Even before the revolution, when he was 12 years old, my father moved from Odessa to the Aral Sea coast and lived there until his retirement. Being a hereditary fisherman and having lived in the Aral for 48 years, he knew all the fishing places on the sea and visited almost all the islands.
Fish in the Aral, despite the harsh climate, is caught not only in summer, but also in winter. Winter fishing there is very hard work. These are not amateur fishermen sitting by a drilled hole with a fishing rod and waiting for a fish to be hooked. In winter, fish in the Aral was caught with nets using the ice method. To do this, it was necessary to break two ice holes (and the ice reached a thickness of up to half a meter!), Then they took a pole, fastened the net at one end of it and pushed it under the ice to the second hole.
After that, the ends of the net were attached to the posts. The water in the holes froze, the net floated freely under the ice. In order to then select the fish, it was necessary to cut through these holes again and pull out the net. And all this in a wild frost with a fierce wind in wet mittens. At that time, there were still no rubber gloves or any other devices to protect hands from moisture.
And so in 1938-1939 my father with several other fishermen went to fish on one of the islands of the Aral Sea in winter. On one end of the island there was a tiny village of three houses, and nets were installed at the other end - five kilometers from the village. Fishermen usually spent the night in a dugout located not far from the fishing site, in the morning they picked fish from the nets and took it to the village on sledges, where it was then stored frozen.
That evening my father and two of his friends went to his pre-established networks. We took bread with us and a little to drink. And there was nothing more to take - there was no store in the village, and the counters were empty at that time. However, people at sea were always rescued by fish, so they did not starve.
Came to the place. We decided: let two people heat the stove in the dugout, and the third one will go “shake” the net and bring fresh fish to the ear. Next to the dugout stood a stack of reeds prepared in advance for the winter. Father and a friend heated the stove for them, then filled the pot and kettle with snow, put it on the fire and began to wait for the friend with the fish.
That still does not exist. An hour has passed, the second is coming. The fishermen got worried. We decided to run to see where this comrade had disappeared. The island is flat, you can see everything around you. They looked - there was a sled on the ice near the holes, and their friend was sitting in them. Is he sleeping, or is he just resting? They ran to him, began to bother him. Sleeping! And you can't sleep in the cold, you can freeze in a dream. Their comrade did not wake up, his bent arms and legs no longer bent, became like pieces of wood.
It was as if ice had frozen in half-open eyes. The fishermen tried to unclench their hands, straighten the body, but it was all in vain. Then they quickly brought the sled with the fisherman to the dugout. Again they began to bother the friend, knock, try to unbend - all in vain. It looks like the fisherman froze to death.
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At that time they would have a cell phone in their hands, they would have called the Ministry of Emergencies. But alas! It can be done this way now, but then there was no connection. Rely only on yourself and on the help of your comrades, no planes, no helicopters. Doctors are out there somewhere - hundreds of kilometers away, and around - a white field of ice, frost and a fierce icy wind.
The frozen man was carried into the small corridor of the dugout. Once again felt the pulse - no heartbeat. Died! In general, the men wrapped their deceased comrade in a felt mat and left him in the corridor. Themselves, heartbroken, scolded themselves that they could not save a friend, they missed. Then they remembered that they were going to cook the fish soup. There was a fish in the sleigh, apparently, before his death, a friend still checked the nets. While we cleaned the fish, while it was cooking, an hour passed, or maybe all two. Silently sat down to supper, drank a glass to the peace of the soul of the deceased and began to study their ear.
And suddenly the door slowly opens, and the voice of their comrade is heard:
- Why don't you call me?
Father and his friend were just numb, and stared at the newcomer with open mouths. Meanwhile, the recent dead man entered the dugout and sat down at the table, muttering displeasedly:
- Why did they wrap me up in a koshma? I barely got out!
Then he noticed the petrified faces of his comrades.
- Guys, what are you? Didn't recognize me, or what?
It was then that they realized that their friend was alive and well. Surprisingly enough, it turned out that the frozen man, wrapped in a felt mat, gradually thawed and came to himself. How glad all three were! Then at supper they drank to health, and not to peace.
Zinaida Semyonovna KAZARENKO, Kemerovo