Boris Trofimov - Portartur. 1940

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Portartur. 1940: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

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Historical novel about the defenders of Port Arthur. Trofim Borisov is a writer who was one of the first in Russian literature to recreate the panorama of the defense of Port Arthur. His book can serve as a truly truthful document of a past heroic era. “Portarturtsy” is reliable not only from historical materials, but also from personal memories. Indeed, its author himself was a participant in the events described.

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– Are you illiterate?

The soldier babbled something in response, and the captain summoned Morozov.

– You are also illiterate. What is it? From the big city, and the illiterate sent. Why didn’t you study?

Morozov blushed deeply.

Mehmetinsky walked along the line and, smiling tenderly, called new recruits by last name, first name and patronymic, although he did not have a list in his hands.

– And we waited for you and thought: Siberians will not let you down… The same illiteracy as in the Baltic provinces, and in central Russia. Not good. An artilleryman must be well-educated…

The captain’s face became serious. The buggies sagged slightly, but their eyes still gleamed. Talking to the recruits, he squinted them.

“Keep your head straight and lift your right shoulder,” said Captain Podkovin. – Have you worked in the court of justice for a long time? Two years? And before that, he worked somewhere?

– Was a clerk. And my main occupation is a fisherman.

– Do you have a good handwriting?

“I, your Honor, do not want a clerk.”

– We’ll see. Who do the clerk do? See for yourself. And the clerk needs… Abramovich Moses Iosifovich! Are you a craftsman, a mechanic?

“That memory is memory. I read the list once and remembers everyone, “thought Podkovin.

– Good locksmith we need. What can you do?

– I can repair sewing machines, I made new locks.

– By the cannon lock do you make new?

– With the tool – everything is possible.

– Do you make a new gun? – Wishing to cheer the soldiers, asked the captain.

– Give the tool and the room, I’ll make you a gun. Only one mess around unprofitable.

“This is fine,” the captain laughed. – We will send you to the arsenal. Verevkin Matvey Karpovich… Was a cab driver? Do you know horses? That’s what we need. Be your ride. Good horses will give you a pair. Illiterate?.. If you quickly embrace the teaching, then you will be the senior fireworker. And you will have a riding horse, and you will command a whole platoon… Y-yes… Your diploma is weak, guys.

Twenty recruits went to their beds. Today they are exempted from general studies. The day was clear and frosty… Through the large windows, icy below, the sun illuminated the inside of the barracks. In the middle of it, between cast-iron columns supporting the ceiling, there is a wide passage along the whole room. On the sides, by the walls, in several rows were bunks of gunners; in the corners, where it was more spacious, older and younger fireworks were placed. In the aisle, young soldiers marched in groups. There were stomping and squawking platoon.

Before lunch, after being freed from classes, his neighbor approached Podkovin.

– Write me a letter something. To Oryol Province…

– Okay, I’ll write. What is your last name?

– Konevyazov.

– We will agree with you like this: you do your job, and I will write.

– How can it be without me?

– Okay. Do not bother me. I’ll write, then we’ll talk.

Half an hour later, Podkovin called him.

– Here is the letter ready. Read it out loud.

At first he stammered, and then, rather briskly, Konevyazov read:

“My dear parents! In the first lines of this letter I ask for your blessing, which will be indestructible over the grave of my life, and I kiss you warmly, and I also bow deeply in love. I send my bow to grandparents, brothers and sisters, and my uncle with my aunt and my dear wife a hot kiss, and I will write her a separate letter. May he love you all and be your own daughter.

I tell you all that my health so far, thank goodness, is good, and my soldier’s training is proceeding in its own way. And now I live in the city of Nerchinsk in the barracks, and all of us young soldiers were sent to the battery only from our lands eighty people.

We traveled for a very long time, twenty-five days, and all of Siberia. That’s where the spacious! There are few cities and villages, and more and more mountains and dense forest. In the mountains, gold is dug, and in the forests of fur animals are beaten. A resident of the local, in sight, in abundance. Log houses, under a skeleton roof. All around, even in the forest, hedges, and a lot of livestock.

Transbaikalia, where we now serve, is also a rich side, but it is painfully icy and snowless. You go out into the yard – and the boots freeze, and their tops are immediately exactly wooden. More than fifty degrees are frost.Trans-Baikal peasants (they are called here Gurans, and that is, the Old Believers are exiled) are engaged in arable farming and cattle breeding. Their cattle are small and non-dairy. Bread is eaten rye and wheat.

Although we traveled from the Oryol province to Nerchinsk for a long time, we did not get to the end of Russia. It can be said that the Amur River begins from here, which is more than three thousand miles long, and there is a gulf of different fish in it.

Once again, I wish you all good health. Write me a detailed letter.

Rookie finished and said:

– Good.

“No, not quite well,” Podkovin stopped him. – Sit down and rewrite the whole letter with your own hand, but do not forget to put your first and middle names. When you rewrite, insert more of your words…

3

A week later, Podkovina was summoned to the office of the battery and charged him with the correspondence of the lists of allowances. The senior clerk on the first day said to him:

– Read the statutes of the military service, and you will know literature better than your uncle, yes, and perhaps Feldwebel.

Every morning, until nine o’clock, Podkovin still had to be in the classroom language. He was jarred by the abnormal relationship between teachers and recruits. In the entire barracks there was not a single thoughtful uncle who would lovingly impart his insignificant knowledge on the charter of military service. They were all rough, petrified faces. Only anger was reflected in their views. They spoke or shouted in hoarse voices.

The uncle of the ten, in which Podkovin was listed, had one “tag” on his shoulder straps, that is, he was a scorer. Only with this tidbit he was different from the rest.

At first, the uncle abruptly took up the Podkovina: forced him to make jumps, turns, questioned about the ranks and names of the nearest bosses. All of his demands, which did not go beyond the framework of the training program for young soldiers, Tikhon carried out quickly and distinctly. But in the face of the guy it was clear that he was still unhappy. In his orders, a desire to set up the Shoe in front of the whole system in a ridiculous position, and Tikhon became alert. Subsequently, it turned out that the guys and fireworks did not like literate subordinates, and the Shackles for the barracks was the “black sheep”.

The unkindness of the uncles to Tikhon intensified after the first days of his stay in the office. They followed him, listened to his conversations with his comrades.

Once, on a routine basis, everyone got up early in the morning, cleaned his boots and made beds. There was a forty-degree frost in the yard. The windows were frozen from top to bottom. Despite all the efforts of recruits, their boots did not receive the proper shine.

The training in the ranks was conducted by Osipov, the junior fireworker, who was the separated chief of the fourth platoon.

– Attention! – the uncle has ordered.

Separated, pulling his chest out, walked up to a line of young soldiers.

– Great guys!

– Good morning, Mr. separate!

Junior fireworks quickly walked along the line.

The recruits kept their eyes on him. From the right flank, he turned back and frowned, staring at the feet of the soldiers.

“Why are boots poorly cleaned?” Loafers! Pay for the first and second!

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