You can t forget that! Part 2

I don't remember exactly, but I think, in a year after the defeat of the fascists in Voronezh, I was with my mother in the back of the truck, passing through the street Voronezh. The street was called to call it simply Impossible. It was a road cleared of the ruins of the already incomprehensible buildings. And long before that, I had to test the evacuation from under Voronezh. Here is my short story about it. The war has not bypassed me and mine wife. The wife survived the entire blockade in Leningrad, was left without a father and without mother. My father was in a concentration camp in Poland. He took an escape with his comrades. He died at the end of the war on March 18, 1945. I am, like a lingonian, with Grandfather and Grandma, when approaching the Germans evacuated by train from under Voronezh, but we left not far. Ahead of the Germans bombed the iron The road. The train stopped near a small village. Not only is stuck our train with refugees, but also military personnel, including Wounded.

People let the good people spend the night. Awake from the roar in the morning A bomb that exploded near the house. Saw standing in front of the window boy, apparently the son of the mistress at home, with drops of blood on his face Wrist-stacked windows from the window. Something was screaming grandmother running into The room I slept on the floor under the window. Grabbing me, my grandmother pulled out, I don't understand anything on the street. Everyone was screaming and somewhere They fled, and the bombs were not far off. So my grandmother dragged me to some the moat, where they were already bent, clinging to the bottom of this prim, a lot different people. Many people burned at home. All the time loudly roared the planes and There were bombs incessantly. This lasted about an hour on time.

I was stunned by all this and I didn’t understand anything, and therefore I don’t remember that I did. He was afraid of something. But it was only at the beginning of this nightmare in reality. But when the bombing stopped for a short time, my grandmother again Dragged further from the railway. Somewhere in a hundred meters we found ourselves in the cellar standing next to the house. There were already some people there, who sheltered us. As I understood later: it was only the first echelon raids of German planes at the station, where a lot of trains have accumulated, Awaiting the road repair.

After a short break, the raids resumed. That's when I felt that That kind of fear is real. Bombs fell continuously with a little interval in time. And each bomb issued an increase in howl. This Howl Drew insane, because every time this howl was so understandable The end of my life right now. This growing howl is not left the hope that the bomb would fall not on me, not on us, in this cellar. Why I didn't know such confidence before still.

To say goodbye to life only once is scary, and when the bombing is not stops for several hours, then you can go crazy, which I was convinced of, When adults began to read the memories of others who were bombed people. By the evening, the bombings stopped. Getting up, Grandma with I began to look for my grandfather, who even before the bombing began, went to the middle village to look for opportunities to get a temporary home and learn Possibilities of further evacuation. How we found each other and I'm not I understand. Probably people told their grandfather that they saw us: my grandmother and grandson. Grandfather told us that when he returned to us, he was fired upon by German plane. Helped by the fact that there was a ravine in which he hid.

After the meeting, we joined the column of refugees and weaved on foot to the nearest village, leaving behind in the coming darkness wounded A smoking village and a glow in the wilderness of a fire. Apparently, it is Something was burning in Voronezh or its surroundings. When we came to The village, then began to ask for the night. In the first house of a strong structure We were refused, but in the second poor house we were allowed. Of course we are, of course. Were very happy about it and fell asleep on the floor. Other beds They just didn't have it. These people lived poorly.
But we were not happy for a long time, because at night we were attacked by flocks of beds. There was a long way to go to the Saratov region to their relatives, at times staying in a village for a few days so that the grandfather could earning money for our existence and further promotion.

Grandfather worked as a blacksmith. Kuznetsov during the war took almost everyone on front, so the grandfather was welcome in the villages through which our way lay Rescue. Sometimes we were driven by passing carts, and when we had to Go on foot, my grandfather used to take me a wheelbroads. This is how my A childhood from which I don't remember much. All life has flowed like this quickly, which is difficult to even understand your short memories, pages of the past, I can no longer believe that all this was in reality.