A Writer at War

by Vasily Grossman

  The Special Department arrested an ex-deserter, soldier Manzhulya, who has come back of his own accord.

  Manzhulya, even though he had returned voluntarily, and may simply have been a straggler, rather than a deserter, probably faced a firing squad or service in a shtrafbat, or punishment battalion, which virtually guaranteed death, since they were forced to undertake the most hazardous tasks, including, on some occasions, marching across minefields ahead of attacking troops.3

  ‘The political-moral state of the troops is good. Deserter Toropov was shot in front of [his company].’

  Dr Dolenko. Her husband went off with the partisans, and she went away with the Germans.

  Such a stark contrast between the heroic and the despicable begs many questions. Dr Dolenko, a Ukrainian to judge by the name, may have simply wanted to rejoin her family behind German lines, but that was treason in Soviet eyes.

  As in all armies, the delivery of letters from home was an important factor in morale.

  There is a widespread opinion among soldiers that the field post isn’t functioning well.

  In the Red Army, even more than in any other, the consumption of alcohol presented the greatest threat to discipline, as it loosened tongues dangerously.

  Red Army soldier Kazakov said to his platoon commander: ‘My rifle has been loaded for a long time waiting to shoot you.’

  Red Army soldier Evsteev refused to go to his post claiming that he was wet. On 20 October he left his post without permission, abandoning the machine-gun crew. He went to the 7th Company, where he said to the soldiers: ‘Commanders taunt us, drink the last drop of our blood, and stuff their faces with food.’ During a conversation with the politruk, he started arguing, declared that ‘the time will soon come when we’ll raise you too on our bayonets’. The politruk shot him with his pistol.

  Throughout the war, the chief obsession of many members of the Red Army was to obtain alcohol or anything which even looked like alcohol.

  Deputy platoon commander Anokhin and Corporal Matyukhin drank the contents of bottles with anti-yperite liquid [an antidote for chemical warfare attacks]. The deputy platoon commander died immediately. The corporal died on the way [to hospital].

  Grossman noted examples of the tortured language of official military reports.

  Podus, chief of pharmacy, performs plunder of spirits from the pharmacy, diluting the remaining spirits with water.

  Alcohol also played a large part in matters of lust and love, perhaps partly because it released minds from the deep sexual repression of the Stalinist era, when the slightest hint of eroticism was deemed ‘anti-Party’.

  Lieutenant Boginava abandoned his platoon during the night, went to a girl called Marusya, who refused to have anything to do with him. Boginava told her that she should marry him, and threatened to shoot her.

  There was in some quarters a genuinely high-minded attitude to culture, even if it was generally directed by political officers at hatred of the enemy and love of the Soviet Union.

  A string orchestra is functioning in the 1st Machine-Gun Company . . . Red Army soldiers organise concerts and performances in their battalions. The play In the Farmstead Fyodorovka has been staged . . . A lecture on philosophy was organised for officers.

  A musical ensemble of Red Army soldiers . . . ‘A concert given by the ensemble is a well-aimed shot at fascism.’ The ensemble has been going for about two months. They learn songs with the soldiers, [such as] ‘Oi, there was a man shouting at the side of the road’. Kalisty, who works at the tribunal, sings: ‘Oh, Dnepr, Dnepr, you flow far away, and your water is as clear as tears.’ When it is being sung, not only do their listeners cry, but so do the singers themselves. Soldier members of the ensemble – infantrymen, artillerists, tankists – are badly dressed, and one of them suffers from frostbite. They come under fire, as they usually give concerts just before battles. In one village, Dubrova, participants ran in dashes, one by one, to the place where the concert was going to take place in the forest. An old woman came out, Vasilisa Nechivoloda, and danced with Kotlyarov to the accordeon music. She is seventy-five. After the concert she said: ‘Thank you, sons, live many, many years, beat the fascists.’

  An informal troop concert.

  Villagers were not always so welcoming.

  The owner of the accommodation where the 6th Company is billeted is hostile towards the soldiers – she pours ash into their tea, and fills the house with smoke.

  Artillery regiment commanded by Major Ivanov. When the cold weather began in earnest, artillery guns were cleaned of grease and the working parts smeared with spindle oil. Groups of tank destroyers were organised and training is being carried out. In PolitrukMalyshev’s battery there’s a wonderful choir. They built and organised a banya entirely through their own efforts.

  From the latest political report: ‘In the battle for the village of Zaliman, a wounded Red Army soldier entered the backyard of citizen Yakimenko. Galya Yakimenko was going to give him medical aid. A German fascist broke into the yard and shot both the soldier and Galya and tried to shoot Yakimenko’s fourteen-year-old son. A neighbour, old man Semyon Belyavtsev, grabbed a stick and hit the fascist on the head. Soldier Petrov rushed up and shot the German.’

  In almost all Soviet units, there was a very high casualty rate through firearm accidents.

  Junior Lieutenant Evdokimov (born 1922, education ten classes, member of Komsomol) wounded Junior Lieutenant Zorin in the stomach. This was an accident, yet Junior Lieutenant Evdokimov committed suicide afterwards.

  Soviet hyperbole grossly inflated enemy casualties.

  ‘Comrade Myshkovsky fought like a hero and killed up to a platoon of fascists with his machine-gun fire. He himself died from wounds.’

  ‘Malomed, Naum Moiseevich, fought bravely together with his platoon and captured enemy weapons. Malomed was killed. Mortar-gunner Sivokon smashed the enemy without mercy. Regimental Commander Comrade Avakov was buried at 1500 hours. He died like a hero. All the unit said goodbye to their commander. There were also local people at the funeral.’

  ‘Politruk Usachev pelted Germans with grenades and started a bayonet attack. Usachev died like a hero.’

  Listening to the reports from the battlefield, Pesochin [the divisional commander] says in a melodious voice: ‘Oh, my God.’

  The retaking of Zaliman and other villages made Grossman think even more about life for those under German occupation. Rumours from the other sides of the lines concerned everyone.

  Girls in the occupied villages put on rags and rub ash on their faces.

  This was to avoid the attention of German soldiers.

  German women took the same precautions in 1945 in the hope of escaping rape at the hands of the Red Army. Yet Grossman, like many, was sometimes misled into ascribing the worst of motives to those under enemy occupation.

  Six beautiful girls from Zaliman went away together with Germans.

  This could well have been malicious gossip. The most attractive girls were often seized for service in Wehrmacht brothels, a fate far worse even than gang rape, since it was on a permanent basis and the young women had to pretend to enjoy it or face severe punishment.

  For most civilians caught up in the fighting, survival was all that mattered. But sometimes a young peasant could be too clever for his own good.

  A boy had tracked down the Germans. Late at night, he recounted everything to the commander, who was in his izba. ‘Give me some vodka, I am cold,’ he said in a husky voice. The regimental commander, who was having supper, started fussing about the boy: ‘Vanya, Vanya, have some chicken.’ The boy had some vodka and chicken. Then his mother turned up and gave him a good whipping. It transpired that he had made everything up.

  Grossman was fed snippets by the political officers to help him with his articles. Many came from interrogations of German prisoners and captured letters and documents, but not all were reliable.

  From a German soldier’s letter: ‘Don’t worry and don’t be sad. Be
cause the sooner I’ll be under the earth the more suffering I will spare myself.’

  It is possible that the latter sentence became common among depressed German soldiers, yet these very words turn up in a suspiciously large number of letters which the Soviet authorities claim to have intercepted, but never in collections of letters from the front assembled back in Germany. Political officers, having heard the phrase, may well have claimed to have found it in other letters. Grossman then quotes another frequently repeated example which needs also to be treated with caution.

  ‘Often we think: “Well, now Russia is bound to capitulate,” but of course these illiterate people are too stupid to understand this.’

  From a letter: ‘Situation with food isn’t bad. Yesterday we killed a pig, 150kg for seven men. We melted 30kg of fat.’

  From a letter: ‘We boil dumplings. At first we had too much flour in them, then too much potato. In all, we made 47 dumplings. Enough for the three of us. Now I am boiling cabbage and apples. I don’t know what they’ll taste like, but at least we don’t have food coupons. We get everything from the population. There’s no time to write, we cook all the time. It is so nice in the army. The four of us have slaughtered a piggy for ourselves. I found lots of honey here, just what I need.’

  A letter from a German girl: ‘I am going insane gradually, come back, my love. I hope you will survive, because the war would be lost for me if you don’t. Goodbye, my treasure, goodbye. Mizzi.’

  Hitler’s address to his troops, (recorded from the words of a captured German). ‘My soldiers! I demand that you don’t take a single step back from the conquered territory for which you have paid with your blood. Let the fires in Russian villages light the roads for our reserves coming up and inspire cheerfulness. My soldiers, I have done everything for you. It is your turn now to do what you can for me.’

  1 Major-General Grigorii Semenovich Lazko (1903– ).

  2 Any soldier who failed to denounce and to shoot down comrades who attempted to desert was treated as an accomplice.

  3 According to Russian military sources, 422,700 men died in punishment units during the war.

  NINE

  The Air War in the South

  On New Year’s Day 1942, Grossman wrote to his wife again, amid the euphoria that the Germans were retreating on all fronts.

  Dearest Lyusenka, well, we’ve celebrated the new year: you in Chistopol, I at the front . . . The horizon is clearing for us. There is a feeling of confidence and strength in the army, and each day brings the victory closer . . .

  Ten days later, he wrote again.

  My articles are published quite often now, and the editor has become kinder to me. I learned of Gaidar’s death yesterday.1 He died in battle . . . Lyusenka, do you remember Gaidar? Where are our friends? I am still unable to realise that Vasya Bobryshev is dead. I read his last letter the other day, and my heart contracted. I often remember Roskin with a great pain in my soul. I think of Mama, I still don’t believe she is dead. I still cannot accept it. The real pain for her will grip me later . . .

  Towards the end of January, Grossman set off to visit an airfield at Svatovo, but it was not an easy journey in that winter.

  There was a snowstorm when we left Zaliman for Svatovo. The road disappeared under snow. Soon we were hopelessly stuck. Fortunately, a tank which was passing spotted us. We climbed on to it and it took us back to Zaliman and towed our car.

  He mentioned this adventure in his next letter to his father.

  It is still stinging cold here. The other day a snowstorm caught me in the steppe, and a tank took me back to the village, otherwise I would have frozen to death out there. There is a lot of work, and the work is interesting. My spirits are high. Only I am worried about all my dear ones, all of you who are scattered in different places. I often dream of Mama. What’s happened to her, is she alive?

  Throughout the war, Grossman was always intrigued by specialist arms. During the first part of the war, fighter pilots appear to have attracted him the most; then at Stalingrad, snipers caught his imagination; and during the last six months of the war, tank troops.

  At the beginning of February, he visited a Red Army aviation fighter regiment supporting the South-Western Front from its airfield at Svatovo, north of the Donets. They were equipped with Yak fighters. In the early part of the war especially, Soviet aircraft, although far more numerous, could not match the technological superiority of their Luftwaffe opponents, so some fighter pilots resorted to ramming German aircraft. Only a few managed to bail out.

  Salomatin: ‘Ramming – that’s Russian character. It’s the Soviet upbringing.’

  Sedov, Mikhail Stepanovich, born 1917: ‘Ramming isn’t heroism. Heroism is to shoot down as many of them as possible.’

  Skotnoi: ‘What sort of a hero is a man who has a full load [of ammunition] and doesn’t manage to shoot [an enemy plane] down and has to ram [it]?’ Skotnoi does not talk much. He is melancholy. ‘I would have been embarrassed to go to a good club. I would be too shy to talk to a girl.’

  Some of the pilots he interviewed, especially unit commanders, stuck rigidly to the Party line, even if that meant claiming, against all evidence to the contrary, that their aircraft and engines never let them down. During some parts of the war, Red Army aviation was losing almost as many aircraft through accidents as from enemy action.

  Major Fatyanov, Ivan Sidorovich: ‘Our men work in pairs. They will even give up their prey in order to stick with their companion. What is most important is to believe in one another. We help others when they are in trouble. This tradition existed before us, but we always follow it. We have faith in our equipment. Neither an engine nor an aircraft would let one down.’

  On the subject of the Germans: ‘They cover their Junkers when they go in and come out of an attack. But they can’t stand rapid changes. There isn’t much comradeship among them. Pairs are easily broken up. They escape using their speed. They flee from an active enemy, but never let go of a damaged one. I wouldn’t say I am very experienced.’ (He is modesty itself.)

  An aviation general is speaking on the field telephone about bombs, the take-off of bomber aircraft, the beginning of the attack, and so forth. Suddenly, he says: ‘A baby is crying somewhere at the other end of the line. Must be in the izba.’

  Grossman appears to have been intrigued by the minor contradictions in their accounts.

  Martynov, Al[eksandr] Vas[ilievich], born 1919: ‘One can spot the whole character of a pilot in the movement of his machine. I can see if the enemy is strong and persistent. Fritzes look for simpletons. They pick them off from behind. You see what your partner is like from his character as a pilot, and his whole nature is shown by the way he flies his machine. Yet in an air battle, it is very difficult to distinguish between pilots . . . I must protect my comrade, rather than shoot down that bloody Fritz . . . You see a Fritz, how he wags his head, and you give him a couple of hot ones! Close-quarter battle in the air is a bit hard for Fritz. Close-quarter battle is a struggle to the last drop of blood. The enemy does not like fighting on a horizontal plane, or when banking. They try to fight on a vertical axis. The enemy do everything smoothly, and evade sharp bankings. It’s therefore possible to break away on the horizontal by side-slipping. Their firing is not carefully aimed.

  ‘Good coordination in the pair secures success. You follow your leader and he gives the signal when to break off . . . I was on fire in the air, having been hit by anti-aircraft artillery. (I had burns and was wounded.) Yet I felt no fear when I was burning. There was no time for fear. The characteristics [of a good pilot are]:

  1) to know your machine and equipment in order to be able to use it

  2) to have confidence and to love your machine

  3) to have courage, a cool mind and a burning heart

  4) to feel true comradeship

  5) to display selflessness in battle, devotion to the Motherland, and hatred [of the enemy].

  ‘My first meeting with a Heinkel. I
attacked him twelve times, he became a bit [covered with soot]. The first time is a bit scary. I’ve returned with lot of holes. Once I was completely covered with bullet-holes, like an old quail.’

  Salomatin, [explaining why] he does not wait for the slower ones: ‘I want the main one, that’s why I start a fight. It’s not decorations I am after. I want to beat the Germans, even if it costs me my life.’

  Salomatin then spoke of Demidov, a fellow pilot who had recently been killed in an air battle. They had remembered him in the toasts drunk after receiving a medal. It was the custom in the Red Army to place the new medal in a mug of vodka, drain the alcohol in one go and finish with the decoration clenched between the teeth.

  ‘Demidov [a comrade who had been killed] used to infect everyone with his courage. Baranov burst into tears when we were being awarded decorations. The first toast was to Stalin, the second one was to the dead Demidov.’

  Captain Zapryagalov: ‘[On] the first day of the war in Chernovitsy, the alarm was sounded soon after four o’clock. We ran to the airfield. I took off while it was being bombed. [I later had to do] another take-off from an airfield destroyed by bombs.

  ‘The main thing is that we believe. We haven’t any doubts and we will help those in trouble. We weren’t the ones who started this tradition, but we follow it reverently. [The Germans] are a very strong nation in technological matters.’

  Eryomin, Boris Nik[olayevich], twenty-nine years old: ‘The main principle is the coordination in pairs, and comradeship. There’s coordination and they know each other’s peculiarities. Martynov (the second in command) flies with Korol and trained him. The second pair [consists of] Balashov and Sedov. I fly with Skotnoi.

  ‘One sees how the tracer ends in his black planes. The Me[sserschmitt] is long, like a pike. I looked, and saw a yellow spinner, and banked, but a bit late. I saw them firing at me, and a blue flash, and at that moment Martynov rushed at him, and he fell off me. It’s interesting, of course, one really gets carried away with it.