Boris Ivanovich Moskovsky - sniper of the 1095th Infantry Regiment (324th Infantry Division, 50th Army, 2nd Belorussian Front) corporal - at the time of nomination for awarding the Order of Glory, 1st degree.
Born on March 31, 1924 in the village of Ogaryshevo, Povodnevsky volost, Myshkinsky district, Yaroslavl province (now Myshkinsky district, Yaroslavl region) in a peasant family. Russian. In 1936 he graduated from 4th grade. He worked as a photographer's apprentice in an arts association in the city of Rybinsk.
In July 1943, he was drafted into the Red Army by the Rybinsk District Military Commissariat. Since August 1943, he took part in battles with the invaders on the Bryansk, Belorussian 2nd and 3rd Belorussian fronts. The entire combat journey took place in the ranks of the 1095th Infantry Regiment of the 324th Infantry Division.
In October 1943, both near Smolensk and in February 1944, near Mogilev, he was wounded, but always returned to duty. In the spring of 1944, the division fought defensive battles in the upper reaches of the Dnieper River in the Mogilev region of Belarus. Here Corporal Moskovsky proved himself to be an excellent sniper.
In a short period from May 7 to June 10, 1944, when the regiment was on the defensive, Corporal Moskovsky destroyed 11 enemy soldiers with fire from a sniper rifle.
By order of units of the 324th Infantry Division dated June 12, 1944 (No. 94/n), Corporal Boris Ivanovich Moskovsky was awarded the Order of Glory, 3rd degree.
On June 27, 1944, units of the division went on the offensive during the Belarusian operation. The division successfully crossed the Dnieper, during July-August 1944 it advanced across the territory of Belarus, and participated in the destruction of the enemy’s Minsk group. In these battles, Corporal Moskovsky acted in a mobile detachment pursuing the enemy and destroyed 25 enemy soldiers with sniper fire.
On July 3, 1944, in a battle near the village of Zorka (Minsk region, Belarus), while repelling an enemy counterattack, he hit 12 Nazis and 6 horses with sniper fire.
By order of the troops of the 50th Army of August 4, 1944 (No. 439), Corporal Boris Ivanovich Moskovsky was awarded the Order of Glory, 2nd degree.
On July 26, near the city of Bialystok, he was seriously wounded in the left arm. After recovery he returned to his regiment. Since January 1945, he participated in the East Prussian operation, the destruction of the Heilsberg enemy group. WITH
During the period of offensive battles in East Prussia from January 21 to March 5, 1945, Corporal Moskovsky, following in combat offensive units, advanced in front of infantry combat formations and suppressed enemy firing points and destroyed snipers with sniper fire. During the specified period of fighting in East Prussia, he killed 29 enemy soldiers and officers with a sniper rifle. In total, by that time his personal sniper account already had 76 killed enemy soldiers and officers. He was nominated for the Order of Glory, 1st degree.
In April 1945, he took part in the assault on Königsberg and ended the war on the coast of Frisches Huff Bay.
By decree of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the USSR dated June 29, 1945, the corporal was awarded the Order of Glory, 1st degree. Became a full holder of the Order of Glory.
In December 1945, Sergeant Major Moskovsky was demobilized.
Lived in the city of Saratov. He worked as a concrete worker at SMU No. 1. He died on October 8, 1990. He was buried at the Elshansky cemetery in the city of Saratov.
Awarded the Order of the Patriotic War, 1st degree, Glory, 1st (06/29/1945), 2nd (08/04/1944) and 3rd (06/12/1944) degrees, medals.
A street in the Volzhsky district of the city of Saratov is named after him.
Work on mistakes
- in the biographical reference books of the Ministry of Defense of the Russian Federation in 2000 and 2010, he is still listed as alive.
You can't remove the words from the song.
(folk wisdom)
It's a pity that no help came
No reinforcements were sent
Well, the usual things:
You and I got screwed.
(Boris Grebenshchikov, song)
The capital of the Moldavian Autonomous Soviet Socialist Republic, the city of Tiraspol, December 17, 1937, first hour of the night. Rumbling quietly, a van with a large inscription on the sides “Bread” drove up in reverse to the open heavy doors of the powder magazine of the fortress bastion Vladimir.
Powder magazine of the bastion of St. Vladimir fortress,
built under the leadership of Alexander Vasilyevich Suvorov.
Along the top of the bastion rampart there is a chain of soldiers in caps with blue bands; in their hands are Mosin rifles with fixed bayonets. The same soldiers lined up in a living corridor from the cellar doors to the back door of the arriving van.
“Aftentyev,” the red commander with the buttonholes of a junior lieutenant of state security began to call out, “to go out. Basyul! To the exit. Belinsky! To the exit". Those called out jumped to the ground, looked around in confusion, clutching their skinny bundles to their chests, and, urged on from all sides, walked through the cellar door.
The van, freed from two dozen “passengers,” drove through the Kherson gates of the fortress to Pushkin Street to the NKVD prison for a new batch of arrestees. About thirty minutes later: “Dikusar! To the exit. Durbaylov! Evstrateychuk! Egorov!” Another dozen or two people, slouching, proceeded to the cellar.
The powder magazine is inside now.
The van made four trips and brought 90 people.
Temporarily acting People's Commissar of Internal Affairs of the MASSR Comrade. Rivlin Lazar Isaakovich and the acting prosecutor of the MASSR comrade. Kolodiy was delayed at a meeting of the city party committee, but they telephoned that they would be there soon. Junior lieutenants of state security comrade. Nagorny Ivan and Dokutsky Leonard, as well as the operational secretary of the NKVD MASSR comrade. Pervukhin, after a brief consultation, distributed responsibilities for the upcoming event.
When "emka" vrid. The People's Commissar for Internal Affairs, sneezing smoky, stopped at the cellar, and comrade wearily came out. Rivlin and Kolodiy, everything was ready. “Aftenyev!” was heard muffledly from the cellar, “on the way out.” Gr. Aftenyev, shivering chillily, climbed the steps. Comrade Nagorny and Dokutsky, firmly taking the gr. Aftenyev by the shoulders, they led him to the edge of an empty pit, dug in the morning by civilians a couple of steps from the entrance to the cellar, and at first not noticed by the prisoners behind the backs of the soldiers lined up in a dense line from the van to the cellar.
To gr. Aftenyev, held on the edge of the pit by comrade. Nagorny and Dokutsky, Comrade approached with two quick steps from behind. Pervukhin and shot him in the back of the head from a Smirnsky revolver - a revolver converted to fire small-caliber cartridges. The shot was quiet, like a clap of hands. Body gr. Aftenyev instantly went limp, and Comrade. Nagorny and Dokutsky gently pushed him towards the pit. Gr. Aftenev fell flat to the bottom of the pit and began to make scraping movements with his legs (his hands were securely tied behind his back); and only two control shots to the left temple turned upward stopped this annoying fuss.
The clerk sitting in the cab of the van looked at his wristwatch and made a note in a red pencil in the copy of the verdict: 17/XII 1h.56.
“Basul!” - was heard from behind the cellar doors. Coming out with his hands tied, Mr. Basyul. Everything happened again. "Belinsky!" - and Belinsky, shaking his legs, calmed down...
The clerk made notes as usual: 17/XII 1 hour. 58, 17/XII 1 hour 59... Each executed person took from one to three minutes.
Comrade is in his fourth decade. Nagorny and Pervukhin switched roles: now Comrade was shooting. Nagorny, and Comrade Pervukhin assisted. Then it was Comrade’s turn. Dokutsky. And comrade Dokutsky’s hand did not waver, Comrade did not put him to shame. Dokutsky has the glorious title of security officer.
At 4-15, the last person sentenced for the night was brought out - Tsaran Kirill Kondratyevich, born in 1901, native of the village of Zhura, Rybnitsa region of the MASSR.
The clerk flipped through the last pages of the verdict with relief: the remaining 76 convicts were sentenced to 10 years of forced labor in the camps. “This is nice,” the clerk thought.
Ninety still warm former people lay in four layers in a cold pit. Comrade Dokutsky, busily walking around the perimeter of the pit and shining a flashlight on himself, fired several more shots into the heads of those lying down, who seemed to him not dead enough. Brass cartridges crunched under the soles of Comrade's cowhide boots. Dokutsky.
In the headlights of the Emka Comrade. Dokutsky, Nagorny, Pervukhin, Rivlin and Kolodiy signed the act of carrying out the sentence. Like this:
At this point the security officers' working day was over. Tomorrow they faced another sleepless night: they had to kill the next batch of enemies of the people. For this purpose, another execution pit was already ready nearby.
A squad of soldiers from the cordon, armed with shovels, quickly and habitually covered the grave with earth.
In total, during 1937-38, about 5,000 people were shot and buried in the Tiraspol fortress. The fortress was demolished in the 60-70s, and a residential neighborhood was built in its place. All that remained of the fortress was the St. Vladimir bastion, where residents of the surrounding houses demolished all sorts of rubbish, from construction waste to food waste. Surprisingly, the city authorities turned a blind eye to this: the huge landfill grew, drowning even the building of the powder magazine. And only when they decided to liquidate the trash bin in the early 90s, it became clear what they had been trying to hide under it for many decades.
The bulldozer's knife, slightly touching the top layer of earth lying under the trash heap, turned out human skulls, crushed bones, and phalanges of fingers. They called the police, archaeologists... A crowd of residents of the surrounding houses gathered, in which individuals with hard-to-remember, as if erased, faces were sneaking around and whispering, they say, the Germans, bitches, damned fascists, how many Soviet people they destroyed...
The archaeologists knew their job: each skeleton was carefully cleared of soil with scrapers and brushes, packed in a separate bag and sent to forensic experts. Each find - buttons, coins, half-decayed scraps of newspapers, matchboxes - was described in detail and entered into a report.
A couple of days later, the then president arrived with his guards. Wiggling his eyebrows, he stood on the edge of the pit. I asked the archaeologists what else I could do to help them. Having collected himself, he asked doomedly: “Or maybe they are Germans after all?” The archaeologists silently showed him a pair of “protocols to a coward” that were crawling in his hands ( “coward” (Ukrainian) – search; who forgot, until 1940 the MASSR was part of the Ukrainian SSR), dated 1937.
Excavations continued for three seasons. Eight hundred skeletons were pulled out of the ground. There was no end in sight to the work: only a small part of the bastion territory was explored. There was deep discontent brewing among the leadership, saying it was time to end this nonsense. The timid squeak of the archaeologists, saying that there were bones sticking out of the walls of the pits, was not taken into account.
The professor in charge of the archaeologists was forced to sign a document stating that there were no more graves left on the bastion, and the work was stopped. The bones were loaded into large wooden boxes and buried in several stages in a huge mass grave about fifty meters from the bastion.
Summer 1993.
“This is how things are, brother”...
But this is just a saying. It would seem that it was - and it was, overgrown with the past. But this story has a continuation. And this continuation vaguely reminded me of something. I tossed and turned at night: somewhere I had either heard or read something like this. I remembered!
“Toptygin was a servant-beast, he knew how to build dens and uproot trees; Consequently, to some extent he knew the art of engineering. But his most precious quality was that he wanted to get onto the tablets of History at all costs, and for this he preferred the brilliance of bloodshed to everything in the world. So, no matter what they talk to him about: about trade, about industry, about sciences– he kept turning to one thing: “Bloodsheds... bloodsheds... that’s what is needed!” (M. E. Saltykov-Shchedrin).
Get onto the tablets of History!
Let's step back a little in time. The archaeologists who were involved in the excavations on the bastion, muttered silently, somehow calmed down. Again, all sorts of expeditions, Scythian burial mounds, romance. Only one restless one was caught, some kind of greyhound: as he drank, he used to talk about three seasons at the Tiraspol fortress: bones, skulls, bullet holes, protocols to a coward... The sober one also talked and was lamenting everything: they walk, they say, and now, right at the graves, they organize festivals on bones (indeed, on the bastion, every year, on City Day they still strive to present some kind of theatrical performances with dancing and songs), and under their feet, literally a meter away, there are piles of bones. Everything appealed to conscience. One word - greyhound. So we will continue to call him Borzoi.
And yet our Greyhound has waited in the wings! And a quarter of a century had not passed before, after the next planned change of the Upper Authority, new people came to the leadership of the “cultural sector” of the city, let’s call them by the collective name Toptygin. Toptygin was in good standing with the previous leadership, he knew how to build dens and uproot trees; Consequently, to some extent he knew the science of archeology. But his most precious quality was that at all costs he I wanted to get onto the tablets of History.
How can you get to the tablets without bloodshed? Hard. And then Toptygin remembered our Borzoi archaeologist. He called to himself: “And what, just bloodshed and bloodshed? So, do the bones just lie there undead? Ay-ay-ay... Let's dig them under the TV cameras and show off on the TV screens. A?"
For our greyhound, all these screens are like a stop sign for a hare, but he realized (at least, it seemed to him that he realized): here it is - an opportunity to finish the job a quarter of a century ago and sleep peacefully, no longer feeling the crunch of bones under your feet . One word - archaeologist, all in the empyrean, in illusions.
They shook hands.
The excavator carefully removed half a meter of soil. They dug with a shovel - nothing. They dug a second time - empty. Toptygin fidgeted. “Right now,” Borzoi stuck a shovel into the bottom of a shallow hole, the shovel rested on something. Hands raked up clods of damp earth:
Toptygin perked up: the tablets are here, within reach. They built a tent from what God sent, Toptygin organized a meal for the workers, everyone had fun.
As promised, TV crews from local TV channels came running. Toptygin began to glow with realization.
They got the mayor, the New President himself honored... “And who is all this?” - “And here, if you please, Toptygin, Mikhail Ivanovich.” - “Well done, Toptygin, I praise you.”
After that, Toptygin had nothing more to wish for: he was included in the tablets. One thing irritated me, deprived me of sleep and appetite: Greyhound. With his “research methodology,” he literally got it, if not got it: not only did it take two (!) weeks to clear the first execution pit (65 bones), but he also managed to discover the second! And then the third! Fourth! Fifth! Sixth! But after all, the television crews have already filmed it, the mayor and the president paid tribute, what else does he, the little bastard, need?!
At the second pit, Toptygin announced: “Okay, Borzoy, you’ve been playing around with your archeology, that’s enough. Come on, quickly pull the dead out of the ground - and the Sabbath will begin. Is a week enough? What, don't you want it like that? Well, no one is forcing you here.”
The greyhound spat profusely and swore masterfully, but there was nowhere to go. And he began to pull out these same dead people like radishes. What artifacts are there? What kind of reports are there? Run, run...
And there are countless execution pits left in the bastion. And hundreds, thousands remained in them. They lie something like this, with their hands tied behind their backs and their mouths stuffed with all sorts of rubbish:
Q. The place of sports in your life?
P. For as long as I can remember, I have always been involved in sports. As a child, when I lived in the regional center, there were no specialized sections, and I was involved in various types of general physical sports. Later I started boxing seriously (for more than 6 years), and now I enjoy going to Sportlife. I play sports all the time; it’s a way of life.
Q. Were there any interesting situations related to sports?
P. I want to tell a story that, from my point of view, has a certain background: when I entered the Kirov Military Medical Academy in Leningrad, I knew that the formation of courses takes place in 3 types of armed forces - missile, flight and submarine. The commission decided that, as a good athlete and boxer, I would take a worthy place on a submarine and I was unanimously assigned to become a submariner. I categorically objected, and finding no understanding, I packed my things and left “in English” through the fence. So much for sports, although this is not a positive example. But this is of course a joke.
Q. How did you get introduced to Kyokushin karate?
P. Having perfectly mastered the technique of working with my hands, I always wanted to attack and defend myself with my feet. My friend Grisha Shishkovsky introduced me to Sasha Guseinov about 10 years ago, and I started going to the gym to train. Thanks to these trainings, I improved my footwork technique and got a good hand-foot mix. Already working as the chief physician of a hospital, I once met a guy whom I didn’t recognize at first, but after he reminded me of how I worked with him in sparring, I realized that my efforts were wasted.
Q. Which branch of the National Kyokushin Karate Federation do you head?
P. For more than ten years I have been helping to provide medical support for competitions at various levels, from city events to European Championships. In addition, I communicate very closely with the leaders of the Kyokushin Federation, Bliznyuk Stanislav. I believe that this is a real athlete who, with his perseverance and hard work, worked towards his goal and is now rightfully the first in Kyokushin in Ukraine.
Thank you very much Boris Ivanovich for your contribution to the development of Kyokushin in Ukraine.
The Chairman of the Kyiv City State Administration, Vladimir Bondarenko, has found a replacement for the Director of the Health Department of the Kyiv City State Administration, Vitaly Mokhorev. An experienced physician, the head physician of the capital's hospital No. 3, Boris Palamar, is already on probation in his position. The medical union seems to be happy with the appointment.
The corresponding order of the Kyiv City State Administration No. 552 was signed by the head of the city state administration Vladimir Bondarenko on May 5.
According to the document, from May 7 to 13, assistant-consultant to the people's deputy Boris Ivanovich Palamar will undergo an internship at the Kyiv City State Administration as head of the health department. Bondarenko appointed his deputy, Oksana Dolinskaya, to “keep an eye” on the new intern.
According to information KV, Palamar, before joining the Kyiv City State Administration, was an assistant consultant to Vladimir Bondarenko, while at the same time being the head physician of the Kyiv City Clinical Hospital No. 3. Palamar has led the hospital since 1999, and his brother worked for a long time as deputy head of the Desnyansk Regional State Administration. It is also known that Boris Palamar was a deputy of the Kiev City Council from 2002 to 2006, being a member of the City Council commission on legal security and parliamentary ethics.
The Chairman of the Kyiv City Trade Union of Health Workers Larisa Konarovskaya speaks very flatteringly about Palamar. She is clearly waiting for his appointment to the post of director of the Department of Health of the Kyiv City State Administration and believes that he can do a lot of useful things for the capital’s medicine.
“Boris Ivanovich is a very talented manager who can successfully lead this complex industry. His hospital, by the way, is also very difficult; there are seriously ill patients there. Palamar knows how to find sponsors so that patients always have medicine; in his hospital, unlike many other medical institutions, there is a calm, harmonious atmosphere. And in general, he has many good human qualities,” said KV Konarovskaya.
She also noted that the former director of the health department, Vitaly Mokhorev, did not know the work of doctors from the inside, which is why the problems in the capital’s medicine in recent years have not been solved, but only worsened.
“Boris Palamar is a different matter; he knows what needs to be done first-hand,” says Konarovskaya.
Secretary of the Humanitarian Commission of the Kyiv City Council Alexey Davidenko commented on the arrival of Boris Palamar to the Kyiv City State Administration in a more restrained manner.
“I don’t know if this is a good appointment or a bad one. But looking at the fact that the head of the Kyiv City State Administration Vladimir Bondarenko is actively returning the people of the ex-mayor of Kyiv Omelchenko to positions in the city state administration, one can assume that he simply does not know others,” said KV Davidenko
Reference:
In 1982 Graduated from medical school in Novoselitsa, Chernihiv region.
In 1988 - graduated from the Zaporozhye Medical Institute, after which he worked as an intern at the Vasylkiv Central District Hospital.
Since 1990 - worked as a surgeon at the vascular surgery department of the Kyiv Regional Clinical Hospital.
Since 1994 - worked as deputy chief physician for surgery at the Kyiv City Clinical Hospital No. 22.
In 1999 - was appointed chief physician of the Kyiv City Clinical Hospital No. 3.