuban cavalrymen undertook a daring manoeuvre and penetrated the enemy’s rear areas managing to take the railway junction at Razdelnoe straight off the march. This development cut Odessa off from the rest of the German forces and forced the enemy to abandon the city without fight.
Our column was getting loose and stretched. Our commanding officers would now and then shout orders for the ones lagging behind to hurry them up, mixing the commands with worst of Russian swearing. Everywhere on the way there were signs of heavy fighting: destroyed German military equipment, trucks, carts, horse carcases. Next to a small farm some local boys played on a crippled German tank, a “Ferdinand” [ http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elefant ; http://mvd.clan.su/_fr/2/1006991.jpg ], which was standing next to the road with its cannon raised up. In the next village were two new abandoned howitzers with large muzzle-breaks. Being young, we were all interested in that and climbed the tanks and turned the cannon controls no better than local village boys. I remember during one short stop noticing several abandoned German carts and I went to see what was in them. It appeared that they were loaded with horseshoes and nails. The horseshoes were of enormous size and with spikes on them and were meant for the German draft horses, which were slow and resembled elephants. Returning to the column I got a scolding from my platoon leader for absence without leave. There on the spot he explained that “wandering” about without purpose can get us into trouble – we could hit a mine field. As evening approached the railway track came to sight, though the station was not yet to be seen. On the open ground of the field around were signs of a recent tragedy that had occurred several days earlier: among the shell holes were spread out Russian back-sacks, punctured mess tins, ruptured shoes, and hats with flaps bearing red stars… The bodies of the Soviet soldiers had already been gathered and taken away, but some body parts and bloody greatcoats could still be seen. What an anguished scene. Silently we looked around trying to understand where the deadly strike had come from. It became clear when we reached the railway track. In the bushes and on the embankment were piles of German cartridges. It seems our soldiers had been ambushed.
The Odessa-Razdelnoe railway tracks had been destroyed by the retreating enemy. All the rails were damaged and all the sleepers were broken in two by some kind of device attached to a steam engine. Darkness fell but we still had not reached the junction. People were very tired and would just fall right where they were as soon the “halt for five minutes” command was shouted. How difficult it was to rise up again after the halt… legs felt filled with lead. We were hungry. The command “stand up” sounds and we keep dragging ourselves along…
We reached Razdelnoe Station late at night. In the dark we could see the heavily damaged station building and the tracks stuffed with the freight cars. Both our unit and the headquarters were scattered on the south side of the settlement around the railway junction. The settlement consisted of little clay and straw houses with adjacent barns and plots of land. We all fell right down after we arrived and fell asleep like the dead. In the morning the newly arrived were assigned to platoons and companies. The same lieutenant-colonel who had picked us previously announced that from now on we were privates in the Eighty-eighth Separate Work Battalion of the Fifth Shock Army of the Third Ukrainian Front. The lieutenant-colonel’s surname was Chernikh (Черных). He also introduced his political deputy – major Pehota (note: the name in Russian literally means ”Infantry”). We were told that from today we have to start our battle training and drill, learning the rifle, learning guard regulations and so on. The uniforms and the weapons we were told, would be distributed later on after it had been received from storage. But today would be a bath day, haircuts, medical exam and some work duties. I was assigned to the First Platoon of Second Company.
There were no more than ten seasoned soldiers in the whole company. Where were the others? Apparently they were on the way. Before Razdelnoe they were stationed somewhere near the Don, maybe in Darvenkovskoe or Kalach, and were now being moved closer to the front line. The “oldsters” explained that our main task would be loading and unloading the cargo trains; unloading munitions and loading the cars with used shell cases and other material.
[ see part 10 ]
Mooooo
Very vivid and detailed account … keep up the good work 
Ok. At least someone reads this.