Sunday morning (SI). Mikhail Alekseev - Sunday morning Sunday morning read

Mikhail Alekseev

Sunday morning

June 15, 1941. 5.50 am. Vyazma area. Board of the flagship PS - 84 Chief of the Main Directorate of the Red Army Air Force

Pavel Fedorovich Zhigarev had a dream from his distant childhood. As if he were again an ordinary boy from the poor village of Brikovo, Vesyegonsky district of the Tver region. The same barefoot boy, like his peers - friends from the poor lot. He and his comrades were sent to graze a small herd of the village community in the bush, on the banks of a small nameless river. More likely, even just a stream. There are a great many such streams in the forests of central Russia. The boys have a common task - not to let the cattle leave the agreed area rented from the local landowner and to prevent the lord's crops from being grazed. The villagers have nothing to pay for the grass, which means they will have to work off the debt. Well, parents will punish the boys with rods.

Pashka sees that the leader of the herd, Malasha’s neighbor’s goat, has taken advantage of the fact that the boys are distracted and is already going out to mow. He tries to run, but his legs won't obey. Instead of running, you can only move with difficulty and incredible effort the air, which has suddenly become dense and viscous. With horror he realizes that he does not have time to intercept the obstinate beast and becomes even more numb. And the boys shout to him: “Pavel Fedorovich! Pavel Fedorovich! And Pashka, surprised by the unusual treatment, emerges from the captivity of childhood fears with difficulty and relief.

Pavel Fedorovich Zhigarev, born in 1900, former peasant son, and now, since April 1941, the Head of the Main Directorate of the Red Army Air Force, is coming to his senses. Less than two weeks ago he received the third star of a lieutenant general in the blue buttonholes of his uniform, and immediately there was not enough time to sleep.

There was a smell of thunder in the air. Almost every day, reports came from the Western Special Districts about overflights of German aircraft, successful and unsuccessful interceptions by our fighters. The headache from both was about the same. Given the directives of the General Staff and the country's leadership not to provoke the Germans, a “successful interception” could lead to a note from the German government and punishment of the pilot and his commanders. Unsuccessful - it showed a hole in our air defense system, allowing the Germans to calmly complete their task. Only the notorious hero of the Russians had no idea about the purpose of these flights folk tales- Ivan the Fool.

Zhigarev worked without days off, lunch breaks and, practically, sleep. Today was Sunday and he was flying to Minsk, to the headquarters of the head of the Air Force of the Belarusian Special Military District, Major General I.I. Koptsa. Taking advantage of this, during the flight I tried to at least partially compensate for the lack of sleep.

“Pavel Fedorovich!” - the second pilot of the flagship PS -84 of the Air Force Headquarters shook him lightly by the shoulder. Zhigarev looked at him questioningly, while simultaneously trying to straighten his stiff arms and legs.

“Pavel Fedorovich, go into the cabin, you need to see this!” - said the pilot, seeing that the chief had woken up. Having risen, Zhigarev walked into the cabin. During these less than two months, the crew had already flown the Moscow-Minsk route more than once, and he could not understand what alarmed the ship’s commander so much.

"Where are we?" - asked Pavel Fedorovich, entering the cabin.

"Vyazma region. Look, comrade lieutenant general,” answered the pilot and tilted the plane to the left so that it would be more convenient for him to look over his head.

Zhigarev looked to the left along the course. I tried to blink my eyes. But what I saw did not disappear. Below, to the left on the heading, from a height of one and a half thousand meters in million-per-million visibility conditions, lay a large airfield. It may not be larger than the heavy bomber airfield at Monino, but quite comparable in size. AND CONCRETE! Pavel Fedorovich knew that it was here, since this spring, that the NKVD forces had been building a concrete runway for the future airfield. The completion date for the facility is autumn 1941. However, there we were talking about several hundred meters of narrow concrete. When he flew for two weeks along the same route, he clearly saw that work was underway, but the builders were unlikely to complete it ahead of schedule.

Now, quite clearly, he saw in front of him a wide and long, approximately two-kilometer runway, oriented, as planned, in the South-North direction, with a developed taxiway system and a huge parking lot.

The parking lot was the second thing that struck Stalin's Falcon. In the parking lot, there were three long rows of strange silver airplanes. Offhand - more than a hundred. Zhigarev saw even stranger silhouettes on the taxiway running along the runway and in the squares of greenery between them.

On the taxiway stood twelve devices resembling gray-blue arrowheads. But on the green squares... there were two MONSTERS. One - four-engine, with a normal, straight wing arrangement - was still comparable to the TB-3, although it had completely different proportions. But the other one, in Pavel Fedorovich’s opinion, was at least twice the size of TB-3. Also four-engine, but two-keel. He also saw some other devices, with very short, stump-like wings, or without them. Of everything that his eyes saw and his brain tried to comprehend, he identified only three silhouettes that were at least similar to what he could call an airplane. The silence in the cabin dragged on. The ship's commander continued to make a shallow left turn, keeping the view of the airfield to the left.

"Let's sit down!" - Zhigarev’s order broke the silence.

Naturally, there was no connection with the airfield, so the ship’s commander decided to land from the north. There was a large forest area to the south, so it was easier to land on an unfamiliar airfield from the north, leaving Vyazma on the right as a landmark, and also observing the railway perpendicular to the glide path. The direction of the wind was unknown, but the length of the strip made it possible to ignore it. On the landing course, Zhigarev saw a railway station on the right, filled with trains with loaded military equipment. There was no time to look, but he again noted that there was nothing similar to what he had seen in the Red Army.

Even closer to the airfield, also on the right, there was a large fuel and lubricants warehouse. Zhigarev understood this from the shiny huge tanks.

The crew pulled the start of the runway a little and the plane rolled down the concrete. Now it could be said that the width of the strip was almost twice as wide as the wingspan of PS -84, that is, approximately fifty meters. The strip itself had two “humps” at the beginning on each side and, as it were, a lowland between them. The runway was well-groomed and, most interestingly, judging by the traces of wheel braking at the moment of contact, it was intensively used.

Current page: 1 (book has 19 pages total) [available reading passage: 11 pages]

Annotation

A request to gentlemen pirates! Wait until we work together to fix the problems.

Alekseev Mikhail Egorovich

Alekseev Mikhail Egorovich

Sunday morning – 2

Mikhail Alekseev

The commander of the 1st Shock Army, Hero of the Soviet Union, Lieutenant General Ohanyan put on a ceremonial uniform, which he nevertheless ordered and sewed at this time. He did not want to lag behind his comrade - already a general - Major Krasavin, who already had a uniform. Also, by the way, Hero of the Soviet Union. After the end of the Belarusian defensive operation, reward rain poured down on both Special Corps - both air and combined arms.

So, in an hour and a half at the Dvoevka airfield, a festive parade and rally were to take place on the occasion of the graduation of young pilots. 150 Air Force lieutenants - jet pilots - joined the ranks of the warring country. And he was invited to this event.

The headquarters of the newly formed Army was located on the Volkonsky princes' estate Alexandrino, located 30 km north of Vyazma, not far from the Kasnya junction. From history, Joseph Bakratovich remembered that it was in Alexandrino that the Headquarters of the Western Front of Lieutenant General Konev was located in the fall of 1941, THAT story that ended with the “Vyazemsky Cauldron.” But now the war is going a different way and the enemy is far away from here.

Already on the road, looking through the glass of the ZiS-101 given to him by Stalin at the Central Russian nature, Ohanyan went through in his memory all the events that happened to him and his comrades in this unusual story, from the moment the end of the battles in which both Special Corps of the RGK participated.

The Headquarters of the Supreme High Command, having replenished the Armies of the Western Front with reserves and strengthened the Front as a whole with another 29th and 3rd Armies, considered it necessary and possible to withdraw both Special Corps, the 5th, 6th mechanized and 6th cavalry corps to the rear.

The reasons for the air and combined arms Special Corps were different.

Jet fighters, which were actively used for a month, did not require field maintenance, but routine maintenance at the base airfield. The regiments of Zakharov's 43rd Air Division remained at the front, in addition, the 16th Air Defense IAP was transferred from the Dvoevka airfield near Minsk on MiG-3 aircraft. Due to the overwhelming numerical superiority and the presence of operating radars, this was enough to maintain air superiority. And now the Soviet Air Force could send three jet aviation regiments to the front.

It was also decided to form the 1st Shock Army as part of the 5th and 6th mechanized, 6th cavalry corps. Heavy weapons were also transferred to the Army tank division consisting of two KV-1 regiments and one KV-2 regiment. In the future, it was planned to replace these tanks with SU-152 self-propelled guns.

A special corps remained in the RGK reserve. In this story, the disbandment of mechanized corps and the transition to a brigade structure did not take place. The corps consisted of divisions.

Division staffs changed. All motorized rifle divisions became six regiments: three motorized rifle, tank, artillery, anti-aircraft regiments and reinforcement and support units. The former 108th and Border Rifle Divisions were transferred to new states as motorized rifle divisions. The 1st Special Division was completely reorganized. Colonel Goltsev, along with being awarded the title of Hero, received the shoulder straps of a major general and replaced Ohanyan in this post, becoming the commander of the Special Corps of the RGK. The staff of the 134th Regiment remained almost unchanged, only a T-55 company was added to the tank battalion of the 134th Regiment, making the battalion four companies. The same thing was done with the 23rd SME, where the tank battalion was supposed to receive the T-34. A new artillery regiment was formed. The anti-aircraft division of the regiment at Shilki was not touched. Moreover, they added a self-propelled battery of twin 23 mm aviation, now anti-aircraft, VYa guns, based on the former T-40 light tanks. Katukov also became the commander of this division after receiving general's shoulder straps. The 805th artillery regiment was withdrawn from the motorized rifle division, and on its basis the RGK breakthrough artillery division was formed, consisting of 3 regiments: the Akatsii regiment, the MLRS regiment consisting of the Grad and Katyusha divisions, and the ML-20 howitzer regiment. Hero of the Soviet Union, Major General Morozov, was appointed division commander.

Thus, the Special Corps began to have four motorized rifle divisions and, as reinforcement, an RGK artillery division. But the biggest changes occurred in personnel composition. There were massive movements of command personnel in all units. Officers from descendant regiments were moved to other parts of the corps, their places were taken by people from other divisions of the corps. There was a strict restriction - commanders from 1979 had not yet left the structure of the Special Corps. At the very top, it was decided to do so. Most of the soldiers and sergeants from the 79th with more than ten years of education were asked to use their knowledge in their specialty. Some were demobilized. Those who did not want to leave the units received officer ranks and were sent to accelerated training courses for command personnel, formed right there, under the Corps. The least changes occurred among tankers and anti-aircraft gunners. It was impossible to replace the crews of the T-72s and anti-aircraft missile systems. Not possible yet. Tankers, for example, all had two medals, and some even orders, commanders of all crews received the rank of junior lieutenants, drivers and gunners all became sergeants and foremen. But there was no one to replace them.

At that time, the Red Army did not have a decent artillery tractor for guns of caliber 122mm and above, so at the suggestion of descendants, something reminiscent of the AT-T of their time was quickly designed. The difference was that the base was not T-54, but T-34. IN in this case the help of the Supreme Commander was needed to allow the T-34 bases to be taken away from the tank factory and converted into tractors. The front needed tanks, and each of them was already planned for a specific unit on the assembly line. Nevertheless, the issue was resolved, and the corps artillery received a decent tractor for these times. The removed turrets of these tractors were used for armored boats.

There were no changes only among Marinin’s anti-aircraft gunners. Marinin himself also became a Hero and received the rank of major general, but they could not yet strengthen his regiment: the equipment with which the regiment was armed was impossible to copy. But intensive work was carried out in this direction. The 597th separate reconnaissance battalion became a corps reconnaissance battalion. But the bulk of the personnel was transferred to the Combined Arms Retraining Center. The reconnaissance battalion was replenished with the reconnaissance battalions of the Special Corps divisions and, instead of the ten T-55s taken from them, they gave it all ten infantry fighting vehicles of the 743rd airborne battalion.

Most of the personnel of the 743rd battalion were used as instructors of the interdepartmental Center for the training of Osnaz units under the command of Colonel Starinov. Hero of the Soviet Union, Colonel Zhukov became Starinov’s deputy and was responsible for retraining the command staff of the airborne troops. Instead of these separate battalions in the 1st Guards. A new motorized rifle regiment was formed as a special MSD.

The former commander of the T-72 tank battalion, Abramov, also a Hero of the Soviet Union, became a colonel. He and a number of his officers formed retraining courses for commanders of tank units. The same courses were organized for motorized riflemen and artillerymen. All these courses were located around Vyazma, forming a single combined arms retraining center for command personnel of the Red Army. The Center's training ground was located near Dorogobuzh.

Equipment and weapons were also being replaced in other buildings.

In addition, all the first batches of new small arms were transferred to the Army. For a month, work was in full swing at all the stations and stops of the Vyazma railway junction suitable for unloading equipment. Equipment, replenishment, and ammunition arrived around the clock. Also, all this was being transported around the clock and dispersed in parts. And immediately they began to study it and use it at training grounds.

And that was just the beginning!

An hour and a half later, Joseph Bakratovich took part in the ceremonial presentation of shoulder straps to young pilots. In addition to him, all the unit commanders from 1979 took part in this, as well as the Commander of the USSR Air Force, General Colonel Zhigarev, and the commander of the 43rd Air Division, Major General Zakharov.

The small parade ground of the Center could barely accommodate everyone who wanted to take part in this event. After the ceremonial march, the young officers were invited to a festive dinner. In the evening, a ball took place in front of the Sokol cultural center. Ohanyan looked with slight sadness at the women and girls dressed in the fashion of the late 70s. There was no time to remember the family at the front, but now memories of those who remained at that time came flooding back. One could only hope that his family could survive his disappearance. And he’s not the only one!

This day ended with gatherings at the Center headquarters in a narrow circle of unit commanders from the 70s and Zhigarev and Zakharov.

Ludwig August Theodor Beck looked at Wiesbaden from the Neroberg mountain. He loved to climb the mountain, look at the city he knew from childhood, wander around the “Greek Chapel”, admiring its unique architecture, atypical for German culture. And it seemed that this was not the first time he had seen all this, but every time it gave him pleasure. Moreover, he received pleasure from the fact that he saw how his hometown had grown and become more beautiful, and from the fact that, as the years passed, he began to see in its appearance those little things and features that he had not noticed in childhood and youth. Then he, like everyone else his age, strived to grow up faster and enter this Big world, which promised so many opportunities and events, fame and adventure. And nothing else! After all, everyone thinks this way in their youth. Forty-year-olds are already considered old, and life is practically endless. And she, this life, flies by at the speed of an express train. It seems that only recently I was a Fanenjunker, then I fought in Western Front, then love, the birth of a daughter and the death of a wife, the collapse of the Empire, general's shoulder straps, the post of Chief of the General Staff of the Ground Forces, disagreement with Hitler's policies, resignation. And now, for three years now, he has been in no hurry. He now has time to consider what he missed in his youth.

After an honorable discharge with the presentation of the shoulder straps of Colonel General Ludwig Beck, he returned to the city in which he was born and raised. I bought myself a small house. How much does a single man need in his declining years? He hired a cook and a janitor. These were newcomers, strangers to him. The only close person in his house was the driver. The colonel general and the junior rank were connected, oddly enough, by friendship. From the point of view of the Prussian military aristocracy, this was unnatural. However, his last name did not have the prefix “von”. And how should he have treated the man who had been next to him since the distant 1918, who that year became the driver of his personal car and served with him for twenty years?

This is not to say that these three years have passed meaninglessly. No, he did not sit idly by, rocking in a rocking chair and watching the rest of his life pass. He worked. Using his knowledge and practical experience, he wrote military theoretical works. I wrote on the table because no one needed this work. But this was not his main disappointment at the end of his life. All these three years, his opponent in the dispute about the ways of development of the country and its armed forces - Adolf Hitler - proved that the general was wrong. Country after country in the west surrendered to the crushing blows of the Wehrmacht and Luftwaffe. Then there was Poland. The Polish campaign did not surprise him in any way. The Wehrmacht and the Polish Army, firstly, were opponents of different weight categories and, secondly, German operational art surpassed Polish capabilities by almost an order of magnitude. What can we say about Poland, even if France, a country against which the retired general himself once fought for four long years, was defeated in a month and a half and signed an act of surrender in the same carriage in which the 1918 armistice was signed. And - Ludwig Beck admitted this - everything was carried out brilliantly. Deep down in his soul it depressed him. After all, his name was not among the names of the winners. It remained his lot to analyze operations and campaigns, based on information that was periodically delivered to him by his remaining comrades from the General Staff of the Ground Forces.

And now Soviet Russia. Border battles with the Bolsheviks showed that the Wehrmacht finally had a worthy opponent. Ludwig Beck did not know all the details, information from the General Staff was meager and always very late, newspapers filled with patriotic nonsense provided even less information. However, even from them the retired general drew information, moving flags at home on a large map of Eurasia, based on the mention of cities for which battles were fought. In addition, we had to use radio broadcasts from abroad, mainly from London, since the general did not know Russian. He listened to the radio when the servants went home. He did not trust the authorities, remembering their affairs in the early thirties.

Based on this contradictory and fragmentary information, he concluded that the Wehrmacht’s tasks in the border battles were unfulfilled. The Red troops suffered heavy losses - there was no doubt about it. However, according to information from the General Staff, this came with unexpectedly great bloodshed. The losses of German troops in Russia could not be compared with the losses on the Western Front. Some cities had to pay for in more blood than for countries in Europe.

Then, within two weeks, the British reported two sensational news: the commander of the Third Tank Group, Colonel General Hermann Hoth, was captured by the Russians. After another two weeks, that on Eastern Front, in battles south of Minsk, the commander of the Second Tank Group, Colonel General Heinz Guderian, was killed. The German newspapers did not say a word about this. Later, sources from the General Staff confirmed this information.

The flags on the map showed that the front from the Black Sea was along the Dnieper, which the Wehrmacht, apparently, did not have the strength to force. The Romanians kept the Russian port of Odessa under siege, which they also could not take. In addition, the Russians maintained one bridgehead on the right bank of this large river in the Kyiv area. In Belarus, the troops of Group Center were stuck in a defensive line along the old border, and after their hands were beaten off by defeating divisions of tank groups, they had almost no chance of overcoming it. What is surprising is that Russian aviation in this direction completely defeated the Second Air Fleet of the Luftwaffe and dominated the skies, which significantly reduced the operational capabilities for transferring reserves and generally maneuvering forces in its rear, not only for the “Center” group, but also for the “North”. Therefore, this group stopped its advance before reaching Riga and Pskov. Fact: the hopes of the German General Staff and Hitler personally for the blitzkrieg were buried by the Russians in the vast expanses of their country. There is a war of attrition ahead and its result is quite predictable.

And now Ludwig Beck's thoughts were far from his hometown. Over the past month, he has again stopped paying attention to the little things in his favorite landscapes. The blood began to flow faster through his veins again. He was hungry for news and information. That is why he re-read Bismarck, rightly considering his opinion about the Russians to be the most authoritative. And he made three statements for himself: the first - “I know 100 ways to lure a Russian bear out of a den, but I don’t know a single one how to drive him back”; the second - “Never plot anything against Russia - they will find their own stupidity in any of our cunning”; the third – “Preventive war against Russia is suicide due to fear of death.”

In his position, all that remained was to wait to see who would be right: the “Iron Chancellor” or the Leader of the Third Reich. There was only one pity: the Leader’s mistake had to be paid for with the lives of the Germans.

And the only chance to reduce these losses is to end this war.

On the morning of September 24, Krasavin was awakened by a call via HF communication. The Air Force Commander, Lieutenant General Zhigarev, called. Krasavin walked to the HF apparatus and wondered what caused this call. It seems there were no punctures, we are coping with the tasks. Having already reached the phone, he never came to any conclusion about the reasons for the call.

- I wish you good health, Comrade Lieutenant General!

– Good morning, Vladimir Vasilyevich! You're probably scratching your head about the call?

– There is such a thing, Pavel Fedorovich.

- Okay, let's not beat around the bush. Yesterday, or rather today, the Germans staged a massive night raid from Finland to Leningrad. They tried to do this in the summer, but the Luftwaffe was hampered by the white nights and our air defense managed to cope. But at the moment a dangerous situation has developed. I read in your books that this was not the case in that story. Apparently, we seriously pinched something for Hitler, since he managed to force Mannerheim to give permission for the deployment and operation of heavy bomber aircraft from his territory. Or maybe he didn’t mind in retaliation for our raids on Helsinki. But let's get to the point. The air defense of the city and the fleet did everything they could, but there was great destruction in the city. It’s good, at least we took advantage of the knowledge and managed to carry out fire safety preparations for buildings. The Supreme Commander did not say anything after my report about the raid, but from his silence I realized that he was very dissatisfied. And the Germans, I think, since they have brought all their aviation here, will not rest on this. You understand that I cannot decisively change the situation with my own means, without your help. And then organizational conclusions may follow. Of course, I can order, but I don’t want to do this without your advice. That’s why I’m turning to you - how can you help?

– Pavel Fedorovich, let me think for half an hour and weigh everything.

- Welcome! I'll call you back in half an hour.

Krasavin turned to the duty signalman.

- Quickly give me a ZAS with Marinin and Sokolov.

Half an hour later a call came via HF, and Krasavin picked up the phone.

- Well, how can you cheer me up, Vladimir Vasilyevich?

- So, so. I discussed the problem with Marinin and Sokolov. Our offers:

First! It is necessary to transfer a squadron of MiG-23 interceptors to Leningrad. Find a lane for them there. The Germans fly at night, so I won’t be able to help with the MiG-17s. You will hire all their staff at the airfield in Vyazma.

They need to add technicians from among the permanent staff of our Center. They, of course, are not experts on this aircraft, but in any case they are better prepared than those you sent again. You will take the surveillance radar and the Osa air defense system battery there.

Second. The planes, of course, will fly over, but you will decide on the spot how to quickly transport the equipment and ground personnel to Leningrad - on your own or by rail.

Third. Provide the interceptors with 23-mm shells at their base, otherwise it would be a shame to waste missiles, and with kerosene. I think they will quickly wean the Germans from flying at night. If you transfer ground support by this evening, a surprise will await the Germans at night. Well, as for the organization of interceptor flights, I think we can take Minsk as an example.

– Thank you, Vladimir Vasilievich! I was thinking about the same thing, but decided that I needed to consult with you. Thanks again. Then I will let you know how this event goes. Goodbye.

- Goodbye, Comrade Lieutenant General!

Nikolai walked along the airfield to the headquarters. He arrived by transport from a hospital in Vyazma with a transfer in Minsk.

On September 22, the hospital medical commission declared him healthy and fit for flight work without restrictions. On the morning of the 23rd, he received documents and a uniform, and, having said goodbye to his sisters and the wounded from his room, left the hospital. At the entrance former school Lena was waiting for him. She visited him in the hospital almost every other day and knew that he was being discharged today. After kissing him, she immediately grabbed him by the arm and dragged him away, chattering incessantly about plans for today. Egorov managed to drag her into the nearest entrance and cover her mouth with a kiss. A minute later they were forced to pause because a door opened on the first floor landing and, giggling, ran out of the entrance. Here Nikolai explained that he had orders to report to his regiment and he could not stay: he would have nothing to justify himself with. Therefore, he needs to go to the station and find out when and how he can leave Vyazma. And then, based on the remaining time before the train, you can take a walk. Lenochka immediately suggested the option of getting to Bobruisk by plane. It turns out that quite often transport workers fly from Vyazma to Minsk and Bobruisk, and the 160th regiment of their division is being retrained for Yak-1 fighters at the city airfield of Vyazma. The regiment met the war on I-15 and I-153 aircraft and suffered the heaviest losses in the division, so it was the first to be sent to the rear for reorganization. Nikolai thought about it and agreed that this was a good option. But! But you still need to show up to the airfield commandant and find out the possibility of flying tomorrow. Therefore, now it was necessary to get to the airfield, which was located about seven kilometers from the city. And Nikolai, throwing his duffel bag behind his back and grabbing Lena by the arm, set off on foot towards the airfield, hoping to still catch a ride, since he was immediately struck by the abundance of military personnel in the city and the rather intense traffic.

And luck smiled at them: before they had time to walk even five hundred meters from the southern outskirts of the city, a truck from the airfield, the driver of which knew Elena, caught up with them. They didn't even have to wave. Forty minutes later, Egorov was already at the commandant of the airfield. Indeed, the Douglas transport plane was flying to Minsk tomorrow. The commandant made a note about the registration in the travel certificate and warned about the approximate time of departure of the plane, after which Egorov became a relatively free man for one day. Lenka, having learned about this, immediately made a plan for this time and immediately began to implement it. Therefore, having thrown their sidor into the tent of the same pilots and technicians who were sent and waiting on board, they first of all went to the headquarters of the Center for the ceremonial events for the graduation of young lieutenant pilots. They were a little late, and therefore they did not manage to get into the front rows. We had to limit ourselves to what could be seen and heard from the back rows of the audience present at this event. By the way, Nikolai really liked the dark blue dress uniform of the young lieutenants, with gold shoulder straps and yellow belts. Against their background, his already fairly washed out tunic looked downright poor.

After the celebrations ended with the parade of the freshly made lieutenants in front of the podium and the people began to disperse to celebrate this matter at the upcoming banquet or in the family circle, Lena took Nikolai to her home.

Her parents' apartment was located in a large six-entrance building on the first floor. Although Nikolai came from a peasant family, he once had the opportunity to visit the apartment of a teacher from a flight school. So, compared to the background of that apartment, Lena’s two-room apartment was not striking in size. The kitchen was especially small. But nevertheless, all the amenities were present in the apartment, which was especially valuable. Elena's parents were invited to a gala dinner in the officers' dining room, and Nikolai sighed with relief. He felt somehow shy, expecting to meet them soon.

While Lena was setting the table, Egorov walked around the apartment, examining it and the furnishings in it. He didn’t recognize some of the objects, but there was a TV similar to the one they had in the hospital in the apartment. Walking past the sideboard, Nikolai noticed the photograph behind the glass. The inscription at the top “Wonderful school years...” and the name of the school told him that this was a photo of Elena’s class. And he saw her there. And the numbers above the photographs of the students are “1969 – 1979”. No! He had certain suspicions about this. Everything that happened from the moment the regiment was relocated to the Bobruisk airfield was shrouded in mystery, understatements of accidentally dropped words. No one explained why all these people, one way or another connected with new, unprecedented technology, looked and even spoke somewhat strangely. Moreover, those who began to become interested in these issues, in turn, were forced to give explanations to the NKVD officers, who reacted very nervously to this. No one forbade them to communicate, but there was a limit beyond which it was better not to ask questions. In any case, no one gave answers to them, and problems arose. Nikolai remembered how several pilots from their regiment were suddenly transferred somewhere to the north, who showed excessive, from the point of view of the NKVD, interest in the new ones. In general, Nikolai fell into a thoughtfulness that is not typical for fighter pilots left alone in an apartment with the girl they love. It’s one thing to guess, and quite another to know for sure!

Only the hot kiss of Lena could bring him out of this state, who, having not heard from him an answer to his offer to sit at the table, entered the room and saw him like this. Having looked at him and understood the reason, she sat him on the sofa and began to bring him back to normal in a simple and trouble-free way.

Nikolai came to his senses, already kissing his left breast. His inner self once again made an unsuccessful attempt to protest, but he again sent it to the well-known address, and his fingers slid under the elastic band of his panties, touching the damp curls. Lena squeezed her legs and whispered mockingly: “Well, I’ve recovered!”

Then they drank tea in the kitchen and just talked about school, her parents, trying not to touch on a topic that made Nikolai feel uncomfortable.

They left the apartment in the evening. The street was crowded; from the cultural center came the sounds of a brass band waltz, interspersed with the rhythms of electric guitars. Nikolai now and then had to greet the meeting officers and commanders of both times, while at the same time trying to listen to what Lena was telling him. Suddenly she tugged lightly on his elbow, and he looked at her questioningly. Lena pointed with her eyes at the couple walking towards them. Egorov realized that the tall, dense major and the slender, beautiful woman were her parents. Seconds later, Lena introduced them to each other. The major, shaking Nikolai's hand, looked carefully into his eyes, as if appraising him, the mother smiled kindly and immediately invited them home again, to sit at the table. But Lena said that Nikolai would fly to the front tomorrow and they would rather take a walk together. This was the end of their first meeting with their parents. Nikolai sighed with relief: nevertheless, he still felt out of place.

For the rest of the evening, she and Lena walked along the paths of the town, laughing and chatting about nothing. At dusk, he walked Lena to the entrance and after the last—as Nikolai preferred to put it—kiss, they parted. He couldn’t fall asleep right away; thoughts kept popping into his head about the oddities associated with Lena, their relationship, about that conflict with age, which he only learned about for sure today. And only in the morning Kolya finally decided to give a damn about all this, forget about these differences and love her for who she is now. Reassured by this decision he had made for himself, he finally fell asleep to see his Lenka again, now in a dream.

And in the morning, after breakfast, he first flew to Minsk, and from there he reached his regiment on another plane.

He walked along a familiar airfield, and for the second day already there was a holiday in his soul. Familiar pilots and technicians waved to him. From the smoking room his comrades from the squadron poured out to meet him. By the way, some already had shoulder straps on their shoulders. Hugs, friendly teasing and congratulations poured in. He didn’t understand something about congratulations. When he asked again, he was told with a laugh that they would explain at headquarters. His friends accompanied him to headquarters and warned him that they would be waiting for him here. Entering the headquarters, Lieutenant Egorov reported his arrival from the hospital to the regiment commander. He congratulated him on his return to the unit and immediately called the chief of staff. Both of them were wearing shoulder straps and with guards badges on their chests. In addition, the regiment commander had a brand new Order of the Red Banner on his tunic. Bogdanov, in turn, congratulated him on his recovery, after which he exchanged significant glances with NSh and, grinning, pulled out the senior lieutenant’s shoulder straps from the desk drawer and put them on it.

– Congratulations on being awarded another military rank"Senior Lieutenant"!

– I serve the Soviet Union! – the pleasantly surprised Nikolai answered cheerfully.

– For courage and heroism shown in battles with the Nazi invaders, for 10 personally and 3 in a group of enemy aircraft shot down, as well as for courage and heroism shown in the operation to rescue highly secret equipment, by Decree of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the USSR, pilot 5- of the Guards Fighter Regiment of the 2nd Guards Fighter Division, Senior Lieutenant Egorov is awarded the Order of the Red Banner!

Egorov was speechless. The commander took the box with the order from the table, opened it and, going around the table, attached it to the pilot’s tunic. Only after this did Egorov manage to answer, in a voice hoarse with excitement, “I serve the Soviet Union!”

“But that’s not all,” the regiment commander continued. – By order of the Commander of the USSR Air Force, you are detached from the regiment.

-How? – Nikolai was confused. - Where?

“At the Vyazemsky Aviation Training Center, more precisely at the jet aviation training regiment,” Bogdanov explained with a sigh and regret, “Krasavin himself went to Zhigarev about you.” And I was hoping to give you a link. But, alas! I can’t beat such trump cards. So tomorrow, get ready to go back to Vyazma.

- Comrade Lieutenant Colonel! Allow me to stay for a day! Title, order... and you need to say goodbye to the guys,” Nikolai begged.

-Good! You're leaving the day after tomorrow. Congratulations again,” and the lieutenant colonel clapped him on the shoulder, “don’t forget us, maybe we’ll come to you for retraining.”

When Nikolai left the headquarters, his friends who were waiting for him picked him up and began to rock him. The newcomers looked at them with interest - the pilots of the 16th Air Defense IAP, who arrived in place of the jet fighters. They still had a hard time with orders, and each of them dreamed of meeting the enemy in the sky.

In the evening, the tent of their squadron was noisy - they were washing their recovery, stars, order and new assignment. It’s not often that so many pleasant events happen to a person at one time.

The next day, Nikolai filled out all the papers, collected his things, said goodbye and on the morning of September 26th he left for Minsk. While I was shaking in the lorry to Minsk, I made a firm decision: immediately upon arrival, order and sew myself a dress and casual uniform of a new type. As befits a pilot - a guardsman. He really wanted to walk with Lena in his new beautiful uniform.

Mikhail Alekseev

Sunday morning

* * *

All characters are fictitious, any resemblance to real people living or who have lived is purely coincidental.

June 15, 1941, 5.50 am. Vyazma area, on board the flagship PS-84 of the head of the Red Army Air Force

Pashka sees that the leader of the herd, Malasha’s neighbor’s goat, has taken advantage of the fact that the boys are distracted and is already going out to mow. He tries to run, but his legs won't obey. Instead of running, you can only move with difficulty and incredible effort the air, which has suddenly become dense and viscous. With horror he realizes that he does not have time to intercept the obstinate beast, and becomes even more numb. And the boys shout to him: “Pavel Fedorovich! Pavel Fedorovich! And Pashka, surprised by the unusual treatment, emerges from the captivity of childhood fears with difficulty and relief.

Pavel Fedorovich Zhigarev, born in 1900, a former peasant son, and now, since April 1941, the head of the Red Army Air Force, is coming to his senses. Less than two weeks ago he received the third star of a lieutenant general in the blue buttonholes of his uniform, and immediately there was not enough time to sleep.

There was a smell of thunder in the air. Almost every day, reports came from the Western Special Districts about overflights of German aircraft, successful and unsuccessful interceptions by our fighters. The headache from both was about the same. Given the directives of the General Staff and the country's leadership not to provoke the Germans, a “successful interception” could lead to a note from the German government, punishment of the pilot and his commanders. Unsuccessful - it showed a hole in our air defense system, allowing the Germans to calmly carry out their task. Only the notorious hero of Russian folk tales, Ivanushka the Fool, had no idea about the purpose of these flights.

Zhigarev worked without days off, lunch breaks and almost no sleep. Today was Sunday, and he was flying to Minsk, to the headquarters of the head of the Air Force of the Western Special Military District, Major General I. I. Kopts. Taking advantage of this, during the flight I tried to at least partially compensate for the lack of sleep.

- Pavel Fedorovich! – the second pilot of the flagship PS-84 of the Air Force Headquarters gently shook him by the shoulder. Zhigarev looked at him questioningly, while simultaneously trying to straighten his stiff arms and legs.

– Pavel Fedorovich, go into the cabin, you need to look at this! - said the pilot, seeing that the chief had woken up. Having risen, Zhigarev walked into the cabin. During these less than two months, the crew had already flown the Moscow-Minsk route more than once, and he could not understand what had alarmed the ship’s commander so much.

- Where are we? – asked Pavel Fedorovich, entering the cabin.

– Vyazma area. Look, Comrade Lieutenant General,” the pilot answered and tilted the plane to the left so that it would be more convenient for him to look over his head.

Zhigarev looked to the left along the course. I tried to blink my eyes. But what I saw did not disappear. Below, to the left on the heading, from a height of one and a half thousand meters in million-per-million visibility conditions, lay a large airfield. Perhaps no larger than the heavy bomber airfield in Monino, but quite comparable in size. AND CONCRETE! Pavel Fedorovich knew that it was here, since this spring, that the NKVD forces had been building a concrete runway for the future airfield. The completion date for the facility is autumn 1941. However, there we were talking about several hundred meters of narrow concrete. When he flew two weeks ago along the same route, he clearly saw that work was underway, but the builders were unlikely to complete it ahead of schedule.

Now, quite clearly, he saw in front of him a wide and long, approximately two-kilometer runway, oriented, as planned, in the south-north direction, with a developed taxiway system and a huge parking lot.

The parking lot was the second thing that struck Stalin’s falcon. In the parking lot, there were three long rows of strange silver airplanes. Offhand - more than a hundred. Zhigarev saw even stranger silhouettes on the taxiway running along the runway and in the squares of greenery between them.

On the taxiway stood twelve devices resembling gray-blue arrowheads. But on the green squares... there were two MONSTERS. One - four-engine, with a normal, straight wing arrangement - was still comparable to the TB-3, although it had completely different proportions. But the other, in Pavel Fedorovich’s opinion, was at least twice the size of the TB-3. Also four-engine, but two-keel. He also saw some other devices, with very short, stump-like wings, or without them. Of everything that his eyes saw and his brain tried to comprehend, he identified only three silhouettes that were at least similar to what he could call an airplane. The silence in the cabin dragged on. The ship's commander continued to make a shallow left turn, keeping the view of the airfield to the left.

- Let's sit down! – Zhigarev’s order broke the silence.

Even closer to the airfield, also on the right, there was a large fuel and lubricants warehouse. Zhigarev understood this from the shiny huge tanks.

The crew pulled the start of the runway a little, and the plane rolled down the concrete. Now it could be said that the width of the strip was almost twice as wide as the wingspan of the PS-84, that is, approximately fifty meters. The strip itself had two “humps” at the beginning on each side and, as it were, a lowland between them. The runway was well-groomed and, most interestingly, judging by the traces of wheel braking at the moment of contact, it was intensively used.

* * *

All characters are fictitious, any resemblance to real people living or who have lived is purely coincidental.

June 15, 1941, 5.50 am. Vyazma area, on board the flagship PS-84 of the head of the Red Army Air Force

Pashka sees that the leader of the herd, Malasha’s neighbor’s goat, has taken advantage of the fact that the boys are distracted and is already going out to mow. He tries to run, but his legs won't obey. Instead of running, you can only move with difficulty and incredible effort the air, which has suddenly become dense and viscous. With horror he realizes that he does not have time to intercept the obstinate beast, and becomes even more numb. And the boys shout to him: “Pavel Fedorovich! Pavel Fedorovich! And Pashka, surprised by the unusual treatment, emerges from the captivity of childhood fears with difficulty and relief.

There was a smell of thunder in the air. Almost every day, reports came from the Western Special Districts about overflights of German aircraft, successful and unsuccessful interceptions by our fighters. The headache from both was about the same. Given the directives of the General Staff and the country's leadership not to provoke the Germans, a “successful interception” could lead to a note from the German government, punishment of the pilot and his commanders. Unsuccessful - it showed a hole in our air defense system, allowing the Germans to calmly carry out their task. Only the notorious hero of Russian folk tales, Ivanushka the Fool, had no idea about the purpose of these flights.

- Where are we? – asked Pavel Fedorovich, entering the cabin.

– Vyazma area. Look, Comrade Lieutenant General,” the pilot answered and tilted the plane to the left so that it would be more convenient for him to look over his head.

Zhigarev looked to the left along the course. I tried to blink my eyes. But what I saw did not disappear. Below, to the left on the heading, from a height of one and a half thousand meters in million-per-million visibility conditions, lay a large airfield. Perhaps no larger than the heavy bomber airfield in Monino, but quite comparable in size. AND CONCRETE! Pavel Fedorovich knew that it was here, since this spring, that the NKVD forces had been building a concrete runway for the future airfield. The completion date for the facility is autumn 1941. However, there we were talking about several hundred meters of narrow concrete. When he flew two weeks ago along the same route, he clearly saw that work was underway, but the builders were unlikely to complete it ahead of schedule.

On the taxiway stood twelve devices resembling gray-blue arrowheads. But on the green squares... there were two MONSTERS. One - four-engine, with a normal, straight wing arrangement - was still comparable to the TB-3, although it had completely different proportions. But the other, in Pavel Fedorovich’s opinion, was at least twice the size of the TB-3. Also four-engine, but two-keel. He also saw some other devices, with very short, stump-like wings, or without them. Of everything that his eyes saw and his brain tried to comprehend, he identified only three silhouettes that were at least similar to what he could call an airplane. The silence in the cabin dragged on. The ship's commander continued to make a shallow left turn, keeping the view of the airfield to the left.

- Let's sit down! – Zhigarev’s order broke the silence.

Even closer to the airfield, also on the right, there was a large fuel and lubricants warehouse. Zhigarev understood this from the shiny huge tanks.

By whom? When? The number of questions was growing every minute, and not a single answer option had yet been viewed. The plane was rolling towards the southern end of the runway, and everyone in the cockpit was constantly looking to the right, peering at what they were trying to see from a height of one and a half thousand meters. Of everything seen from about a hundred meters away, only one thing was encouraging so far - there were red stars on the tail fins of the “monsters”. But where do these planes come from?

There was nothing like this in the USSR Air Force and the design bureaus with which he, as head of the Air Force, worked. There remained a faint hope that these were some special projects of the NKVD, but this hope did not reassure, but only caused concern - Lavrenty Pavlovich does not like people who are too curious. But then where are the people? Where is the security? He ordered the plane to turn around, and the PS-84, its engines roaring, rolled back down the runway. About three hundred meters before the northern end of the strip, on the left, there was a stationary checkpoint, in front of it there was a wide main taxiway to the parking lot. Having rolled out onto the taxiway towards the checkpoint, Zhigarev ordered to stop. After getting off the plane and lighting a cigarette, I looked around. The air smelled of summer and the elusive aroma of tar. After the plane's engines stopped, he was literally deafened by the silence of the summer morning, shaded by the breath of the June breeze and the singing of larks. To his right stood a deserted checkpoint. To the left, in a small birch grove, two one-story buildings could be seen. Even further to the left, between this building and the parking lot, stood a large red brick hangar. Right along the taxiway—about a hundred and fifty meters away—the parking lot of those silver, sharp-winged aircraft that he had seen from the cockpit of the PS-84 began. The front part with the cabin and wings were covered with covers, but the differences from the planes familiar to Zhigarev were immediately noticeable - a landing gear with a front wheel and a high-mounted stabilizer on a swept fin. There were red stars on the tail. On some vehicles that were not covered with tarpaulin, the inscription “DOSAAF” in red letters stood out on the fuselage. It was all strange to see, but the most surprising thing was that they were missing a propeller. Although Zhigarev could swear that, despite all the oddities, it is the plane in front of him that he sees, and not something else.

The door slammed and two men in dark uniforms came out of one of the buildings between the hangar and the command post. We slowly walked towards the plane. Finishing his cigarette, Zhigarev looked at them carefully. Two obviously elderly men, dressed in the same black Vokhrov uniform, were walking towards him. The first - as Zhigarev determined by the holster on his belt - was the eldest, the second walked behind and was armed with a three-ruler. These two seemed to fall out of everything that Pavel Fedorovich had already seen here. That is, they were the only thing that was natural here.

- Hello! – said the elder, approaching him. The second stopped at a distance, although he did not change the position of his weapon. Zhigarev greeted back.

– Did something happen to your plane? I reported to the duty officer at the Center about your landing, and he will arrive here soon.

“You didn’t introduce yourself,” Zhigarev interrupted him.

- Sorry. Head of the Center's paramilitary security guard Ivan Demyanovich Safronov. Who will you be?

“Chief of the Red Army Air Force, Lieutenant General Zhigarev,” he introduced himself in turn. Surprise flashed in the nachkar’s eyes, and he once again carefully examined Zhigarev. Apparently, the phrase caused misunderstanding, although he did not show negative feelings towards Zhigarev.

At that moment the sound of a motor was heard. A khaki-colored car with a tarpaulin top pulled out from behind the buildings. She stopped nearby, the doors slammed and two people slowly got out. One was dressed in a peculiar, loose-fitting dark uniform, with many pockets with shiny buttons. On the right sleeve there is a red bandage with the inscription “Duty”. But Zhigarev noted all this literally in passing, because all attention was focused on the second. The second was a man in an unfamiliar military uniform, a cap and shoulder straps!

Zhigarev's guarantor was the first to jerk, grabbed the holster and convulsively tugged at the inappropriately stuck pistol. The chief of the guard and the guard clearly did not expect such a reaction. However, they also tried rather clumsily to bring their weapons to a state of readiness.

Zhigarev turned pale. Random thoughts raced through my head: “How did HE get here? Who betrayed? What to do? Fire? It’s strange, but it seems that these people were as surprised by this situation as he was.”

- Who you are? – Zhigarev, in turn, asked a question.

– I am the chief of staff of the Vyazemsky DOSAAF Training and Aviation Center, Lieutenant Colonel Ryabtsev. Let me ask you to introduce yourself.

The man with the bandage standing next to him turned his head incomprehensibly, looking from Zhigarev to his guarantor, the weapon in the hands of the people, and could not understand the situation in any way. More precisely, I could not understand the reason that caused such a reaction from a man in uniform standing behind the obviously older man.

– I don’t know such a center and such an organization.

Now obvious surprise appeared in the eyes of Lieutenant Colonel Ryabtsev. He once again clarified Zhigarev’s position, rank and surname. There was a pause.

The flight engineer and co-pilot approached Zhigarev and the guarantor from behind with pistols in their hands. In turn, three men with rifles at the ready hurried away from the guardhouse. The situation was approaching its logical conclusion.

“I heard about a man with that last name,” said the man who introduced himself as a lieutenant colonel, “more precisely, I read about it in the history of the Great Patriotic War, and I also heard about it at school during lectures on the history of the Air Force.” But he lived during the war. Are you namesakes?

-What war? What does lived mean?

- Our war. Great Patriotic War. The one that every child knows about. But it ended more than thirty years ago.

- I don’t understand anything. What war? Are you talking about the First World War? So thirty years have not passed since its end.

- No. I'm talking about the Great Patriotic War 1941–1945. The thirtieth anniversary of the Victory in which we celebrated several years ago.

- I do not understand what are you talking about. It's 1941 now. What thirty years?

- Some of us are delusional. It’s just a pity that “someone” has military weapons in their hands. It is now June 18, 1979, and you are at the airfield of the Vyazemsky DOSAAF Aviation Training Center. Look around - does this look like 1941? Except maybe you.

Zhigarev thought about it. Indeed, it was he and his people who looked foreign, if we consider the lieutenant colonel’s statement that the situation was normal for him to be true. He took out his ID from his inner pocket and handed it to the lieutenant colonel. He picked it up and began to read it carefully, looking at Zhigarev. He folded it, pushing his cap to the back of his head in deep thought. Then he returned his ID and reached into the inner pocket of his jacket. And now Zhigarev was surprised to read the black lines of the certificate of Lieutenant Colonel of the USSR Air Force L.I. Ryabtsev, chief of staff of the All-Russian Academy of Civil Aviation, DOSAAF. Issued in June 1956 (!) to the then lieutenant.

- Why are you wearing shoulder straps? – he asked the lieutenant colonel with suspicion.

“We’ve been wearing this since 1943.” “On Stalin’s orders,” the chief of guard was ahead of the curve in answering. Ryabtsev nodded affirmatively.

Now Zhigarev pushed his cap to the back of his head.

“Put away your weapons,” he turned to his people.

The oncoming guard lowered the barrels of the Mosinki without a command. They were elderly people and they clearly did not like such passions.

- Trofimych! - the head of the guard addressed one of those who came running from the guardhouse in alarm. - Bring yesterday's newspaper.

Trofimych threw the vintar over his shoulder and limped towards the guard house. The others silently tried to decide the issue of telling time and what to do about it.

About seven minutes later, Trofimych handed Zhigarev the newspaper “Rural Life” for June 16, 1979. Friday. It told about the successes of the USSR in the international arena and in the agricultural fields.

Zhigarev wiped the sweat on his forehead and looked around lostly.

– We took off from Moscow at dawn on June 15, 1941. “I was flying to Minsk to the Air Force Headquarters of the Western Special District,” he said in confusion.

“A week later the war began,” Ryabtsev said heavily but confidently.

– Did the Germans attack after all?

- Yes. At four in the morning on June 22. This war cost us twenty million lives,” Ryabtsev answered.

- They are there... and I... here! “It didn’t fit in Zhigarev’s head that he had practically become a deserter.

- OK. Why stand here in the field? Chief of the guard! Continue your service. Duty! Tell the crew how and with what to secure the plane. And we, Comrade Lieutenant General, will go to headquarters. If you are afraid, let your guarantor come with us. Yes, still! Duty officer, I'll send a car on the second flight, take the others to the dining room, make arrangements for breakfast. And tell them to bring something to eat in my office. For everyone.

Zhigarev no longer had the strength to object. He was simply crushed by the situation and the knowledge that there - in his time - in a week Soviet pilots will fight for their homeland. And not only will he not be able to warn about this, he will generally be considered a deserter. The lieutenant colonel opened the right door of the car, Zhigarev automatically sat down in the seat. The chief of staff and the assistant sat in the back.

After five minutes of driving along the concrete road we arrived at the Center's headquarters. Along the way, Zhigarev didn’t see anything special - there was a fairly dense mixed forest on both sides, approximately in the middle of the route, on the right, there was a tall and powerful water tower, and in the same place, but on the left by the road, there was clearly a warehouse, surrounded by barbed wire.