Letters from the North. War at the Arctic Circle, 1941 – 1944

This ride is a tremendous pleasure. I seem to be becoming a ski lover. It’s good when you ride like that. But yesterday I learned a lesson. They ordered the offensive with a rifle in one hand and sticks in the other, i.e., move quickly and lay down. I looked like a kitten on ice. Complete helplessness. Fun! Well, nothing, we’ll master it soon.

In 10—15 days, I have tests. I’ll hand it over and go to the front line.

Yes, here we have a story: when God made the light, he did not have enough material, he got angry and spat – it turned out to be Finland. Hilarious!

Yesterday I received a letter from Aunt Nadya, dated the 27th of November. Thanks. I do not understand where Lyalya works. She writes that she works a lot at night?! You write that there are often alarms. Now they are probably less common. The Germans are running away from Moscow. We gladly listen to every news of the events on the western front. OK, soon we will chase them here. It is our turn to laugh. Well, let’s take revenge at once. And we will take revenge so that we will drive them to death.

Then bye. Say hello to everybody.

I kiss you hard, Yasha.

15.

1 January 1942

Hello Mom!

Happy New Year!

Yes, a year has passed – a year that for all of us was a year of hard ordeals and hardships. For me, this year was a year of great fundamental changes in my life. After school, I was a person on duty at a crafts school and the head of the drama club, and then the director of the House of Pioneers. Then civil life ended. The military life began. A construction battalion – a long working day, knee-deep [torn of], 100 wheelbarrows a day, the harsh Soviet Arctic, tundra, the North Sea. Then – the reserve regiment. Hastily mastering military science, then training soldiers for the front. Then I went to the front myself. There were heavy battles and great ordeals here. Seven days of hunger, death of friends and comrades. Then a brutal winter. Instead of a full day, a complete arctic night. Night – in which you stand at the post and all, to the last muscle, strained fully. Then school. And now I am no longer a Red Army soldier. Now I am a cadet.

This is the end of 1941, the year in which we learned about our great sacrifices, but on the other hand we saw our greatest victories over the enemy.

What will the new 1942 bring us? Of course, a victory. I will conquer it already as a sergeant. My strength will increase. Instead of two hands, I will beat the enemy with a whole squad.

In the new year, Hitler will have to think and think hard. Or maybe he won’t be able to think? However, this entirely depends on us. Well, we will try!… In general, we will execute Stalin’s order, we will exterminate every single one of the Germans who have climbed into our territory as its occupiers.

How did you celebrate the New Year there? Really curious.

Well, I met it well yesterday. I’ll tell you a secret: I didn’t drink my 100 grams for five days, and yesterday at 12 o’clock I celebrated the New Year with half a liter of Moscow wheat vodka. And today the command sent an order – a New Year congratulation. It turns out that we also fought here for a reason. We killed up to ten thousand Germans and White Finns during the war. Well, bye.

Happy new year, year of victory!!!

Regards, Yasha. New Year’s greetings to all Nogintsy27!

PS Sorry if it’s awkward – my head hurts after the New Year.

16.

12 January 1942

Hello Mom! Today I received Aunt Nadya’s postcards for the 9th and 12th of December. She writes that there are no letters from me. They should be because I wrote more or less regularly.

17 January 1942

Because of tests that began at school, I am finishing my letter only today.

These last days I was not so worried about the tests as I was enjoying the flavor of the tests so memorable to me from my studies in Noginsk. My studies are over! During my studies, I learned how to shoot well, and I am very pleased with this. Now I do all the exercises with my rifle perfectly. Three days ago, I went to the bathhouse. By the way, about the bath. A real “Russian” bathhouse or, more precisely, “Finnish”. The bathhouse itself is hot and stuffy and painful in the head, and you have to undress and dress outside. As soon as you jump out of it in Adam’s costume, and the frost outside is – 20 to – 30°C (the usual temperature here), well, the frost penetrates to the marrow of your bones. But when you get dressed, it is a great pleasantness that takes apart you. Yes, it is good to wash in the local bath, although when I wash, I remember the Noginsk bath with pleasure. Well, so I went to the bathhouse. I went into the forest for firewood, I looked at the tracks. I went up, from under my nose the white partridges would jump out of the snow, and I was stupefied. I ran after them [torn off] I ran for two hours up to my waist in the snow, but [torn off] could not shoot: they are white, and you can’t see a damn thing of them in the snow. Suddenly I saw that a wood grouse flew and sat down on a tree. I crawled to him no worse than in battle, took aim, and the wood grouse fell. He weighed as much as 6—8 kilograms. Huge! That was a snack! 100 g of vodka and wood grouse fried in oil! Bliss!

Now about the tests. Of course, I passed them safely. I studied the weapon to the smallest screw. Tomorrow there will be a report from the commissar about our studies at the club. Then the order on the conferring of ranks will be read, then there will be a concert and a movie. Tomorrow I’ll go to the unit. There I will have to train fighters. Our unit is now studying because it is on vacation, not far from here. Well, that seems to be all.

Write how you live there.

Hello to everyone, everyone. Hello to Aunt Nadya!

Regards, Yakov

PS The hardest frost for the winter was – 42°C. Today it’s probably even stronger, but I don’t know for sure the temperature.

17.

Night from 20 to 21 January 1942

Hello Mom! My studies have ended, and here I am again in my unit. On our release, all the command of the division was there, a brass band played. Everything was very solemn. And now I am a commander in the Red Army. Now my task is to lead my soldiers into battle. Leading into battle means skillfully commanding during the battle, being ahead, inspiring fighters with your personal example. And all this is not so easy to do while not in training but under bullets. You need to be truly brave, conscientious, and crystal-honest. Only then can you enjoy the boundless trust, respect, and love of the fighters, and without this, again, you cannot go into battle. How I can cope with these tasks will be shown by the upcoming offensive battles, in which the German and Finnish evil spirits will be wiped off the face of the earth, and the Soviet people will have the opportunity to live in friendship with the Finnish working people.

You write that a real Russian winter has been established, and from the newspapers I know that a real German escape has also been established. Yes, they have something to run from. The harsh arctic winter makes it difficult to survive in combat conditions if you are wearing a cap, boots and, albeit woolen, an overcoat. And this is how the Germans are still dressed. That is why they began to surrender in groups, with the officers together, without waiting for the cruel slap of the bony paw of the Russian big bear. And the Russian bear is already beginning to seriously bare its teeth at its neighbor in the north, it is already sharpening its claws, preparing for the last decisive slap on the hunched back of Hitler’s lackey – Finland. Speaking of Finland and its cursed nature. We laugh here that when God created the world, at the end he did not have enough material, then he spat, and it turned out to be Finland. What a story! By the way, about the local climate. It is very strange, fickle. The weather can literally change 3—4 times a day. Severe frosts (already at – 44°С) are replaced by rather warm weather of – 10 to —12 °С. In general, the usual temperature here is – 18 to – 25 °С. But due to the absence of wind and very good warm uniforms, frosts are not so sensitive. Although I still managed to freeze, and rather hard, the lobes on the fingers of my right hand. Today is the 20th of January – half of winter is over. Behind the long arctic night. Today the day has increased by an hour and a half. Yesterday I saw the sun for the first time in winter. True, I saw it from a high hill, and I saw a red ball with yellow-red rays gliding along my legs. But even this after Northern night made me happy.

My unit is now on vacation, some distance from the front line. There are intense activities, they go on reconnaissance sometimes, sometimes to the rear of the enemy. I haven’t been there yet. But soon it will have to. We will have to stay awake there for several days because it is quite tricky to fall asleep under a spruce in the snow.

Well, so far, this is all I wanted to write. I am now the chief of the guard (now I am relieved of standing watch, and this is a great relief). I changed posts and sat by the stove made of a gasoline barrel, and now I am writing this letter to you. Yesterday I received your letter of 12 December and a postcard of 27 September. In the postcard, you write that you sent the package that I received in October. It’s interesting how post works. Fun!

You write that Boris28 studies at a school for adults. Why? Unclear. Explain! Why is Grisha in the city of Osh? Who and where does he work? You write that Vasya passed the city of Kuibyshev. Is he going to the front with Gladyshev? Say hello to the teachers you see. We will avenge Zhenya. We will take revenge for everything. Give Natasha A. my warmest greetings. Tell her, by the way, that she could write a little letter. Where does Lyalya work, and what is her job? Hi to Aunt Nadya. I wish her not to drown in the wisdom of science.29 Regards, Yasha.

18.

7 February 1941

Hello Mom!

My life goes on as before. As before, I belong to the small number of non-smokers here, although no one would classify me as teetotal. You know, you get used to these 100 g of vodka – our daily ration – so it’s boring without them.

Two days ago, I performed an independent combat mission for the first time. I led the fighters through the hills and lakes on skis following the map. In just 13 hours, we did 65—75 km. The path through deep snow and hills was difficult though we went skiing.

We are all hungry for the offensive!

Then bye. Write how you are.

Hello to everybody. Regards, Yasha.

19.

10 February 1942

Hello Mom!

For some reason, there have been no letters from you for a long time. My life goes on as before. By order of the company’s political instructor, I conduct political studies. Today, when I was preparing for the lesson, I had to take notes on “A short course on the history of the VKP (b)30”. I remembered the past, I remembered Lazar. His lessons came in handy here too. I live in a nice house with a glass window made of bottles and a stove made of a barrel (it was dragged 40 km). We built it all ourselves. I am in a unit that is famous for its carpenters. We have rebuilt a wonderful kitchen (I am enclosing a clipping from the newspaper), and our dugouts and defenses are always the best along our entire front line.

Mom, tomorrow or the day after tomorrow my life is changing. I finish my stay here and go to the front line. Mom, I won’t have to go into battle soon, but I must say that the defense sector that I and my unit will occupy is, without exaggeration, the most important and dangerous in our entire front line. There are enough German shells and bullets in this area. Do not worry too much, but I consider it my duty to warn you that now I will be almost in battle. Well, bye.

I kiss you hard, hello to everyone, Yasha.

20.

13 February 1942

Hello Mom! There have been no letters from you for a long time. I am sitting in a dugout – a burrow, and I am writing this letter. Mom, here I am again experiencing the sensations and moods of a person going into battle. The enemy is several hundred meters away from us. We always wear masked coats, crawl during the day because we are in a completely open area, with heavy fire. So far, no shells have hit the dugouts though everything around them has been dug up, and all the trees have been swept away. I am here today for the second day. I must say, the mood is bad. Unaccustomed to such tension.

Then bye! Regards, Yasha.

PS Last time I washed my face was on the 10th. As you can see, I have not gotten into a rut yet.

By the way, our defense is not bad. No worse than yours near Moscow. But, on the other hand, the site is important. I’m sure the Germans won’t get through here! Yasha.

21.

25 February 1942

Hello Mom!

For a long time, there have been no letters from you. I worry.

I have already written to you about the changes in my army life. I’m already used to the new environment. As before, I conduct conversations with the soldiers, publish “Combat Leaflet”, etc. Now there is no longer a day that I do not wash my face! Our conditions are as follows: the German sits on a hill and looks at us as if on a saucer, for the entire forest has been swept away by artillery fire. We live at night and sleep during the day. If you need to go somewhere day or night, you still must wear a camouflage coat. You walk like a woman in a skirt. However, even in a camouflage coat you should not walk but crawl. Between us – if you need to get rid of excessive liquid, you have to put on a camouflage coat and crawl out on all fours to the proper place. Fun!!! Shells have already entered the daily routine. I can handle them well compared to others. True, here the other day a blow-off shell exploded four steps away from me. But I managed to lie down in a snowdrift and thus escaped safely, only a shrapnel made a hole in my sheepskin coat.

Well, what else to write about?

Yes, I almost forgot. On the 23rd of February, I was on honor watch. I wrote a note about this in the “Combat Leaflet”. The political instructor really liked it and sent it to the front newspaper. If they print it, I’ll cut it out and send it.

The 22nd of February marked eight months of the war. The 23rd of February marked exactly six months of my stay at the front line. The 24th of February marked nine months of my army life. Here is such a cluster of significant dates. Now I am looking forward to the newspapers with reports on the celebration of the glorious anniversary of the Red Army.

Well, how is your life going there? From the newspapers it follows that the Moscow region is being rebuilt to restore the economy and prepare for sowing. I think that the Red Army will soon give the opportunity to do this to all our cities and villages, which today have not yet been cleared of the German fascist infection.

Write down what’s new.

Mom, and yet sometimes it hurts that Sergei and Lyalya are so busy that they cannot write, even one letter at a time. Sometimes it is insulting to tears.

I have no paper or envelopes.

Then bye. Wait for me with victory. See you soon after the defeat of the lousy Nazis.

Regards, Yasha.

22.

Lyalya, hello! When you saw me off, you promised to write. True, I did not write either, but you can forgive me. You are not allowed. It’s hard for you now, Grisha is not there, you are working, kids. Take heart, bring up a Soviet good girl from Lida and a communist fighter from Vadya.

Lyalya, if anything happens to me, surround Mom with care and love.

I think you’ll find ten minutes and write a letter. Your and Sergei’s silence makes me want to cry.

I’m glad for Grigory.

I will kiss Vadya and Lida when I arrive, having defeated the Germans. Now you kiss them for me!

Regards, Yasha.

Do not refuse the request – write.

Part 3: Hospital (April – June 1942)

I seriously bothered Hitler with my existence. Arkhangelsk. Everyone calls me “son.”

23.

14 April 1942

Hello Mom! Greetings to Aunt Nadya!

I have never hidden anything from you, so today I decided to write, as always, what I think. On the night from the 7th to 8th of March, i.e., just when you women were celebrating your holiday, I seriously bothered Hitler with my existence, and several fragments from an exploding mine hit me.

One fragment hit the chest, where it sits to this day. It did not touch anything, and it does not bother me. The pea-sized wound is already healed. Lungs are in full working order.

Two other fragments hit the flesh of the shoulder and bounced off (at least they weren’t found anywhere). The wounds are already healed. Everything is all right here.

One fragment hit the little finger of my right hand from above and bounced off. It damaged the little finger bone. The wound is healed.

Two fragments hit the back of the hand and are sitting there. I feel one from the side of my hand. The bones of the 3rd and 4th fingers are damaged in the palm. The wound is healed.

Mom, this list probably looks quite funny. Stop being discouraged and look at everything from a comic point of view. Imagine a twenty-year-old boy whose hands are in plaster from fingers to elbows. He is washed, wiped, fed, and covered. When he comes to the restroom, his comrades unfasten his underpants. He lies on the bed, opens his mouth three times a day in which food is put into him (as Lida and Vadya are fed) and reads a lot. He swallows a book a day. In general, he makes up for lost time. Isn’t that comical?

Yesterday my plaster was removed, and I got the opportunity to eat and write on my own, which I do. It is still inconvenient to write, the little finger is a little painful. But it will pass. In general, all the wounds have healed, now I am gaining strength.

Well, that seems to be all. Now I have experienced all the delights of combat life. I have sent you a telegram. I was afraid to dictate letters: what if you think there’s no hand? And now I’m writing badly but by myself!

Well, write how and what is going on. How are Lyalya, Sergei, Aunt Nadya, Lida, Vadya? Write more. Perhaps, at least now Lyalya and Sergei can write something.

Well, what else to say?

When I get better, then I will describe how these lovely young ladies carried me on a stretcher and washed me in the bath… Yesterday I danced a foxtrot with a nurse, although I was in underpants and a shirt…

I met nurses from Moscow here. I listened with interest to stories about the December days.

Then bye. Don’t worry about it. Of course, you will cry, but let it be tears of joy that everything ended well.

All is well that ends well!

Hello to Nogintsy!

I kiss you hard. Yasha.

PS When I get the strength, I will go to Hitler to avenge my scratches.

Write, Yasha.

My address: Arkhangelsk, PO Box No. 675/3.

24.

20 April 1942

Nadya, hello! On the 4th of April I sent a telegram, but so far, I have not received an answer. Although I know that nothing could have happened to you all, I am still worried. Listen, restless Aunt, are you studying to be a nurse? It’s smart. I wish you success. Mom, of course, is still sewing. Now, when I have the opportunity to listen to the radio, I often remember my table, books, good evenings, and the sound of mom’s sewing machine on the side…

Well, okay, stop doing the lyrics.

Nadya, I wrote a letter to Mom the other day. Now I am somewhat confused by one circumstance. The fact is that I, if I may speak so, having seized upon the opportunity to write, outlined all my scratches there. I am afraid you may think that it really hurt me badly.

The fact is that the mines that the Germans throw are torn into many small fragments, which have a relatively small force. When the mine was flying, I didn’t lie down but only bent down. This is either unnecessary “heroism” or rather just a habit to these gifts of lousy Fritzes. However, be that as it may, but the hail of fragments got to me. Shrapnel scratched my shoulder and chest. They were not even found in the shoulder: they bounced off. Here’s armor!!! Although the fragment sits in my chest, it did not touch anything and went under the skin to the collarbone. A little more serious is the case with the hands. On the right hand the little finger was damaged, which is now “not controlled”. And on the left, there are fractures of the 3rd and 4th fingers. I looked at the image. There are cracks in the bones. The plaster cast, which was on my hands (up to the elbows), was now removed, but a splint was bandaged on my left hand for immobility.

The treatment is hand baths, light massage, and finger gymnastics. The wounds have all healed, it’s just the fingers. Well, now I hope you see that my many wounds (seven fragments hit me) are not worth a penny. Mom, of course, no matter what I write, will still consider me a great sufferer, but you, as a person of medicine, can assess everything sensibly and, this is between us, well, of course you will say “thank God.” Have I guessed? Well, of course I guessed it.

Now, if only, Nadya, you saw me in March. Here’s fun. I could not strain my neck muscles because of a wound in the chest: it hurts. As a result, I could not raise my head even a millimeter from the pillow. Sometimes you turn your head, and your ear will turn up. Well, I did not call a nurse every time to “twist my ear”, so they always burned in the morning, well, just torment.

And my hands were in plaster, so they fed me. You know, when they brought semolina porridge and I opened my mouth, in which they stuck it into me, every time I remembered how Lyalya used to feed Lida or Vadya. Hilarious! Now my life is back on track. Every other day I watch a movie in the next room. Yesterday I went for a walk with a nurse. I looked at Arkhangelsk. There is mud here now, the river has not yet opened up. The Fritzes never flew here. I enjoyed absorbing the features of the city life during the war, because I have been in a city for the first time since May.

With a friend, I thought of the following thing. In the city in the cinema there is “Defense of Tsaritsyn”. Tomorrow, we want to go for a walk and climb there, which is generally not allowed.

There were female students of 9th grade of an Arkhangelsk’ school in the hospital. They have medical internships here. I enjoyed talking to them. I plunged into my beloved, at the same time close and distant school life. It turned out that in some ways I was already outdated. Young people look at many things differently. OK, I’ll catch up.

Now I read a lot. But I just don’t understand what interests me. I liked Podyachev. Read “My Life.” Indeed, “to live life is not to just cross the field.”

What else? We are 15 people in the room. The food is good. This morning there was a potato with fried cod. For lunch, meat noodles and buckwheat porridge with meat cutlet. Yesterday we had pancakes with sour cream for dinner. In the morning and evening for tea, 15 g of butter. In general – the grace of God.

Yesterday I listened to a rally “in defense of children.” When a mother talked about her 16-year-old tortured son, I swallowed tears with her.

Well, that’s enough for now. It’s still unusual to write. The little finger interferes.

Yes, Nadya, I received a letter from Zhenya Khapulin’s mother and did not have time to answer. She asks if I have learned anything new about Zhenya. Tell her there is nothing new. I ask you to go to her. I won’t write to her separately then. Hint to her that I have nothing new to say. I will personally report some details of his death.

Nadya, how do you all live there? Hello to Lyalya with the kids. It hurts that she didn’t bother to drop me a line. I wrote to her an hour before the injury and left it in the dugout. I don’t know if the comrades sent it. Maybe at least now she can write a little bit.

I kiss you and mom hard.

Regards, Yasha.

PS To your medical heart: the doctor said that my lungs are so healthy “that God grant everyone.” Of course, this is the most precious thing for you.

Write, maybe the letter will find me in the hospital. Hello to Nogintsy. Yasha.

Address: Arkhangelsk PO Box No. 675/3.

Nadya, I completely forgot to write. Ammargen is used to treat in the hospital. Doctors speak well of it.