Read the beginning here.
1942 year
01.01.42 Will he bring us something, this 42nd? About such an unusual and joyful event there was shooting all night long. But no artillery. Apparently, both of them were only amused. In the city, one fun ended tragically. The Germans were at their teens. Officers. They got drunk and started to mock the girls. They defended themselves and during the fight a lamp fell and the house caught fire. The girls rushed to run, and the officers began to hunt them like rabbits. Three were killed and one was wounded. They killed so that the girls would not tell about everything that happened. The wounded woman was picked up in the morning and taken to the hospital. The beginning of the year does not seem to bode well.
01/02/42 Work in the bath began again. Lord, when will these horrors end? The German guard wanted to beat a dying prisoner of war with a stick. The attendants attacked the guard and almost killed him. And these are hungry, intimidated women. I was downstairs in my cell and, thank God, did not see any of this.
04. 01.42 The commandant wanted to send the girl wounded for the New Year "to the rear". We are now very afraid of this word. Some doctors had the courage not to allow this. They threatened that they would inform the high command about the reasons for the injury. And the Germans are afraid of publicity and try to do all the nasty things on the sly. So far we have managed to defend. And there, perhaps, the commandant will change. They change several times a month. Of course, this is a war, a front and so on, but something else would be expected from the descendants of Schiller and Goethe. By the way, there are things created by these same Europeans, which the Russian population does not forgive them, and especially the peasants. For example, the Germans do not cost anything while eating while sitting at the table, to spoil the air. One peasant told us about this with terrible indignation. He simply could not find words to express his contempt and indignation. And this is natural. The Russian peasant is used to the fact that food is an almost ritual act. There should be complete goodness at the table. In old peasant families, even laughing over food is considered a sin. And here is such an ugly behavior. And also the fact that the Germans do not hesitate to send their natural needs in front of women. No matter how disfigured the Russian people were by the Soviet regime, they carried through everything a passionate craving for goodness. And the fact that the Germans behave so vilely inflicts another cruel trauma on the Russian people. He cannot believe that an ugly people can be a liberating people. We are used to thinking that if the Bolsheviks are scolding someone, then this is the source of all kindness and truth. And something comes out not right. This very Europe is turning the wrong way towards us. There is already a ditty among the prisoners of war: “Wonderful Europe. There is no muzzle,one ass ".
01/05/42. They settled in our yard some engineer with a German surname, which I can not remember in any way. His family is a wife and a mother. These ladies got into the habit of fetching our books and sheet music from a locked closet, as well as firewood and coal from our barn. We had a fight. Then he informed us that we were speculating in gold. And it was like this. MF had two cakes for dental crowns. One at half a five and the other at half a dozen. These gold circles were sold in the assay office. We asked the wife of this engineer if they knew Germans, gold hunters. And then somehow after the forbidden hour in the evening he came to us with a huge German. Asks if we trade in gold. We were delighted because our food was over.
- Show what you have. - MF brings him these circles.
- And what else? - I show him my cameo. There is only a rim of gold in it. Not interested.
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- What else?
- There is nothing else. - Shrugged his shoulders and looked at the engineer in a strange way.
- What would you like? - We don't know. We have never dealt with this business. Bread, sweet and tobacco. And how much - we do not know. He took our circles into his wallet, said goodbye, and they left. We just sighed. We don't even know his rank, since he was without shoulder straps. So they sold you! And so they hoped to get something by Christmas.
01/07/42 Yesterday the Ivanovs-Razumniks spent the night with us. We did not sleep all night and sat by the lovely Christmas tree. And even with candles, which were taken out by common efforts. Took from the dining room our four lunches - soup with green cabbage leaves. Disgusting natural. They baked a flat cake the size of a tea saucer from the remnants of cooking flour. M. F. found a poppy. and we sprinkled with poppy seeds, as it should be on Christmas Eve. There was tea with sugar, a drop of margarine. The soup was eaten with bread, and there was a feeling of almost fullness. I almost did not suck under the spoon. Razumnik Vasilyevich and Kolya were at their best. Stories, poems. jokes. They sang carols. For several hours I managed to forget the surroundings. Forget hunger, poverty and hopelessness. Razumnik Vasilyevich invited us to a future feast. He has a bottle of cognac in Leningrad, presented to him at his baptism by his godfather. When she was givenshe was already fifty years old. Now Razumnik Vasilievich is 63 years old. The bottle is 113 years old this year. We are invited to drink it when the war is over and the Bolsheviks. ' He couldn't imagine a more worthy day for such a drink. We all swore to gather in Leningrad, or whatever it would be called, on the very first Christmas after the fall of the Bolsheviks and drink this cognac. We had just taken our oath solemnly when some stray shell punched a hole in the wall of our apartment from the street side. A kind of "memento mori". All glasses flew out. We stuffed the windows with rags and mattresses and pretended. that nothing happened. Today one cannot notice the war, and none of us remembered our loved ones aloud. You can't. But I'm sure everyone remembered and cried a little in the shower. We are invited to drink it when the war is over and the Bolsheviks. ' He couldn't imagine a more worthy day for such a drink. We all swore to gather in Leningrad, or whatever it would be called, on the very first Christmas after the fall of the Bolsheviks and drink this cognac. We had just taken our oath solemnly when some stray shell punched a hole in the wall of our apartment from the street side. A kind of "memento mori". All glasses flew out. We stuffed the windows with rags and mattresses and pretended. that nothing happened. Today one cannot notice the war, and none of us remembered our loved ones aloud. You can't. But I'm sure everyone remembered and cried a little in the shower. We are invited to drink it when the war is over and the Bolsheviks. ' He couldn't imagine a more worthy day for such a drink. We all swore to gather in Leningrad, or whatever it would be called, on the very first Christmas after the fall of the Bolsheviks and drink this cognac. We had just taken our oath solemnly when some stray shell punched a hole in the wall of our apartment from the street side. A kind of "memento mori". All glasses flew out. We stuffed the windows with rags and mattresses and pretended. that nothing happened. Today one cannot notice the war, and none of us remembered our loved ones aloud. You can't. But I'm sure everyone remembered and cried a little in the shower.or or whatever it will be called, on the very first Christmas after the fall of the Bolsheviks and drink this cognac. We had just taken our oath solemnly when some stray shell punched a hole in the wall of our apartment from the street side. A kind of "memento mori". All glasses flew out. We stuffed the windows with rags and mattresses and pretended. that nothing happened. Today one cannot notice the war, and none of us remembered our loved ones aloud. You can't. But I'm sure everyone remembered and cried a little in the shower.or or whatever it will be called, on the very first Christmas after the fall of the Bolsheviks and drink this cognac. We had just taken our oath solemnly when some stray shell punched a hole in the wall of our apartment from the street side. A kind of "memento mori". All glasses flew out. We stuffed the windows with rags and mattresses and pretended. that nothing happened. Today one cannot notice the war, and none of us remembered our loved ones aloud. You can't. But I'm sure everyone remembered and cried a little in the shower. Today one cannot notice the war, and none of us remembered our loved ones aloud. You can't. But I'm sure everyone remembered and cried a little in the shower. Today one cannot notice the war, and none of us remembered our loved ones aloud. You can't. But I'm sure everyone remembered and cried a little in the shower.
01/09/42 A German came again and "bought" golden cakes from us. We christened him "baby", since we have not seen anything more huge on two legs. He came, as if nothing had happened, and shook out of the portfolio one bread, a pack of tobacco, two handfuls of sweets and half a pack of margarine. Asks: enough? Maybe that's enough, we say, we don't know. And you, he says, think. And there’s nothing to think about. And we ourselves pray to God, would rather leave to start eating bread. The dining room is closed for the holidays and we didn't eat anything today. Sits, sneaky, and cultural conversations talking. Finally, I swept out. They ate bread with margarine on the same day, only a small piece was left for tomorrow. And how small they are! Now I understand the ancients who said: happiness is within us. As you put something bigger and tastier in your stomach, you're happy. This alone is genuine and real happiness. Everything else is fiction.
01/10/42 The bathhouse was put into repair. Our suffering is over, even for a while. And most importantly, the suffering of the prisoners ended, who were taken sick and dying to the bathhouse and to fictitious disinfection. And they were taken back in the cold in wet uniforms. And the disinfection was absolutely fictitious, because all the disinfected underwear and uniforms are dumped on the same floor on which the prisoners undressed and on which an infinite number of lice were released. No matter how much I told Bednova about this, I received nothing but rudeness from her. I tried once to tell Dr. Korovin, our sanitary doctor, but, of course, nothing came of it except for troubles. And my cell is very weak and it takes at least two hours to disinfect, and not 40 minutes, as is now ordered. This was also reported and also to no avail.
01/14/42 Today they sent for us to the Council and there announced that the bathhouse will serve the Germans from tomorrow. Therefore, it must be perfectly clean, and we must serve the German soldiers like bathhouse attendants if they demand it. Then it turned out the other way around - we shouldn't even enter the dressing room. And in no case serve them as bathhouse attendants, even if they demand it. Disinfect for at least two hours. Damn them, those same Germans! Very disgusting. Bednova is delighted. "Let's finally get rid of these lousy rags." I could not resist and had a fight with her. And MF gave me a scene. "They'll be kicked out of work and deprived of their rations."
01/15/42 Bath was licked. Bednova especially tried. Nauseous.
01.16.42 Great satisfaction: the bathhouse will again serve prisoners of war and the Russian urban population. The population, of course, will get lice and get sick with typhus. It is not clear how we didn’t get sick of everything. We bring home an incredible amount, although we change in the bathhouse. At home we change again. And yet it doesn't help much.
01/17/42 Today I was really happy. The commandant of the POW camp came and yelled at Bednova. that we disinfect poorly, we don't kill lice, and we have bred typhus in the camp. She enthusiastically pointed to me as the culprit of everything. Then he started yelling at me. I told the translator that if the commandant shouted, the lice would not die from this, but I would not talk to him. And he seems to be in the rank of major. I never knew how to disassemble Russian ranks, and I don't even know German ones. But something very big. Then I told the translator that I have a lot to say about this. Bednova immediately turned sour and began babbling something. He poked at her and told me to speak. I showed that we, the disinfector, repeatedly pointed out to the guards both the low power of the chamber, and the absence of tables and benches for disinfecting linen, etc. The most important thing is that the commandant himself contributes to the spread of typhus by sending typhus patients to the bathhouse along with healthy ones. And there were several cases when patients died in our bathhouse. I don’t think the commandant was not aware of this. Bednova's eyes went up to her forehead, and she began babbling something in German. And she knows the language much worse than mine. The officer growled at her. The commandant thanked me and left … Bednova immediately began to flirt with me, but I scolded her and went to my basement. Somehow it will all end. As long as this officer is the commandant of the camp, I will have my ration in the bathhouse, and as soon as it changes, Bednova and Uprava will devour me. To hell with them, there is no longer any patience. Everywhere the Germans crawl through the rubbish and tries to settle scores with the people through these fools. Licked the heels of the Bolsheviks,and now they are taking revenge for this innocent people. Damn them all! If only to wait until the end of the war, and then we will not let them come to power even with a cannon shot. And they can't. They only know how to lick other people's boots. All the same - Soviet, German or Hottentot.
01/19/42 The story in the bath continues. Yesterday the mayor came with a retinue of doctors and questioned me very unhappily about all my "denunciations" to the commandant. The doctors were also in charge of me. Apparently, they all the same flew. I flew into a rage and told them everything I thought about them and about their attitude towards prisoners of war. All the sisters had earrings here. And about the trade in places in the bathhouse, and that they, as Russian people, should still be interested in how other Russians, sick and hungry, are served in their institutions. The doctors are not at all interested in what is done with the prisoners of war. They go to the camp only to eat there sandwiches, which are made from food stolen from the same prisoners of war. None of them noticed either that the disinfected one was falling back on the lousy floor, or that the prisoners were dying in the bathhouse from typhus. They only dance in front of the Germans. And I won't and I don't know how. And I will shove for trouble. Let the Germans shoot me. And made a tantrum. Real! The first in my life. They all left without telling me anything, and Bednova even brought me valerian drinks. But I sent her very far with her valerian. This was also the first time in my life. And I'm not ashamed. At home, I had to send MF just as far, who kept silence in the bathhouse, and at home made a scandal for me that I had no right to expose us all to the danger of losing our jobs, and hence rations. I have no right! Kolya resolutely besieged her and took my side. If he had only shown the slightest hint of fear of losing rations, I would probably have committed suicide. There is some kind of endurance limit for all meanness. Let the Germans shoot me. And made a tantrum. Real! The first in my life. They all left without telling me anything, and Bednova even brought me valerian drinks. But I sent her very far with her valerian. This was also the first time in my life. And I'm not ashamed. At home, I had to send MF just as far, who kept silence in the bathhouse, and at home made a scandal for me that I had no right to expose us all to the danger of losing our jobs, and hence rations. I have no right! Kolya resolutely besieged her and took my side. If he had only shown the slightest hint of fear of losing rations, I would probably have committed suicide. There is some kind of endurance limit for all meanness. Let the Germans shoot me. And made a tantrum. Real! The first in my life. They all left without telling me anything, and Bednova even brought me valerian drinks. But I sent her very far with her valerian. This was also the first time in my life. And I'm not ashamed. At home, I had to send MF just as far, who kept silence in the bathhouse, and at home made a scandal for me that I had no right to expose us all to the danger of losing our jobs, and hence rations. I have no right! Kolya resolutely besieged her and took my side. If he had only shown the slightest hint of fear of losing rations, I would probably have committed suicide. There is some kind of endurance limit for all meanness. But I sent her very far with her valerian. This was also the first time in my life. And I'm not ashamed. At home, I had to send MF just as far, who kept silence in the bathhouse, and at home made a scandal for me that I had no right to expose us all to the danger of losing our jobs, and hence rations. I have no right! Kolya resolutely besieged her and took my side. If he had only shown the slightest hint of fear of losing rations, I would probably have committed suicide. There is some kind of endurance limit for all meanness. But I sent her very far with her valerian. This was also the first time in my life. And I'm not ashamed. At home, I had to send MF just as far, who kept silence in the bathhouse, and at home made a scandal for me that I had no right to expose us all to the danger of losing our jobs, and hence rations. I have no right! Kolya resolutely besieged her and took my side. If he had only shown the slightest hint of fear of losing rations, I would probably have committed suicide. There is some kind of endurance limit for all meanness. If he had only shown the slightest hint of fear of losing rations, I would probably have committed suicide. There is some kind of endurance limit for all meanness. If he had only shown the slightest hint of fear of losing rations, I would probably have committed suicide. There is some kind of endurance limit for all meanness.
01.20.42 The camp commandant began to send us now not one, but two loaves of bread. We shared them among all employees. And there was a lot of meanness with this bread. But I don't want to write about it. Times like this, as we are now experiencing, are a litmus test for people. A real man will withstand, will turn into an animal - not worthy. Only one thing now consoles me - my scarecrow. He is always with me of the same opinion. It doesn’t gnaw at me for my stormy temperament and for the constant battle with the mills. Now I am only two people in the world and I respect: from the dead of Don Quixote, from the living - Nikolai.
01/23/42. "Baby" came again. He brought tobacco, bread, margarine, sweets. He turned around, talked, asked to show him our other rooms, carefully examined our book depository, rummaged through the junk that was lying around in an empty and cold, like hell, room, waiting for warm days and disassembly. Mumbled something. I was about to leave and suddenly takes our gold from my wallet and gives it to us. And he mutters something incomprehensible on the topic that this is not enough for him, that he needs more. In despair, I tell him to take everything that he brought, and that we cannot return what we ate. But he somehow strangely wagged his hands, muttered something indistinct and left. What kind of performance it was is impossible to understand.
01/25/42 Tatiana's day! Is Nata somewhere now? If they did not leave Leningrad, then, judging by the rumors, they could not stand it there. It is even worse there than here. Judging by the way they are bombed and shelled, plus the siege, We have just paradise here. When will it end? My poor little scarecrow goes to my bathhouse every day to take me home. We are afraid to part even for a minute. Moreover, the Bolsheviks have invented a new entertainment for us: shelling by the clock. If the first interval between shells was a quarter of an hour, then they shoot all day in a quarter of an hour, if half an hour - shoot after half an hour. And so on. In terms of strength, exhausting the nerves of the population is the most real thing. And the shooting is very intense. They hit the city anywhere. And so, as soon as this damn mill begins, there is no soul. You keep thinking: maybe they finished him off with this volley,and he lies somewhere on the street. And I may never know what happened to him. Throw in a hole and that's it. And I just want to howl like a homeless dog. So it is with him. So he comes to me every day, trying to slip in between the volleys. And the whole city lives like that. As a reward, he receives a piece of bread here from our commandant's breakfast. It's so nice to share your piece and know that he will get at least something. Today I especially want to be together. We always spent this day at Nata's. What a wonderful day it was! They threw off the oppression of the present life and removed the eternal protective masks from faces and souls. We were ourselves. Have fun from the heart. And what graceful fun it was. What poems, impromptu, jokes! Better not to remember. And how do you think that this thin,a lovely family going through all the pangs of hunger and all this humiliating bagpipes of siege and poverty and the horrors of war.
01/27/42 The Germans came and "asked" us for a piano "until the end of the war." They will give it back when the war is over. Have seen impudent people! It is strange to hear that here, near us, at the front, there is also another life. Club, dances, concerts. Wild and fantastic.
01/28/42 I was lucky today. Received interest on culture. German kralechki sell potato husks from soldiers' kitchens. For a bucket of husks they demand a new woolen dress or new shoes, etc. And I bought a bucket of husks, and even about two dozen potatoes were there, for 20 envelopes. Hull cakes, if you add a little potatoes or flour to it and brown it well on the stove, what a miracle! It's great that we don't get sick at all from spoiled food. But turnips cause inflammation of the lacrimal glands. As we eat, I also walk with a face the size of a watermelon. But this, after about a week, passes. Turnip is tasty too, but almost impossible to get. Everything is reserved by the Germans for the four cows in the city. It is assumed that milk from these cows goes to the orphanage. In fact, the Germans drink it. And I wonder what the taste of real cow's milk is? MF began to have a "chocolate" delirium. She is deathly hungry for chocolate. From time to time now everyone starts having such “thematic” taste delusions. One woman literally howled because she wanted a pickle. Kolya and I are not yet thematic or gustatory delusions, but simply hungry. Consciousness is directed only towards the one to put something in the stomach. And when this succeeds, complete happiness comes. This is when the reassessment of values began. By the way, there are absolutely no cases of suicide. The setting seems to be the most suitable. I'm afraid we won't take long. “More and more we begin to pay attention to our hungry delusions and suffering. And my notes are getting longer. I can talk here as much as I like about the same problem - nutritional. And so, apparently, everything. Even Ivanov the Razumnik became less interesting. Only Kolya does not give up. The further, the more and more interesting thoughts and theories appear.
01/31/42 No events, except for the fact that the number of dying increases every day. But we are all used to it and it is not considered an event. I will try to describe our existence from a bird's eye view. A swollen man is lying on the bed. If he lifts his knees, he will not see behind the stomach. The face was all overgrown. The eyes shine unnaturally. On the sofa, on the other hand, lies a similarly swollen woman. Only without a beard. They say in very weak voices. Always on the same topic: what will life be like when the Germans win, the war is over and the Bolsheviks are dispersed. There is already a completely developed plan for the structure of the state, a program of public education; land management and social assistance. In general, all occasions are provided. The smoker is burning at best. More often illuminated by a stove. Outside the walls is a ruined city. Shells whistle. Some fall in the yard. Sometimes all the windows fly out, and then you have to get up and plug the windows with rags and cardboard. If you need to get up and go to a dark and cold kitchen "out of need", a person suffers as much as possible, because getting up is a big and hard work. And above all this - an incessant, boring feeling of hunger. That hunger that breaks the insides and from which you can begin to howl and beat. And the brain is constantly drilling one thought: where and how to get food? And then one of these evenings I asked all of us: MF, Vitya, Kolya: “What, guys, if some kind wizard came to us now and offered us to move to the Soviet rear. And there would have been pre-war life, and white bread, and milk, and tobacco, and everything else. Or it would show that we will live like this until the end of our days. What would you choose. "And all in one voice, I didn’t have time to finish my sentences, they said: stay as you are now. Well, Kolya and I are understandable. We will prefer everything to Soviet power. And here is Vitya, a pupil of this very power. I asked him why? Very confused and confused, he was still able to make it clear that there, in his former life, there were no hopes, and now he sees hope for the best. And what about MF, for whom it was not really bad to live under Soviet rule? She just scolded me so that I would not bother with stupid things. “Everyone understands why.” Maybe I will survive and this diary will survive. And, probably, I myself will read these lines with doubt and disbelief. But everything was exactly as I have just recorded. We prefer all the horrors of life at the front without the Bolsheviks to a peaceful life with them. Maybe because in the depths of our consciousness we believe in our star. We believe in future liberation. And I really want to wait for the time when it will be possible to work in full spirit. And there will be a lot of work. And workers will be needed. And it also supports the vengeful desire to look at the end of "the freest order in the world" To experience the joy, the thought of which is breathtaking. It's just scary that they will cut a lot and, as always, not those who need to be cut. They'll stab us too, probably.
02.02.42 Working in the bath is getting more and more difficult. It is simply beyond the power to lay the boiler. Now I often sit in my cell and cry from physical impotence. And to carry up the baskets with uniforms! What is this flour! At least spring is faster. Then at least there will be grass. We hardly talk to each other anymore. Heavy. And it's scary that one of us will say: I can't stand it anymore. If a person begins to think that he cannot, he will in fact cease to be able. He can no longer be saved.
02/03/42 Today I went to the Office and arranged an intrigue against Kolya. He needs something to do. I agreed with the mayor that he would get him permission to visit empty houses and search for books there. In Tsarskoe Selo we had many private libraries left over from the time of the revolution. Now nobody needs books, and they disappear. They say that the Germans collect and export books to Germany. We don't have that yet. And maybe we will be able to hide and preserve at least some of the most valuable books.
02/04/42 Today Kolya received a corresponding piece of paper. Terribly passionate about this business. When the head spoke to the commandant about such a piece of paper, he at first did not believe that it was really books. Thinking that books are just an excuse to legitimize the robbery of empty apartments. When he was assured that these were indeed books, he asked in a whisper: is he not dangerous, this professor of yours? And to his bewilderment he explained: “Don't you understand that he is crazy? But apparently harmless. By the way, the Germans are very fond of ranks and titles. They awarded Nicholas the title of professor, to his great fury. And now he cannot get rid of this rank in any way. And as soon as someone calls him that, he loses his temper. But the Germans would not allow the professor to write works on the history of the bath, but. so they wouldn't have given the soup. No professor would ever get permission to collect books. Germans,which we see here, give the impression of completely unintelligent and in many cases wild. Our military commissars, of course, would never classify an eccentric professor as a madman just because he does not rob apartments, but collects books for general use. And they would certainly help him in this matter as much as they could. And for these Goethean-Kantian souls, everything that is disinterested is incomprehensible and smells like a clinic for the mentally ill. The upbringing of the fascists and the Bolsheviks is apparently the same, but the difference is in the people. Ours were brought up in the Bolshevik principles for 20 years - and yet they could not corrode their true respect for real cultural values and their bearers. And there the fascists have been in power for some ten years - and such brilliant results. Kolya is probably right when he says that all of Europe will willingly accept communism, and the only peoplewho fights with him - Russian. I've always argued with him. Our people seemed very wild and uncivilized to me. Now the difference between culture and civilization is becoming clearer to me. The Germans are civilized, but uncivilized. Ours are wild, not educated, etc. but the spark of the Spirit of God, of course, in our outfit burns much brighter than that of the Europeans. Of course, there are PEOPLE among the Germans, but still there are more SPANES.
02/06/42 Kolya is passionate about his new occupation. You must see this figure. Overgrown, barely moving his legs, with small sleighs and a stack of books. He cannot take away a lot. And such a ghost of culture wanders around Tsarskoye Selo, along empty, dead streets, among the ruins, under shelling. He wanders and smiles pleasantly if he can find something of value, and sighs sadly if he attacks the traces of a good, but lost library.
He is especially upset that the library of Razumnik Vasilyevich has perished. She was in his apartment, on the territory of our sanatorium. Now this area is completely inaccessible to the civilian population. And there were collected several thousand volumes and all are unique. The soldiers tear and trample and heat the stoves with them. And there was his correspondence with such poets as Vyacheslav Ivanov. Bely, Blok, and other Symbolists, and all Acmeists. Several times they begged the Germans from this stupid SD to take out all these treasures. Every time they promised and did nothing, and now it’s all gone. Nothing left. So much for Goethe and Schiller! And how many “calf heads have been hammered into kkh that this library, in addition to its cultural significance, also has enormous material value and that the owner is giving up his rights to it, so that it does not perish,but it would be somewhere safe. - nothing helped! Now, if you tell them that in such and such a place there is a fur coat or something else of the same kind, there will be both means for transportation and brave men. In whatever dangerous place it is. No, our military commissars are much more understanding about such things.
08. 02.42 I'm very sad today. Our Vitya was accompanied. I decided to somehow get to my place in Torzhok. I went with a party of evacuees. Something we do not have now confidence in these evacuations. Officially, everything sounds extremely noble, but rumors even make their way to us, completely cut off from the world, as if evacuated, to Germany for the most difficult jobs. And that Russians are treated there as "Untermensch". You don't feel it here. There is military cruelty, there is the superiority of the conquerors, but we do not notice the "Untermenshe". And the rumors are very persistent. If even half of what is being said is true, then the thought involuntarily comes that, perhaps, the Russian people really do not have salvation for some of their special sins. Vitya, leaving us, cried. He said that we are much closer to him than his own father and mother. You should have seen his joy and concern for the little gifts that we gave him. Paints, Dickens's book, cooking room. All invaluable treasures for a Soviet boy at the age of 16.
02/09/42 There is a whisper more and more persistently that the allies, the Americans and the British, are providing tremendous assistance to the Bolsheviks, and that the Germans will soon suspend their victorious march across Russia. We don't really know anything here. We begin to trust German reports as little as the Bolsheviks. These gentlemen have a lot in common. According to their information, they are all moving forward. But why, here, with us, they stopped and did not move? It is high time to occupy Leningrad. They say that they decided not to waste energy on battles and want to extinct him clean.
02/11/42 The city is dying out. The streets are completely empty. It is simply impossible to walk along some streets in the morning. They carry corpses over them. Others are forbidden to walk on for some military reason. And so every morning you get a kind of moral exercise - 3 or 4 carts, loaded, at random, with completely naked corpses. And these are not some abstract corpses, but your friends and neighbors. And every time you ask yourself: won't they bring me tomorrow in the same way, or, even worse, Kolya? Never before this time have we been so close to each other as we are now. And we had to go through a lot of honey. Now our complete loneliness in this world is felt with extraordinary acuteness. In all this terrible and bloody world it sometimes seems that there are no people at all, but only animal faces and pitiful, half-crushed slaves. Where is the famous humanity? Or were our students at the East Faculty right when they paraphrased the ancient: homo homini pounding-eating? Well, if only I could see one of my own people and take a little away. Somewhere now, Anya and Ilya, and Nata, and Misha, and everyone you cannot talk or think about now. We see Ivanov-Razumnik very rarely. And they seem to have already reached the limit.
02/15/42 There was nothing to write down. Everything is the same and everything becomes more hopeless. But we do not succumb to this hopelessness. Ours must take. But today I can write down two joyful events. First, we met a priest who spent 10 years in a concentration camp. He was released just before the war, and already during it made his way to Tsarskoe to his mother. He raves about a new church life. The role of the parish is very high. These are the ones we need! Not giving up! He survived 10 years of a concentration camp and still wants to work for the benefit of the people. If a real priest were at the head of the parish, he could do a lot. Not with German kralechki, but with real youth who are eager for church and religious life. I know this, probably from conversations with prisoners of war in the bathhouse. People are dying of hunger, lice, typhoid,cruel and vile treatment of them by both the Germans and those Russians who are in power over them - and yet they have enough spiritual strength to surrender to thoughts of God and religion. The second event: a cheeky young man named Groman came to us. Son of Russian General Groman. Now German. Serves in the German army. He speaks excellent Russian. He heard from someone that we are selling carpet. He promises to bring three pounds of flour, bread, sugar, fat, tobacco and something else. Will he lie or not? I wanted to take the carpet right away, but I didn’t give it. She said that first the fee. And the pay is so hard to believe. At least I brought some. If this trick works completely, then we should pray for our cook until the end of our days. If not for “him, I would not have been able to go through the wood and would not have found a carpet.who are in power over them - and yet they have enough spiritual strength to surrender to thoughts of God and religion. The second event: a cheeky young man named Groman came to us. Son of Russian General Groman. Now German. Serves in the German army. He speaks excellent Russian. He heard from someone that we are selling carpet. He promises to bring three pounds of flour, bread, sugar, fat, tobacco and something else. Will he lie or not? I wanted to take the carpet right away, but I didn’t give it. She said that first the fee. And the pay is so hard to believe. At least I brought some. If this trick works completely, then we should pray for our cook until the end of our days. If not for “him, I would not have been able to go through the wood and would not have found a carpet.who are in power over them - and yet they have enough spiritual strength to surrender to thoughts of God and religion. The second event: a cheeky young man named Groman came to us. Son of Russian General Groman. Now German. Serves in the German army. He speaks excellent Russian. He heard from someone that we are selling carpet. He promises to bring three pounds of flour, bread, sugar, fat, tobacco and something else. Will he lie or not? I wanted to take the carpet right away, but I didn’t give it. She said that first the fee. And the pay is so hard to believe. At least I brought some. If this trick works completely, then we should pray for our cook until the end of our days. If not for “him, I would not have been able to go through the wood and would not have found a carpet.a cheeky young man named Groman came to us. Son of Russian General Groman. Now German. Serves in the German army. He speaks excellent Russian. He heard from someone that we are selling carpet. He promises to bring three pounds of flour, bread, sugar, fat, tobacco and something else. Will he lie or not? I wanted to take the carpet right away, but I didn’t give it. She said that first the fee. And the pay is so hard to believe. At least I brought some. If this trick works completely, then we should pray for our cook until the end of our days. If not for “him, I would not have been able to go through the wood and would not have found a carpet.a cheeky young man named Groman came to us. Son of Russian General Groman. Now German. Serves in the German army. He speaks excellent Russian. He heard from someone that we are selling carpet. He promises to bring three pounds of flour, bread, sugar, fat, tobacco and something else. Will he lie or not? I wanted to take the carpet right away, but I didn’t give it. She said that first the fee. And the pay is so hard to believe. At least I brought some. If this trick works completely, then we should pray for our cook until the end of our days. If not for “him, I would not have been able to go through the wood and would not have found a carpet. Will he lie or not? I wanted to take the carpet right away, but I didn’t give it. She said that first the fee. And the pay is so hard to believe. At least I brought some. If this trick works completely, then we should pray for our cook until the end of our days. If not for “him, I would not have been able to go through the wood and would not have found a carpet. Will he lie or not? I wanted to take the carpet right away, but I didn’t give it. She said that first the fee. And the pay is so hard to believe. At least I brought some. If this trick works completely, then we should pray for our cook until the end of our days. If not for “him, I would not have been able to go through the wood and would not have found a carpet.
02/22/42 Grohman did not go, and we almost went crazy, waiting for him. And then they lost hope, then they found it again. We began to seriously fear for our mental abilities. Finally, the first batch of flour, and most importantly bread, arrived. They took the carpet. And what bread! Real, rye, big. Not German-made soldier bricks. And not our ration, with sawdust. We just do not find a place with happiness. And the flour is also clean, rye. Will he bring the rest too? I can't believe it. The evacuation of the Volksdeutsch was announced in the city. Anyone who wants to is registered in Volksdeutsch and sent. Apparently, the command decided under this pretext to unload the city. Ivanovs, Petrovs, Nechipurenki follow Volksdeutsch. M. F. my husband was from Vilno, and we also decided to try to leave by Volksdeutsch. The Ivanovs-Razumniks also decided to leave. You need to go to the SD to some Paykhel,of whom there is fame that this is the most terrible of all SD investigators. Just a beast! He beats all the interrogated mercilessly. But since we have not committed any crime and are not going to commit it, I am not afraid, and tomorrow we will drown with M. F.
02/23/42 We were in the SD and nothing came of it except a very strange anecdote. It turns out that the terrible Payhel is our "Baby". Both of us lost our legs, and our tongues stuck when they led us into the office and pointed out the terrible Payhel. - Our "Baby" sits and smiles pleasantly at us. I even asked again: "Are you Payhel?" And he did not let us through. Quite kind, but categorical. Quite frankly, he pretended to be looking at some orders in some folders, and told us that we were not suitable. I fell into such rage and despair that I was numb and did not even quarrel with him. She would, of course, say a lot of things that are not at all supposed to say to the “most terrible SD investigator”. And help, of course, would not help. M. F. says that she was not so scared of anything as that. that I will begin to sort out my relationship with Payhel. The last hope to escape from here has failed.
02/25/42 The Davydovs also left with the Volksdeutsch. The only person who helped us somehow. The most piquant thing was that when Davydov's wife came to say goodbye to us, then "Baby" was with her. Davydov asked him to take care of us. I asked to translate. that Herr Peichel has already done everything he can for us. Moreover, it was said very expressively, and he had a very embarrassed face. And he muttered something that I didn't quite understand. but Davydova did not translate for me. There is something obscure in this whole story with "Baby". Either he thinks that it is dangerous to let us out of the front, and we are doomed to die here, or, in general, I do not understand anything. Ivanov-Razumnik was led to the car by the arms. He has a very bad stomach - hungry diarrhea. How will he get there! They are being taken somewhere 70 km away to a transit camp. Reason must travel from there to Lithuania,to his nephew, who has an estate there. If they get there, how happy they will be.
02/28/42 "Baby" comes to us as before, as if nothing had happened. Where do these people have their conscience hidden? We experienced another bitter disappointment. I don’t trust any people, neither European nor Russian, once and for all. But it's hard to believe me. that "Baby" is playing some kind of treacherous role in relation to us. The disappointment is: Fr. Vasily, on whom we had pinned so much hope for the work of parishes, renewal of religious life, etc., received permission from the Germans to move to Gatchina and he was given a truck for this case. Having loaded the truck to the limit with junk, he departed. Moreover, the car and the pass were given to him on the condition that he would not come back under any guise and not for one day. And so he still came back again and asked for one more car, since he could not bring all his things on the first one. He was fiercely and categorically refused, and demanded that he, as he please, at least on foot, but immediately leave the city. And so he came to us to complain about the Germans, how bad they are. At the same time, he was naively telling that the entire road to Gatchina was covered with corpses on both sides. And that an infinite number of barely wandering people are preparing new cadres of corpses. And how hard and pitiful it is to watch. I asked him why he didn’t drive any of them to Gatchina in his truck? At least a woman with two children, about whom he spoke so pathetically. I was terribly surprised. The car was almost overloaded, and a German sergeant-major was with him. When I told him that the sergeant major he could have ordered to stop and take people and that after this order the sergeant major would have respected him much more, he was shocked by the insolence of my thought and said sourly.that it is good for me to say that when it was not with me and things were not mine. I forgot all the due respect for the priest and said that if it was with us, we would throw away some of the things or even all, and take as many people as possible. And that a Catholic or Protestant priest would certainly do so. And he says something else about religious reforms. In general, we talked! He left offended. The Germans are terrible hoarders too. Now this is completely incomprehensible. After all, the rich are compared to us. One of our acquaintances, a young sergeant-major, came running to us under artillery fire across the city so that we could sign him an invoice, which says that we sold him some knitted children's things that he had stolen from a city factory. Everything on paper and of very low quality. And there were some of these things, even according to our Soviet calculation,for 5 or 6 rubles. The quality of these things is such that not every Soviet mistress would buy them in peacetime. And he sends these rags home to Germany. Those are Europe! And yet, in spite of our poverty, we are amazed at the poor quality of the material in which the German army is dressed. Cold overcoats, paper linen. Here they hunt for jackets and felt boots. They are being removed from the population right on the street. It is quite amazing that we managed to sell our casing on time. In general, our idea of the wealth of Europe, in the collision with the Germans, received very large amendments. Compared to the Soviet Union, they are rich, and if you remember Tsarist Russia, they are poor and wretched. They say it's because … the war. But they prepared uniforms before the war. And then, they conquered almost all of Europe. And, of course, they were not ashamed of Europe in the same way,how they did not hesitate with us … Probably the whole of Europe is the same. It becomes somehow boring to live, as you think about all this closely.
03.03.42 Yesterday some acquaintance of MF came to us. A simple woman. I gave her a piece of Graman's bread. She reverently took him in her arms, crossed herself, kissed him like kissing an icon, and only after that she began to eat. She ate and cried. “What kind of bread. Our, Russian, not German manure with sawdust. Just look at our village with one eye. " - "Why, you fled from the collective farm to the city!" “Yes, I did, we thought that the liberators would come, they would give me a new, divine life. And what are they doing, damn them! I would crush everyone with my own hands. They torture their own people there, but they don't mock them like that. And here every nasty bastard is playing the master. Well, nothing, if only they helped to get rid of those, and with this we will impose. They will remember …”- Voice of the people !!
03/05/42 The bread ran out, and Groman had no luck anymore. The flour is also running out. I shouldn't have given the carpet. And he stole some old German book from Kolya and promised to give 100 German marks for it. And, of course, he gave nothing. There is no longer, it seems, absolutely nothing that could be changed. We don't know what will happen next. Spring is not coming soon. The old-timers do not remember such a cold winter. It's good that you have as much fuel as you want. Only it is more and more difficult to cut it. Neither Kolya nor I can. And MF is giving up strongly. Sometimes the tenants help us. But now everyone is saving their strength. Sometimes, furtively, so that other soldiers would not see us, Vanya-Duranya and Felix, his friend, help us.
03/10/42 The bathhouse broke down and began to be repaired. They say that now, perhaps, we will serve the Germans. Bednova is delighted. We got sick with typhus, two bath attendants and one stoker. Probably, the turn will come to us. Of course, we will not transfer it. With our exhaustion, this is a sure end.
03/15/42 Yesterday we tidied up and licked the bath after the renovation. MF had just retreated to a corner and was cleaning the door, when a shell hit the attic, and she was covered with lime from the ceiling. A bit hurt by a piece of plaster. It is impossible for her, poor thing, to wash her hair of lime, since there is not a single piece and no soap. I stole all the soda from the first aid kit while Bednova was flirting with a German policeman who came to find out what damage the shell caused. MF was somehow washed with soda.
03/18/42 We started working with the Germans. It would not have been at all difficult after the prisoners of war, if Bednova had not tried to arrange a brothel for the Germans from the bathhouse. It's good that I sit almost all the time in my cell and do not see all the outrage. Sometimes I just feel sorry for her, but more often it is disgusting. And this toadying to every German, just because he is a German.
03/19/42 Yesterday an interpreter was appointed to us. A man hungry to the limit. He received his translator's ration, which is much larger than ours. Sits, chews all the time and whispers: "I want to eat, I want to eat …" Endlessly. It is impossible to tear him off his bread even for a minute. We talk ourselves, as best we can, with the Germans. I demanded from Bednova that she take him away from the German eyes, because the soldiers mock him, but he does not see anything, he only smears slices of bread with margarine or Kunstkhonig, chews and mutters. He, of course, will die, since he has already eaten two of the four due to him a week, and wants to start on the third. They hid him to the stokers.
03/20/42 At night, the translator died of volvulus.
03/25/42 Easter is coming soon. It is absolutely impossible to imagine anything more sad. We stretch the rations for 4 days, the rest of the days we eat literally nothing.
04/02/42 Good Thursday. Not to church, not a candle.
04/05/42 Easter. In the morning there was not a crumb of bread and nothing at all … Frost is about 20 degrees. Kolya is very bad. I am also very unwell. Flu, probably. Nevertheless, MF and I put on all our best rags and went to church. The frost is about 20 degrees. The service was in the afternoon, at 10 am. Some people sacred “Easter cakes, what a pitiful sight it was! And not a single egg. After we got home, Kolya and MF went for rations. The government did not even achieve (and did not achieve) that the ration was given on Saturday, and not on Bright Resurrection. Yesterday I met the mayor's assistant, who was carrying a sack of SD flour on his shoulders, and asked him if it was possible to get a ration on Saturday. He rudely declared that nothing could be done. And he received flour for the "help provided to the Russian population." So much for the assistant professor! Intellectual! Communist! Ours left for a ration, and I lay down,because I felt really bad. Chills. Klopfen came, whom we gave to exchange our last treasure - the Palekh casket. Brought bread and margarine. Before screaming, I wanted to start eating, but he never left and did not leave. Finally I left and I cut a piece of bread, but to my amazement I could not eat. It's disgusting. She lighted the stove and cooked them bread soup with margarine. How glad they were when they found ready-made food. Thank God I don't feel like eating at all. In order not to frighten Kolya, I sipped some soup. But it was very disgusting. Apparently, I really am sick. It's good that on the occasion of Easter you can lie down and not get up until Wednesday. Temperature 39.6.but he still did not leave and did not leave. Finally I left and I cut a piece of bread, but to my amazement I could not eat. It's disgusting. She lighted the stove and cooked them bread soup with margarine. How glad they were when they found ready-made food. Thank God I don't feel like eating at all. In order not to frighten Kolya, I sipped some soup. But it was very disgusting. Apparently, I really am sick. It's good that on the occasion of Easter you can lie down and not get up until Wednesday. Temperature 39.6.but he still did not leave and did not leave. Finally I left and I cut a piece of bread, but to my amazement I could not eat. It's disgusting. She lighted the stove and cooked them bread soup with margarine. How glad they were when they found ready-made food. Thank God I don't feel like eating at all. In order not to frighten Kolya, I sipped some soup. But it was very disgusting. Apparently, I really am sick. It's good that on the occasion of Easter you can lie down and not get up until Wednesday. Temperature 39.6.that on the occasion of 'Easter, you can lie down and not get up until Wednesday. Temperature 39.6.that on the occasion of 'Easter, you can lie down and not get up until Wednesday. Temperature 39.6.
04/08/42 They called a doctor. I have typhoid. Tomorrow they will be taken to the hospital.
10.04.42. I left the hospital yesterday. And today I was already at work. But she could not work and lay all the time in the dressing room on the sofa. I'm afraid they'll be removed from the ration, but I want to eat to the point of madness.
04/12/42 They gave me a vacation with the preservation of the ration. For a month. It is still very difficult to write, but I must write down everything that Kolya did for me during my illness. How good that spring and the sun! And I sit in the yard all day and warm myself. Only I really want to eat. Kolya used to come to me every day under the window, as nobody was allowed to see us. How unhappy he was there, you cannot tell. For the first two weeks, I could only get up in bed and nod my head. Unconscious was only a day. But terrible weakness and apathy - pains in my legs, and my old neuralgic pains were so unbearable that I recall this time with horror and disgust. After the crisis, only terrible weakness and hunger remained. And hungry psychosis. I could not think of anything else, nor speak. And she wrote terrible notes to Kolya. And he, unhappy, tearing away from his ration, since M. F.immediately separated with her ration, brought me three times a day a talker or whatever he could get his hands on. Once he brought cat soup, once or twice he brought fried sparrows. They have nothing but seeds and are very bitter. Real game. My ration, of course, was taken away from me to the hospital, like all patients, and we received hardly half of it. The rest was stolen. I will live another thousand years, I will never forget this terrible, hunched figure under the window. And his smiles. Stands under the window with a pot of talkers and smiles. Nothing emphasized to me the madness of the world in which we live as this smile of his. But my psychosis overshadowed the whole world. If Kolya came a few minutes later than what seemed to me the limit of expectation, I fell into a rage and wrote him the most disgusting notes. - And he is glad to get rid of me, and he wantsso that I die, and other nasty things. This was the whole first week after the crisis. Now I am ashamed to remember. Heart is breaking. And he meekly endured all this and continued his daily travels. Somehow they managed, somehow, to get three eggs, and they brought one of them to me. All the nurses and doctors came running to look at the real egg. And I, breaking it, cried bitterly, as it turned out to be soft-boiled. I was sure that it was cool, and lasciviously dreamed of how I would 'split it in half and eat one half now, and the other tomorrow morning with a slice of bread, which we are supposed to have three times a day. And suddenly - confusion! It was a real grief for me, and now I am not funny or ashamed. The torment of hunger that we all endured after typhus defies any description. You have to experience something like that yourself in order to understand. And my poor scarecrow was also completely upset. Finally, I was discharged. And I am at home, and I have not died, and I get my ration, and I am with him again, and young nettles have appeared. There is no way to describe the satisfaction you get from eating chatterbox with nettles. Hearty and delicious. Quinoa will appear soon, and it can be added to flour and made cakes. After all, we survived the winter. Maybe we can hold out further. There are about two and a half thousand people left in the city. The rest became extinct. There are about two and a half thousand people left in the city. The rest became extinct. There are about two and a half thousand people left in the city. The rest became extinct.
04/29/42 MF has been unwell for a week now. The doctor examined her in semi-darkness and determined the flu, and this morning I clearly saw typhoid spots. She begs me not to tell any of the doctors and not send her to the hospital. I promised, although it is still very difficult for me to look after her. I am still weak. And Kolya is now alone with the housework, with rations, and firewood. He stokes the stove and cooks dinner. Typhus now has a very strange, mild form.
05/01/42 On the occasion of the proletarian holiday, the Bolsheviks treated us to very hot shooting. But everyone is completely indifferent.
05/03/42 The night was terrible. MF had a crisis, Kolya was lying on the other bed opposite her, he had something very bad with his heart, I put them together, because in the dark it is very difficult to walk from one room to another. And I spent the whole night poking one another, camphor. It's good that Kolya had typhoid fever before: there was nothing to boil the needle on and I poked them with the same one. Carry it, Lord! I fell asleep for half an hour only in the morning …
05/05/42, apparently, the danger for Kolya has passed. MF entered the strip after a typhoid famine. I don’t know what to do! No amount of nettle helps! What should I feed them with? It's good that she gets her rations at home. If they found out that we have a typhoid patient in our house, Kolya and I would be quarantined, it seems, for a month. This would mean that none of the patient's family could go out into the street. The neighbors should have brought them rations. There is no control over these neighbors. Some families died out because they couldn't even go to complain. Sisters also sometimes have to attend to such patients. But there are few sisters, and they are almost all like Bednova. In general, the Germans take in relation to the Russian population, in these matters, a position of non-interference: whoever survives - let him survive, dies - is to blame. Tired of it! Tired of being afraid, tired of starvingtired of waiting for something that apparently will never come true!
05/08/42 Spring! Such a wonderful time, especially in our city. But now we feel it only with our stomachs: we eat nettles, quinoa and some other vile herbs. The parks are closed and mined. The trees, these wonderful old lindens and maples, were either smashed by shells, or chopped down by the Germans, or rather, Russian women, to build bunkers and other military filth. There is almost no one on the streets. Ruins. And only palaces like. a ghost of some sort, sticking out over the city. They say that the Germans shot Jews and Communists at the "Girl with a Jug". Damned!
05/09/42 Today the mayor came to us and said that he was moving to the same position in Pavlovsk and would bother to drag us there too. After all, this is no longer at the front itself, but three kilometers from it. Maybe it will be better there. MF is recovering amazingly quickly. It seems to me that she has some secret nutritional resources that she uses when Kolya and I are not at home. I stopped asking for food like that. And in general it looks much better for her illness and for our time than it should be. Thank God! One more burden disappears. And what is it, so to speak, unethical, then we saw!
05/12/42 Today another small miracle happened to us. A young corporal brought my uniform from the front to disinfection. While waiting for disinfection, we got into a conversation. I asked about his "beruf". They love to talk about their peaceful affairs. Turned out to be an architect from Munich. I clung to him so. Munich! I dreamed of its architecture all my life. I should have a look! Well, of course, he melted and began to tell me. And he switched to Bavarian jargon. When he spoke in the literary language, I still understood something, but how he hissed in Bavarian - at least a word. But all the same she sat, shook her head, assented. The conversation was the most lively. Kolya came in the midst of it. The architect asked me who is this, my father? And when I said that my husband, I was completely shocked. He asked who he was by profession, and when he learned that he was a historian, he jumped from his seat and started babbling,that he will return this minute, asks me to wait for him, that his uniforms will be taken away by his soldiers - he disappeared. The soldiers took the uniforms, the bathhouse upstairs had already been closed, the forbidden hour is already approaching, but it’s still gone. I also can't leave, don't give a damn about him, since the German sergeant major is in some way my superiors. Finally, we had only a few minutes left to run to the house, he appeared. It turns out that he ran into the trenches on a motorcycle and brought us bread, margarine, tobacco, "kunstkhoniga" and sausages. I cried. I burst into tears because not all humanity in people has disappeared, and our intellectual "clan" still exists. He brought us all this, of course, only because we are the same intellectuals as he is. We were all embarrassed by our nobility. And the forbidden hour has already come. He loaded Kolya and me on his motorcycle and drove home to us. I would give dearly to look at us from the side. Especially me, riding on the trunk. And behind Kolya. The city at the forbidden hour makes an eerie impression. Absolutely dead, And it was still light. We didn't even get a single patrol. This is probably what the city of Sleeping Beauty looked like. At our house he sat for a few minutes, apparently guessing that we now have no time for cultural conversations, but want to gulp. God, sausage! We thought that such things are now only in textbooks on the history of the Middle Ages. We do not know his name or surname. He said he was a Nazi. What it is and how it differs from a fascist - we did not know. And all the same. He's just a kind person …And behind Kolya. The city at the forbidden hour makes an eerie impression. Absolutely dead, And it was still light. We didn't even get a single patrol. This is probably what the city of Sleeping Beauty looked like. At our house he sat for a few minutes, apparently guessing that we now have no time for cultural conversations, but want to gulp. God, sausage! We thought that such things are now only in textbooks on the history of the Middle Ages. We do not know his name or surname. He said he was a Nazi. What it is and how it differs from a fascist - we did not know. And all the same. He's just a kind person …And behind Kolya. The city at the forbidden hour makes an eerie impression. Absolutely dead, And it was still light. We didn't even get a single patrol. This is probably what the city of Sleeping Beauty looked like. At our house he sat for a few minutes, apparently guessing that we now have no time for cultural conversations, but want to gulp. God, sausage! We thought that such things are now only in textbooks on the history of the Middle Ages. We do not know his name or surname. He said he was a Nazi. What it is and how it differs from a fascist - we did not know. And all the same. He's just a kind person …that we now have no time for cultural conversations, but want to gulp. God, sausage! We thought that such things are now only in textbooks on the history of the Middle Ages. We do not know his name or surname. He said he was a Nazi. What it is and how it differs from a fascist - we did not know. And all the same. He's just a kind person …that we now have no time for cultural conversations, but want to gulp. God, sausage! We thought that such things are now only in textbooks on the history of the Middle Ages. We do not know his name or surname. He said he was a Nazi. What it is and how it differs from a fascist - we did not know. And all the same. He's just a kind person …
05/15/42 Two stokers of the bath died today. Poisoned with some kind of methyl, or wood alcohol. There was a "secret" investigation, from which it became quite obvious that both of them were secret employees of the German secret police. Now it became clear why they so often talked about the fact that the Germans and such and such and that and that under the Bolsheviks it was much better to live …
05/20/42 Received a piece of paper from Pavlovsk that we are transferring there. MF decided not to come with us. She had some food opportunities. We are very happy about this. Let him live as he wants …
05/25/42 Already in Pavlovsk … We settled well … The shooting here is much less and more like a peaceful life. There are shops and a market. More products and money can buy them. Kolya was appointed "director" of the school. But the main thing that attracts him is the emerging opportunity to publish a newspaper. Russian. And, like, as free. The dream of his whole life. The propaganda department invited him to compose the first issue. We have been sitting on this for three days and three nights. On the same day, as we arrived, we sat down. Only for some reason it seems to me that nothing will come of it. We will not please the owners. They say that the Germans have nothing to beat. But it is not they who are terrible, but those Russians who are in their presence both in translators and in officials. These are all impossible bandits just thinking about how to rob the population. They have absolutely nothing to do with the so-called Russian case. They are not devoted to business,and soldering …
05/26/42 The biggest speculator in Pavlovsk is a priest.
05/27/42 Today I started a new career - fortune-tellers. There are a lot of German "kralechki" here … I think this is the smartest profession at the present time: firstly, it is profitable, and secondly, psychotherapy in a way … And then this profession is the most convenient for propaganda. Paradoxically … the more a girl enjoys success with the Germans, the more she seems to become attached to some Hans or Fritz, the more longing for her home and the past. And that not all "kralechki" are only sold for bread and for a soldier's soup, this is an absolute truth. A very small percentage of cynically sold … And what kind of strong and touching novels are among them …
05/28/42 We got acquainted with the local intelligentsia: doctors and engineers, mainly. Several teachers. The audience is extremely gray and thinks of nothing but the belly. The only doctor who has any ideas is Anna Pavlovna. But she has one idea - hatred of the Germans (hatred of the Bolsheviks is implied). And that's good. Maybe it will be possible to instill in her some positive ideas … the entire Russian intelligentsia now lives only on negative ideas - the idea of hatred for the Bolsheviks, mainly. The local commandant's office is much worse than Tsarskoye Selo. There, people were busy with their front-line affairs, and the population was left to die out or survive at its discretion. The local one interferes in the affairs of the population and nothing good comes of it. But all this is still only the stories of our new friends. And now we are used to believing only our own eyes, and even then not always.
05/29/42 My divination is going uphill. The girls are running. It is, of course, very easy for them to guess. King, love to the grave, an ambulance, road. This is the main thing. All of them passionately dream of the road. Anywhere, just to get out of here.
06/19/42 Kolya is in despair. The Germans, as expected, did not allow the newspaper. Of course, the trial number that we compiled did not suit them in any way … They had to act somewhat veiled. Ours, the local ones, could have been deceived, and it would have been possible, but they themselves cannot decide anything, like the Bolsheviks. They also have centralization. And in Gatchina, apparently, they are not completely fools … I feel very sorry for Kolya. Again he will yearn for nothing. His school is one of the front-line "fictions".
06/20/42 A certain engineer Belyavsky lives next to us. Entrepreneur. Has a shoe factory. All cars, of course, are stolen, or bought with a loaf of bread. He's always got Germans and drunkenness. A type of disgusting exploiter. He asked Kolya to give history lessons to his overgrown daughter, who is not interested in any stories except love stories. He treats Russians disgustingly. Recently he gave it to the face of an old stove-maker. The Russian people do not forget this …
06/22/42 Today I saw a Soviet pilot descending by parachute. It is impossible to believe that … (this) figure floating so beautifully in the air, the same bandit who dropped two bombs over the market and killed about two dozen women and children. The Germans shot down the plane and it threw itself out. The women, looking at him, shouted: "Let him just go down over the city, we will tear it to pieces." And they would tear it apart. The Germans picked him up near their trenches.
06/25/42 All days are similar to one another. All the time we are looking for food, which is more here than in Tsarskoe Selo, but still not enough … There is talk that the Spaniards will soon come to us. The famous "blue division" …
07/01/42 in the commandant's office there is … a corporal who personally whips the guilty girls … A theater is being organized. All singers, entertainers and ballerinas are extremely excited. It's good that at least it will be. Otherwise, there is no cultural life. Only Colin's school, which learns different little things. No, there is one "cultural" institution. A brothel for German soldiers. It is served by Russian girls appointed by the commandant … A well-maintained brothel, organized quite officially, is something that does not fit into Russian concepts at all. The Bolsheviks had clandestine prostitution, but officially it was severely punished and the population got used to the fact that prostitution was a crime: Here, this house is run by one quite decent Russian woman. And not only supervises, but also thanks God for such "work". And she is full and her family is full …
07/30/42 Recruitment for work in Germany is going on quite intensively. They take not only labor for work, but also specialists. Mostly engineers. The population is eager for these works, but it is absolutely impossible to establish the signs by which the Germans select the people. Even not quite young and healthy people get there. The mayor is an associate professor at the Dairy Institute and is in awe of Kolya, whose lectures on history he listened to …
08.08.42 They say that the Spaniards came … Yesterday I just met the Spanish translator. A certain Trikdan Alexander Alexandrovich. Russian emigrant. This is the second "White Guard" we see …
08/15/42 Today some type of propaganda came to us. German. He invited Kolya to work for them. The work is reduced to the study of the Greek pattern "meander", from which the swastika was formed. … in general, the Germans have something unspecified in their attitude to the Russians. The fact that we hear about labor camps, which are many around, but which we cannot see in any way, because we are deprived of the possibility of movement, leads to very sad thoughts … And it seems that no Germans are liberators, but the same bastard … but a very significant plus of the Germans is that they are compared to the Bolsheviks in the sense of oppressing puppies. And they arranged their people, apparently, as it should. We will arrange our own … Let only they help us eliminate the Bolsheviks. But they, apparently, do not want to, and do not know how to help us in this. More and more rumors of guerrilla warfare. If these rumors and nonsense, it is still very indicative of the mood of the Russian people.
08/20/42 in the list of new books in emigration there is a book … by an old friend of A. Trushnovich "USSR and Russia", who left for Belgrade from Moscow in 1934.
08/25/42 I met another translator from the Spaniards. A certain Dotsky. Also a white emigrant and a very standard one - a Parisian chauffeur, then a mercenary of the Spanish army. True, he fought against the Red Army, but this is probably an accident. Franco paid more. A vulgar grabber … Through Dotsky for a bribe … I get a job as head of a Spanish laundry. The Spaniards are kinder, more humane and fairer. The Spaniards destroyed all our ideas about them as a proud, beautiful, noble people, etc. No operas. Small, nimble, like monkeys, dirty and thieving, like gypsies. But they are very good-natured. All German kralechki immediately spread from the Germans to the Spaniards. And the Spaniards also show great tenderness and affection for Russian girls. There is hatred between them and the Germans, which is still fueled by rivalry among women. The Spaniards receive two rations. One from the German army, the other from their government and distribute the surplus to the population. The population immediately appreciated all the Spanish good nature and immediately became attached to the Spaniards in a way that it could never have attached to the Germans. Especially the kids. If a German rides a cart, you will never see children on it. If a Spaniard is traveling, then he is not visible for the children. And all these Jose and Pepe walk the streets, hung with children …
09/17/42 (an example is given of how a Spanish captain rescued a homeless boy during a shelling - NL) … the behavior of the captain is apparently considered (among the Spaniards) completely normal … How can the population not like these half-witted?
09/30/42 Of course, working with the Germans is much better. They always know what they want. And these inspirational people always let you down. For example, the captain doesn't need to be inspired and order all the water prepared for washing to be spent on washing the soldiers. The laundry urgently turns into a bathhouse, the laundresses sit idle for half a day, and then hysteria begins about being late with the order. And the soldiers in half an hour manage to become as dirty as before washing …
10/01/42 The Spaniards buried a girl who was killed by a shell. They carried the coffin in their arms, and everyone wept. They robbed the entire greenhouse that the Germans had built. They say that this was not without a scuffle … Many of them go to our church … They pray a lot and willingly. Each has icons and amulet on its neck.
10/05/42 My Spaniards tire me more and more. I have no strength to work with them. It is interesting to draw a parallel between the Germans and the Spaniards as we see them.
1. The Germans are quiet and calm. The Spanish are noisy and restless like young puppies.
2. The Germans unquestioningly obey any order, whatever it may be. The Spaniards always strive not to carry out the order, whatever it may be. Germans "ferboten" to offend Spaniards as guests. And they outwardly treat them kindly, although they passionately hate them. The Spaniards, on the other hand, slaughter the Germans every Saturday night after drinking their weekly rationed wine. Sometimes, even during the day, while sober, they beat the Germans with mortal combat. The Germans are only defending themselves.
3. The Germans are extremely frugal with uniforms and food. The linen is worn patched. Neatly darn their own socks and stuff. Not a single crumb of food is wasted from them. The Spaniards, having received a completely new silk underwear, take scissors and turn underpants into panties. The remains are thrown away to the delight of my laundresses …
The Spaniards travel 35 kilometers from Pavlovsk for food every week. And everyone knows what they got for this week. If these are lemons, then the exhaust pipe of the truck is plugged with lemon and lemons stick out in all possible and impossible places. If apples - the same happens with apples and everything else …
4 … The Germans are brave insofar as they are ordered by the Fuhrer to be brave. The Spaniards are completely ignorant of the sense of self-preservation. They knock out over 50% of the composition of any unit, the remaining 50% continue to go into battle with songs. We observed this with our own eyes …
5. The Germans, despite their sentimentality, are very rude to women. They like to arrange a semblance of family life with their girlfriends, but in essence they are selfish and boors with them … And in the "campaign" they force the girls to clean the restrooms after themselves and with pleasure and mockery foul everything. It costs a German nothing to hit a woman.
Spaniards - passion, swoop and genuine respect for a woman. They can very easily and simply kill their girlfriend out of jealousy, but they will never hit. The Germans and Spaniards agree on only one thing - in their violent hatred for each other. I think that in the event of, say, a coup, the Spaniards would gladly go with us to beat the Germans … If the Germans have all their allies like that, then their business is over …
06.10.42 The Germans announced recruitment to workers' battalions. Huge propaganda posters were posted. Among other points that describe all the benefits that await those who signed up, there is this: the workers' battalions will receive soap on a par with the German soldiers. What kind of stupidity is this: you cannot so naively admit your poverty … Everyone is furiously scoffing at this point … What squalor of thought and fantasy. But still the remnants of the youth … go. Our present life is too hungry and hopeless. Still, there is even a hope not to starve to death. Today I got into a conversation with one of my laundresses, an intelligent girl Zoya. It is becoming more and more pro-Soviet. She has been working hard since the beginning of the war, since she does not want to be sold for soup in soldiers' units …
11/05/42 (acquaintance with the Basques - NL) … How different they are from the Spaniards. Very attractive appearance. Tall, thin … As if carved out of stone. They are very restrained and noble …
12.11.42 Various dignitaries continue to be interested in Kolya … new SD came to get acquainted … They asked us to draw up our wishes about the newspaper …
11/16/42 Meeting new friends from the SD is becoming more and more "intimate". Today we were for the third time (I was interested as a fortune teller) … After the fortune-telling, they asked me to write small notes about the "mood of the population." Please … I know what to write to them, I also know the mood of the population very well. The order must be completed the day after tomorrow. … Today the "friends" came again. I completed the order. My memo was for all tastes. And about the flogging of girls in the police and about the appointment of (sick) women by German doctors … to saw wood, and a brothel and all the pleasures. And you will not undermine. We are scientists. In everything, of course, the German government is not at all to blame, but only bad soldiers and officers. I pointed out what harm this brings to "our common cause" - the struggle against the Bolsheviks … Of course, there was a deep and very naive disappointment…. The question was "hushed up" and left with a chill. Let them look for other informants. They needed the mood of the Russian people. Get it!
11/26/42 … Friends from SD come "just" to talk … They usually delicately "forget" my cigarettes and tobacco … Today I told Kurt that we will be with them until the end. Until they defeat the Bolsheviks. And then we'll see what the Germans bring us. He said that to him … I can say this, but that no other Germans should be told this … It is a dubious advantage to be appreciated by enemy intelligence. After all, now it is already quite clear that the Germans are not our helpers in our struggle against the Bolsheviks. And we cannot rely on anyone but ourselves.
12/01/42 suddenly came across a book by Ivan Solonevich "Escape from the Soviet paradise". I read it all night. No one has yet written such a truth about our dear homeland. It became a shame that we are sitting here in this hole. And we could write something like that. Kolya still dreams of a newspaper …
12.21.42 Some type of propaganda came from Gatchina. German. He invited Kolya to go to work for them, and, therefore, to move to Gatchina. Still, it seems, our liberation from the front is approaching …
12/23/42 Strange, but Christmas is felt in our terrible and fantastic world. The Germans feel it more sharply than the Spaniards (although they earnestly pray and outwardly pious!) … Apparently, my shares are worth high. Dotsky CAM brought gifts for me and the laundresses …
12/27/42 All our German friends have stayed with us during these days. Soldiers, of course … Our SD friends sent us everything that is due to German soldiers: acorn cookies, cigarettes, drops, but they themselves tactfully did not come …
1943 year
01/02/43 There are alarming rumors that the Bolsheviks have launched a major offensive. Where is unknown. We do not receive newspapers. Radio is banned on pain of being shot. Torn away from the whole world.
01/06/43… Rumors about the camps in Germany are getting worse and impossible.
01/08/43 (about the scandal between the Germans and the Spaniards because of the girl whipped by the German, which ended with the fact that) the Spaniards … began to beat all the Germans they came across on the way. The carnage was real. As always, in today's crazy world, knighthood was shown not by officers … but by ordinary soldiers. It seems that now all over the world people are better than their rulers and their "elite". The Germans seem to be doing everything they can to push people away from them. Idiots. What a misfortune for the Russian people that they have to wait for help from the Germans, and not from real democratic peoples. But these democratic peoples are helping the Bolsheviks strenuously, betraying the Russian people to mockery and destruction. Don't they understand what kind of noose they are preparing for their own head?.. They say that they understand only their own benefit. And this is not. It is clear to any Russian collective farmer that it would be more profitable to let the Germans defeat the Bolsheviks, and then, together with Russia, defeat the Germans.
01/16/43 Rumors that the Germans were stuck tightly - more and more persistent. The Germans themselves and the allies are blamed for this. Are all the sacrifices made by the Russian people in this war in vain! And what kind of unfortunate we are.
01/22/43 As if some kind of glimmer of hope. Today the mayor had a man straight from Berlin and talked about some Soviet general Vlasov. He tells incredible things. As if this general, with the permission of the Germans and with their help, is organizing the Russian army from prisoners of war and ostovites. This is the name of those who went to Germany to work. Such incredible things are told about their situation in the camps that it would have been impossible to believe if our dear government had not taught us anything vile to be surprised. Is it possible that any other government in the world forbade relatives to correspond with their prisoners of war and help them. And she arranged ours without batting an eye. The army is called the Russian Liberation Army. ROA … this movement seems to be not a restoration. The ideology for this army is supplied by some émigré party. So, again some Socialist-Revolutionaries or Mensheviks. There seem to be no other parties there. It doesn't matter. Any party is good if it is against the Bolsheviks and if it works against them. How stupid that he doesn't really know anything. And how is it, to sit in Berlin and not ask such a thing.
01/25/43 Another Tatiana's day in the war. It's hard and sad. As if not a year and a half had passed, but a century and a half, as we did not see our Leningraders. We are very alone here. Nobody is interested in what interests us. True, the most roguish public like Belkovsky survived here, the rest either died out, or fled, or were taken out by the Germans. The most interesting thing is to observe the "exes" who got out from somewhere. There is even one zemstvo chief. All of them passionately dream of restoration, of getting back their estates, of the opportunity to continue life from the very moment at which it was interrupted in 17. The people for them are still cattle, and they dream of dealing with them for all their grievances. And in front of the Germans they fawn and lick their heels. So Belkovsky hits the face of a Russian stove-maker and humiliates himself to nausea in front of a German chimney-sweep. I saw it with my own eyes and just in front of the chimney sweep. …
02/03/43 The matter is moving towards spring … The evacuation is intensifying. They say that soon all of us will be taken out. The people no longer believe in any "they say".
02/08/43 (after several days of fighting for Krasny Bor - NL) The battle was over. … The Spaniards and the entire Russian population fought with rifles and revolvers. The Reds did not "release" anyone and did not take prisoners. They brought tanks to houses and hit houses and basements where the Russians were hiding. The Spaniards stood above all praise. The Reds were beaten out. The Spanish lost up to 50% of the unit, but they continued to fight. Even the Germans admire them … The population immediately renamed "Krasny Bor" to "Myasnoy Bor". This is a very small matter and has no significance in the general course of the war. But we are completely indifferent - whether we die with a big deal, or when "there is no change at the front." And especially all the same to get to the red with or without a battle. I relieved for a while. And so we live all the time.
02/20/43 Rumors about the defeat of the Germans and about the beginning of the big offensive of the Bolsheviks are confirmed. Some German army was killed at Stalingrad. Unhappy Russian people. Something awaits him. Nothing good. For myself, I became calmer. A firm decision always helps. We will not fall into the hands of the Bolsheviks. I look at Kolya and me as on death row. She took out more morphine. Rumors about the formation of General Vlasov's army are confirmed. But isn't it too late? It’s scary if she’s some kind of army gen. Krasnova. I represent these "liberators". I myself am a Cossack and I know Cossacks well. They, like the other "former" ones, did not learn anything. There will only be an extra massacre, and then the people will finally trust no one. They will discredit any idea of liberation. Shkuro is named among the "liberators". How strange it is to hear those names now. The Russian people are accustomed to combine with these names everything that was only bad in the monarchy and the white movement … Did the Russian emigration really not give anything else? The Russian people will now go with anyone against the Bolsheviks. But after their overthrow, the massacre will begin again. If what we hear about Vlasov's army is true, then this is a true liberator … It's terrible to believe. And this liberation could not have been born with such pain.
03/01/43 We received a completely official message that we are moving to Gatchina … Kolya is invited to work in propaganda … It is not known what will be forced to do in this very propaganda. If you write research about the baths from the point of view of Zarathustra, this is still nothing. One hope for German, or rather fascist, idiocy. As we distinguish between the Russian people and Bolshevism, so we also distinguish the German people and fascism. And another hope for that. that the further to the rear. the more opportunities to finally meet those. who will indicate how to contact the Vlasov case. That's where we would start propaganda … At least get out of here as soon as possible. After all, this is also a prison, only an extended model. The mayor says that there is a very nice and warm campaign in the Gatchina propaganda, which sets itself the goal of beating the Germans. God grant that. Their newspaper, which Kurt brought us,let’s say it’s no good. A provincial Soviet rag … The former editor of a district Soviet newspaper is really there as an editor. After all, people manage to get to such a place. And we are like in a trap. They say that newspapers and Russian books are published in the western regions - in Minsk, Mogilev. Why do we have such squalor here? The front is in the way. Such terrible junk comes to us from the stuff published by the Germans for the Russians that it becomes scary: have all the real poets and writers really stayed "there"?Why do we have such squalor here? The front is in the way. Such terrible junk comes to us from the stuff published by the Germans for the Russians that it becomes scary: have all the real poets and writers really stayed "there"?Why do we have such squalor here? The front is in the way. Such terrible junk comes to us from the stuff published by the Germans for the Russians that it becomes scary: have all the real poets and writers really stayed "there"?
03/11/43 Killed a speculator with a shell. The government shared the inheritance. We got her last ration, with which she was killed. The policeman brought us a bag of rations. At the bottom we found her passport and it contains 11,000 rubles and several precious stones and a gold watch wrapped in a rag. Kolya went to the mayor and told about the find. He rushed in like a scalded one and took everything … After that, we had a whole pilgrimage of the whole city - they came and asked: is it true that we gave money and jewelry to the council?, wanted to hang himself. And doctors, teachers, engineers and other color of the intelligentsia were upset by our insanity. Either we are really insane, or the whole world has gone crazy and only we are normal. Disgusting to death. I seem to be rightthat all the former "isms" have now been replaced by "spanism" and the world lives by it.
03/15/43 Our "Don Quixote" … even evoked a response in such a noble institution as the SD … Kurt and Paul came to find out if all this was true. They looked so idiotically solemn that I could not resist and began to laugh. Kolka is mad. He was terribly tired of this whole story, and he says that next time he will certainly steal money so as not to play the role of a nobly revealing idiot. Brags. Will not steal.
04/15/43 (about parting with the Spaniards - NL) … They brought me a lot of photographs as a keepsake. And there is even a captain. I will keep it. And just think, we have an acquaintance with the Spaniards. If anyone predicted such a thing in April 1941, they would look like they were crazy. After that cloggedness and isolation from the whole world, our present scanty freedom seems fantastic. And even already this freedom to some extent have been sated. We do not scold the Bolsheviks every minute now, as before. Our feelings for them remained the same, but we got used to the consciousness that we can now talk about what we were afraid to think about before, so as not to let it slip in a dream.
04/19/43 We are not moving to Gatchina, but to Tosno. It is 20 kilometers from the front. Deep in the rear …
05/06/43. Tosno … We drove for two days. We stopped for the night in one of the Russian labor camps, which is located only 25 km from Pavlovsk, but we have never heard of it … It is located right in the swamp. Very clean in the barracks. But at night there are clouds of mosquitoes in the rooms … People look like ghosts. When our car stopped, one of the passing camp inmates said very angrily: some gentlemen had come to our head. It became very bitter. And then there was the tactlessness of our German escort. He immediately assigned a girl from the camp to me "for services". But then we became friends … She realized that we are not "gentlemen" … They live worse than we do in Pavlovsk … Real Russian people work in propaganda here. Military. Soviet all. It is very strange to host party members at my table … And so I sing tea to my worst enemies. This is how we looked at all party members in the USSR. And among them, it turns out, there are many decent people … Of course, they could not not work for the party, being in it. Well, leaving the party is better and easier to commit suicide … Almost all the propagandists who work here are former party members. And it is impossible to suspect them of insincerity. In general, we have learned more party members here in a week than in our entire life there. All of them are uncultured people, but interesting. The Germans are especially cultured and do not need them, because they themselves show more and more their utter savagery. And our party members and the Germans, well, are exactly the same in terms of narrow outlook and general illiteracy. Only the Germans are fatter and the collars are cleaner. And for spiritual requests, for the thirst for knowledge, culture and for the desire to assimilate non-materialist ideology, ours will, of course, give the Germans a hundred points ahead. The change in our life is striking. Immediately from malnutrition, almost complete hunger, even poverty, complete lack of rights to the relatively high well-being of the German soldier ration, the legal status of the German employee. Kolya has already received a new suit instead of his rags. A poor worker's suit. But after what he has worn so far - luxus. His mood is still rosy. All his employees are of the same opinion that something can be done with the Germans, that is, in spite of the Germans. Yesterday he already spoke publicly on the topic "Time of Troubles". The report was excellent. And he said whatever he wanted, without looking back at anyone. There were two German propaganda stuffed animals for control. But he had his own translator - Danya. And the translation was appropriate. Danya belongs to the category of those translators who translate everything sothe right way … yesterday the whole propaganda audience was introduced. Two poets and four prose writers. Very interesting audience. One is particularly interesting. Kuban Cossack, illiterate. He writes his memoirs about the pre-revolutionary and post-revolutionary village. And since after the revolution he experienced all the pleasures: prison, deportation, German captivity, and the miraculous salvation during the execution, the memories are very interesting. But in addition to the material, he is very talented and sometimes you are directly surprised how this person who does not know grammar at all, manages to write in such a bright and juicy language … One of the poets is a very delicate, quite intelligent boy, student. Possesses incredible language skills. Writes and good stories. The third Ural Cossack. Wrote a novel. This one is much lower than the Kuban. But literate. And the material is interesting. One of them, a young Komsomol member,writes a novel about high society life. Complete nonsense. And since he imagines high society life like the life of party committee secretaries, it turns out such a high society cranberry that it is impossible to listen without laughing. And there is talent, and you cannot convince him in any way to write about what he knows. About your Komsomol, for example …
05/11/43 The work of propagandists here is expressed in the fact that they write a novel for themselves and articles for some unknown newspapers. Neither one nor the other is printed. Sometimes they are taken somewhere either with a report, or from a movie … There is already a real rear here. Crops in the fields, vegetable gardens, cows, chickens, pigs, goats. You can buy everything, even clothes. Here I even start to deal with toilets - I have altered a skirt from an old dress….
05/12/43 Kolya was again taken somewhere to read the report. They say it went very well … My roundtable salon is flourishing. Novice authors all bring me their works for review and amendment … Here for me there is no female society at all. Or young girls or completely unintelligent … Most live by consumer interests. And we are probably also feared as German mercenaries. More and more rumors about Vlasov's army are being heard. But we really don't know anything. Rumor has it that this is another trick and that the military authorities themselves do not know anything about it.
06/05/43 Paul and Kurt arrived. They persuade Kolya to agree to move to Gatchina. As if we can agree or disagree … And they even hinted that on the outskirts (Tosno) we are unsafe because of the partisans. About them,”however, rumors are growing. And the bridges still collapse. So much for the invincible Teutons. And various strange things happen in the city: at night some people shout through the streets that the Germans are "kaput", and the patrols cannot catch them in any way …
06/25/43 Friends from the SD visit us quite often … Pavlovsk and Pushkin are evacuated. The Germans take out the entire population, up to one person. Whether they want it or not. They want to take it out, but now there are few people left. Destroy railway tracks. They remove not only the rails, but even the embankment. It is clear that they have lost the war. There are vague rumors that they have invented some kind of terrible weapon and, as soon as they are made in sufficient quantities, the Germans will be invincible. Nonsense, probably propaganda. The Germans are scoundrels and fools. But democracy is no smarter either. Whom do they help? …
06/07/43 Kolya asked Kurt what the Germans were doing with all the evacuated people. Kurt replied that they couldn't tell us. Understand, they say, yourself …
07/12/43 Fights are going on at Mga….
07/22/43 What will happen next is unknown … We always have a keen sense of a trap … In propaganda, the guys even stopped pretending to write articles.
07/27/43 Part of the propaganda department leaves for Dvinsk. (Kolya stays where he is) … The only terrible thing is that the Bolsheviks are approaching …
08/17/43 Two of ours came from Dvinsk. Already quite definite rumors were brought about Vlasov. There is also something real. They promised to make every effort, if they manage to get there, to drag us over …
01.10.43 Some guy came from Gatchina and brought us an appointment … I spoke with Kolya about the book he was writing. It is called "New Europe". What fools are all the same fascists. Well, what is the new or old Europe, when … there is not the slightest doubt at the end ….
05.10.43 Was at the cinema today. For the first time since the war. We saw the wonderful movie "The Swedish Nightingale". I really enjoyed the fact that this has nothing to do with the present. But there was also something poisonous. The newsreel showed the harvest in Ukraine and (that) how Russian peasants now live prosperously under the Germans. And suddenly a German soldier flashed for one second with a notebook, keeping records of the output of grain from under the thresher. And the idyll ended immediately. It smelled like old and sweet grain and other Soviet pleasures. Well, what fools after all …
11/16/43 We are in Riga. In real abroad. First they brought us to some empty dacha, and we all settled down on the floor. Now we have a small room in a neighboring dacha. The Latvian, the owner of the dacha, started shouting at us that he did not want us. We said that we had no intention of getting into them impudently and that we would not move in with them. But we do not have the opportunity to choose premises for ourselves, and let them settle with the Germans as they want. Two days later, they themselves came to ask us to move in with them. In the courtyard of the dacha lives a Latvian, a half-peasant - a half-fish. He, and especially his wife, are very nice. Here Kolya and I have a real job in a real newspaper. The newspaper "For the Motherland". Has gone through two stages of development. The first, when Igor Svobodin ruled in it. The pseudonym of a German who did not know a word in Russian. The newspaper was just a Nazi leaflet and filled with Svobodin's delirium. It was completely unreadable, and even the Germans finally realized that it was still impossible to run a newspaper. Igor Svobodin was removed. A new staff of Russian employees appeared. The newspaper achieved relative independence and soon gained influence among the Russian population. The newspaper is published daily. Circulation 80,000 copies. The room costs 5 pfennigs. But in some regions, like Minsk, Vitebsk, it is sold under the counter for 5 stamps number. The expenses, including the employees' fees, amount to 2-3 thousand marks. The Germans take the income. It's nice to know that the newspaper is not only not published with the money of the Germans, but also pays them. That is, the Germans are robbing us beggars. But this pays for our independence. Editor Stenross. From the Soviet Union. Most of the employees are independent people. The German pointer is weak. But not everything can be written what you want. It is impossible, for example,nothing to write about the Vlasov army, which more and more begins to appear on our gloomy horizon. You cannot write about national Russia. But you don't have to write what you don't want to write. The Germans are not forced to bend their souls, except for the curvature of silence. The Germans are to blame for our reticence, but not for our statements.
12/01/43 Was at the editorial office and met Stenross, My articles are all published. And I am very pleased that, finally, I have the opportunity to take my soul away. Yet we are not forced to say what we do not want. For example, in Lyutov's articles there is not the slightest hint of anti-Semitism or admiration for the Germans and Germany. This is not a feat of abstinence. No one is forbidden to be silent. And if any of the employees indulges in anti-Semitic attacks (which happens very rarely), then the Germans are not to blame for this; if someone bows low before the Germans (also not often), it is a matter of his conscience. The newspaper is a militant anti-Bolshevik organ. He also devotes a lot of space to issues of Russian culture. In general, the newspaper is real, and the editor is real, and the work is real. Finally we got to her! Thanks to our friends from the SD.
12/18/43 Today we received terrible news about the residents of Gatchina. The boy, the son of a doctor, who was said to be a Komsomol member, turned out to be members of some national Russian organization. She went against the Germans and against the Bolsheviks. The Germans shot him before leaving. On a denunciation. And Father Gatchinsky, Fr. Fedor was hanged by the Bolsheviks.
12/20/43 Tomorrow I'm going to the hospital. My health was completely sluggish. I weigh 36 kg.
1944 year
03/26/44 Yesterday I was discharged from the hospital. I didn't write a diary there, but I wrote articles and even poems. But she changed her mind a lot. Our path is correct and if we had to start over again, we would have done the same and in the same order. Kolya, poor thing, came to see me every day. You just need to imagine it. Evening. Blackout. Trams run badly. We live outside the city, 3 kilometers from the bus and tram. Bare field. The stove in our room is smoking unbearably. He comes home and does not want to heat - anyway, no heat, but only smoke and waste. Hungry. And so he walked. Didn't miss a single day. The doctors in the hospital are Latvians. The old generation. Russian culture. Everyone speaks excellent Russian. But young people do not know Russian and do not want to know at all. The Germans are hated, but the Russians are no less. After the "liberation" in 39 … And the older generation is waiting for deliverance from the Germans. And no amount of force can make them believe that they are living now as in paradise compared to what the Bolsheviks will bring them. Whatever the Germans do to the peoples, no matter how mean they are, they are far from the Bolsheviks. They will never be able to squeeze all the spiritual sources of peoples so tightly as these. And we will be with the Germans to the end.
04/04/44 Again exciting rumors about General Vlasov. The army is in fact being organized. Today we met with propagandists from this army. This is where the fresh spirit and fresh wind blows from. And we will do our best to get into this army. But this is not so easy to do. Nothing, we will interrupt somehow. There would only be something to live and try for.
04/18/44 Easter. The first Easter is in full swing. In terms of edible design, it was more than modest. But how pleasant it is. What a joyful one. We had an employee not of the editorial office, but of the office, Kirill Alexandrovich. A very young man. An old emigrant. He only vaguely remembers Russia. But how he loves her. He brought me an egg, painted by himself. He stayed with us all day. What lovely youth are here!
04/27/44 Finally we moved; to Riga itself. And immediately they began to live a different and full life. A lot of friends. We live in the same ghetto from which the Jews were only recently taken out. And this somewhat darkens our existence … We got acquainted with the abyss of wonderful people. The old emigre youth is especially good: Kirill Aleksandrovich introduced me to a flock of girls. Well, how cute! And what a truly Russian! How we feel sorry for our unfortunate Soviet youth. The girls told us about their disappointment in the Soviet people during the "liberation" of Latvia. They greeted all Russians as their dear and beloved, and in return received rudeness and mistrust. One told how she and her friend handed a bouquet of flowers to the tanker and he rudely said: we did not come here for your flowers. They both cried because of his rudeness. And so it was at every step. They are still puzzled. Some, for example, do not want to believe anything bad about Soviet Russia, and they say to our stories that all this is "propaganda." God forbid them to know this "propaganda" in practice.
05/18/44 A group of very tough young people rallied around us. Two girls and two boys are especially good. They are apparently led by Kirill Alexandrovich, but he is very modest. What kind of work they are doing, you are so amazed. It's good that we finally moved to the city. Now people were found. Never before have lived such a full and such a rich life.
05/20/44 A new employee has appeared in the editorial office. Either as a secretary of the editorial board, or some other. Very young, clever, dry and … clearly pro-Nazi. She writes very clever editorials, but pro-German moods often began to flicker in them, and this outrages the most ideological part of the staff. She has a very large influence, so I stopped publishing. That is, they stopped printing me. She lives in our own house and comes to us often in the evenings to talk. Since I do not hide my Vlasov sympathies and democracy, the results are natural …
06/15/44 A lot of events. Firstly, we were invited to a Russian club for youth, organized by the same Kirill, girls and one more wonderful guys - Slava P. And where do they come from! It turns out that all these are Russian scouts or "Russian intelligence officers", as they call themselves. Their work has far outgrown purely scouting and became national-political, although they do not want and do not suspect it. Secondly, Kolya was taken to read a report to a school that trains propagandists for the Vlasov army. Some Dutch woman is in charge. And it does wonders. Kolya was delighted. Little by little, this mysterious Vlasov army begins to take more concrete forms: Kolya was invited to negotiate lectures at the school of propagandists by a certain Colonel P., who is in charge of recruiting for the Vlasov army. Kolya met old man Askoldov,and delighted with this acquaintance, and I - with one propagandist officer. I've heard a lot about him. The methods that he uses in his work are the very ones that we talked about a lot with Kolya and which we considered only our invention. It turns out that for other people, the work of thought went in the same direction. An absolutely indescribable feeling that you are not a lone handicraftsman, and that somewhere else there are people like us. In the newspaper there were again attempts by the Germans to make us say that Russian culture owes a lot to the Germans. Nothing came of this attempt. We have a very high opinion of German culture and when we have a truly free press, we will not fail to pay tribute to this culture. Now - no: out of time. And the Germans backed down. They received the same, and maybe even greater rebuff,when they tried to start ranting in the newspaper about how the Russians oppressed the peoples under their control. The newspaper remains Russian to this day. What will happen next is unknown.
06/17/44 One of my articles was rejected by the editors, or rather - this young lady. And they made me feel like I no longer have to worry about writing. I sent her to the Revel newspaper. It was published there, and Press Der Spiegel reprinted it. I must say that this was one of my most successful anti-Bolshevik articles.
06/20/44 MF appeared on the horizon. She was taken from Tsarskoe Selo to a manor to a Latvian peasant. There is also our Pavlovsk mayor and many others here. All this is not interesting at all. I am only interested in the Vlasov army now.
06/22/44 We are promised a job in the Vlasov army! Finally, work without the Kurts, Pauls, Fritzes and all the other nice benefactors! The Bolsheviks are getting closer and closer. Our boys and girls have developed a detailed plan for transferring us to Sweden by boat or raft. The boat was supposed to be stolen from Latvian fishermen. And two have already been outlined for this purpose. If not for BoBe (German evacuation agency - Gr.), Then this plan would have been carried out. It's a shame to part with all of them. They stay here. Help them, Lord.
06/25/44 Yesterday Kolya did not spend the night at home. One of the girls slept with me. Senior. We did not close our eyes for a minute or even lie down. She and I talked a lot about all sorts of the most exciting topics. And, of course, most of all about the Bolsheviks and the fight against them. With the Germans, of course, it's all over. And we spoke to the accompaniment of gunfire at the Jewish cemetery. We decided that it was the Germans who were shooting the Jews who were still alive. It is impossible to convey our state from such an assumption. And, probably, I will never be able to speak like that about democracy, about humanism, about the indispensable triumph of good, as I said then. And I saw that she went to work with eyes not as hopeless as she had when the devilish action began in the cemetery. May be. all this was both naive and artisanal, but for a young soul it was what was needed. And such words that we are now embarrassed to utter, like World Good and the Grace of God, they were in place. And I'm not ashamed.
06/28/44 Another decisive departure in our life is scheduled for July 5th. Young people hardly leave our house. The Germans are pulling and pulling with the registration of Vlasov's army. Yes, this army will fight like no other in the world. Despite all my lousy intellectual leaven, I would have hanged Rosenberg and his entire staff with my own hands.
07/03/44 We are sitting on the nodes. The public, not ours, but the townsfolk, are terribly panicky. We are completely calm. Things are completely hopeless at the front. And all the gentlemen who worked for the Germans not out of fear, but out of conscience, are the first to cry that the Germans cannot be relied on. And we must save ourselves.
07/04/44 Rumors are more and more alarming. The Bolsheviks are approaching, but I am sure that we will jump out this time too.
07/05/44 A carriage arrived for us. The next entry will be in Germany. Goodbye, dear Riga!