Evgeny Vasilievich Smyshlyaev(December 20, 1926, the village of Pigelmash, now the Paranginsky district of the Republic of Mari El - full holder of the Order of Glory, junior sergeant, castle, later gunner and commander of a battery of 76-mm guns of the 426th rifle regiment (88th rifle division, 31st army, 3rd Belorussian Front).
Biography
E. V. Smyshlyaev was born in 1926 in the village of Pigelmash, Mari-Turek canton, Mari Autonomous Region, into a peasant family. Russian by nationality. Graduated from high school. He worked on a collective farm. In the Red Army since November 1943.
On June 23, 1944 (1944-06-23), Smyshlyaev, acting as part of a crew, while breaking through enemy defenses 20 km south of the village of Krasnoye, Smolensk Region, destroyed 2 bunkers and over 10 enemy soldiers with direct fire, set fire to a car with ammunition, for which 23 July 1944 (1944-07-23) was awarded the Order of Glory, 3rd degree.
On February 6, 1945 (1945-02-06), repelling counterattacks southwest of the city of Bartenstein (now Bartoszyce, Poland), gunner Smyshlyaev as part of the crew destroyed an observation post and over 10 enemy soldiers, for which March 14, 1945 (1945-03- 14) was awarded the Order of Glory, 2nd degree.
On February 28, 1945 (1945-02-28), in offensive battles south of the city of Koenigsberg (now Kaliningrad), gun commander Smyshlyaev repelled 3 enemy attacks, destroyed over 15 of his soldiers, suppressed a firing point, allowing our infantry to break into the enemy’s location, for which on April 2, 1945 (1945-04-02) he was awarded the Order of Glory, 2nd degree. On December 31, 1987 (1987-12-31) he was re-awarded with the Order of Glory, 1st degree.
The war for Evgeny Smyshlyaev ended on March 2, 1945 (1945-03-02), when he was wounded by shrapnel and sent to a hospital in Kaunas. In 1947 he was demobilized. Before retiring, he lived and worked as a mechanic at a peat enterprise in the village of Karintorf (now a microdistrict of the city of Kirovo-Chepetsk. He lives in the city of Slobodskoye.
Member of the CPSU since 1966.
Awarded the Order of the Red Banner, the Red Banner of Labor, the Order of the Patriotic War, 1st degree, the medal “For Courage”, and other medals.
Literature
- Mochaev V. A. Smyshlyaev Evgeniy Vasilievich // Mari Biographical Encyclopedia. - Yoshkar-Ola: Mari Biographical Center, 2007. - P. 338. - 2032 copies. - ISBN 5-87898-357-0.
- Smyshlyaev Evgeniy Vasilievich // Encyclopedia of the Republic of Mari El / Rep. ed. N. I. Saraeva. - Yoshkar-Ola, 2009. - P. 717. - 872 p. - 3505 copies. - ISBN 978-5-94950-049-1.
Smyshlyaev Evgeniy Vasilievich - commander of the 76-mm gun crew of the 426th Infantry Regiment (88th Infantry Division, 31st Army, 3rd Belorussian Front), corporal - at the time of the last submission for awarding the Order of Glory.
Born on December 20, 1926 in the village of Pigelmash (excluded from the lists in 1983), he was part of the modern Paranginsky district of the Republic of Mari El, in a peasant family. Russian. Primary education. He worked on a collective farm and became a foreman of a field crew.
In November 1943 he was drafted into the Red Army. He trained as an artilleryman in a reserve artillery regiment in the Kostroma region. Since May 1944 at the front. He spent his entire combat career in the 426th Infantry Regiment of the 88th Infantry Division, and was a castle commander, gunner, and commander of a 76-mm gun crew. He took part in the battles for the liberation of Belarus, Lithuania, Poland, defeated the enemy in East Prussia, crossed the Berezina and Neman rivers.
On June 23, 1944, when breaking through enemy defenses 20 km south of the Krasnoye station in the Smolensk region, as part of a direct fire crew, he destroyed 2 bunkers, over 10 Nazis, and set fire to a car with ammunition.
By order of units of the 88th Infantry Division (No. 41/n) dated July 23, 1944, he was awarded the Order of Glory, 3rd degree.
In November 1944, while repelling an enemy counterattack, he knocked out an enemy self-propelled gun with direct fire, which helped the infantry hold the line. Awarded the medal "For Courage".
On February 6, 1945, repelling enemy counterattacks southwest of the city of Landsberg (now Gurowo-Ilawecke, Poland), acting as a gunner, as part of a crew, he destroyed an observation post and over 10 enemy soldiers. He was nominated for the Order of Glory, 2nd degree.
A few days later, while the award documents were being sent through the authorities, he distinguished himself again.
On February 28, 1945, in a battle east of the village of Schönwalde (now the village of Yaroslavsky, Guryevsky District, Kaliningrad Region), the crew of Corporal Smyshlyaev suppressed the fire of a heavy machine gun, which was hindering the advance of the infantry, with fire from a gun. On March 2, while attacking the same settlement, with accurate fire, he repelled three enemy attacks. At the same time, about 15 Nazis and a firing point were destroyed. Gave our infantry the opportunity to break into a populated area. He was nominated for award with the Order of Glory, 2nd degree (the order for the first submission had not yet been signed).
In this battle he was wounded by a shell fragment and sent to a hospital in the city of Kaunas. He never returned to the front. Soon after this, two orders were signed to award two Orders of Glory, 2nd degree. One was awarded after the Victory, in 1954, the second remained undelivered for a long time.
By orders for the troops of the 31st Army dated March 14, 1945 (No. 52, for the battle on February 6) and April 2, 1945 (No. 77, for the battle on March 2), he was awarded two Orders of Glory of the 2nd degree.
In January 1947, junior sergeant Smyshlyaev was demobilized.
He returned to his homeland and worked on the same collective farm. Later he moved to the village of Karintorf, Kirovo-Chepetsk district, Kirov region. He worked as a mechanic at a peat enterprise. Member of the CPSU since 1966. In 1968 he graduated from the 11th grade of the Working Youth School. More than 40 years after the Victory, the error with front-line awards was corrected.
By decree of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the USSR of December 31, 1987, the order of April 2, 1945 was canceled and he was awarded the Order of Glory, 1st degree. Became a full holder of the Order of Glory.
Since 1988 he lived in the city of Kirovo-Chepetsk. In 2010, he moved to his children in the city of Slobodskoy. Died on October 2, 2017. He was buried at the Danilovsky cemetery in the city of Slobodskaya, Kirov region.
Awarded the Order of the Patriotic War, 1st degree (03/11/1985), the Red Banner of Labor, Glory 1st (12/31/1987), 2nd (03/14/1945) and 3rd (07/23/1944) degrees, medals, including “For courage” (11/19/1944).
Today at the Danilovsky cemetery the funeral of a participant in the Great Patriotic War, a full holder of the Order of Glory, a member of the committee of war veterans and military service of the Sloboda Council of Veterans, Evgeniy Vasilyevich Smyshlyaev, took place. A full holder of the Order of Glory is equivalent to the title of Hero of the Soviet Union. Therefore E.V. Smyshlyaev was buried solemnly with military honors. The coffin was covered with the state flag of the Russian Federation, servicemen carried it in their arms to the burial site, cadets of the military-patriotic club "Etap" held the veteran's state awards on scarlet pillows. The body was interred to the sounds of the national anthem played by a military band and the volleys of the guard of honor.
E.A. Rychkov, deputy head of the city administration and business manager, noted at the farewell ceremony that we are seeing off the hero on his last journey not only with a feeling of bitterness, but also with words of gratitude. “We are grateful and indebted to the generation of winners for our freedom and the peaceful sky above our heads, for the country that was raised after the war, for the legacy that the veterans left us. E.V. Smyshlyaev at all stages of his life’s journey was a worthy son and soldier of the Fatherland. We will to be proud and remember that such a person lived in our city. His passing is a great loss, not only for his family, but for all of Slobodsky," said E.A. Rychkov.
Words of condolences were also expressed by N.A. Chernykh - Chairman of the Veterans Council, Deputy of the City Duma, N.V. Likhacheva - head of the Center for Patriotic Education named after. G.P. Bulatova.
E.V. Smyshlyaev passed away at the age of 91. He was born on December 20, 1926. After military service, he worked in the Mari-El Republic, and from 1961 to 1986 - at the Karinsky peat enterprise in the Kirovo-Chepetsk region, where he proved himself to be an excellent production worker and social activist. His labor achievements were recognized with government awards. From 1995 to 2005, he lived in Kirovo-Chepetsk and did a lot of work on the patriotic education of youth.
He moved to the city of Slobodskoy in 2006 and immediately joined the work of the Slobodsky Council of Veterans, a committee of war and military service veterans. Over the years, Evgeniy Vasilyevich actively participated in conferences and round tables on the patriotic education of youth. He willingly met with the guys, modestly talking about his service in the army during the war, about those episodes for which he was awarded the Order of Glory. E.V. Smyshlyaev was a member of the Golden Age communication club, which operates at the Center for Patriotic Education named after. Grigory Bulatov.
On the occasion of the 70th anniversary of the Victory, his autobiographical book “And Memory Haunts Me...” was published. It was transferred to all educational institutions of the city and region, to the regional library. Evgeniy Vasilyevich willingly gave parting words to young people joining the army on Conscript Day, and spoke at ceremonial events in the city and region. E.V. Smyshlyaev is a participant in the All-Russian project “Our Common Victory”, where he talked with volunteers, and today on the website www.41-45. ru. you can see and hear his simple story about how he fought. He was awarded the Order of Glory I, II, III degrees, the medal "For Courage", for the feat of labor - the Order of the Red Banner of Labor, the medal "Veteran of Labor", many Certificates of Honor and Gratitude, and the honorary badge "80 years of the Kirov Region".
Until the end of his days E.V. Smyshlyaev remained a soldier of the Fatherland, a kind, modest and decent person. His portrait is on the Walk of Fame near the Eternal Flame. Until this day, under it there was only the hero’s date of birth...
The bright memory of him will live in our hearts.
"Young Cavaliers of Three Stars." This is the title of the material in Moskovsky Komsomolets, dedicated to those young heroes of the Great Patriotic War who, at the age of 17-19, were already awarded the Order of Glory of all three degrees. Among them is 88-year-old Evgeny Vasilyevich Smyshlyaev, who lives in Slobodskoye today. "MK" published the hero's story, which we will partially quote:
“I’ll start with the saying: “The barrel is long, the life is short.” - This is what the artillery soldiers said with bitter humor. Losses in battles with the enemy were large, and many of my fellow soldiers only managed to take part in one or two battles. I was lucky enough to be an exception to this sad rule. While these events are still alive in my memory, I will tell you my biography of a gun crew member, fortunately I have been keeping periodic diary entries for a long time...
The war has begun. Now I played the accordion at the farewell of fellow villagers to the army. I was 17 years old at that time. My father, along with other tractor drivers, was called up in September 1941, when the harvest was harvested and winter crops were sown. I accompanied him all the way to Yoshkar-Ola, where I managed to buy a bottle of wine at the market and secretly give it to my father. Later in the letter he thanked me for this service. From the letters we understood that my father was an armored car driver. With the men leaving the village, the hard work fell on us teenagers. In a couple of years I was everything - a foreman in the field, a hammerman in a forge, and just a collective farmer. In the winter of 1942/1943, together with all my peers, I was sent to logging in the village of Tyumsha. On weekdays we sawed wood, and on weekends we were taught military science - we were trained to be snipers. But by mid-April they were released to go home.
All the guys older than me (born 1922–1925) were drafted into the army before the spring of 1943, and by the fall, funerals had already arrived for many. Trouble did not spare our home either: we received notification that my father had gone missing on March 12, 1943.
After working on a collective farm for the summer, I was drafted into the army in the fall - November 10, 1943. They brought me to the Kostroma region, to the 27th training regiment. I found myself in an artillery battery under the command of Guard Lieutenant Andreev.
The battery personnel, 108 people, were housed in one large dugout. In the mornings, we were taken out for physical exercises in any frost - in shirts, trousers and boots with windings. And immediately after exercise - washing in the ice hole.
Throughout the winter of 1943/1944 we were taught military affairs. It was known that after completing the course we should become junior commanders. However, life made its own adjustments. In May 1944, we were all given the rank of corporal ahead of schedule and sent to the front. I was only 17 and a half years old at that time.
Military fate determined me to serve in the crew of a 76-mm regimental gun assigned to the 426th Infantry Regiment of the 88th Infantry Division, which was part of the 31st Army of the Third Belorussian Front. The artillery platoon was commanded by Lieutenant Yarilin, and the second commander was Guard Junior Lieutenant Pirozhkov (by the way, a Gypsy by nationality). The unit's task was to quickly suppress enemy firing points. The infantry affectionately called our guns “regiments.”
We stood on the defensive on the eastern outskirts of Belarus, 20 kilometers from Orsha. The first commandment of a frontline soldier is: “The deeper you dig in, the longer you will live.” However, the line of defense of the 426th regiment passed through swampy terrain, there was nowhere to dig in; instead of trenches, walls made of turf served as protection. The firing position of our gun was located immediately behind the trench where the infantrymen were hiding. In the very first days, one of my artillery comrades, Yura Chulkov, died - he barely had time to look out of the trench when a German sniper killed him on the spot.
This was the first front-line grief that befell us on the front line and remained in our memory forever. However, combat life went on as usual. Very soon we got used to both death and blood. The first days of the offensive are especially etched in my memory. The turning point came on the morning of June 23, 1944. At that moment, we, ordinary soldiers, could not, of course, know that a grandiose offensive operation was beginning to liberate Belarus, which went down in the history of the war under its code name “Bagration”. The first to hit the enemy positions were Katyusha rocket launchers, whose sound always aroused fear among the Nazis. Then the rest of the artillery joined in - including our crew.
I performed the duties of a castle guard. My duties included: firstly, to close the gun lock after the loader had driven the projectile into the barrel, and secondly, after firing, immediately open the lock so that the empty cartridge case would fall out. On June 23, our artillery preparation was so powerful and long that by the beginning of the infantry attack, I had already knocked my hand against the gun iron until it bled, and I had to bandage it. As soon as a wave of Red Army soldiers began to break through the enemy’s defense, the order was heard: “Guns follow the infantry.” Some of us took hold of special straps with hooks, others began to push from behind - and so they dragged the 900-kilogram “regiment” across the front line trench. But they didn’t even have time to roll a few meters along the former no-man’s land when the gun’s wheel hit a mine. The explosion injured several people, but after bandaging the lightly wounded, they continued to move. But my fellow soldier and fellow countryman Zaichikov was out of action. Then I found out that he was completely blind.
On this first day of the offensive, June 23, 1944, our “76-millimeter” distinguished itself: it destroyed 2 German bunkers, set fire to a car with ammunition and destroyed up to 30 Nazis (the exact number of killed Germans was always counted at headquarters). For these military successes in breaking through the German defense, by order of the 88th Infantry Division dated July 23, 1944, three of our gun crew - Boris Toreev, Efim Pugachevsky and me - were awarded the Order of Glory of the third degree. These “soldier’s stars” were presented to us in September 1944 by the regiment commander, Lieutenant Colonel Yuzvak.
The offensive continued. Following the infantry, we crossed the Berezina and Neman rivers, fought through Belovezhskaya Pushcha... We had to walk days and nights for dozens of kilometers per crossing. Everyone understood the meaning of the round-the-clock exhausting movement: it was impossible to allow the Germans to catch their breath and gain a foothold in the defense. None of us complained. After all, as soon as the enemy gets a few extra hours, he will dig in, gain a foothold in the defense according to all the rules of military science - and try to smoke him out of there!
Soon Belarus was left behind, and Lithuanian lands opened up before us. Ordinary Lithuanians looked at us without much enthusiasm, not even rejoicing at their liberation. They were used to living in farmsteads, where everyone was their own boss, and the prospect of living on a collective farm in the Soviet way was not to their liking. On November 19, 1944, by order of the commander of the 426th Infantry Regiment, I was awarded the medal “For Courage” - for the fact that, when repelling one of the German counterattacks in the area of \u200b\u200bheight 170.4, I knocked out an enemy self-propelled gun, which was preventing our infantry from advancing forward. But I became aware of this award many years later.
After Lithuania they entered Poland. Having liberated the city of Suwalki, we went through agricultural areas. The locals greeted us well. I remember that the command gave us Polish money - zlotys - several times. Where should a fighter put them among the fields? The most reasonable thing was to give it to the oncoming Poles. That's what we did.
Already in the late autumn of 1944 they entered East Prussia. The Prussian land appeared before us rich and well-appointed. Even between the villages the roads were paved. However, units of the Red Army met here with fierce, redoubled resistance from the enemy. I think it was influenced by the fact that on this territory there were private estates of high-ranking German officers. The Nazis conducted propaganda like this: they say that when the Russians arrive, they destroy everything, leaving no stone unturned. Therefore, even the civilian population, who could only move, abandoned what they had acquired and left with the Wehrmacht troops.
At that time I was already a gunner, and in the absence of the commander I replaced him. In the battles for the city of Lansberg, our crew again distinguished itself: on February 6, 1945, repelling an enemy counterattack, we smashed his observation post and destroyed up to 25 Nazis. For this, by order of the 31st Army of February 14, 1945, I was awarded the Order of Glory, second degree. True, the presentation of this award (as well as the medal “For Courage”) took place after the war, in 1954, at the district military registration and enlistment office of his native Pigilmash.
Towards the end of the war, I made a conclusion for myself: some higher power, whatever you call it, is protecting me. For example, there was this episode: a shrapnel pierced my boot, but my leg was only slightly scratched.
The second case: a fragment pierced a sweatshirt, a trouser belt, trousers and stopped right next to the body, but did not injure it, but only burned the skin. Or such an amazing story. One day, my driver and I took a cannon to an artillery workshop to change the oil in the hydraulic pump. No matter how careful we were on the road, we still ran over an anti-tank mine. The “Colonel” was so badly damaged by the explosion that it could no longer be restored, but the driver and I were almost not affected. Only one stray fragment, passing tangentially, scratched my head and tore off my hat, throwing it so far that I could not find it...
Ask any of the front-line soldiers, they will confirm to you: the last minutes before a serious injury are always remembered very sharply. Years later, they hang in my memory like a painting on a wall. Here I am, as soon as I close my eyes, I see this day, March 2, 1945. A German farm and a stone barn, three meters from which our 76-millimeter film is in position. The gun commander had recently ended up in the medical battalion, so I replaced him. A new batch of shells had just been delivered, and everyone was busy carrying them to the gun. And then an enemy shell hits the barn wall. The gunner was killed (a shrapnel hit him right in the head), and everyone else was wounded. We were bandaged and taken to the medical battalion on the same carts that brought the shells. The doctors discovered that I had caught several fragments in my hip and lower back. This was the end of my military service on the front line.
Only 25 years after the Victory I learned that by order of the 31st Army of April 2, 1945, I was awarded the Order of Glory of the second degree for the battles on February 28 and March 2 during the attack on the village of Schönwalde, where I was wounded. In these battles, our crew suppressed the fire of a heavy machine gun, repelled three fierce attacks of the Nazis, and destroyed another enemy firing point and 17 Nazis.
I am grateful to my fellow countryman from Yoshkar-Ola (I don’t remember his last name, and I didn’t know him personally), who found my award sheet and organized a petition for re-award. Reserve Major Sizov later became involved in this issue. Through their joint efforts, my reward found me. Many thanks to them for the work they have done.
On December 31, 1987, by Decree of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the USSR, instead of the Order of Glory of the second degree, to which I was nominated in April 1945, I was re-awarded with the Order of Glory of the first degree. It was handed to me on March 17, 1988. And until 1987, it turns out, I was still listed as a “three-glorious” gentleman according to archival documents, but I just didn’t know about it.
And a few more words to complete my military biography. After the medical battalion there was a field hospital, and for further treatment I was sent to the Lithuanian city of Kaunas. He was discharged from the hospital there on June 15, 1945. Then he served for another year and a half in Western Belarus in the city of Novogrudok - in the 6th Guards Engineering Brigade. He was demobilized in January 1947 with the rank of guard junior sergeant and immediately returned to his native Pigilmash.
...I moved here, to the city of Slobodskaya, on the threshold of my 80th birthday. My two grandchildren, Oleg and Dmitry, live here, and now there is a great-grandson. In Slobodskoye, my portrait is placed on the Walk of Fame near the Eternal Flame, which I never even thought about. I am grateful to the city authorities and Sloboda residents for their attention to me. Today, there are several dozen of us, front-line veterans, left in Slobodskoye, and every printed word about us is more durable than a person. The lines of our memories will outlive us. During the war years, moving towards a great common goal, we did not ask ourselves the question: can we do it or not? Our answer is yes! Millions of fighters laid down their heads for Victory, and they did not ask each other if we were doing the right thing?.. Today life is already different, when everyone can stop and think: where and why am I going? If you are also thinking about this, let our experience as front-line soldiers be useful to you.”
Evgeniy Vasilievich Smyshlyaev, the only living full holder of the Order of Glory in the Sloboda Land, tells his biography
“The barrel is long, life is short,” this is what our front-line comrades said about us with bitter humor. Serving in the crew of the 76-mm regimental gun, we went on the attack shoulder to shoulder with the infantry. That’s why many of my comrades only managed to take part in one or two battles.
I was lucky enough to be an exception to this rule.
While these events are still alive in my memory, I want to tell my biography of a gun crew member. To tell not only for yourself, but also for all your peers who did not have time to do this.
Accordion player at the “see off”
My childhood and early youth were spent in the village of Pigilmash (Mari Autonomous Soviet Socialist Republic), where I was born on December 20, 1926. In addition to me, the family grew up with a brother, Vitaly, born in 1931, and three sisters - Lida, Faina and Tamara.
The life of the pre-war village had both light and dark pages. I remember how my mother cried in 1932 when she had to give her horse Mashka to the collective farm.
From 1933, dad began to take me into the fields and teach me to work as a peasant. He’ll put you on a horse and give you the reins: “Harrow the strip, kid.”
Before the war, Maslenitsa, Easter and Trinity were widely celebrated in the village - with folk festivities and church services. A special holiday in Pigilmash was September 21 - the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary. (It was celebrated even in the first post-war years).
After collectivization, people worked on the collective farm for workdays. These workdays were then paid in kind - grain, feed. The highest payment was in 1937: for each workday, 8 kilograms of grain.
Our father worked as a tractor driver, and on our personal farmstead we kept a cow, sheep, piglets and chickens, also raised bees and cultivated a garden. So, materially, we lived well - it’s a sin to complain.
A year before the war, my father bought me a lame accordion. What a joy it was! Gradually I learned to play and became a regular at parties and village festivities.
But then the war began, and now I played the accordion when fellow villagers were escorted to the army. I was 14 and a half years old at that time.
Early - corporal
My father, along with other tractor drivers, was called up in September 1941, when the harvest was harvested and winter crops were sown. I accompanied him all the way to Yoshkar-Ola, where I also managed to buy a bottle of wine at the market. When their column was being led to the station, I ran into it and secretly handed the bottle to my father. He later thanked me in a letter for this service. From subsequent letters we understood that at the front my father served as an armored car driver.
With the departure of the men, the hard work fell on us teenagers. Until 1943, I was many things - both a foreman in the field and a hammerman in the forge.
All the guys older than me (born from 1922 to 1925) were called up to the front before the spring of 1943, and by the fall, funerals had already arrived for many. It was doubly sad to read them when you remember that I was the accordion player for this man on the wire. Trouble did not spare our home either: we received notice that our father went missing on March 12, 1943. At 35 years old, my mother was left alone with five children.
Winter came from 1942 to 1943. I and all my peers were sent to logging in the village of Tyumsha, not far from the Shelanger station. On weekdays we sawed wood, and on weekends we were taught military science - we were trained to be snipers. But in mid-April, in time for the spring sowing season, they were sent home.
After working on a collective farm for the summer, we were drafted into the army in the fall of 1943. I ended up in the Kostroma region - in a training artillery division, in a battery under the command of Guard Lieutenant Andreev.
The entire battery - 108 people - fit in one large dugout. We went to physical exercises in any frost wearing only shirts, trousers and boots with windings. Immediately after physical exercises - washing on the river in an ice hole.
Throughout the winter of 1943-1944 we were taught military affairs, given the instruction that upon completion of the course we should become junior commanders. But, as they say, “life made adjustments”: without waiting for the end of the course, in May 1944 we were awarded the rank of corporal ahead of schedule and sent to the front. It turned out that in recent months the army had suffered heavy losses and needed urgent replenishment.
"Regiment" and infantry
Fate, in the person of the battalion commander, determined me to serve in the crew of a 76-mm regimental cannon belonging to the 426th Infantry Regiment, 88th Infantry Division of the 31st Army of the 3rd Belorussian Front.
The task of our crews was to quickly suppress enemy firing points. Each destroyed point meant the lives of Soviet infantrymen saved. Understanding this very well, the infantry affectionately called our 76-mm guns “regiments.”
The platoon, which included our crew, was commanded by Lieutenant Yarilin, and the second commander was Guard Junior Lieutenant Pirozhkov (by the way, a gypsy by nationality).
We stood on the defensive on the eastern outskirts of Belarus, not reaching 20 kilometers from Orsha.
The first commandment of a fighter on the front line: “The deeper you dig in, the longer you will live.” However, our regiment’s defense took place in swampy terrain, and there was nowhere to dig deep. Instead of trenches, walls made of turf served as protection.
The firing position of our gun was located immediately behind the trench where the infantrymen were hiding. The shelter for our gun crew was a dugout with a log ramp.
In the very first days, one of my fellow artillerymen, Yura Chulkov, died - before he could look out of the trench, a German sniper killed him on the spot. This was the first grief that befell us on the front line...
But life in defense went on as usual: very soon we got used to both death and blood. Taking advantage of the temporary lull, we completed our training: we were trained on 45-mm guns, but here we were assigned to 76-mm guns - the difference is considerable!
Mine in no man's land
The turning point came on the morning of June 23, 1944. We, ordinary soldiers, could not know at that moment that the large-scale operation “Bagration” (to liberate Belarus) was beginning.
The first to hit the enemy positions were the Katyusha rocket mortars, whose sound filled the souls of the Nazis with superstitious fear. Then the rest of the artillery joined in - including our crew.
At that time, I performed the duties of a castle guard in the calculation. My tasks included:
a) Close the gun lock when the loader drives the projectile into the barrel.
b) After firing, immediately open the lock so that the empty cartridge falls out.
On June 23, the artillery preparation was so intense and long that by the start of the foot attack I had already knocked my right hand down until it bled - I had to bandage it.
As soon as a wave of our infantry began to break through the enemy defense, the order was heard: “Guns - follow the infantry!” Then some of us took the straps with hooks, others began to push from behind - and so they dragged our 900-kilogram “regiment” through the trench. But before we had time to roll it a few meters along the former no-man's land, the gun hit a mine with its wheel.
Several people were immediately wounded, but the lightly wounded continued to move after dressing them. But my fellow soldier and fellow countryman Zaichikov (originally from the village of Yushkovo, 15 kilometers from Yoshkar-Ola) was completely out of action - I later learned with regret that he had gone blind.
Advance while you have strength
On the very first day of the offensive, at direct fire, our gun destroyed 2 bunkers, set fire to a car with ammunition and destroyed up to 30 Nazis.
Following the infantry, we crossed the Berezina and Neman rivers on rafts and walked through Belovezhskaya Pushcha. Where possible, the cannon was horse-drawn.
For active participation in the breakthrough, me, Boris Toreev and Efim Pugachevsky were awarded the Order of Glory, III degree - they were presented to us in the fall of 1944 by the regiment commander, Lieutenant Colonel Yuzvak.
...The offensive, meanwhile, continued. We had to walk days and nights, more than tens of kilometers per crossing. However, none of us complained. Everyone understood the meaning of the round-the-clock, exhausting movement: the Germans could not be allowed to catch their breath and gain a foothold in the defense. As soon as the enemy gets a few extra hours, he will immediately bury himself in the ground according to all the rules of military science, and then try to smoke him out of there!
Having liberated the city of Orsha, we moved to the west of Belarus. From that time on, the guns were always placed together with the infantry at direct fire, face to face with the enemy. Shooting from closed positions, in modern parlance, has become “unfashionable.”
Farther and farther to the West
Soon Belarus was left behind, and Lithuanian lands opened up before us. Ordinary Lithuanians looked at our progress without much enthusiasm. They are used to living in farmsteads, where everyone is their own boss. It is clear that the prospect of living on a collective farm, in the Soviet way, was not to their liking.
After Lithuania they entered Poland. Having liberated the city of Suwalki, we walked through agricultural areas, meeting the good attitude of the local residents. The command gave us Polish money several times? - “zloty”. Where should a fighter put them in the middle of the fields? The most reasonable thing was to give them to the oncoming Poles. That's what we did.
The autumn of 1944 arrived. Entering East Prussia (now the Kaliningrad region), we met fierce, redoubled enemy resistance. I think, among other things, was influenced by the fact that high-ranking German officers had private estates in Prussia.
The Nazis carried out such propaganda that supposedly the Russians would destroy everything upon arrival, leaving no stone unturned. That is why the civilian population, who could only move, abandoned what they had acquired and went deep into the country along with the Wehrmacht troops.
The hat flew away... the head is intact!
The Prussian land appeared to our eyes rich and well-maintained - even between the farmsteads the roads here were asphalted.
At that time I was a gunner, and in the absence of the gun commander I replaced him. In the battles for the city of Lansberg, our crew again distinguished itself: repelling an enemy counterattack, we destroyed an enemy observation post and destroyed up to 25 soldiers and officers. For this I was awarded the Order of Glory, II degree.
Towards the end of the war, I made a conclusion for myself: some higher power, whatever you call it, is protecting me. For example, there was this episode: a shrapnel pierced my boot and even tore the string of my underpants, but my leg was only slightly scratched. The second case: the fragment pierced the sweatshirt, the trouser belt and the edge of the trousers - it stopped right next to the body, but did not injure it, but only burned the skin a little.
Or this amazing story: one day my driver and I took a cannon to an artillery workshop - it was necessary to change the oil in the hydraulic pump. No matter how careful we were on the road, our gun wheel ran over an anti-tank mine. The cannon was smashed so badly by the explosion that it could no longer be repaired (we were given a new one instead). But the driver and I were almost not affected: just one stray fragment, passing tangentially, scratched my head... and tore my hat off my head, throwing it so far that I searched and searched and could not find it.
The last battle before my eyes
Ask any of the front-line soldiers, they will confirm: the last minutes before a serious injury are always remembered very sharply. Years later, they hang in my memory like a painting on a wall. Here I am, as soon as I close my eyes, I see this day, March 2, 1945, a German farm and a stone barn, 3 meters from which our gun stands. The gun commander ended up in the medical battalion, so I am for the commander.
A new batch of shells had just been delivered on carts, and everyone was busy carrying them to the gun. And then an enemy shell hits the barn wall. The gunner was immediately killed (a shrapnel hit him in the head), and everyone else was wounded.
This is where service on the front line ended for me.
We were bandaged and taken to the medical battalion on the same carts on which the shells had just been brought. It turned out that I “caught” several fragments in my thigh and lower back.
After the medical battalion there was a field hospital, and I was sent to Kaunas (Lithuania) for further treatment. I was discharged from the hospital on June 15, 1945 - and served for another year in the 6th Guards Engineering Brigade in western Belarus. He was demobilized in January 1947 with the rank of guard junior sergeant (due to health reasons) - and immediately returned to his native Pigilmash.
Without strength in the rye
At home, at the general meeting of the collective farm, I was elected as a foreman, and in the spring of 1947 I met my future wife, Agnia Sergeevna, who worked as a teacher in the neighboring village of Cheber-Yula.
Throughout the spring and summer of 1947, right up to the new harvest, life in the village was very difficult and hungry. I remember how one day I was returning from the meadows through a rye field and suddenly realized that I could not go further - my strength had completely left me.
But after the deprivations of war, how could you frighten me? Having fallen into the rye, I lay in it for a while, calmed down and chewed as many unripe grains as I could grab in a handful. I came to my senses a little, got up and somehow made my way home...
What did we not eat that year just to survive! Even linden branches were finely chopped, dried, then ground and eaten, mixed with something. But the new harvest ripened - and the people came to life. From the very first threshing, they dried the rye, ground the flour, and gave out 8 kilograms in advance for each eater.
Years in Karintorf
On January 9, 1948, when life got better, Agnia and I got married. In the spring of 1952, following my father’s example, I completed a tractor driving course. He started working on the tracked DT-54 - the “workhorse” of the post-war village, familiar to everyone from the film “It Happened in Penkov”.
In the spring of 1961, we came to visit my brother-in-law (my wife’s brother), who lived in the village of Karintorf. Having looked around, I realized that I myself would not mind moving here to live. That's what we did in June 1961.
Here I trained as a peat harvester operator, and my wife began working as a salesman in a bread store.
I worked for a quarter of a century (from 1961 to 1986) at the Karinsky peat enterprise. In addition to his pension, he earned many awards, including an Honorary Diploma from the Ministry of Fuel Industry. He was also awarded the Order of the Red Banner of Labor.
On the threshold of my 80th birthday, in 2006, I moved to the city of Slobodskoy, where my two grandchildren, Oleg and Dmitry, live, and now there is a great-grandson. And here, in Slobodskoye, my portrait was placed in the Walk of Fame near the Eternal Flame, which I had never even thought of. Why I received such an honor will be clear from the final chapter.
One in 2.5 thousand
I was awarded the Military Order of Glory, 1st degree, on December 31, 1987, and was presented with the order on March 17, 1988. So, 42 years after the Victory, I became a full holder of the order.
Civilians may not know this system, so I will dwell on it in more detail. For my last battle, in which I was seriously wounded (March 2, 1945), I was again presented with the Order of Glory, II degree - which I didn’t even know about for a long time. But since by that time I had already been awarded the Order of Glory, II degree, I was re-awarded - to the next highest degree, in my case, to the Order of I degree.
How many of us fighters have gone through all these stages - the following statistics will show: by 1978, about a million Orders of Glory of the 3rd degree were awarded, more than 46 thousand of the 2nd degree, and only 2,674 of the 1st degree.
I present these figures not to emphasize my special status. Each of those with whom I had the opportunity to fight brought Victory closer as best they could. And if someone died in the first attack, is it really his fault?
Today, there are only a few dozen of us front-line veterans left in Slobodskoye. The printed word is more durable than man, and the lines of our memories will outlive us. I would like to believe that we did not write them in vain, that my story will cheer someone up in difficult times and make them believe in themselves.
Going towards a great common goal, we did not ask ourselves the question: can we do it or not?
Millions of fighters laid down their lives for the Victory, and they did not ask each other: are we doing the right thing or not?
Today there is a different life, when everyone can stop and think: where and why am I going? If you are also thinking about this, let our experience help you.
Text - E. Smyshlyaev
Preparation of the publication - N. Likhacheva,
Center for Patriotic Education named after. Bulatova
Photos - from the archive of E. Smyshlyaev