The Last of the Landing (A Terrible New Year's Tale)
Every word here is a terrible truth. The witness of those events, thank God, is alive and healthy and can confirm.
December 29 - 75th anniversary of the landing of the Kerch-Fyodorsian landing. One of the desanters of the 224th Division, the 160th Regiment, the 3rd Battalion, was a 19-year-old junior lieutenant, a combo, my grandfather. Official sources write a lot of different things about that landing and often adorn events.
I will tell the story as he told me.
I am 19 years old and I am a squadron. Three months ago, after accelerated courses, a junior lieutenant was given. He was sent to the Caucasian front. My squadron is 30 men, plus my squadron, and I myself. All my soldiers are recruited from Abkhazia, Georgia, Armenia, and Azerbaijan. We were formed in New Athens. One Russian in the whole squadron, Mechalkin (name unchanged), my head of squadron. Before the war he was the director of the furniture factory in Gagra. Older than me, about 30 years on average. Almost all family. Mechalkiny, he is under 40.
We were put into service on the evening of December 28, 1941. One of the officers arrived, spoke for an hour and said that it was a great task and an honor for us to destroy the enemy’s inalienable part of the Soviet land, the Crimea. The platoon is already seized, he says. We just have to land, and the Germans will run away, riding helmets.
They submitted a small vessel, called "Eisk". An old shalanda, it is 50 years old at lunch and is designed for 250-300 people. And we were stuck with a battalion, plus guns, plus a couple of mouths (link, sappers), a person probably 600-650. They should have been in the evening, at 10 o'clock, to sit down at 3 o'clock at 3 o'clock at night, it is dark. They sat only at 12:30. Such a overload that the steam boat barely floats, the boat is quite sensitive over the water, the storm, the waves swell. It was cold, the boats were frozen, and we too. It seems that a minus of 10-15 is not so scary, but it is on the shore, and in open water, and in shells and wraps, the cold is terrible.
On a steam boat do not turn like a seller in a barrel. My soldiers were frozen. They are all Armenians, Azerbaijanis, Georgians, and Abkhazians - the cold is poorly tolerated. Mechalkin has a lot of wounds, from the cold crumbled, stands. When we reached Cape Chronicle it was already morning. It is light and we are on our palms. We move on. Here and the shore is visible, maybe 200-250 meters before it. We were naturally covered.
I watched the Titanic. So we are worse, drowning and burning at the same time. The shipwreck. There is no boat naturally. Mass of killed and wounded. Every piece falls into someone, it is impossible to miss out. The crowd rages, the vessel runs, and where to go? There were no officers, no soldiers, no commanders, no subordinates. My mouth is in my ear, the soldiers on board, let us go here. I struck a couple of people and fell into the water myself. Somebody stumbled.
I have never swam in ice water. The body is like knives, breathing is hard. With my head under the water, I didn’t know how to swim. I do not swim well, but I swim somewhere 30-40 meters. Shineel weighed as the whirl became. Tracks to the bottom. If another 20 meters would drown undoubtedly, and so the bottom broke. And on "Eisk" our mines roll one by one. What a cry is worth, not to pass on.
How I got to the beach, I don’t know. I only remember the ice shredded. But on the shore is much better, although the Germans shoot from mortars and shoot, but always flew into the water. As he got out, he immediately covered himself with ice. He fell without strength. Maybe a minute, maybe an hour.
I see people from our vessel supplementing. He began to wander, looking for soldiers from his squadron. I probably reviewed them all. Out of the 32 men of my squadron on the shore came... 8. Including me and Mechalkin. One rifle plus I have a nail under my shell. Not even getting him. A rifle with a frozen stick.
I don't know how many people came from "Eisk" to the shore, I didn't count, but I pretend a man 125-150, not more. I think most in those first meters near the steam boat drowned or crumbled.
And where we go. Everything was frozen in the ice. Come we stand. We walked off the shore and saw people on the shore. They scream to us in Russian, the truth is words barely heard, hands shake. Thank you B. I think. Even though the ship was not fooled. The worst behind. And it turned out... it was just beginning.
We climbed up and went out...right up to the German machine guns. In front of them, we are without weapons. The Germans called us. The rifles were immediately taken away from everyone, and what to pick them out. They have no use against the machine gun, and they are still all in the ice. And there were those rifles from ten-and-a-half for 150 people.
And our prisoners there are apparently not visible. I think a thousand came with us. We sat down on the snow, probably sitting for an hour. not to move. Then a German officer came on a horse. They were all built in ranks. Through the translator he said, officers, communists and Komsomolers, and Jews - go out of order. And I am a younger lieutenant, and a Komsomol, and a Jew. Death at all. Nobody came out naturally. They walked around, searching.
I was lucky, like in a fairy tale. Once, I got in a row with soldiers from another part, from my only Mechalkin. Two, I can't see the cubicles on the loop, I'm generally frozen like a slice. Well, three, next to all the Georgians, Armenians, Azerbaijanis, the desant from the Caucasus was coming. We are all on one face. The German approached me. I went into the cheek. “Jude?” He says. I am “nan”. He looked at. He took the bracelet and left. Several people were shot on the spot. They took them out of their ranks.
Then I hear the officer commanding, I am German and I taught in school, and he is similar to idis. We urgently divide the prisoners into two columns and take them out.
gathered in two groups. One big one is 600. Another smaller, a man 350-400. There were convoys, only nine people. 3 in the back. 2 on the front and 2 on the sides. They pulled the column. I don’t know where the second group went.
They started walking, Mechalkin around me. All exhausted and frozen. Walked a long time. I remember the indicator once seen on the village of Mama Russian. The column is long, stretched. Many cannot go, fall behind, and some who are powerless sit down. Those who remain are shot. I hear Bach from behind. The column reads and reads.
I have a nanny, I remembered. “I am talking about Mechalkin. Let the convoys attack on the side at some turn, where the back do not see us especially. I’ll try to shoot at least one, and you’ll look after the other so he doesn’t see that I’m with a gun. Suddenly a sink. He is frozen. Then take the machine and finish the second. I think others will help.” He said, “You who are a squadron, you fooled something. And the others? “So we’re all going to go and say, until the rear and front convoys pass through, a third of the column will escape. So long we will not pass. We won’t lose a penny.” Mechalkin and says, “Take out the nagan, not the дури. and documents as well. We will be in the camp. We will work. There is nowhere to run here. The Crimean Tatars do not like it. It will be delivered in a moment.”
I listened to him.I was only 19, and he was almost 40. You won’t believe it, you won’t be scared. It just hit me and I believed him. He said it painfully. I looked at him more as an elderly comrade than as a subordinate. He was a younger green lieutenant. He had children a little younger than me.
I decided, the end. There is no chance of survival. One thing I was worried about was that my mom didn’t know where I died. At that time I was officially missing. The parents were informed and found each other only two years later.
We walked a long time, a whole day. Probably 40-45 kilometers, not less. Other officers were also in the column. I saw our deputy battalion officer (then he was with me in the camp). Maybe someone else had a weapon. No one attacked the Germans. They just went, and we were shot and shot. A man 250-300 think of our column in the snow remains.
By evening, Mechalkin barely walked. 40 years is age. The shoes broke, the legs swelled, blackened began. I drove him the last kilometers. We arrived at a barbecue for the evening. The Germans drove us all there. Do not sit. It moves and it is hard. Me and Mechalkin were lucky, standing near the wall.
I said, “I have to run. Another day of march and we’ll just die.” He apparently already regretted starting to persuade me to throw away Nagan. “Let’s talk.” At night, the nails were pulled out of the boards, the boards were removed. Fingers in the blood, but there are gaps. They stood up and left. Maybe someone else left after me, I don’t know.
We spent the whole day on December 30. How did we not be caught? Maybe not exactly who was looking for it. There was a common direction to the west. Where they wandered I don’t even know. Mechelen was already sick. The shoes of Han. The feet too. I pulled it off, oh and heavy. I walked with him almost the whole day. There was no food, only snow. The village was afraid, maybe the Germans there. In the evening we went to the hutor. There is nowhere. The Tatars lived there.
We honestly told them that they fled the Germans. I don’t know, maybe the Tatars gave us somewhere, and we were placed in the oven, we shared the cakes. We stuck for a couple of hours. Early in the morning a knock on the door. We see our intelligence. God is yours. have arrived.
I say to the squadron, “I’m also a squadron. This is my castle. The Germans escaped from captivity. We want you.” He says, “We can’t take it. We are on task.” He showed the direction to go.
Mechalkin on the rocks and broke to the village of Seven Colloquiums. Our part was there. The afternoon was supplemented. We went to a special department. Asked what and how. We honestly told. No documents of course. All the evidence is our shape and one cubic on a loop. Mechalkin no longer has legs. Everything below the knees became black. The skin has crumbled, the meat in pieces, the bones are visible, he will stand more than he says. Genghis began to think. We were thrown into the house. "You are an officer, they say, you were in captivity, tomorrow we will send you to the filter camp." “And his?” "After a day, the hospital should approach, we will determine while let it lie down."
So we stayed in the rest of the house on December 31 and sat. Then there were a few more like us. In the evening we had a hot water boiler and suckers. Mechalkin was already virtually in madness and memorylessness. When I came in, I drank it with boiling water.
At night, Mechalkin looks at me and talks. “Happy New Year to you.” I forgot that it was New Year. “He says 1942 should be a good year, much better than last. Do you know what I want with you?” “What?” I say. One day after the war. See how it will be. You will survive, and I am no longer a resident. You are a living guy. I believe.” Then he fell down again.
This is how I met the New Year. With water and suckers. With a fellow in fool. Exactly 75 years ago.
In the morning, they came to pick up me and others. Mechalkin was already lying without memory. I all the money, the red thirty, from the pocket grabbed (we had just before the landing a paycheck), he moved into the pocket of the gymnast. I hugged for goodbye. On January 1, 1942, I was sent first to the gathering point, and then to the camp, to the stone-breaking house. Until they verify that I am not a traitor.
Then he was released, of course. He was sent back to the Caucasus in April. Not even the title was removed. Also lucky, captive before order 227 was. Truth in the 53rd during the "affair of doctors" I was reminded that day of captivity. In May, Crimea was again in the hands of the Germans. I heard later that those who were not allowed to be released from our camp were murdered in the pebbles. I don’t know if this is true.
After the war, I wrote several times in Gaga. No one answered. I don’t know if Mechalkin survived. This New Year I remember for my whole life. Exactly 75 years. You see how many days after the war the damned man lived.
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Let those who shout “Crymnash” and those who shout “turn it back” and those who say “This is our Tatar land” look at each other. Let them forget their quarrels, even for a while, and remember all those Russians and Ukrainians, Armenians and Arzebajds, Georgians and Abkhazians, Muslims, Jews, Christians, brave men and not heroes who shot and those who died without having time to shoot a single shot. All those who on the New Year, exactly 75 years ago, stood shoulder to shoulder, regardless of religion or nationality, and simply performed their duty. Who was able. Those who remained forever under the waves near Cape Chronicles, those who died in captivity, and those who are still alive. All those thanks to whom they can walk on the Crimean land.
Very soon New Year. Which will definitely be better than the past. And among the many fun toasts, I’ll drink one for those who were on the steamboat “Eisk” exactly 75 years ago. And separately, for my grandfather, junior lieutenant, 224th Army Division, 160th Motor Army Regiment, 3rd Battalion, 3rd Company, Commander of the 3rd Squadron. For the one who may have remained the last of the landing.