Name: Zoya Kosmodemyanskaya

Age: 18 years

Activity: intelligence officer, Hero of the Soviet Union

Family status: wasn't married

Zoya Kosmodemyanskaya: biography

On January 27, 1942, the Pravda newspaper published an article by Pyotr Lidov “Tanya”. The essay told about the heroic death of a young Komsomol member, a partisan who called herself Tanya during torture. The girl was captured by the Germans and hanged in the square in the village of Petrishchev, in the Moscow region. Later we managed to establish the name: it turned out to be Komsomol member Zoya Kosmodemyanskaya. The girl named herself Tanya in memory of her idol, the hero of the Civil War, Tatyana Solomakha.

Hero of the Soviet Union Zoya Kosmodemyanskaya

More than one generation of Soviet youth grew up following the example of the courage, dedication and heroism of young people such as Zoya Kosmodemyanskaya, who gave their lives in the fight against the fascist invaders during the Great Patriotic War. The guys knew that they would most likely die. They don't need fame - they saved their homeland. Zoya Kosmodemyanskaya became the first woman to receive the title of Hero of the Soviet Union (posthumously) during the Great Patriotic War.

Childhood

Zoya Kosmodemyanskaya was born on September 13, 1923 in the village of Osinov Gai, Gavrilovsky district, Tambov region. Mother Lyubov Timofeevna (nee Churikova) and father Anatoly Petrovich worked as school teachers.

Zoya Kosmodemyanskaya (second from right) with her parents and brother

Lyubov's father studied at the Theological Seminary for some time. He grew up in the family of the priest Peter Ioannovich Kozmodemyansky, who served in the church in the village of Osinov Gai. In the summer of 1918, the priest was captured and tortured to death by the Bolsheviks for helping counter-revolutionaries. The body was found only six months later. The priest was buried near the walls of the Church of the Sign, in which he conducted services.

Zoya’s family lived in the village until 1929, and then, fleeing denunciation, they moved to Siberia, to the village of Shitkino, Irkutsk region. The family lived there for a little over a year. In 1930, the elder sister Olga, who worked in the People's Commissariat for Education, helped the Kosmodemyanskys move to Moscow. In Moscow, the family lived on the outskirts, near Podmoskovnaya station, in the area of ​​Timiryazevsky Park. Since 1933, after the death of her father (the girl’s father died after an intestinal operation), Zoya and her younger brother Sasha were left alone with their mother.

Zoya and Sasha Kosmodemyansky

Zoya Kosmodemyanskaya graduated from 9 classes of school 201 (now gymnasium No. 201 named after Zoya and Alexander Kosmodemyansky) in Moscow. I studied with excellent marks; She loved history and literature and dreamed of entering the Literary Institute. Due to her direct nature, it was difficult for her to find a common language with her peers.

Since 1939, according to her mother’s recollections, Zoya suffered from a nervous illness. At the end of 1940, Zoya fell ill with acute meningitis. In the winter of 1941, after a difficult recovery, she went to Sokolniki, to a sanatorium for people with nervous diseases, to regain her strength. There I met and became friends with a writer.

Zoya Kosmodemyanskaya in a sanatorium in Sokolniki

Zoya’s plans for the future, like those of her peers, were prevented by the war. On October 31, 1941, Zoya Kosmodemyanskaya, together with 2,000 Komsomol volunteers, came to the recruiting center located in the Colosseum cinema, from where she went for pre-combat training to a sabotage school. The recruitment was made from yesterday's schoolchildren. Preference was given to athletes: nimble, strong, resilient, able to withstand heavy loads (these were also called “all-terrain people”).

Upon entering school, recruits were warned that up to 5% of sabotage work would survive. Most of the partisans die after being captured by the Germans while carrying out shuttle raids behind enemy lines.

After training, Zoya became a member of the reconnaissance and sabotage unit of the Western Front and was thrown behind enemy lines. Zoya's first combat mission was completed successfully. She, as part of a subversive group, mined a road near Volokolamsk.

Feat of Kosmodemyanskaya

Kosmodemyanskaya received a new combat mission, in which the partisans were quickly ordered to burn the villages of Anashkino, Gribtsovo, Petrishchevo, Usadkovo, Ilyatino, Gracheve, Pushkino, Mikhailovskoye, Bugailovo, Korovine. The fighters were given several bottles of Molotov cocktail to blow them up. Such tasks were given to the partisans in accordance with Order No. 0428 of the Supreme Commander-in-Chief. This was a “scorched earth” policy: the enemy was conducting an active offensive on all fronts, and in order to slow down the advance, vital objects were destroyed along the route.

The village of Petrishchevo, where Zoya Kosmodemyanskaya died

According to many, these were very cruel and unreasonable actions, but this was required in the realities of that terrible war - the Germans were rapidly approaching Moscow. On November 21, 1941, the day the reconnaissance saboteurs went on a mission, the troops of the Western Front fought heavy battles in the Stalinogorsk direction, in the area of ​​Volokolamsk, Mozhaisk, and Tikhoretsk.

To complete the task, two groups of 10 people were allocated: the group of B. S. Krainov (19 years old) and P. S. Provorov (18 years old), which included Kosmodemyanskaya. Near the village of Golovkovo, both groups were ambushed and suffered losses: some of the saboteurs were killed, and some of the partisans were captured. The remaining fighters united and, under the command of Krainov, continued the operation.

Zoya Kosmodemyanskaya was captured near this barn

On the night of November 27, 1941, Zoya Kosmodemyanskaya, together with Boris Krainov and Vasily Klubkov, set fire to three houses in Petrishchevo (this village acted as a transport interchange for the Germans) in which a communications center was located, and the Germans were quartered before being sent to the front. She also destroyed 20 horses intended for transportation.

To further carry out the task, the partisans gathered at the agreed place, but Krainov did not wait for his own and returned to the camp. Klubkov was captured by the Germans. Zoya decided to continue the task alone.

Captivity and torture

On November 28, after dark, a young partisan tried to set fire to the barn of the elder Sviridov, who provided lodging for the fascists for the night, but was noticed. Sviridov raised the alarm. The Germans rushed in and arrested the girl. During the arrest, Zoya did not shoot. Before the mission, she gave the weapon to her friend, Klavdia Miloradova, who was the first to leave for the mission. Claudia's gun was faulty, so Zoe gave her a more reliable weapon.

From the testimony of residents of the village of Petrishchevo Vasily and Praskovya Kulik, to whose house Zoya Kosmodemyanskaya was brought, it is known that the interrogation was conducted by three German officers with an interpreter. They stripped her and flogged her with belts, and led her naked in the cold. According to witnesses, the Germans were unable to extract information about the partisans from the girl, even through inhuman torture. The only thing she said was to call herself Tanya.

Witnesses testified that local residents A.V. Smirnova and F.V. Solina, whose houses were damaged by arson by partisans, also took part in the torture. Later they were sentenced to death under Article 193 of the Criminal Code of the RSFSR for collaborating with the Nazis during the war.

Execution

On the morning of November 29, 1941, Komsomol member Zoya Kosmodemyanskaya, beaten and with frostbitten feet, was taken out into the street. The Germans had already prepared a gallows there. A sign was hung on the girl’s chest, on which it was written in Russian and German: “Arsonist of houses.” Many Germans and locals gathered to watch the spectacle. The Nazis took photographs. At this moment the girl shouted:

“Citizens! Don't stand there, don't look. We must help the Red Army fight, and for my death our comrades will take revenge on the German fascists. The Soviet Union is invincible and will not be defeated."

It is incredible courage to stand on the edge of the grave and, without thinking about death, call for selflessness. At that moment, when they put the noose around Zoe’s neck, she shouted the words that have become legendary:

“No matter how much you hang us, you won’t hang us all, there are 170 million of us. But our comrades will avenge you for me.”

Zoya didn’t have time to say anything more.

Zoya Kosmodemyanskaya was hanged

The hanged Komsomol member was not removed from the gallows for another month. The fascists passing through the village continued to mock the tortured body. On New Year's Eve 1942, Zoe's body, cut with knives, naked, with her breasts cut off, was removed from the gallows and the villagers were allowed to bury it. Later, when the Soviet land was cleared of fascists, the ashes of Zoya Kosmodemyanskaya were reburied at the Novodevichy cemetery in Moscow.

Confession

The young Komsomol member is a symbol of the era, an example of the heroism of the Soviet people shown in the fight against the fascist invaders during the Great Patriotic War.

However, information about the partisan movement of that time was classified for decades. This is due to military orders and methods of execution, which, in the simple opinion of the average person, are too cruel. And understatement leads to all sorts of conjectures, and even simply to insinuations from “historical critics.”

So, articles appear in the press about Kosmodemyanskaya’s schizophrenia - supposedly another girl accomplished the feat. However, the irrefutable fact is that the commission, consisting of representatives of Red Army officers, representatives of the Komsomol, a member of the Revolutionary Committee of the All-Russian Red Cross (b), witnesses from the village council and village residents, upon identification, confirmed that the corpse of the executed girl belongs to Muscovite Zoya Kosmodemyanskaya, which is noted in the act dated February 4, 1942. Today there is no doubt about it.

Tank with the inscription "Zoya Kosmodemyanskaya"

Zoya Kosmodemyanskaya’s comrades also died as heroes: Tamara Makhinko (crashed during landing), sisters Nina and Zoya Suvorov (died in the battle near Sukhinichi), Masha Golovotyukova (a grenade exploded in her hands). Zoya's younger brother Sasha also died heroically. Alexander Kosmodemyansky, 17 years old, went to the front after learning about the heroic death of his sister. The tank with the inscription “For Zoya” on the side went through many battles. Alexander fought heroically almost until the very end of the war. He died in the battle for a stronghold in the town of Vierbrudenkrug, near Königsberg. Awarded the title of Hero of the Soviet Union.

Memory

The image of the heroine Zoya Kosmodemyanskaya has found widespread use in monumental art. Museums, monuments, busts - reminders of the young girl's courage and dedication are still visible.

Streets in the post-Soviet space were named in memory of Zoya Anatolyevna Kosmodemyanskaya. Zoya Kosmodemyanskaya Street is located in Russia, Belarus, Kazakhstan, Moldova and Ukraine.

Other objects are named after the partisan saboteur: pioneer camps named after Zoya Kosmodemyanskaya, schools and other educational institutions, a library, an asteroid, an electric locomotive, a tank regiment, a ship, a village, a peak in the Trans-Ili Alatau and a BT-5 tank.

The execution of Zoya Kosmodemyanskaya is also depicted in works of art. The most recognizable works belong to the artist Dmitry Mochalsky and the creative team “Kukryniksy”.

In honor of Zoya they composed poems, and. In 1943, Margarita Aliger was awarded the Stalin Prize for dedicating her poem “Zoya” to Kosmodemyanskaya. The tragic fate of the girl also touched foreign authors - the Turkish poet Nazim Hikmet and the Chinese poet Ai Qing.

Current page: 1 (book has 13 pages in total)

Kosmodemyanskaya Lyubov Timofeevna
The Tale of Zoya and Shura

Lyubov Timofeevna Kosmodemyanskaya

The Tale of Zoya and Shura

The children of L.T. Kosmodemyanskaya died in the fight against fascism, defending the freedom and independence of their people. She talks about them in the story. Using the book, you can follow the lives of Zoya and Shura Kosmodemyansky day by day, find out their interests, thoughts, dreams.

Introduction

Aspen Guys

New life

Home again

Bitter news

Brother and sister

"To see people, to see the world!"

Indelible mark

On the road

One year later

Together

Holiday

In the evening...

On the way to school

Housewarming

New school

Greek myths

Favorite books

New coat

"Chelyuskin"

Senior and junior

Sergey Mironovich

“And who did we have!”

Wonderful trip

"Raise your fires, blue nights!"

Diaries

"White Stick"

Girl in pink

Tatiana Solomakha

First earnings

Vera Sergeevna

High measure

"Excellent" in chemistry

Alone with myself

"It goes without saying"

House on Staropetrovsky Proezd

New Year's Eve

Hard days

Arkady Petrovich

Classmates

"Green Noise"

June twenty second

Military everyday life

The first bombs

"How did you help the front?"

Farewell

Notebook

In Petrishchevo

How it was

Klava's story

From all over the country

"Wish me a bon voyage!"

News from Ulyanovsk

War correspondent

Five photos

"I really want to live!"

From the heart

The death of a hero

They should be happy!

INTRODUCTION

April 1949. The huge Salle Pleyel in Paris. Peace Congress. Flags of all nations adorn the podium, and behind each flag are peoples and countries, human hopes and human destinies.

The scarlet flag of our country. On it is a hammer and sickle, a symbol of peaceful labor, an indestructible union between those who work, build, create.

We, members of the Soviet delegation, always feel that we are surrounded by the ardent love of the congress participants. We are greeted so cordially, we are greeted so joyfully! And every look, every handshake seems to say: “We believe in you. We rely on you. We will never forget what you did...”

How big the world is! You feel this with special, amazing force here, in the spacious, high hall, looking at white, yellow, olive-swarthy faces, faces of all colors and shades - from milky white to black. Two thousand people from all over the world gathered here to say their word on behalf of the people in defense of peace, in defense of democracy and happiness.

I look into the hall. There are a lot of women here. There is passionate, relentless attention on their faces. And how could it be otherwise! The call for peace truly comes from all corners of the earth, and in it is the hope of all wives and mothers.

How many stories have I heard here about people who sacrificed their lives in order to defeat fascism, so that the last war would end with the victory of light over darkness, the noble over the vile, the human over the inhuman!

And I think: was the blood of our children shed in vain? Is it really possible that peace, won at the cost of the lives of our children, at the cost of our tears - the tears of mothers, widows and orphans - will be violated again by the will of evil and vile forces?

Our delegate, Hero of the Soviet Union Alexey Maresyev, rises to the podium of the congress. He is greeted with a storm of applause. For all those present, Alexey Maresyev personifies the Russian people, their courage and fortitude, their selfless courage and endurance.

– Every person should ask himself: “What am I doing today in defense of peace?” – the words of Alexey Maresyev rush into the hall. – There is now no more honorable, more noble, higher goal than the fight for peace. This is the responsibility of every person...

I listen to him and ask myself: what can I do today for the cause of peace? And I answer myself: yes, I can also contribute my share to this great cause. I'll tell you about my children. About children who were born and raised for happiness, for joy, for peaceful work - and died in the fight against fascism, defending work and happiness, freedom and independence of their people. Yes, I'll tell you about them...

ASPEN traffic police

In the north of the Tambov region there is the village of Osinovye Gai. "Aspen Guy" means "aspen forest." The old people said that once upon a time dense forests really grew here. But at the time of my childhood there were no traces of forests anymore.

All around, far, far away lay fields sown with rye, oats, and millet. And near the village itself the land was cut up by ravines; every year there were more and more of them, and it seemed that the outermost huts were about to slide to the bottom along a steep, uneven slope. As a child, I was afraid to leave the house on winter evenings: everything was cold, motionless, snow everywhere, snow without end and edge, and a distant wolf howl - either it was actually heard, or it was imagined by a wary child’s ear...

But in the spring, how everything around was transformed! The meadows began to bloom, the earth was covered with delicate, as if luminous greenery, and wildflowers flashed everywhere with scarlet, blue, and golden lights, and one could bring armfuls of daisies, bells, and cornflowers home.

Our village was large - about five thousand inhabitants. From almost every household someone went to work in Tambov, Penza, or even Moscow; a piece of land could not feed a poor peasant family.

I grew up in a large and friendly family. My father, Timofey Semenovich Churikov, was a volost clerk, a man without education, but literate and even well-read. He loved books and in arguments always referred to what he had read.

“But I remember,” he said to his interlocutor, “I had to read one book, and it explained the celestial bodies in a completely different way than you are talking about...

For three winters I went to the zemstvo school, and in the fall of 1910 my father took me to the city of Kirsanov, to a girls’ gymnasium. More than forty years have passed since then, but I remember everything down to the last detail, as if it were yesterday.

I was amazed by the two-story building of the gymnasium - we didn’t have such large houses in Osinovye Gai. Holding my father's hand tightly, I entered the lobby and stopped in embarrassment. Everything was unexpected and unfamiliar: a spacious entrance, a stone floor, a wide staircase with lattice railings. The girls and their parents have already gathered here. They confused me most of all, even more than the unusual, luxurious surroundings that seemed to me. Kirsanov was a provincial merchant town, and among these girls who, like me, came to take exams, there were few peasant children. I remember one who looked like a real merchant’s daughter – plump, pink, with a bright blue ribbon in her braid. She looked at me contemptuously, pursed her lips and turned away. I pressed myself close to my father, and he stroked my head, as if saying: “Don’t be shy, daughter, everything will be fine.”

Then we went up the stairs, and one after another they began to call us into a large room where three examiners were sitting at a table. I remember that I answered all the questions, and in the end, forgetting all my fears, I read out loud:

From here we will threaten the Swede,

The city will be founded here

To spite the arrogant neighbor...

My father was waiting for me downstairs. I ran out to him, overwhelmed with joy. He immediately got up, walked towards me, and his face was so happy...

This is how my high school years began. I have warm, grateful memories of them. We were taught mathematics in a bright and interesting manner by Arkady Anisimovich Belousov, Russian language and literature by his wife, Elizaveta Afanasyevna.

She always entered class smiling, and we could not resist her smile - she was so lively, young and friendly. Elizaveta Afanasyevna sat down at her table and, looking thoughtfully at us, began without any introduction:

The forest drops its crimson attire...

We could listen to her endlessly. She spoke well, being carried away and rejoicing in the beauty of what she was talking about.

Listening to Elizaveta Afanasyevna, I realized: teaching is a great art. To become a good, real teacher, you must have a living soul, a clear mind and, of course, you must really love children. Elizaveta Afanasyevna loved us. She never talked about it, but we knew it without any words - by the way she looked at us, how she would sometimes restrainedly and affectionately put her hand on her shoulder, how upset she would be if one of us failed. And we liked everything about her: her youth, her beautiful, thoughtful face, her clear, kind character and love for her work. Much later, having already become an adult and raising my children, I more than once remembered my favorite teacher and tried to imagine what she would say to me, what she would advise in difficult times.

And I remember one more thing about the Kirsanov gymnasium: the art teacher found that I had a talent for painting. I loved to draw, but I was afraid even to admit to myself that I would like to become an artist. Sergei Semenovich Pomazov once told me:

– You need to study, you definitely need to study: you have great abilities.

He, like Elizaveta Afanasyevna, loved his subject very much, and in his lessons we learned not only about color, lines, proportions, the laws of perspective, but also about what makes up the soul of art - about the love of life, about the ability to see it everywhere, in all its manifestations. Sergei Semenovich was the first to introduce us to the works of Repin, Surikov, Levitan - he had a large album with beautiful reproductions. Then another dream arose in my soul: to go to Moscow, visit the Tretyakov Gallery...

NEW LIFE

The news of the October Revolution found me while still in Kirsanov. Frankly, at the time I didn’t really understand what had happened. I remember only one joyful feeling: a big national holiday had arrived. The city is noisy and rejoicing, red flags splash in the wind. Ordinary people, soldiers and workers speak at rallies.

When I returned to my native village, brother Sergei, my childhood friend and senior comrade, told me:

– A new life begins, Lyuba, you understand, a completely new one! I’ll volunteer for the Red Army, I don’t want to stay on the sidelines.

Sergei was only two years older than me, and I was still just a girl next to him. He knew more, had a better understanding of what was happening. And I saw that he made a firm decision.

- Seryozha, what should I do? – I asked.

- Teach! Of course, to teach,” the brother answered without a moment’s hesitation. – You know, now schools will start to grow like mushrooms. Do you think that in Osinovye Gai there will still be only two schools for five thousand residents? Oh no! Everyone will learn, you'll see. People will no longer live without literacy.

Two days after my arrival, he left for the Red Army, and without delaying matters, I went to the department of public education and immediately received an appointment: to the village of Solovyanka, as a primary school teacher.

Solovyanka was three miles from Osinovy ​​Gai: a poor, unsightly village, wretched huts covered with thatch.

School consoled me a little. The former manor house stood on the edge of the village, surrounded by greenery. The foliage of the trees was already touched by yellowness, but even from a distance the rowan bushes stretching out in front of the windows were so cheerfully and welcomingly red that I involuntarily cheered up. The house turned out to be quite strong and roomy. A kitchenette, a hallway and two rooms: one, larger, was the classroom, the other, small, with iron shutters, was intended for me. I immediately laid out the notebooks, primers and problem books I had brought with me, pencils, pens and quills on the table, put down a bottle of ink and walked around the village. It was necessary to enumerate all school-age children - boys and girls.

I went into all the huts in a row. At first they greeted me with bewilderment, but then they spoke warmly.

- A teacher, then? Well, teach, teach! - they told me a tall, thin old woman with thick and, it seemed to me, angry eyebrows. “But you’re just wasting your time signing up girls.” There is no need for them to study. Weaving and spinning, and then getting married - what is a diploma for?

But I firmly stood my ground.

- It's not the same time now. Now a completely new life begins, I said in the words of brother Sergei. - Everyone needs to learn.

The next day the class was jam-packed - all thirty guys I had signed up the day before came.

In the outer row, near the windows, sat the kids - first graders, in the middle row - second grade students, on the other end, against the wall - the oldest, fourteen years old, there were only four of them. On the first desk, in front of me, sat two girls, both fair-haired, freckled and blue-eyed, in identical colorful dresses. They were the youngest, their names were Lida and Marusya Glebov. The four older boys at the wall stood up decorously, followed by the rest.

– Hello, Lyubov Timofeevna! – I heard a discordant chorus of children’s voices. - Welcome to your arrival!

- Hello. Thank you! – I answered.

Thus began my first lesson, and then days passed after days. I found it very difficult to manage three different classes at the same time. While the kids were diligently writing sticks, and the older ones were solving problems with named numbers, I told the middle row why day gives way to night. Then I checked the problem with the big ones, and the second group wrote feminine nouns with a soft sign after the sibilants. Meanwhile, the kids got tired of drawing out their sticks, I returned to them, and they began to read, calling out at the top of their lungs: “Ay, ma-ma!” Or: “Ma-sha e-la ka-shu!”

I threw myself into work. I had fun and good time with my guys. The days flew by unnoticed. Once or twice a teacher came to me from a neighboring village, who had, by my standards at that time, enormous experience: he had been teaching at school for three whole years! He sat in my lessons, listened, and then gave advice and at parting he always said that I was doing well.

“The kids love you,” he explained, “and that’s the most important thing.”

HOME AGAIN

I taught in Solovyanka one winter. Starting from the new school year, I was transferred to Osinovye Gai. It was a pity for me to part with the Solovyan children - we had managed to get used to each other - but I was happy about the transfer: it was good to be home again, among my family!

Returning to Osinovye Gai, I again met with my childhood friend Tolya Kosmodemyansky. He was my peer, but he seemed much more mature: in terms of seriousness and life experience, I could not equal him. Anatoly Petrovich served in the Red Army for about a year, and now he was in charge of a hut-reading room and a library in Osinovye Gai.

Right there, in the reading hut, a drama group gathered for rehearsal: the youth of Osinov Gai and surrounding villages, schoolchildren and teachers staged “Poverty is not a vice.” I played Lyubov Gordeevna, Anatoly Petrovich - Lyubima Tortsova. He was both our leader and director. He gave explanations in a fun and interesting way. If someone confused, misinterpreted Ostrovsky’s words, or suddenly began to shout in a voice that was not his own, to unnaturally stare his eyes and wave his arms, Anatoly Petrovich would mimic him so wittily, albeit kindly, that he immediately lost the desire to stand on stilts. He laughed loudly, cheerfully, uncontrollably - I have never heard such a sincere, joyful laugh from anyone else.

Soon Anatoly Petrovich and I got married, and I moved into the Kosmodemyanskys’ house. Anatoly Petrovich lived with his mother, Lydia Fedorovna, and his younger brother Fedya. Another brother, Alexey, served in the Red Army.

Anatoly Petrovich and I lived well, amicably. He was a reserved man, not generous with kind words, but in his every look and action I felt constant concern for me, and we understood each other perfectly. We were very happy when we learned that we were having a child. "There will certainly be a son!" - we decided and together we came up with a name for the boy and wondered about his future.

“Just think,” Anatoly Petrovich dreamed out loud, “how interesting it is: to show a child fire, a star, a bird for the first time, take him to the forest, to the river... and then take him to the sea, to the mountains... you know, for the first time!”

And then he, our baby, was born.

“With your daughter, Lyubov Timofeevna,” said the old woman who followed me. - And here she herself gives a voice.

A loud cry was heard in the room. I held out my hands and they showed me a tiny girl with a white face, dark hair and blue eyes. At that moment it seemed to me that I had never dreamed of a son at all and had always wanted and waited for her, this very girl.

“We’ll call our daughter Zoya,” said Anatoly Petrovich.

And I agreed.

Perhaps to someone who has never had children, it seems that all babies are the same: for the time being they do not understand anything and only know how to cry, scream and disturb their elders. It is not true. I was sure that I would recognize my girl from a thousand newborns, that she had a special expression on her face, her eyes, and her own voice, unlike others. I could, it seems, there would be only time for hours! - to watch her sleep, how she sleepily pulls her little hand out of the blanket in which I wrapped her tightly, how she opens her eyes and looks intently straight ahead from under her long thick eyelashes.

And then - it was amazing! – every day began to bring with it something new, and I realized that the child really grows and changes “by leaps and bounds.” So the girl began to fall silent even in the midst of the loudest crying when she heard someone’s voice. So she began to catch a quiet sound and turn her head towards the ticking of the clock. She began to look from my father to me, from me to my grandmother or to “Uncle Fedya” (that’s what we began to jokingly call our twelve-year-old brother Anatoly Petrovich after Zoya’s birth). The day came when my daughter began to recognize me - it was a good, joyful day, I will remember it forever. I leaned over the cradle. Zoya looked at me carefully, thought and suddenly smiled. Everyone assured me that this smile was meaningless, as if children at this age smile at everyone indiscriminately, but I knew that this was not so!

Zoya was very small. I bathed her often - in the village they said that bathing would make the child grow faster. She spent a lot of time outdoors and, despite the fact that winter was approaching, she slept outside with her face uncovered. We did not take her in our arms in vain - this was the advice of both my mother and mother-in-law Lidia Fedorovna: so that the girl would not become spoiled. I obediently followed this advice, and perhaps that is why Zoya slept soundly at night, without requiring to be rocked or carried. She grew up very calm and quiet. Sometimes “Uncle Fedya” came up to her and, standing over the cradle, begged: “Zoenka, say: uncle-dya! Give! Well, say: ma-ma! Ba-ba!”

His student smiled widely and babbled something completely wrong. But after a while she actually began to repeat, at first hesitantly, and then more and more firmly: “uncle”, “mom”... I remember her next word after “mom” and “dad” was the strange word “ap”. She stood on the floor, very tiny, then suddenly rose on her tiptoes and said: “Up!” As we later guessed, this meant: “Take me in your arms!”

BITTER NEWS

It was winter, so cruel and frosty that the old people could not remember. In my memory, this January remained chillingly cold and dark: everything around me changed and darkened when we learned that Vladimir Ilyich had died. After all, for us he was not only a leader, a great, extraordinary person. No, he was like a close friend and advisor to everyone; everything that happened in our village, in our home, was connected with him, everything came from him - that’s how everyone understood and felt.

Before we had only two schools, but now there are more than ten - Lenin did this. Previously, the people lived in poverty and hunger, but now they have risen to their feet, become stronger, and began to live in a completely different way - who else, if not Lenin, should we thank for this? A movie appeared. Teachers, doctors and agronomists talked with the peasants and gave them lectures: the reading hut and the People's House were full of people. The village grew quickly, life became brighter and more joyful. Those who did not know how to read and write learned; Those who have mastered literacy are thinking about further study. Where does all this come from, who brought us this new life? Everyone had one answer to this question, one dear and bright name: Lenin.

And suddenly he was not there... It didn’t fit in my mind, it was impossible to come to terms with it.

“What a man died!.. Ilyich should have lived and lived, lived to be a hundred years old, but he died...” said old man Stepan Korets.

A few days later, worker Stepan Zababurin, our former village shepherd, arrived in Osinovye Gai. He talked about how people from all over the country reached out to the coffin of Vladimir Ilyich.

“It’s frosty, my breath is getting cold,” he said, “it’s night in the yard, and the people are still walking, everyone is walking, you can’t see the edge.” And they took the kids with them to see it one last time.

“But we won’t see him, and Zoyushka won’t see him,” Anatoly Petrovich said sadly.

We did not know then that a Mausoleum would be built near the eternal Kremlin wall and many years later it would be possible to come and see Ilyich.

Anatoly Petrovich loved to take Zoya on his lap while sitting at the table. During dinner, he usually read, and his daughter sat very quietly, pressing her head against his shoulder, and never disturbed him.

As before, she was small and fragile. She began to walk by the age of eleven months. People around her loved her because she was very friendly and trusting. Coming out the gate, she smiled at passers-by, and if someone said jokingly: “Shall we come and visit me?” – she willingly extended her hand and followed her new acquaintance.

By the age of two, Zoya was already speaking well and often, returning from visiting, she said:

– And I was at Petrovna’s. Do you know Petrovna? She has Galya, Ksanya, Misha, Sanya and an old grandfather. And a cow. And there are lambs. How they jump!

Zoya was not yet two years old when her little brother, Shura, was born. The little boy was born with a loud, booming cry. He shouted in a deep voice, very demanding and confident. He was much larger and healthier than Zoe, but just as clear-eyed and dark-haired.

After Shura was born, they often began to say to Zoya: “You are the eldest. You are big.” She sat at the table with the adults, only on a high chair. She treated Shura patronizingly: she gave him a pacifier if he dropped it; rocked his cradle if he woke up and there was no one in the room. And now I often asked her to help me, to do something.

“Zoe, bring a diaper,” I said. - Give me a cup, please.

- Come on, Zoya, help me clean up: put away the book, put the chair in its place.

She did everything very willingly and then always asked:

- What else can I do?

When she was three years old, and Shura was in his second year, she took him by the hand and, grabbing a bottle, went to her grandmother for milk.

I remember once I was milking a cow. Shura hovered nearby. On the other side, Zoya stood with a cup in her hands, waiting for fresh milk. The cow was pestered by flies; losing patience, she swung her tail and lashed me. Zoya quickly put down the cup, grabbed the cow by the tail with one hand, and with the other began to drive away the flies with a twig, saying:

- Why are you beating your mother? Don't hit your mom! “Then she looked at me and added, either asking or affirming: “I’m helping you!”

It was funny to see them together: fragile Zoya and fat hulk Shura.

They said about Shura in the village: “Our teacher’s boy is wider across himself: whatever you put on your side, whatever you put on your legs, they’re all the same height.”

And indeed: Shura was fat, strongly built, and at one and a half years old, much stronger than Zoya. But this did not stop her from caring for him like he was little, and sometimes shouting sternly at him.

Zoya immediately began to speak clearly and never lisped. Shura didn’t pronounce “r” until he was three years old. Zoya was very upset by this.

“Well, Shura, say: let’s do it,” she asked.

“Lesheto,” Shura repeated.

- No not like this! Repeat; "re".

– Not “le”, but “re”! What a stupid boy you are! Let's do it again: cut it.

- Cow.

- Kolova.

Once, losing patience, Zoya suddenly hit her brother on the forehead with her palm, but the two-year-old student was much stronger than the four-year-old teacher: he shook his head indignantly and pushed Zoya away.

- Leave me alone! – he shouted angrily. - What are you doing?

Zoya looked at him in surprise, but did not cry. And a little later I heard again:

- Knock.

I don’t know if Shura understood that he was the youngest in the family, but only from a very early age did he know how to use it. "I am small!" – every now and then he said plaintively in his own defense. "I am small!" - he shouted demandingly if he was not given something that he certainly wanted to receive. "I am small!" He proudly declared sometimes without any reason, but with the consciousness of his own rightness and strength. He knew that he was loved, and he wanted to subjugate everyone - Zoya, me, my father, and my grandmother - to his will.

As soon as he cried, his grandmother said:

– Who offended my Shurochka? Come to me quickly, dear! This is what I will give to my little granddaughter!

And Shura, with a cheerful, roguish little face, climbed onto his grandmother’s lap.

If he was denied anything, he lay down on the floor and began to roar deafeningly, kick or moan pitifully, clearly saying with all his appearance: “Here I am, poor little Shura, and no one will take pity on me, no one will take a liking to me!”

One day, when Shura started screaming and crying, demanding that he be given jelly before lunch, Anatoly Petrovich and I left the room. Shura was left alone. At first he continued to cry loudly and shouted from time to time: “Give me jelly! I want jelly!” Then, apparently, he decided not to waste so many words and simply shouted: “Give it! I want it!” Crying, he did not notice how we left, but, sensing the silence, he raised his head, looked around and stopped shouting: is it worth trying if no one listens! He thought for a moment and began to build something out of wood chips. Then we returned. Seeing us, he tried to shout again, but Anatoly Petrovich said sternly:

“If you cry, we will leave you alone, and we won’t live with you.” Understood?

And Shura fell silent.

Another time he began to cry and looked from under his palm with one eye: do we sympathize with his tears or not? But we didn’t pay any attention to him: Anatoly Petrovich was reading a book, I was checking my notebooks. Then Shura slowly crept up to me and climbed onto my knees, as if nothing had happened. I patted his hair and, lowering him to the floor, continued to do my job, and Shura no longer disturbed me. These two cases cured him: his whims and screams stopped as soon as we stopped indulging them.

Zoya loved Shura very much. She often, with a serious look, repeated the words spoken by one of the adults: “There is no point in spoiling the child, let him cry - the trouble is not great.” She found it very funny. But, left alone with her brother, she was invariably affectionate with him. If he fell and started crying, she would run up, take his hand and try to lift our fat boy. She wiped his tears with the hem of her dress and persuaded:

- Don't cry, be a smart boy. That's it, well done!.. Here, take the cubes. Let's build a railway, do you want?.. And here is the magazine. Do you want me to show you pictures? Here, look...

It’s curious: if Zoya didn’t know something, she immediately honestly admitted it.

Shura was unusually proud, and the words “I don’t know” simply did not come out of his mouth. In order not to admit that he did not know something, he was ready for any tricks.

I remember Anatoly Petrovich bought a large children’s book with good, expressive pictures: a variety of animals, objects, and people were drawn here. The children and I loved leafing through this book, and I, pointing to some drawing, asked Shura: “What is this?” He named familiar things immediately, willingly and with pride, but he didn’t invent anything to evade the answer if he didn’t know it!

- What is this? – I ask, pointing to the locomotive.

Shura sighs, languishes and suddenly says with a sly smile:

- You’d better tell me yourself!

- And what's that?

“Chicken,” he answers quickly.

- Right. And this?

The picture shows an unfamiliar, mysterious animal: a camel.

“Mom,” Shura asks, “turn the page and show me something else!”

I wonder what other excuses he'll come up with.

- And what's that? - I say insidiously, showing him the hippopotamus.

“Now I’ll eat and tell you,” Shura answers and chews for so long, so diligently, as if he’s not going to cum at all.

Then I show him a picture of a laughing girl in a blue dress and a white apron, and ask:

– What is this girl’s name, Shurik?

And Shura, smiling slyly, answers:

– Just ask her yourself!

The children loved to visit their grandmother Mavra Mikhailovna. She greeted them cheerfully, gave them milk, and treated them to cakes. And then, having seized a free moment, she played with them their favorite game, which they called “Turnip”.

“Grandma planted a turnip,” the grandmother began thoughtfully, “and said: “Grow, turnip, sweet, strong, big, big.” The turnip grew large, sweet, strong, round, yellow. The grandmother went to pick the turnip: she pulled and pulled, but she couldn’t pull it out... (Here the grandmother showed how she was pulling the stubborn turnip.) The grandmother called her granddaughter Zoya (here Zoya grabbed the grandmother’s skirt): Zoya for the grandmother, the grandmother for the turnip - pull- They pull, but they cannot pull. Zoya called Shura (Shura was just waiting to cling to Zoya): Shura for Zoya, Zoya for grandma, grandma for the turnip - they pulled and pulled (there was enthusiastic anticipation on the faces of the guys) ... they pulled out the turnip!

And then, out of nowhere, an apple, or a pie, or a real turnip would appear in the grandmother’s hands. The guys, squealing and laughing, hung on Mavra Mikhailovna, and she handed them a gift.

- Baba, let's pull the turnip! – Shura asked as soon as he crossed grandma’s threshold.

When, two years later, someone tried to tell the children this fairy tale, starting it with the usual words: “Grandfather planted a turnip...” - they both protested in unison:

- Grandma planted it! Not a grandfather, but a grandmother!

All her life my mother worked from dawn to dusk. She had the entire household in her hands - a house, a field, six children; everyone had to be dressed, washed, fed, dressed, and mother bent her back, not sparing herself. With us guys, and later with her grandchildren, she was always invariably even and affectionate. She didn’t just say: “Respect your elders,” she always tried to make her thoughts understandable to children, to reach their minds and hearts. “Here we live in a house,” she told Zoya and Shura, “the old people built it. What a good stove Petrovich built for us! Petrovich is old, smart, he has golden hands. How can one not respect the old?” Mother was very kind. It used to happen that even in the days of my childhood, he would see a wanderer - at that time there were a lot of homeless people walking around, and he would certainly call him in, give him something to drink, feed, and give him some old clothes.

One day my father reached into the chest, rummaged through it for a long time, and then asked:

- Mother, where is my blue shirt?

“Don’t be angry, father,” my mother answered embarrassedly, “I gave it to Stepanych (Stepanych was an old man, unkempt and sick, his mother visited him and helped as much as she could.)

In issue No. 38 of the newspaper “Arguments and Facts” for 1991, a note by the writer A. Zhovtis “Clarifications to the canonical version” was published, dedicated to the circumstances of the arrest of Zoya Kosmodemyanskaya. It received a number of reader responses. One of them was signed with the names of doctors of the Scientific and Methodological Center for Child Psychiatry. It stated that in 1938-1939, Zoya was repeatedly examined at this center, and was also in the children's ward of the Kashchenko Hospital with suspected schizophrenia.

However, no other evidence was found that Zoya suffered or might suffer from mental illness. True, quite recently the famous publicist Andrei Bilzho, a psychiatrist by profession, stated that he once had the opportunity to personally become familiar with the medical history of Zoya Kosmodemyanskaya at the Kashchenko Hospital and that it was removed from the archives during perestroika.

What really happened? According to the official version, at the end of 1940 Zoya fell ill with acute meningitis and was admitted to the Botkin hospital. After that, she underwent rehabilitation at the Sokolniki sanatorium, where, by the way, she met the writer Arkady Gaidar, who was also being treated there...

After perestroika, it became fashionable to debunk Soviet heroes. Attempts were also made to discredit the name of Zoya Kosmodemyanskaya, who died as a martyr at the hands of the Nazis, who for many years was considered a symbol of the courage of the Soviet people. Thus, they wrote that many of Zoya’s actions were explained by the fact that she was mentally ill.

This refers to the arson of three houses where the Germans were staying in the village of Petrishchevo near Moscow. Like, the girl was a pyromaniac, she had a passion for arson... However, there was an order signed personally by Stalin to burn ten settlements near Moscow occupied by the Nazis. Petrishchevo was among them. Zoya was not an “independent” partisan at all, but a fighter of a reconnaissance and sabotage group, and carried out the task given to her by the commander. At the same time, she was warned about the possibility of being captured, tortured and killed.

It is unlikely that she would have been accepted into the reconnaissance group if there had been something wrong with her psyche. In most cases, volunteers and conscripts were required to provide medical certificates of health.

Yes, after her death, the name of Zoya Kosmodemyanskaya was used for propaganda purposes. But that doesn't mean she didn't deserve her fame. She was a simple Soviet schoolgirl who chose to endure torture and death in order to defeat the enemy.

January 23, 2015 District online newspaper Maryina Roshcha NEAD Moscow

Zoya Kosmodemyanskaya joined the sabotage detachment from Maryina Roshcha, from the Borets plant.

In contact with

Classmates

At the end of the summer and beginning of autumn 1941, Zoya Kosmodemyanskaya worked on Skladochnaya Street, at the Borets plant.

“Let’s go to “Borets” as apprentices of a turner”

The Borets plant in Moscow no longer exists; in 2008 it was relocated to Krasnodar. At Skladochnaya only the order receiving department remained - a few employees. The memorial plaque with the name of Zoya and Alexander Kosmodemyansky from the former entrance gate is planned to be moved to one of the places of honor in the area.

“This is the second “Fighter” memorial plaque in honor of the Kosmodemyanskys, it was erected in 1976,” says the former director of the museum of school No. 201 in Koptev, where Zoya and her younger brother Alexander studied. - Natalya Kosova, who was in charge for a long time - The first board was installed on the 20th anniversary of the Victory Day, in 1965, within ten years it fell into disrepair.

If you believe “The Tale of Zoya and Shura,” which was published back in Stalin’s time, the initiative to go to work for “Borets” belonged to 16-year-old Shura. Returning on July 22, 1941 from digging anti-tank ditches near Moscow, he did not say anything about the labor front, but told his sister, “I know what you and I will do, let’s go to Borets as apprentice turners.”

Collected acorns and made coffee

“It’s not entirely true; before the war, Lyubov Timofeeva worked at the Borets plant for about a year,” says Ekaterina Ivanova, a historian who studies the heroes of the Great Patriotic War. – After the death of their father - in 1933, from cancer - the Kosmodemyansky family lived very poorly. Sometimes there was nothing to eat, the children collected acorns in Timiryazevsky Park and made coffee from them. Lyubov Timofeevna taught Russian, worked in two schools at once, but the teacher’s salary was not enough for two high school children. Another item was added to household expenses: tuition fees were introduced for grades 8-10. And the woman, who was nearly forty, decided to take a desperate step: she went into production and mastered the blue-collar profession of a compressor operator. “I worked at factories No. 20, 330, “Red Metalist”, “Fighter,” says Lyubov Timofeevna’s autobiography, stored in the Central Archive of Socio-Political Documentation.

Today, getting from Aleksandrovsky Proezd (in 1970 it was called A. and Z. Kosmodemyanskikh Street) to Skladochnaya is long and inconvenient: through Leningradsky Prospekt, the Third Transport Ring or Butyrsky Val. In the late 30s - very early 40s, tram No. 5 ran from Koptev to Maryina Roshcha. A little further, on Mikhalkovskoye Highway, you could take the 12th, 29th, 41st, which went through Vyatskaya Street and Butyrskaya outpost to Suschevsky Val. In the very first days of the war, instead of compressors, Borets began producing large-caliber mines and rockets for Katyushas.

For sabotage work you need a discreet appearance

Zoya did not work at Borets for long.

“She was eager to go to the front and went to the city committee of the Komsomol, where young people were selected to be deployed behind enemy lines,” says Natalya Kosova. “At first they didn’t want to take her; she was very attractive; for sabotage work, an inconspicuous appearance is preferable. But Zoya convinced that she could handle it, both the first secretary of the Moscow City Command, Alexander Shelepin, who talked with all the volunteers going behind enemy lines, and the commander of reconnaissance and sabotage unit No. 9903, where she was enrolled. On October 31, the recruits were immediately sent to Kuntsevo, where the Moscow defense line passed. On the same day, military preparations began.

The last time Zoya was in Moscow was on November 12, 1941 - the soldiers were released to see their relatives. Zoya’s friend from military service, Klavdiya Miloradova, recalled that they were taken in a truck to Chistye Prudy, to the Colosseum cinema, where the Sovremennik Theater was later located. We got to Sokol by metro. Neither mother nor Shura were at home; the room was locked. Zoya was upset, wrote a note and put it on the ceiling, where they usually left the key, but that time there was none. “The ride back by tram took a long time - instead of getting off at Sokol, we went to the Belorussky station, and everyone was silent,” recalled Klavdiya Alexandrovna.

Apartment on Zvezdny Dali in the mid-60s

After the war, Zoya and Shura’s mother lived in nearby Ostankino. She moved to house No. 5 on Zvezdny Boulevard in the mid-60s.

“Everything was very modest in the two-room apartment on the third floor,” says Natalya Kosova, her mother, a teacher at the same school No. 201, has been to Zvezdny many times. — Lyubov Timofeevna was a member of the primary party organization at our school; as she grew older, it became more and more difficult for her to come to meetings and pay membership fees, and my mother went to see her.

There were guests in the apartment on Zvezdny almost every day - people came to talk to the heroine’s mother, to see, to express respect and gratitude.

“Why do they paint her as a village girl?”

He also testified that Lyubov Timofeevna did not like many of the portraits and statues of her daughter:

- Why do they draw her in a headscarf, like a village girl, she left wearing a hat, so that’s wrong! And the monuments are all so massive, why, she was thin and slender.

To those who asked - and, accordingly, knew that it existed - Lyubov Timofeevna showed an album with pasted photographs. It was in the bottom drawer, and she unlocked it with a key. Five photographs found in the belongings of a murdered German, and thirteen taken by a correspondent for the newspaper Pravda. A gallows with Zoya hanged, her head hanging on her chest; the girl lies at the grave, her body is punctured, the Nazis continued to mock her even after her death; an open grave - in February 1942 there was an exhumation.

“Flipping through the pages, Lyubov Timofeevna explained what was shown in the photographs and added something that no one except her mother knew,” recalled Nikolai Rymarans. - Pointing with her hand, she explained that the five photographs were small in the form of postcards, then they were enlarged.

“The photographs are terrible, those that were published in newspapers in January 1942 spared the reader,” Klavdiya Miloradova wrote in her memoirs.

— As long as her health allowed, Lyubov Timofeevna spoke at schools, universities, pioneer camps, traveled throughout the country, and corresponded. There were rumors about large fees, but she sent all the money to the Peace Foundation - the total amount was 4 thousand rubles.

As she got older, she started to lose control. My hearing deteriorated, my heart began to give way, and it was harder to go outside. But the apartment was always in order. Especially in documents, letters, archives. According to the recollections of relatives, representatives of the Central Committee of the Komsomol promised Lyubov Timofeevna that later - when she was gone - a museum of Zoya and Alexander would open in an apartment on Zvezdny.

They promised to open a museum

Lyubov Timofeevna died on the eve of the 33rd Victory Day, May 7, 1978. On the 3rd, she felt bad with her heart and was admitted to the Botkin Hospital. Four days later she was gone. He was buried on May 12, at the Novodevichy cemetery, next to his son. Zoe's ashes - she was cremated - lie opposite, across the path.

After the wake, Valentina Tereshkova was there, and “Komsmol members” really came to the apartment. As the husband of Lyubov Timofeevna’s cousin Konstantin Lange recalls, after three weeks only old furniture, dishes, a samovar and a few souvenirs remained in the rooms. All archives were sent to the Komsomol Central Committee. Some of the things were taken by relatives and friends.

Nobody started organizing the museum.

After some time, through a complex exchange, a family from the next door moved into the vacant apartment.

Lyubov Timofeevna Kosmodemyanskaya (1900-1978) is known as the mother of two Heroes of the Soviet Union, Alexander and Zoya Kosmodemyansky, who died during the Great Patriotic War.

Alexander Anatolyevich was a tanker, commander of a battery of self-propelled guns, and fought as far as Koenigsberg, where he was killed on April 13, 1945 - less than a month before the great victory. And Zoya became for the entire huge country more than a fearless fighter - with her name the soldiers went on the attack, her courage was the banner that was picked up by other soldiers, and her martyrdom in Petrishchevo near Moscow burned the heart of her brother and all Soviet soldiers with a desire for revenge.

But before the tragic days of the war, the Kosmodemyansky family, modest and intelligent, did not stand out among others. Lyubov Timofeevna was born in the village of Chernavka, Kirsanovsky district, Tambov province, and soon, together with her parents, she moved to the village of Osinovye Gai. There she studied at the zemstvo school, and then at the women's gymnasium in the city of Kirsanov. Education over time allowed Lyubov Timofeevna to become a teacher herself; she worked in an elementary school in the village of Solovyanka and in Osinovye Gai. There, in the homeland of her father and mother, in 1922 Lyuba met Anatoly Petrovich Kosmodemyansky. Her future husband was the son of a village priest killed by bandits. In Osinovye Gai, Anatoly Kosmodemyansky served as the head of the hut-reading room and the village library.

On September 13, 1923, the couple had a daughter, Zoya, and a son, Alexander, on July 27, 1925. The Kosmodemyanskys had to change their place of residence more than once - perhaps because of Anatoly Petrovich’s origins, or perhaps because he repeatedly spoke out against the “excesses” of Soviet power in the village. For some time, the couple and their children lived in Siberia (the village of Shitkino, Yenisei District), and then moved to Moscow, where Lyubov Timofeevna had a brother and two sisters.

Lyubov Kosmodemyanskaya became a widow early: Alexander Petrovich, who worked as an accountant at the Timiryazev Agricultural Academy, died suddenly in 1933. The children, Zoya and Shura, studied in the same class, and Lyubov Timofeevna completely devoted herself to them and to working at school in two shifts. She raised her son and daughter in a patriotic spirit, and when the Great Patriotic War began, both went to the labor front.

This seemed not enough to eighteen-year-old Zoya, and she persistently asked the military registration and enlistment office to be enrolled in a reconnaissance and sabotage unit. The Germans were approaching Moscow, and the fragile girl, who had recently been seriously ill with meningitis, went with a group of saboteurs into the frosty November forest. Zoya received the task of infiltrating the village of Petrishchevo and burning the houses in which the Germans lived. On November 28, 1941, her way of the cross began...

Lyubov Timofeevna learned about the last days of her girl from a publication in the Pravda newspaper. The Germans were thrown back from Moscow, Petrishchevo was liberated, and front-line correspondent P. Lidov described in detail the feat of an unknown Komsomol member who called herself Tanya, who was captured by the Germans while performing a combat mission. The girl endured inhuman torture, but did not betray anyone and was hanged. The article was illustrated with photographs in which Zoya was... In her most terrible hour, she called herself by the name of Tatyana Solomakha, her favorite heroine who died in the Civil War.

Zoya and Alexander were buried at the Novodevichy cemetery, and from that day L. Kosmodemyanskaya lived only in the memory of them. In 1949, her book “The Tale of Zoya and Shura” was published, which was translated into many languages. The mother of the two heroes was endlessly asked to speak with stories about her legendary children. Lyubov Timofeevna received hundreds of letters, and never refused to speak or answer questions - this mission became the meaning of her existence.

On May 7, 1978, the earthly path of this outstanding woman was cut short, and a few days later Lyubov Timofeevna Kosmodemyanskaya was buried next to her children.

On our book website you can download books by the author Kosmodemyanskaya Lyubov Timofeevna in a variety of formats (epub, fb2, pdf, txt and many others). You can also read books online and for free on any device - iPad, iPhone, Android tablet, or on any specialized e-reader. The KnigoGid electronic library offers literature by Lyubov Timofeevna Kosmodemyanskaya in the genres of military memoirs and memoirs.