In our huge family album, along with a bunch of all kinds of photographs, there was a piece of paper that had turned yellow from time to time, on which a text of strange content was written in the hand of my grandfather.
I will quote it in full: “The bearer of this document is Sasha, a resident of the village of Shumilovo. A boy of 10-12 years old and whom everyone knows and who saved the wounded soldier of the Red Army Kuravlev Pyotr Mikhailovich, who was wounded near the village of Shumilovo, by providing him with first aid and comes out who did not let him die. The document was drawn up in the woods near the village of Shumilovo and is the original of what, as a proletarian communist, and I assure comrades. 7/7/1943 Private Red Army soldier Kuravlev Petr Mikhailovich.
At the bottom there was some kind of squiggle and it was signed in a childish handwriting, in one word: "honestly svossasha."
Unfortunately, this sheet has not survived to this day. But a long time ago, when my grandfather was still alive and with me, still a boy, looked through the photos in the album, we found this strange text. When asked what it was, grandfather told an amazing story.
It was 1943. At a certain village of Shumilovo, the Germans threw elite troops into the attack, and our units retreated with heavy losses. Grandfather was seriously wounded by a shrapnel, but it so happened that his own people in a hurry forgot him on the battlefield. Somehow he managed to crawl to the nearest forest.
“I, granddaughter, was bleeding then,” the grandfather continued thoughtfully. - The wound was severe. I tried to bandage myself, and yet, I feel, I won't make it until morning. Blood is gushing! I lie in the grass, looking through the trees to the sky. In my thoughts I have already said goodbye to my family, my son, your future folder. He asked everyone for forgiveness and prepared for death. And apparently, consciousness left me.
I woke up in the afternoon when the sun was shining brightly, and was surprised to find that next to me was a boy of 10-12 years old, your age, and whistling something carefree. He was freckled, frail and fair-haired. Seeing that I came to, he smiled, demonstrating the absence of two front teeth.
- Woke up! Here, drink some water.
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And, holding out a bottle of water, he helped me sit down and lean my back against a tree. The wound hurt, but not so much.
- Do not worry, you will live, - the boy smiled again, and two mischievous dimples played on his cheeks.
- Who are you? I asked.
- Me? I'm local, Shumilovsky.
- What are you doing here?
- Like what? - the boy was sincerely surprised. - I'm helping you! I've bandaged you up, otherwise you're really going to die.
Then I noticed that my shoulder was tightened with clean sheet rags. A large bloody spot appeared on the bandage.
- How long have you been here?
- Nope, - the boy shook his head. - I ran after the dog, she ran away from the roar. So we ran into you with her.
Then I noticed that next to the guy was a small fluffy white dog.
- This is my Sharik, - said my savior lovingly, stroking the dog. - My name is Sasha. How are you?
- Peter … Peter Mikhailovich. Where are the Germans, Sashok?
- Where should they be? In the village. But one of these days ours will turn them out of there, - he assured me.
- Where does this information come from? - I involuntarily smiled at this confidence.
- So here we all know about everything. After all, it is not the 41st year. We are advancing today already!
There was something unusual about this boy, something elusively strange. And what exactly, I could not understand.
- You eat, Uncle Sing. Sharik and I already ran home while you were lying, and now they brought it for you.
He spread a handkerchief on the grass, which contained two eggs, a slice of black bread and two boiled potatoes.
- Here's another blanket so that they don't freeze at night. Eat, and I'll sit with you a little longer. Tomorrow I will come again, bring you something to drink, something to eat and something clean to bandage you.
- Where did you lose your teeth? I asked, chewing potatoes.
- Oh, these are trifles. We had a fight with the boys, and Sasha waved his hand boastfully and slightly casually. - Okay, Pyotr Mikhailovich, it's time for us, otherwise the aunt will worry. You lie here quietly, do not make noise. Tomorrow Sharik and I will visit you and think about what to do next. But you need to hold out a little more. Ours will come soon.
And he and Sharik disappeared behind the trees. Sasha's confidence made me feel better. I shivered at night, but felt better by morning. My condition no longer seemed so hopeless to me. There was a certain certainty that with my little helper I would probably be able to get out.
The next day Sashka came alone.
- Where is your Sharik? The boy sniffed, barely holding back tears.
- They crushed Sharik, Uncle Sing, with a motorcycle. He began, you fool, to bark, they had him and … The German now is not the same as in 1941,”the little boy said, knitting his eyebrows, just like an adult. - Became angry. If earlier he treated with sweets, now he treats with kicks.
Sasha and I made a dressing, then he laid out the food and sat down next to him.
- How are your parents? What do they do? I asked.
Sashka turned away and said in a trembling voice:
“As Dad left at the beginning of the war, we received only one letter from him. There was nothing more, no matter how expected. And my mother died a year ago, broke down at work. She's here, - Sashka pointed to his stomach, - a lump of some kind grew up and everyone inside was very painful. She screamed very much.
We were silent.
- Listen, why is your village called Shumilovo?
The boy suddenly smiled - like the sun shone.
- So from the Shumikha river. It rustles with us in the spring, when the ice goes on it! So noisy, hold on! The whole village does not sleep at night, what a roar!..
And, comically folding his lips in a tube, Sashka tried to portray this noise.
- Uncle Sing, and I have a request for you.
- Which one? Speak, I will fulfill any, you are my savior.
After these words, Sashka looked into my eyes in a strange way.
- Write me some document.
- What other document? - I was surprised.
- Well, that I helped … - he hesitated. - I helped you out of trouble.
- Why do you need him? Besides, I have no paper either.
“So I brought it,” the boy said slyly and took out a notebook sheet.
So, granddaughters, this document was drawn up. And when I asked him: “What is your last name? What should I write? , He again looked at me in a strange way and said:
- You don't need a surname. Everyone knows me anyway.
When we completed everything, Sashka looked at the document with admiration and carefully put it into his pocket. But after thinking a little, he said:
- No, Uncle Sing, you will leave this document with you for now. You never know what? Now our Germans will drive away, you will return it to me.
- Good.
The boy regretfully and reluctantly returned the paper to me.
The next day Sashka did not come, although he promised. By that time I could get up and tried to get close to the village. It turned out that it was already safe there - in the morning we released him. I began to look for Sasha, but he was nowhere to be found. I asked the locals, explained what he looked like, what a white dog he had, what he was wearing, but …"
Then the grandfather was silent for a long time. I even wondered if he had forgotten about me, and began to fiddle with him:
- Grandpa! Well, what are you? What happened next? Did you find it?
- Yes, I think, granddaughter!.. - Grandfather ruffled my hair with his palm. - The fact of the matter is that no one in the village knew any Sashka. There was not even anyone like him!
- How so? This cannot be!
- I myself puzzled over this for a long time, - grandfather shrugged his shoulders. - But my savior fell through the ground. No one knew him and no one even saw such a boy in the eye!
- Maybe he was from a neighboring village? I suggested timidly.
- That's just it, that the nearest settlement was located many kilometers from Shumilovo. Major Karpukhin, who then commanded the units that occupied the village, also became interested in this fact and ordered that all residents be interviewed in detail. No results! As if there was no Sashka … Then our troops went further west, and I was sent to complete treatment.
And what is surprising: as I was told in the medical battalion, I did not have a fragment in my shoulder. It was already removed from there, before! And the first medical aid was rendered to me professionally. "Otherwise," said the doctors, "you would have died from blood loss." I still don't know what kind of Sashka it was, who did not let me die in the forest then. These are the things, granddaughters!..
Alexander KUZNETSOV, Yakutia