This is a touching and tragic date for every family of our great people.

The cruel and terrible events in which our grandfathers and great-grandfathers participated go deep into history.
Soldiers fighting on the battlefield. In the rear, both old and young worked hard for the Great Victory.
How many children stood up to defend their Motherland on an equal basis with adults? What feats did they perform?
Tell and read stories, stories, books to children about the Great Patriotic War of 1941-1945.
Our descendants must know who protected them from fascism. Know the truth about the terrible war.
On the holiday of MAY 9, visit a monument or memorial that is located in your city and lay flowers. It will be touching if you and your child mark the event with a minute of silence.
Draw your child's attention to the awards of war veterans, which are becoming fewer and fewer every year. Congratulate the veterans with all your heart on Great Victory Day.
It is important to remember that every gray hair contains all the horror and wounds of this terrible war.

"No one is forgotten and nothing is forgotten"

Dedicated to the Great Victory!

Asecond: Ilgiz Garayev

I was born and raised in a peaceful land. I know well how spring thunderstorms make noise, but I have never heard gunfire.

I see how new houses are being built, but I did not realize how easily houses are destroyed under a hail of bombs and shells.

I know how dreams end, but it’s hard for me to believe that ending a human life is as easy as a cheerful morning dream.

Nazi Germany, violating the non-aggression pact, invaded the territory of the Soviet Union.

And, in order not to end up in fascist slavery, for the sake of saving the Motherland, the people entered into battle, into mortal combat with an insidious, cruel and merciless enemy.

Then the Great Patriotic War began for the honor and independence of our Motherland.

Millions of people rose to defend the country.

In the war, infantrymen and artillerymen, tank crews and pilots, sailors and signalmen - soldiers of many, many military specialties, entire regiments, divisions, ships, and ships were awarded military orders and received honorary titles for the heroism of their soldiers.

When the flames of war raged, together with the entire Soviet people, cities and villages, farmsteads and villages rose to defend the Motherland. Anger and hatred for the vile enemy, the indomitable desire to do everything to defeat him filled the hearts of people.

Every day of the Great Patriotic War at the front and in the rear is a feat of boundless courage and fortitude of the Soviet people, loyalty to the Motherland.

“Everything for the front, everything for Victory!”

During the harsh days of the war, children stood next to adults. Schoolchildren earned money for the defense fund, collected warm clothes for front-line soldiers, stood guard on the roofs of houses during air raids, performed concerts in front of wounded soldiers in hospitals. The fascist barbarians destroyed and burned 1,710 cities and more than 70 thousand villages and hamlets, destroyed 84 thousand schools, 25 million people were made homeless.

Concentration death camps became an ominous symbol of the bestial appearance of fascism.

In Buchenwald, 56 thousand people were killed, in Dachau - 70 thousand, in Mauthausen - more than 122 thousand, in Majdanek - the number of victims was about 1 million 500 thousand people, over 4 million people died in Auschwitz.

If the memory of every person killed in the Second World War was honored with a minute of silence, it would take 38 years.

The enemy spared neither women nor children.

May day 1945. Acquaintances and strangers hugged each other, gave flowers, sang and danced right in the streets. It seemed that for the first time millions of adults and children raised their eyes to the sun, for the first time they enjoyed the colors, sounds, and smells of life!

It was a common holiday for all our people, all humanity. It was a holiday for every person. Because victory over fascism signified victory over death, reason over madness, happiness over suffering.

In almost every family, someone died, went missing, or died from wounds.

Every year the events of the Great Patriotic War recede further into the depths of history. But for those who fought, who drank the full cup of both the bitterness of retreat and the joy of our great victories, these events will never be erased from memory, they will forever remain alive and close. It seemed that it was simply impossible to survive in the midst of heavy fire and not lose your mind at the sight of the death of thousands of people and monstrous destruction.

But the power of the human spirit turned out to be stronger than metal and fire.

That is why with such deep respect and admiration we look at those who went through the hell of war and retained the best human qualities - kindness, compassion and mercy.

66 years have passed since Victory Day. But we have not forgotten about those 1418 days and nights that the Great Patriotic War lasted.

It claimed almost 26 million lives of Soviet people. During these endlessly long four years, our long-suffering land was washed with streams of blood and tears. And if we were to collect together the bitter maternal tears shed for our lost sons, a Sea of ​​Sorrow would form, and rivers of Suffering would flow from it to all corners of the planet.

The future of the planet is dear to us, the modern generation. Our task is to protect peace, to fight so that people are not killed, shots are not fired, and human blood is not shed.

The sky should be blue, the sun should be bright, warm, kind and affectionate, people's lives should be safe and happy.

Weekend dress

This happened even before the start of the war with the Nazis.

Katya Izvekova's parents gave her a new dress. The dress is elegant, silk, weekend.

Katya didn’t have time to renew the gift. War broke out. The dress was left hanging in the closet. Katya thought: the war will end, so she will put on her evening dress.

Fascist planes continuously bombed Sevastopol from the air.

Sevastopol went underground, into the rocks.

Military warehouses, headquarters, schools, kindergartens, hospitals, repair shops, even a cinema, even hairdressers - all of this crashed into stones, into mountains.

Sevastopol residents also set up two military factories underground.

Katya Izvekova began working on one of them. The plant produced mortars, mines, and grenades. Then he began to master the production of aerial bombs for Sevastopol pilots.

Everything was found in Sevastopol for such production: explosives, metal for the body, even fuses were found. There is only one. The gunpowder used to detonate bombs had to be poured into bags made of natural silk.

They began to look for silk for bags. We contacted various warehouses.

For one:

No natural silk.

On the second:

No natural silk.

We went to the third, fourth, fifth.

There is no natural silk anywhere.

And suddenly... Katya appears. They ask Katya:

Well, did you find it?

“I found it,” Katya answers.

That's right, the girl has a package in her hands.

They unwrapped Katya's package. They look: there is a dress in the package. Same thing. Day off. Made from natural silk.

That's it Katya!

Thanks, Kate!

Katino's dress was cut at the factory. We sewed the bags. Gunpowder was added. They put the bags in the bombs. They sent bombs to the pilots at the airfield.

Following Katya, other workers brought their weekend dresses to the factory. There are now no interruptions in the operation of the plant. Behind the bomb is a bomb ready.

Pilots take to the skies. The bombs hit the target exactly.

Bul-bul

The fighting in Stalingrad continues unabated. The Nazis are rushing to the Volga.

Some fascist made Sergeant Noskov angry. Our trenches and those of the Nazis ran side by side here. Speech can be heard from trench to trench.

The fascist sits in his hiding place and shouts:

Rus, tomorrow glug-glug!

That is, he wants to say that tomorrow the Nazis will break through to the Volga and throw the defenders of Stalingrad into the Volga.

Rus, tomorrow gurg-glug. - And he clarifies: - Bul-gur at Volga.

This “glug-glug” gets on Sergeant Noskov’s nerves.

Others are calm. Some of the soldiers even chuckle. A Noskov:

Eka, damned Fritz! Show yourself. Let me at least look at you.

The Hitlerite just leaned out. Noskov looked, and other soldiers looked. Reddish. Ospovat. Ears stick out. The cap on the crown miraculously stays on.

The fascist leaned out and again:

Glug-glug!

One of our soldiers grabbed a rifle. He raised it and took aim.

Don't touch! - Noskov said sternly.

The soldier looked at Noskov in surprise. Shrugged. He took the rifle away.

Until the evening, the long-eared German croaked: “Rus, tomorrow glug-glug. Tomorrow at Volga's."

By evening the fascist soldier fell silent.

“He fell asleep,” they understood in our trenches. Our soldiers gradually began to doze off. Suddenly they see someone starting to crawl out of the trench. They look - Sergeant Noskov. And behind him is his best friend, Private Turyanchik. The friends got out of the trench, hugged the ground, and crawled towards the German trench.

The soldiers woke up. They are perplexed. Why did Noskov and Turyanchik suddenly go to visit the Nazis? The soldiers look there, to the west, breaking their eyes in the darkness. The soldiers began to worry.

But someone said:

Brothers, they are crawling back.

The second confirmed:

That's right, they are coming back.

The soldiers looked closely - right. Friends are crawling, hugging the ground. Just not two of them. Three. The soldiers took a closer look: the third fascist soldier, the same one - “glug-glug”. He just doesn't crawl. Noskov and Turyanchik are dragging him. A soldier is gagged.

The screamer's friends dragged him into the trench. We rested and continued to headquarters.

However, they fled along the road to the Volga. They grabbed the fascist by the hands, by the neck, and dunked him into the Volga.

Glug-glug, glug-glug! - Turyanchik shouts mischievously.

Bubble-bulb, - the fascist blows bubbles. Shaking like an aspen leaf.

“Don’t be afraid, don’t be afraid,” Noskov said. - Russians don’t hit someone who is down.

The soldiers handed over the prisoner to headquarters.

Noskov waved goodbye to the fascist.

“Bul-bull,” said Turyanchik, saying goodbye.

Special task

The task was unusual. It was called special. The commander of the marine brigade, Colonel Gorpishchenko, said this:

The task is unusual. Special. - Then he asked again: - Is that clear?

“I see, Comrade Colonel,” answered the infantry sergeant-major, the senior leader over the group of reconnaissance officers.

He was summoned to the colonel alone. He returned to his comrades. He chose two to help and said:

Get ready. We had a special task.

However, what kind of special thing the foreman did not say yet.

It was New Year's Eve, 1942. It is clear to the scouts: on such and such a night, of course, the task is extremely special. The scouts follow the foreman, talking to each other:

Maybe a raid on the fascist headquarters?

Take it higher,” the foreman smiles.

Maybe we can capture the general?

Higher, higher,” the elder laughs.

The scouts crossed at night to the territory occupied by the Nazis and advanced deeper. They walk carefully, stealthily.

Scouts again:

Maybe we’ll go blow up the bridge like the partisans?

Maybe we can carry out sabotage at the fascist airfield?

They look at the elder. The elder smiles.

Night. Darkness. Dumbness. Deafness. Scouts are walking in the fascist rear. We went down the steep slope. They climbed the mountain. We entered the pine forest. Crimean pines clung to the stones. It smelled pleasantly of pine. The soldiers remembered their childhood.

The foreman approached one of the pine trees. He walked around, looked, and even felt the branches with his hand.

Good?

Good, say the scouts.

I saw another one nearby.

This one is better?

It seems better,” the scouts nodded.

Fluffy?

Fluffy.

Slim?

Slim!

“Well, let’s get down to business,” said the foreman. He took out an ax and cut down a pine tree. “That’s all,” said the foreman. He put the pine tree on his shoulders. - So we completed the task.

“Here they are,” the scouts burst out.

The next day, the scouts were released into the city, to visit the children in the underground preschool kindergarten for the New Year tree.

There was a pine tree. Slim. Fluffy. Balls, garlands hang on the pine tree, and multi-colored lanterns are lit.

You may ask: why pine and not Christmas tree? Christmas trees do not grow in those latitudes. And in order to get pine, it was necessary to get to the rear of the Nazis.

Not only here, but also in other places in Sevastopol, New Year trees were lit during that difficult year for children.

Apparently, not only in Colonel Gorpishchenko’s marine brigade, but also in other units, the task for the scouts on that New Year’s Eve was special.

Gardeners

This happened shortly before the Battle of Kursk. Reinforcements have arrived at the rifle unit.

The foreman walked around the fighters. Walks along the line. A corporal is walking nearby. Holds a pencil and notepad in his hands.

The foreman looked at the first of the soldiers:

Do you know how to plant potatoes?

The fighter was embarrassed and shrugged.

Do you know how to plant potatoes?

I can! - the soldier said loudly.

Two steps forward.

The soldier is out of action.

Write to the gardeners,” said the sergeant major to the corporal.

Do you know how to plant potatoes?

I haven't tried it.

I didn't have to, but if necessary...

That’s enough,” said the foreman.

The fighters came forward. Anatoly Skurko found himself in the ranks of skilled soldiers. Soldier Skurko wonders: where are they going to go, those who know how? “It’s too late to plant potatoes. (Summer is already in full swing.) If you dig it, it’s very early in time.”

Soldier Skurko tells fortunes. And other fighters are wondering:

Plant potatoes?

Sow carrots?

Cucumbers for the headquarters canteen?

The foreman looked at the soldiers.

“Well,” said the foreman. “From now on, you will be among the miners,” and hands the mines to the soldiers.

The dashing foreman noticed that those who know how to plant potatoes lay mines faster and more reliably.

Soldier Skurko grinned. The other soldiers couldn't hold back their smiles either.

The gardeners got down to business. Of course, not immediately, not at the same moment. Laying mines is not such a simple matter. The soldiers underwent special training.

Minefields and barriers stretched for many kilometers to the north, south, and west of Kursk. On the first day of the Battle of Kursk alone, more than a hundred fascist tanks and self-propelled guns were blown up on these fields and barriers.

The miners are coming.

How are you, gardeners?

Everything is in perfect order.

Evil surname

The soldier was embarrassed by his last name. He was unlucky at birth. Trusov is his last name.

It's war time. The surname is catchy.

Already at the military registration and enlistment office, when a soldier was drafted into the army, the first question was:

Surname?

Trusov.

How how?

Trusov.

Y-yes... - the military registration and enlistment office workers drawled.

A soldier got into the company.

What's the last name?

Private Trusov.

How how?

Private Trusov.

Y-yes... - the commander drawled.

The soldier suffered a lot of troubles from his last name. There are jokes and jokes all around:

Apparently, your ancestor was not a hero.

In a convoy with such a surname!

Field mail will be delivered. The soldiers will gather in a circle. Incoming letters are being distributed. Names given:

Kozlov! Sizov! Smirnov!

Everything is fine. The soldiers come up and take their letters.

Shout out:

Cowards!

The soldiers are laughing all around.

Somehow the surname does not fit with wartime. Woe to the soldier with this surname.

As part of his 149th separate rifle brigade, Private Trusov arrived at Stalingrad. They transported the soldiers across the Volga to the right bank. The brigade entered the battle.

Well, Trusov, let’s see what kind of soldier you are,” said the squad leader.

Trusov doesn’t want to disgrace himself. Trying. The soldiers are going on the attack. Suddenly an enemy machine gun started firing from the left. Trusov turned around. He fired a burst from the machine gun. The enemy machine gun fell silent.

Well done! - the squad leader praised the soldier.

The soldiers ran a few more steps. The machine gun hits again.

Now it's on the right. Trusov turned around. I got close to the machine gunner. Threw a grenade. And this fascist calmed down.

Hero! - said the squad leader.

The soldiers lay down. They are skirmishing with the Nazis. The battle is over. The soldiers counted the killed enemies. Twenty people turned out to be at the place from which Private Trusov was firing.

Ooh! - the squad commander burst out. - Well, brother, your last name is evil. Evil!

Trusov smiled.

For courage and determination in battle, Private Trusov was awarded a medal.

The medal “For Courage” hangs on the hero’s chest. Whoever meets you will squint his eyes at the reward.

The first question for the soldier now is:

What was he awarded for, hero?

No one will ask for your last name now. No one will giggle now. He won’t drop a word with malice.

From now on it is clear to the soldier: the honor of a soldier is not in the surname - a person’s deeds are beautiful.

Unusual operation

Mokapka Zyablov was amazed. Something incomprehensible was happening at their station. A boy lived with his grandfather and grandmother near the town of Sudzhi in a small working-class village at the Lokinskaya station. He was the son of a hereditary railway worker.

Mokapka loved to hang around the station for hours. Especially these days. One by one the echelons come here. They are bringing in military equipment. Mokapka knows that our troops defeated the Nazis near Kursk. They are driving the enemies to the west. Although small, but smart, Mokapka sees that the echelons are coming here. He understands: this means that here, in these places, a further offensive is planned.

The trains are coming, the locomotives are chugging. Soldiers unload military cargo.

Mokapka was spinning around somewhere near the tracks. He sees: a new train has arrived. Tanks stand on platforms. A lot of. The boy began to count the tanks. I looked closer and they were wooden. How can we fight against them?!

The boy rushed to his grandmother.

Wooden,” he whispers, “tanks.”

Really? - the grandmother clasped her hands. He rushed to his grandfather:

Wooden, grandfather, tanks. The old man raised his eyes to his grandson. The boy rushed to the station. He looks: the train is coming again. The train stopped. Mokapka looked - the guns were on platforms. A lot of. No less than there were tanks.

Mokapka took a closer look - after all, the guns were also wooden! Instead of trunks there are round timbers sticking out.

The boy rushed to his grandmother.

Wooden, he whispers, guns.

Really?.. - the grandmother clasped her hands. He rushed to his grandfather:

Wooden, grandfather, guns.

“Something new,” said the grandfather.

A lot of strange things were going on at the station back then. Somehow boxes with shells arrived. Mountains grew of these boxes. Happy Mockup:

Our fascists will have a blast!

And suddenly he finds out: there are empty boxes at the station. “Why are there whole mountains of such and such?!” - the boy wonders.

But here’s something completely incomprehensible. The troops are coming here. A lot of. The column hurries after the column. They go openly, they arrive before dark.

The boy has an easy character. I immediately met the soldiers. Until dark, he kept spinning around. In the morning he runs to the soldiers again. And then he finds out: the soldiers left these places at night.

Mokapka stands there, wondering again.

Mokapka did not know that our people used military stratagem near Sudzha.

The Nazis are conducting reconnaissance of Soviet troops from airplanes. They see: trains arrive at the station, bring tanks, bring guns.

The Nazis also notice mountains of boxes with shells. They notice that troops are moving here. A lot of. Behind the column comes a column. The fascists see the troops approaching, but the enemies do not know that they are leaving unnoticed from here at night.

It is clear to the fascists: this is where a new Russian offensive is being prepared! Here, near the city of Sudzha. They gathered troops near Sudzha, but weakened their forces in other areas. They just pulled it off - and then there was a blow! However, not under Sudzha. Ours struck in another place. They defeated the Nazis again. And soon they were completely defeated in the Battle of Kursk.

Vyazma

The fields near Vyazma are free. The hills run towards the sky.

You can’t erase the words from there. Near the city of Vyazma, a large group of Soviet troops was surrounded by the enemy. The fascists are happy.

Hitler himself, the leader of the Nazis, calls to the front:

Surrounded?

“That’s right, our Fuhrer,” the fascist generals report.

Have you laid down your weapons?

The generals are silent.

Have you laid down your weapons?

Here is a brave one found.

No. I dare to report, my Fuhrer... - The General wanted to say something.

However, Hitler was distracted by something. The speech was interrupted mid-sentence.

For several days now, being surrounded, Soviet soldiers have been fighting stubbornly. They shackled the fascists. The fascist offensive breaks down. Enemies are stuck near Vyazma.

Again Hitler calls from Berlin:

Surrounded?

“That’s right, our Fuhrer,” the fascist generals report.

Have you laid down your weapons?

The generals are silent.

Have you laid down your weapons?

A terrible curse came from the tube.

“I dare to report, my Fuhrer,” the brave one is trying to say something. - Our Frederick the Great also said...

Days pass again. The fighting near Vyazma continues. The enemies were stuck near Vyazma.

Vyazma knits them, knits them. She grabbed me by the throat!

The great Fuhrer is angry. Another call from Berlin.

Have you laid down your weapons?

The generals are silent.

Have you laid down your weapons?!

No, the brave man is responsible for everyone.

A stream of bad words poured out again. The membrane in the tube began to dance.

The general fell silent. I waited it out. I caught the moment:

I dare to report that my Fuhrer, our great, our wise King Frederick also said...

Hitler listens:

Well, well, what did our Friedrich say?

Frederick the Great said, the general repeated, the Russians must be shot twice. And then push, my Fuhrer, so that they fall.

The Fuhrer muttered something incomprehensible into the phone. The Berlin wire has become disconnected.

For a whole week the fighting continued near Vyazma. The week was invaluable for Moscow. During these days, the defenders of Moscow managed to gather their strength and prepared convenient lines for defense.

The fields near Vyazma are free. The hills run towards the sky. Here in the fields, on the hills near Vyazma, hundreds of heroes lie. Here, defending Moscow, the Soviet people performed a great military feat.

Remember!

Keep the bright memory of them!

General Zhukov

Army General Georgy Konstantinovich Zhukov was appointed commander of the Western Front, the front that included most of the troops defending Moscow.

Zhukov arrived on the Western Front. Staff officers report to him the combat situation.

Fighting is taking place near the city of Yukhnov, near Medyn, near Kaluga.

Officers find Yukhnov on the map.

Here, they report, near Yukhnov, to the west of the city... - and they report where and how the fascist troops are located near the city of Yukhnov.

No, no, they are not here, but here,” Zhukov corrects the officers and himself points out the places where the Nazis are at this time.

The officers looked at each other. They look at Zhukov in surprise.

Here, here, in this exact place. Don’t doubt it, says Zhukov.

Officers continue to report the situation.

Here, - they find the city of Medyn on the map, - to the north-west of the city, the enemy has concentrated large forces - and they list what forces: tanks, artillery, mechanized divisions ...

Yes, yes, right,” says Zhukov. “Only the forces are not here, but here,” Zhukov clarifies from the map.

Again the officers look at Zhukov in surprise. They forgot about the further report, about the map.

The staff officers bent over the map again. They report to Zhukov what the combat situation is near the city of Kaluga.

Here, the officers say, south of Kaluga, the enemy pulled up motorized mechanized units. This is where they are standing at this moment.

No, Zhukov objects. - They are not in this place now. This is where the parts have been moved, and shows the new location on the map.

The staff officers were dumbfounded. They look at the new commander with undisguised surprise. Zhukov sensed distrust in the eyes of the officers. He grinned.

Do not doubt. That's exactly how it is. “You guys are great - you know the situation,” Zhukov praised the staff officers. - But mine is more precise.

It turns out that General Zhukov had already visited Yukhnov, Medyn, and Kaluga. Before going to headquarters, I went straight to the battlefield. This is where the accurate information comes from.

General and then Marshal of the Soviet Union Georgy Konstantinovich Zhukov, an outstanding Soviet commander, hero of the Great Patriotic War, took part in many battles. It was under his leadership and under the leadership of other Soviet generals that Soviet troops defended Moscow from its enemies. And then, in stubborn battles, they defeated the Nazis in the Great Moscow Battle.

Moscow sky

This happened even before the start of the Moscow Battle.

Hitler was daydreaming in Berlin. Wondering: what to do with Moscow? He suffers to make something so unusual and original. I thought and thought...

Hitler came up with this. I decided to flood Moscow with water. Build huge dams around Moscow. Fill the city and all living things with water.

Everything will perish immediately: people, houses and the Moscow Kremlin!

He closed his eyes. He sees: in place of Moscow, a bottomless sea splashes!

Descendants will remember me!

Then I thought: “Uh, until the water comes in...”

Wait?!

No, he doesn’t agree to wait long.

Destroy now! This very minute!

Hitler thought, and here is the order:

Bomb Moscow! Destroy! With shells! Bombs! Send squadrons! Send armadas! Leave no stone unturned! Raze it to the ground!

He threw his hand forward like a sword:

Destroy! Raze it to the ground!

That’s right, raze it to the ground,” the fascist generals froze in readiness.

On July 22, 1941, exactly a month after the start of the war, the Nazis carried out their first air raid on Moscow.

The Nazis immediately sent 200 planes on this raid. The engines hum impudently.

The pilots lounged in their seats. Moscow is getting closer, getting closer. The fascist pilots reached for the bomb levers.

But what is it?! Powerful searchlights crossed sword-knives in the sky. Red-star Soviet fighters rose to meet the air robbers.

The Nazis did not expect such a meeting. The enemy formation has become disordered. Only a few planes broke through to Moscow then. And they were in a hurry. They threw bombs wherever they had to, they would quickly drop them and run away from here.

The Moscow sky is harsh. The uninvited guest is severely punished. 22 planes were shot down.

Well... - the fascist generals drawled.

We thought about it. We now decided to send planes not all at once, not in a mass, but in small groups.

The Bolsheviks will be punished!

The next day, again 200 planes fly to Moscow. They fly in small groups - three or four cars in each.

And again they were met by Soviet anti-aircraft gunners, again they were driven away by red star fighters.

For the third time, the Nazis are sending planes to Moscow. Hitler's generals were intelligent and inventive. The generals came up with a new plan. They decided to send the planes in three tiers. Let one group of planes fly low from the ground. The second one is a little higher. And the third - both at a high altitude and a little late. The first two groups will distract the attention of the defenders of the Moscow sky, the generals reason, and at this time, at a high altitude, the third group will quietly approach the city, and the pilots will drop bombs exactly on the target.

And now there are fascist planes in the sky again. The pilots lounged in their seats. The engines are humming. The bombs froze in the hatches.

There's a group coming. The second one is behind her. And a little behind, at a high altitude, the third. The very last one to fly was a special plane, with cameras. He will take photographs of how fascist planes destroy Moscow and bring them for display to the generals...

The generals are waiting for news. The first plane is returning. The engines stalled. The screws stopped. The pilots came out. Pale, pale. They can barely stand on their feet.

The Nazis lost fifty aircraft that day. The photographer did not return either. They shot him down on the way.

The Moscow sky is inaccessible. It strictly punishes enemies. The insidious calculation of the fascists collapsed.

The fascists and their possessed Fuhrer dreamed of destroying Moscow to its foundations, to the stone. What happened?

Red Square

The enemy is nearby. Soviet troops abandoned Volokolamsk and Mozhaisk. In some sections of the front, the Nazis came even closer to Moscow. Fighting is taking place near Naro-Fominsk, Serpukhov and Tarusa.

But as always, on this day dear to all citizens of the Soviet Union, a military parade took place in Moscow, on Red Square, in honor of the great holiday.

When soldier Mitrokhin was told that the unit in which he serves would take part in the parade on Red Square, the soldier did not believe it at first. I decided that I had made a mistake, that I had misheard, that I had misunderstood something.

Parade! - the commander explains to him. - Solemn, on Red Square.

That’s right, a parade,” Mitrokhin answers. However, there is disbelief in the eyes.

And then Mitrokhin froze in the ranks. It stands on Red Square. And to his left are troops. And there are troops on the right. Party leaders and government members at the Lenin Mausoleum. Everything is exactly like in the old peacetime.

It’s just a rarity for this day - it’s white all around from the snow. The frost hit early today. Snow fell all night until morning. He whitewashed the Mausoleum, laid it on the walls of the Kremlin, on the square.

8 am. The clock hands on the Kremlin tower converged.

The chimes struck the time.

Minute. Everything was quiet. The parade commander gave the traditional report. The host parade congratulates the troops on the anniversary of the Great October Revolution. Everything was quiet again. One more minute. And so, at first, quietly, and then louder and louder, the words of the Chairman of the State Defense Committee, Supreme Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces of the USSR, Comrade Stalin, sound.

Stalin says that this is not the first time that our enemies have attacked us. That there were more difficult times in the history of the young Soviet Republic. That we celebrated the first anniversary of the Great October Revolution surrounded on all sides by invaders. That 14 capitalist states fought against us then and we lost three-quarters of our territory. But the Soviet people believed in victory. And they won. They will win now.

“The whole world is looking at you,” the words reach Mitrokhin, “as a force capable of destroying the predatory hordes of German invaders.”

The soldiers stood frozen in line.

A great liberation mission has fallen to your lot,” the words fly through the frost. - Be worthy of this mission!

Mitrokhin pulled himself up. His face became stern, more serious, stricter.

The war you are waging is a war of liberation, a just war. - And after this, Stalin said: - Let the courageous image of our great ancestors - Alexander Nevsky, Dmitry Donskoy, Kuzma Minin, Dmitry Pozharsky, Alexander Suvorov, Mikhail Kutuzov - inspire you in this war! Let the victorious banner of the great Lenin overshadow you!

The beats are fascists. Moscow stands and blooms as before. Getting better from year to year.

Incident at the crossing

There was one soldier in our company. Before the war, he studied at a music institute and played the button accordion so wonderfully that one of the fighters once said:

Brothers, this is an incomprehensible deception! There must be some kind of cunning mechanism hidden in this box! I'd like to see...

Please,” the accordion player answered. “It’s just time for me to glue the bellows.”

And in front of everyone, he dismantled the instrument.

"Oh, no," the soldier said disappointedly. "It's empty, like a spent cartridge case..."

Inside the button accordion, between two wooden boxes connected by a leather accordion bellows, it was indeed empty. Only on the side plates, where the buttons are located on the outside, were there wide metal plates with holes of different sizes. Hidden behind each hole is a narrow copper petal strip. When the fur is stretched, air passes through the holes and causes the copper petals to vibrate. And they sound. Thin - high. Thicker - lower, and the thick petals seem to sing in a bass voice. If a musician stretches the bellows too much, the records sound loud. If the air is pumped weakly, the records vibrate a little, and the music turns out to be quiet, quiet. That's all miracles!

And the real miracle were the fingers of our accordion player. Amazingly played, to say the least!

And this amazing skill more than once helped us in difficult life at the front.

Our accordion player will lift your mood in time, and warm you up in the cold - makes you dance, and instills cheerfulness in the depressed, and will make you remember your happy pre-war youth: your native land, mothers and loved ones. And one day...

One evening, by order of the command, we changed combat positions. We were ordered not to engage in battle with the Germans under any circumstances. On our way there flowed a not very wide, but deep river with a single ford, which we took advantage of. The commander and radio operator remained on the other side; they were finishing the communication session. They were cut off by the suddenly arriving fascist machine gunners. And although the Germans did not know that ours were on their bank, the crossing was kept under fire, and there was no way to cross the ford. And when night fell, the Germans began to illuminate the ford with rockets. Needless to say, the situation seemed hopeless.

Suddenly our accordion player, without saying a word, takes out his button accordion and begins to play “Katyusha”.

The Germans were at first taken aback. Then they came to their senses and brought down heavy fire on our shore. And the accordion player suddenly broke off the chord and fell silent. The Germans stopped shooting. One of them shouted joyfully: “Rus, Rus, kaput, boyan!”

But nothing happened to the accordion player. Luring the Germans, he crawled along the shore away from the crossing and again began playing the perky “Katyusha”.

The Germans accepted this challenge. They began to pursue the musician, and therefore left the ford for several minutes without flares.

The commander and radio operator immediately realized why our accordion player started a “musical” game with the Germans, and, without hesitation, they forded to the other bank.

These are the kinds of incidents that happened to our soldier accordion player and his friend accordion, by the way, named after the ancient Russian singer Boyan.

There was one soldier in our company. Before the war, he studied at a music institute and played the button accordion so wonderfully that one of the soldiers once said:
- Brothers, this is an incomprehensible deception! There must be some kind of cunning mechanism hidden in this box! I'd like to see...
“Please,” answered the accordion player. “It’s just time for me to glue the bellows.”
And in front of everyone, he dismantled the instrument.
“Tyu-yu,” the soldier drawled disappointedly. “It’s empty, like a spent cartridge case...”
Inside the button accordion, between two wooden boxes connected by a leather accordion bellows, it was indeed empty. Only on the side plates, where the buttons are located on the outside, were there wide metal plates with holes of different sizes. Hidden behind each hole is a narrow copper strip-petal. When the fur is stretched, air passes through the holes and causes the copper petals to vibrate. And they sound. Thin - high. Thicker - lower, and the thick petals seem to sing in a bass voice. If a musician stretches the bellows too much, the records sound loud. If the air is pumped weakly, the records vibrate a little, and the music turns out to be quiet, quiet. That's all miracles!
And the real miracle were the fingers of our accordion player. Amazingly played, to say the least!
And this amazing skill more than once helped us in difficult life at the front.
Our accordion player will lift your mood in time, and warm you up in the cold - makes you dance, and instills cheerfulness in the depressed, and will make you remember your happy pre-war youth: your native land, mothers and loved ones. And one day...
One evening, by order of the command, we changed combat positions. We were ordered not to engage in battle with the Germans under any circumstances. On our way there flowed a not very wide, but deep river with one single ford, which we took advantage of. The commander and radio operator remained on the other side; they were finishing the communication session. They were cut off by the suddenly arriving fascist machine gunners. And although the Germans did not know that ours were on their bank, the crossing was kept under fire, and there was no way to cross the ford. And when night fell, the Germans began to illuminate the ford with rockets. Needless to say, the situation seemed hopeless.
Suddenly our accordion player, without saying a word, takes out his button accordion and begins to play “Katyusha”.
The Germans were at first taken aback. Then they came to their senses and brought down heavy fire on our shore. And the accordion player suddenly broke off the chord and fell silent. The Germans stopped shooting. One of them shouted joyfully: “Rus, Rus, kaput, boyan!”
But nothing happened to the accordion player. Luring the Germans, he crawled along the shore away from the crossing and again began playing the perky “Katyusha”.
The Germans accepted this challenge. They began to pursue the musician, and therefore left the ford for several minutes without flares.
The commander and radio operator immediately realized why our accordion player started a “musical” game with the Germans, and, without hesitation, they forded to the other bank.

These are the kinds of incidents that happened to our soldier accordion player and his friend accordion, by the way, named after the ancient Russian singer Boyan.

Incident at the crossing
author G.V. Abrahamyan

There was one soldier in our company. Before the war, he studied at a music institute and played the button accordion so wonderfully that one of the fighters once said:
- Brothers, this is an incomprehensible deception! There must be some kind of cunning mechanism hidden in this box! I'd like to see...
“Please,” answered the accordion player. “It’s just time for me to glue the bellows.”
And in front of everyone, he dismantled the instrument.
“Tut-tut,” the soldier said disappointedly. “It’s empty, like a spent cartridge case...”

Inside the button accordion, between two wooden boxes connected by a leather accordion bellows, it was indeed empty. Only on the side plates, where the buttons are located on the outside, were there wide metal plates with holes of different sizes. Hidden behind each hole is a narrow copper petal strip. When the fur is stretched, air passes through the holes and causes the copper petals to vibrate. And they sound. Thin - high. Thicker is lower, and the thick petals seem to sing in a bass voice. If a musician stretches the bellows too much, the records sound loud. If the air is pumped weakly, the records vibrate a little, and the music turns out to be quiet, quiet. That's all miracles!

And the real miracle were the fingers of our accordion player. Amazingly played, to say the least!
And this amazing skill more than once helped us in difficult life at the front.

Our accordion player will lift your mood in time, and warm you up in the cold - makes you dance, and instills cheerfulness in the depressed, and will make you remember your happy pre-war youth: your native land, mothers and loved ones. And one day...

One evening, by order of the command, we changed combat positions. We were ordered not to engage in battle with the Germans under any circumstances. On our way there flowed a not very wide, but deep river with a single ford, which we took advantage of. The commander and radio operator remained on the other side; they were finishing the communication session. They were cut off by the suddenly arriving fascist machine gunners. And although the Germans did not know that ours were on their bank, the crossing was kept under fire, and there was no way to cross the ford. And when night fell, the Germans began to illuminate the ford with rockets. Needless to say, the situation seemed hopeless.
Suddenly our accordion player, without saying a word, takes out his button accordion and begins to play “Katyusha”.
The Germans were at first taken aback. Then they came to their senses and brought down heavy fire on our shore. And the accordion player suddenly broke off the chord and fell silent. The Germans stopped shooting. One of them shouted joyfully: “Rus, Rus, kaput, boyan!”

But nothing happened to the accordion player. Luring the Germans, he crawled along the shore away from the crossing and again began playing the perky “Katyusha”.
The Germans accepted this challenge. They began to pursue the musician, and therefore left the ford for several minutes without flares.

The commander and radio operator immediately realized why our accordion player started a “musical” game with the Germans, and, without hesitation, they forded to the other bank.

These are the kinds of incidents that happened to our soldier accordion player and his friend accordion, by the way, named after the ancient Russian singer Boyan.

There was one soldier in our company. Before the war, he studied at a music institute and played the button accordion so wonderfully that one of the fighters once said:
- Brothers, this is an incomprehensible deception!

There must be some kind of cunning mechanism hidden in this box! I'd like to see...
“Please,” answered the accordion player. “It’s just time for me to glue the bellows.”
And in front of everyone, he dismantled the instrument.
“Bow,” the soldier said disappointedly. “It’s empty, like a spent cartridge case...”

Inside the button accordion, between two wooden boxes connected by a leather accordion bellows, it was indeed empty. Only on the side plates, where the buttons are located on the outside, were there wide metal plates with holes of different sizes. Hidden behind each hole is a narrow copper petal strip. When the fur is stretched, air passes through the holes and causes the copper petals to vibrate. And they sound. Thin - high. Thicker - lower, and the thick petals seem to sing in a bass voice. If a musician stretches the bellows too much, the records sound loud. If the air is pumped weakly, the records vibrate a little, and the music turns out to be quiet, quiet. That's all miracles!

And the real miracle were the fingers of our accordion player. Amazingly played, to say the least!
And this amazing skill more than once helped us in difficult life at the front.

Our accordion player will lift your mood in time, and warm you up in the cold - makes you dance, and instills cheerfulness in the depressed, and will make you remember your happy pre-war youth: your native land, mothers and loved ones. And one day...

One evening, by order of the command, we changed combat positions. We were ordered not to engage in battle with the Germans under any circumstances. On our way there flowed a not very wide, but deep river with a single ford, which we took advantage of. The commander and radio operator remained on the other side; they were finishing the communication session. They were cut off by the suddenly arriving fascist machine gunners. And although the Germans did not know that ours were on their bank, the crossing was kept under fire, and there was no way to cross the ford. And when night fell, the Germans began to illuminate the ford with rockets. Needless to say, the situation seemed hopeless.
Suddenly our accordion player, without saying a word, takes out his button accordion and begins to play “Katyusha”.
The Germans were at first taken aback. Then they came to their senses and brought down heavy fire on our shore. And the accordion player suddenly broke off the chord and fell silent. The Germans stopped shooting. One of them shouted joyfully: “Rus, Rus, kaput, boyan!”

But nothing happened to the accordion player. Luring the Germans, he crawled along the shore away from the crossing and again began playing the perky “Katyusha”.
The Germans accepted this challenge. They began to pursue the musician, and therefore left the ford for several minutes without flares.

The commander and radio operator immediately realized why our accordion player started a “musical” game with the Germans, and, without hesitation, they forded to the other bank.

These are the kinds of incidents that happened to our soldier accordion player and his friend accordion, by the way, named after the ancient Russian singer Boyan.