A Story of Lieutenants “Forever nineteen. Grigory Baklanov "forever-nineteen" Summary of chapters forever nineteen

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Introduction

1. The story "Forever nineteen" by Grigory Baklanov

1.1 Biography of the writer

1.2 The Tale of the Lieutenants "Forever Nineteen"

Conclusion

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« Suitable for the wind, for the mud, for the darkness.

Good for bullets. Suitable for the march.

Good legend to wander among people ...

Youth is over. But if necessary,

Good to love, die, forget

In the shroud of gray-gray doges, decaying.

Soldier boy you have a bed

A three-meter ditch, quiet in the field.»

Louis Aragon "Waltz of the Nineteen"

War is always very scary. The forties can truly be called fatal. How many lives this time ruined, how many destinies. How many children were left orphans, how many mothers did not wait for their sons and daughters, how many women did not see more of their husbands, who in one day went to fight for their lands and never returned.

Hundreds of thousands of young boys and girls, right from school, went to the military registration and enlistment offices and went to defend the Motherland, many died for it. Suffering, hunger, death made adolescents adults early, instilling in them courage, the ability to feat and self-sacrifice. Graduates, or even schoolchildren, just like us guys, fought on a par with adults. During the Great Patriotic War, there were tens of thousands of such guys.

They collected the rifles, cartridges, machine guns, grenades remaining from the battles, and then transferred all this to the partisans. Many schoolchildren, at their own risk and fear, conducted reconnaissance, rescued the wounded, helped arrange the escape of our prisoners of war from concentration camps, set fire to German food warehouses, blew up steam locomotives.

A lot of such guys died and went missing in the war. But they still had a whole life ahead, they, like us, had some goals, plans for the future, dreams. But the war changed the lives of the younger generation.

The theme of war is central to the works of many writers, especially those who themselves went through this test. Many of them tell not just about the war, but about the generation from whom the war took years of youth.

1. The story "Forever nineteen" by Grigory Baklanov

1.1 Biography of the writer

One of these writers is Grigory Yakovlevich Baklanov, who was born on September 11, 1923 in Voronezh. Real surname - Friedman.

Grigory was born in the family of an employee, Yakov Minaevich Fridman (died in 1933), and a dentist, Ida Grigorievna Kantor (died in 1935). In 1941, at the age of 17, he volunteered for the front. He fought first as a private on the North-Western Front, then as a platoon commander of an artillery battery on the South-Western and 3rd Ukrainian fronts. He was wounded, shell-shocked.

Talking about his military biography in an interview on the Kultura TV channel (2008), Baklanov said: “I was an ordinary soldier ... and at one time I was the youngest in the regiment ... In October 1943, when we took Zaporozhye, I was seriously wounded, six months in hospitals, several operations, as a result I was recognized as a disabled person of the third group, but I returned to my regiment, to my platoon. I took part in the Jassy-Kishinev operation, the battles on the bridgehead beyond the Dniester, where I was shell-shocked, later became the scene of the story "A Span of the Earth". Then - the hardest battles in Hungary, in the area of \u200b\u200bLake Balaton; to some extent, my first story "South of the main blow" was written about this. Participated in the capture of Budapest, Vienna, ended the war in Austria with the rank of lieutenant» . Baklanov's story "South of the main blow" is dedicated to the memory of his brother and cousin, Yuri Fridman and Yuri Zelkind, who died in the war.

In 1951, Baklanov graduated from the A.M. Gorky. The first stories about the war, which brought Baklanov world fame, "South of the main blow" (1957) and "A Pad of the Earth" (1959), were subjected to sharp official criticism.

Official Soviet criticism accused Baklanov of "trench truth" - a truthful portrayal of the war through the eyes of its ordinary participants. Subsequently, Gregory's military prose came out with difficulty, overcoming ideological obstacles. The most difficult was the fate of the novel "July 41" (1964), in which the writer was one of the first to raise the question of Stalin's responsibility for the defeat of the Red Army at the beginning of the war. After the first publication, this novel was not published in the USSR for twelve years.

Among the writer's other books are the novels and novels "The Dead Have No Shame" (1961), "Karpukhin" (1965), "Friends" (1975), "Forever Nineteen" (1979), "The Smallest Among Brothers" (1981), " Your own man ”(1990),“ And then the marauders come ”(1995),“ My general ”(1999), the book of memoirs and stories“ A life given twice ”(1999). Baklanov's books have been translated into many languages \u200b\u200band published in 30 countries around the world.

Based on the books and scripts of Baklanov, eight feature films were shot and a number of theater performances... The most famous are the television movie "It was the month of May", directed by director Marlen Khutsiev based on the story "How much is a pound of dashing" and the performance of the Taganka Theater "Fasten your seat belts!" (Production by Yuri Lyubimov, 1975). The film "It was the month of May" was awarded a prize international festival TV films in Prague (1971).

In 1953 Gregory got married, and in 1955 his son was born. Later daughter.

From 1986 to 1993 Baklanov worked as the chief editor of the Znamya magazine. During the years of perestroika, this magazine published many previously forbidden works.

Baklanov opposed the invasion of Afghanistan and the Chechen war. In October 1993, Gregory signed an open letter of forty-two (a public appeal of a group of famous writers to fellow citizens, containing also demands addressed to the Government Russian Federation and President B.N. Yeltsin). In 2004 he published a publicistic story "Idol", debunking the image of Solzhenitsyn. cormorants tale war soldier

In September 2008, a year before his death, Baklanov said in an interview on the Kultura TV channel: "Of all the human deeds that I know (I never had to be in concentration camps or in the ghetto), war is the most terrible and inhuman thing ..."

Grigory Baklanov died on December 23, 2009 in Moscow, and was buried on December 26, 2009 at the Troekurovsky cemetery.

Awarded:

· Order of the Red Star,

Order of the Patriotic War, 1st degree,

· Order of the Red Banner of Labor,

· Order of the Badge of Honor,

Order of Friendship of Peoples,

· Order of Merit for the Fatherland, 3rd degree,

· Medals.

Member of the Union of Writers of the USSR (1956), laureate of the State Prize of Russia (1997). Chairman of the Commission on Literary Heritage Kamila Ikramova (since 1990), co-chairman of the Znamya Foundation (since 1993). Academician of the Academy of Russian Art (since 1995), member of the Council for Culture and Art under the President of the Russian Federation (1996-2001).

1.2 The Tale of the Lieutenants "Forever Nineteen"

Forties, fatal,

Lead, gunpowder ...

War walks across Russia

And we are so young!

D. Samoilov

The author was prompted to write the story "Forever Nineteen Years" by an incident that happened on the set of the movie "A Pitch of the Earth". A film crew found a buckle with a star in one of the trenches. “Something clinked under the blade of the shovel. And they took out into the light a buckle with a star, caked in the sand, green with oxide. It was carefully passed from hand to hand, it was identified by it: ours. And it must be an officer. "

The work was written in 1979. It was awarded the USSR State Prize in 1982.

“Director Khutsiev likes the title“ South of the main blow ”most of all. I agree, a good name. But still "Forever nineteen" - you couldn't think of it better. It is inspired by a line from the poem "Son" by Pavel Antokolsky, dedicated to his son who died in the war: "For ever and ever, eighteen." These words have become a symbol and memory of all the young participants in the Patriotic War.

Grisha wrote his story Forever Nineteen Years almost twenty years after A Span of the Earth. He is no longer such a young man. He's almost like a fatherthe dead young lives are reddening. ANDwe feel sorry for Nasrullaev, Paravyan, an infantry company commander, who "was not enough for one battle." I feel sorry for the blind Roizman, the boy Gosha, who became disabled ... Those who survived this terrible war will always remember them, ” - writes the wife of Grigory Baklanov Elga.

Gregory himself wrote: “I think that now is the right time to be used to tell the truth about the war. It is an illusion that we know it. Only fiction, the best books about the war told what it was like ".

The story "Forever nineteen" tells about young lieutenants who, despite their young age, were fully responsible for their actions, for the actions of other soldiers. And it was these young platoon commanders who went on the attack, held the defense, inspiring the rest. Young heroes of Baklanov sharply feel the value of every day, every moment. “All of them together and separately each were responsible for the country, for the war, and for everything that is in the world and after them will be. But he alone was responsible for bringing the battery to the deadline. "... This "one" is the hero of the story Volodya Tretyakov - a young officer in whom Baklanov embodied the best features - a sense of duty, patriotism, responsibility, mercy. The hero of the story becomes a generalized image of the entire generation. This is why the title is plural - nineteen years old.

Before the war, the boy lived like all ordinary people. But shortly before the beginning of the events of the Great Patriotic War, his father, who was not guilty of anything, was arrested. The child had a stepfather, whom the boy did not accept and condemned his mother for treason to his father.

The stepfather leaves for the war, followed by Tretyakov himself. In the war, the boy begins to grow up and understand the value of life. Already in the hospital, he begins to scold himself for boyish insolence and stupidity. He begins to understand that he had no right to condemn his mother for her decision and thereby bring her pain. The author of the story shows his readers how teenagers grew up in such harsh conditions.

The author is close to his hero. “Here, in the hospital, the same thought haunted me: will it ever turn out that this war could not have happened? What could people have done to prevent this? And would millions have survived? .. " And it is not entirely clear who is arguing, the author or the hero of the story.

The main idea of \u200b\u200bthe story is the portrayal of generality and truth. The author believed that he was obliged to tell everything while he was alive. The writer managed to vividly depict the life of the front-line soldiers, the psychology of that time, allowing the reader to plunge into those events at that time and, as it were, be next to the soldiers themselves.

Very often in his story, the author shows the thoughts of the soldiers: “Here they are, these last irreversible minutes. In the dark, breakfast was served to the infantry, and although everyone did not talk about it, he thought, scraping the pot: maybe for the last time ... With this thought, he hid the wiped spoon behind the winding: maybe it won't be useful anymore. ".

By philosophical reflections, the author expresses his vision of what was happening at the front, his thoughts. “Aren't only great people not disappearing at all? Are they only destined to remain among the living posthumously? And from ordinary people, from people like them all who are now sitting in this forest - before them here they also sat on the grass - is there really nothing left of them? He lived, buried, and as if you were not there, as if he did not live under the sun, under this eternal blue sky, where the plane is now powerfully humming, having climbed to an unattainable height. Is it possible that both the thought unspoken and the pain - everything disappears without a trace? Or will it still resonate in someone's soul? "

In the hospital, Tretyakov meets his first love. His feeling is gentle, strong, pure. And reading the story, you begin to worry about their happiness. But the war will destroy everything.

Tretyakov is offered to stay in the town where the hospital was located, but a sense of duty again sends the young man to the front. The day before his birthday, the young man receives a congratulatory letter from his mother and sister, and on that day the soldier was wounded. On the way to the hospital, the young man dies, covering the backs of the others and giving them the opportunity to escape. He remained forever a "nineteen" hero. “When the medical instructor, leaving the horses, looked back, at the place where they were fired upon and he fell, there was nothing... Only a cloud of explosion that flew off the ground rose. And line after line of dust in the heavenly heights dazzlingwhite clouds in the wind» .

Similarly, the reader is captured by descriptions of battles, and the author's frequent appeal to nature, the existence of which becomes an alternative to the nightmare of war committed by people. Nature in Baklanov's works is one of the protagonists, she suffers from the war, suffers: a cow, being near the front line, stops giving milk.

Baklanov's heroes keep track of time, they evaluate it with those moments of joy that they managed to experience in the pre-war past, remember the centuries and millennia of ancient history studied at school, and therefore perceive every day they lived, every day survived at the front more and more vividly.

Tretyakov remembers all the moments of life - the accidental kiss of a girl, the winter light outside the window, a tree branch under the snow. War changes the very feeling of life, where death, and the happiness of being, and beauty are near. The death of the hero enhances the uniqueness and tragedy of life.

Conclusion

Speaking about his story, Grigory Baklanov noted two circumstances: “Those who write about the war have this need to tell everything while they are alive. And only the truth "... And second: "Now, at a distance of years, a slightly different, more generalized view of the event appears."... And Gregory succeeded in conveying the entire atmosphere of events to the smallest detail.

This is a poignant story about the fate of yesterday's schoolchildren who did not return from the war, about love, about life, about youth, about the immortality of their feat, written by a hero writer who knew the life of the front from the inside. The heroes of Baklanov's story, like real soldiers, will forever remain in our memory, and will forever remain young.

The feeling of beauty and the value of life remains after reading the story. It leaves a deep mark in the heart and makes it clear that victory has a bitter aftertaste, evokes a feeling of gratitude to those who died in that merciless war, helps to think about the value of life.

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One of central themes in world literature there was and remains the theme of young people in war. Whatever the war, whatever the nationality of the soldier, we always empathize with our peers. They, like us today, dreamed, made plans, believed in the future. And it all collapses in an instant. War changes everything.

The military theme became the main one among those writers who passed the front lines. Vasil Bykov, Vladimir Bogomolov, Ales Adamovich, Anatoly Ananiev, Viktor Astafiev, Grigory Baklanov, Yuri Bondarev went to the front at nineteen. What they talked about in their works was common to their generation. As the frontline poets Pavel Kogan and Mikhail Kulchitsky said:

We were everyone, everyone

Not very smart at times.

We loved our girls

Jealous, tormented, hot ...

We are dreamers. About lake eyes

Inimitable boyish nonsense.

We are the last dreamers with you

To longing, to the shore, to death.

The front-line writers have fulfilled their civic duty.

For Baklanov, the story of the war is the story of his generation. Of twenty classmates who went to the front, he returned alone. Baklanov graduated from the Literary Institute and became a prose writer. The main direction of his work was the theme of war. Baklanov's passionate desire to tell about what he and his peers experienced, to recreate the true picture that only front-line soldiers saw, is understandable. Reading his works, we young people remember those who fought, we understand the meaning of their lives.

An emotional impetus to the writing of G. Baklanov's story "Forever - Nineteen Years" was an incident that occurred during the filming of the film "A Span of the Earth". The film crew came across the remains buried in the trench: “... They took out a buckle with a star, caked in the sand, green from oxide. It was carefully passed from hand to hand, it was identified by it: ours. And it must be an officer. " And for many years the writer was tormented by the thought: who was he, this unknown officer. Maybe a fellow soldier?

Undoubtedly, the main figure of the war has always been and remains a soldier. The story "Forever - Nineteen Years" is a story about young lieutenants in the war. They had to answer for themselves and for others without any discounts on age. Having got to the front straight from school, they, as Alexander Tvardovsky well said, "did not rise above the lieutenants and did not go further than the regiment commanders" and "saw the sweat and blood of war on their tunic." After all, it was they, nineteen-year-old platoon officers, who were the first to rise to the attack, inspiring the soldiers, replaced the killed machine-gunners, organized a perimeter defense.

And most importantly, they bore the burden of responsibility: for the outcome of the battle, for the formation of a platoon, for the lives of the people entrusted, many of whom were old enough to be fathers. The lieutenants decided who to send to dangerous reconnaissance, who to leave to cover the withdrawal, how to complete the task, losing as few soldiers as possible.

It is well said about this feeling of lieutenant responsibility in Baklanov's story: “All of them together and separately each were responsible for the country, and for the war, and for everything that is in the world and after them will be. But he alone was responsible for bringing the battery to the deadline ”.

This is such a brave lieutenant, true to his sense of civic duty and officer's honor, still a young man, and presented to us by the writer in the image of Vladimir Tretyakov. Baklanov's hero becomes a generalized image of an entire generation. That is why the title of the story has the plural - nineteen.

The natural unity of the truth of the past years and our current worldview also contributes to the success of the story. Sometimes you wonder who is thinking - Volodya Tretyakov or Grigory Baklanov: “Here, in the hospital, one and the same thought haunted: will it ever turn out that this war could not have happened? What could people have done to prevent it? And would millions have survived? " These lines from the work once again emphasize the closeness of the author to his hero.

Speaking about his story, G. Baklanov noted two circumstances: “Those who write about the war have this need to tell everything while they are alive. And only the truth. " And the second: "Now, at a distance of years, a slightly different, more generalized view of the event appears."

Combining a gaze at a distance with the truthful atmosphere of the past is a difficult task. Baklanov succeeded.

This tonality is stated in the poetic epigraphs. After reading the story, only then do you understand why Baklanov put exactly two. Philosophically generalized lines of Tyutchev:

Blessed is he who has visited this world

In his fatal moments! -

assist with the polemically snooty assertion of the "prose of war" in Orlov's poems: And we walked through this life simply, In shod pood boots.

This combination, the correlation of generality and truth, reveals the main idea of \u200b\u200bthe story. Baklanov paints precisely the details of life at the front. Particularly important are the psychological details that create the effect of our presence there, in those years, next to Lieutenant Tretyakov. And at the same time, the story carefully and unobtrusively relies on thoughts and generalizations already born. Here is a description of the minutes before the attack: “Here they are, these last irreversible minutes. In the dark, breakfast was served to the infantry, and although everyone did not talk about it, he thought, scraping the pot: maybe for the last time ... With this thought, he hid the wiped spoon behind the winding: maybe it won't be useful anymore. "

The wiped spoon behind the winding is a detail of the front-line life. But what everyone thought about the irreversibility of these minutes is already a generalized vision today.

Baklanov is meticulously accurate in any details of front-line life. He rightly believed that without the truth of small facts there is no truth of a great time: “He looked at them, living, cheerful near death. Dipping the meat into coarse salt poured into the lid of the pot, he told about the North-Western Front. And the sun rose higher above the forest, and in its own way something else came to mind. Aren't only great people not disappearing at all? Are they only destined to remain among the living posthumously? And from ordinary people, from people like them all who are now sitting in this forest - before them here they also sat on the grass - is there really nothing left of them? He lived, buried, and as if you were not there, as if he did not live under the sun, under this eternal blue sky, where now the plane is humming powerfully, having climbed to an unattainable height. Is it possible that both the unspoken thought and the pain - everything disappears without a trace? Or will it still resonate in someone's soul? And who will divide the great and the not great, when they have not yet had time to live? Perhaps the greatest - Pushkin the future, Tolstoy - remained in those years on the fields of war nameless and will never say anything to people. Can't you feel life of this emptiness too? "

These lines sound like a philosophical generalization, like a conclusion, like the thought of Baklanov himself. The simplicity of the plot and the intense lyrical pathos determine, in my opinion, the secret of the aesthetic effect of the story.

And of course, the love of Volodya Tretyakov is organically woven into the mood of the story. The one that these "unkissed" lieutenants, who stepped from the school bench into the mortal whirlwind, barely could touch or did not have time to know. An aching lyric note all the time sounds in the story, increasing its inner tension, its high tragic pathos.

FROM by different people Lieutenant Tretyakov had to meet on a short front line. But there were more good ones. Uniquely different in their temperament, energy, emotional feeling and his neighbors in the hospital ward, and his one-battery. But in general, they are some kind of front-line community that strengthened Tretyakov's forces.

"The star goes out, but the field of attraction remains" - he hears these words in the Tretyakov hospital. The field of attraction, which was created by that generation and which arises as the main and integral mood of the story. G. Baklanov wanted to tell about a generation, and not about one hero. As at the front, all life sometimes fit in an instant, so in one front-line fate the features of a generation were embodied. Therefore, Tretyakov's death brings us back to the beginning of the story: to those remains found in a buried trench on the banks of the Dniester. Death, as it were, introduces the hero into the cycle of life, into an eternally renewing and eternally lasting existence: “When the medical instructor, leaving the horses, looked around, there was nothing at the place where they were fired upon and he fell. Only a cloud of explosion that flew off the ground rose. And formation after formation floated in the heavenly heights dazzling white clouds, winged by the wind, "- as if raising the immortal memory of them, nineteen years old. The heroes of the story of Baklanov, a front-line writer, like their prototypes, will forever remain young. The feeling of beauty and the value of life, a keen sense of responsibility before the fallen for everything that happens on earth - this is such a spiritual mood remains the field of reading the story "Forever - Nineteen Years."

Answer from Ivan [guru]
Before the war, Viktor Tretyakov lived like all ordinary people. The boy was happy, he loved his father and mother, but the war took everything from him. Shortly before the start of the Great Patriotic War, Viktor Tretyakov's father, who was not guilty of anything, was arrested. A stranger appeared in the family - a stepfather. Tretyakov did not accept him, his relationship with his mother changed. The hero condemned her, believing that her mother had betrayed her father. And now the war. First, her stepfather leaves for her, then Tretyakov himself. The writer shows how honest and kind the young man is. Tretyakov has the best qualities. In war, he does not hide behind other people's backs. Lieutenant Tretyakov appreciates, regrets the soldiers, is not afraid of difficulties, is capable of feat, is true to his word, understands that a word is also an act. Tretyakov grows up in the war. He sees death and now knows the true value of life. Memories of loved ones, home, peacetime help the hero to preserve a person in himself in tragic conditions. While in the hospital, Tretyakov reflects on life, scolds himself for his boyish impudence and stupidity. He is a youth with no right to condemn his mother for her decision to remarry. The hero disliked his stepfather, not realizing that he brought pain to his mother, to a dear, beloved person. Now he asks her forgiveness in a letter, wants her to be happy. In the hospital, Viktor Tretyakov met his first love. His feeling is gentle, strong, pure. Sasha is the girl who is infinitely dear to him. The hero is ready to share her trouble, anxiety. He really loves her, tries to help her in everything. You read the pages of the story dedicated to their meetings, and you worry about the love of the heroes. I want happiness to take place. But the war will destroy everything. You could pretend that you did not notice her. Tretyakov is offered to stay in this small town where the hospital was located, but the honor and duty inherent in the young man do not give him such an opportunity. The front again. Now Victor is responsible not only for his mother, sister, stepfather, from whom there have been no letters for a long time, but also for Sasha, for her mother. There is no peace in Sasha's family: the mother has a German patronymic, and therefore worries. How will their lives go on? The war is with the Germans! Tretyakov, and together with him, we understand how much grief the war brought with it. She separated the hero from his father, stepfather, and took his life as well. Victor never lived to be 20 years old, forever remained nineteen years old. He received a letter in which his mother and sister congratulated him on his birthday. It came a day before the celebration. On that day, Tretyakov was wounded, everything seemed to be fine, because he was sent to the hospital, but the war deals its final blow. On the way to the hospital, Tretyakov dies. Before dying, he thinks about the people with whom he was on the same cart, tries to help them, gives way, and he himself walks. A stray bullet kills him. Yes, no doubt, the hero lived every minute of his existence on earth in accordance with his moral values. The war destroyed his dreams, and Sasha, his beloved girl, who managed to overcome many difficulties, lost her happiness. War is tragedy, pain, death. In the hero G. Baklanov embodied the best features of his generation - a sense of duty, patriotism, responsibility, mercy.

The Great Patriotic War will forever remain on the pages of books whose authors were eyewitnesses of this terrible event. Many books and stories about her were written, but the best story among the stories about the war is the story of Grigory Baklanov "Ever nineteen", published in 1979 and awarded the USSR State Prize.

the main idea

This is a book about those who did not return from the war, about love, about life, about youth, about immortality. She talks about the greatness of courageous deeds, love for the Fatherland and encourages always to remember about those who died in the war.

A summary of the story Forever nineteen:

In the center of the plot is a young guy Viktor Tretyakov. He lives a simple, happy life, loves his parents. But then she comes! That terrible, ruinous war. She takes away from him everything that was so dear to him ... Shortly before that, his mother married a second time, because of which relations between them deteriorated. Victor condemned his mother and considered it a betrayal of his father. He did not accept his stepfather.

First, his stepfather goes to the front, and then Victor. The author describes him as a kind, decent, brave guy who is not able to hide behind someone else's back. Lieutenant Tretyakov values \u200b\u200bsoldiers, decisive, brave and does not let words go down the drain. As he grows up, he learns the real cost of living. His memory retains the moments spent with his family in his home with a peaceful sky above his head, do not let him go crazy in difficult times, preserve humanity, give strength and confidence in victory. They are like no other, like food to the hungry, give a huge impetus to life.

Once in the hospital, he begins to rethink his life, scolding himself for disrespect and stupidity, thinking that he has no right to blame the mother for her choice. Disliking his stepfather, he hurt his mother, the closest and dearest person. The hero writes letters to her, asking for forgiveness and wishes for happiness. Right there, in the hospital, Tretyakov for the first time falls in love with the girl Sasha. She is very dear to him. He has the strongest feelings for her, loves her with all his heart and is ready to share with her both happiness and sorrow.

This book encourages you to worry about the heroes and wish them only happiness. But war is indifferent to the feelings and lives of people. One can imagine that there is no war and live a quiet life in a small town near the hospital, but our hero is not one of the cowardly, he does not hide his head in the sand as soon as difficulties arise. Courage and honor do not allow him to forget about taking care of others. And again he goes to the front.

Responsibility for the mother and stepfather, Sasha and her mother fell on Victor's shoulders. Meanwhile, not everything is in order in Sasha's family either: her mother has a German patronymic and she is very worried about this. What will happen to her? The war with the Germans!
Do not count the grief that the war brought! Having separated the son from his father, stepfather, mother, beloved, the war does not give up and continues to fight for the main thing life. Tretyakov is seriously injured and is being taken to the hospital, while on the way he remembers the people who were with him, about his loved ones, thinking about how to help them. He did not get to the hospital. The war got its own way. Victor did not live to be twenty, remaining nineteen forever.

War always brings pain, suffering, separation, death. There are no positive aspects in it and it does not bring anything good. Grigory Baklanov was able to accurately convey those emotions, personifying the life values \u200b\u200bof the military generation - this is a sense of duty to the Motherland, responsibility, heroism and love.

Picture or drawing of Cormorants Forever nineteen

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Grigory Baklanov

Forever - nineteen year olds

Blessed is he who has visited this world
In his fatal moments!

F. Tyutchev

And we walked through this life simply
In shod pood boots.

S. Orlov

The living stood at the edge of the dug trench, and he sat below. Nothing survived on him that during his lifetime distinguishes people from each other, and it was impossible to determine who he was: our soldier? German? And the teeth were all young and strong.

Something clinked under the blade of a shovel. And they took out into the light a buckle with a star, caked in the sand, green with oxide. It was carefully passed from hand to hand, it was identified by it: ours. And there must be an officer.

Rain is coming. He sprinkled soldiers' uniforms on their backs and shoulders, which the actors wore on themselves before filming. The battles in this area took place more than thirty years ago, when many of these people were not yet in the world, and all these years he sat like this in a trench, and spring waters and rains seeped into the earth's depths, from where their tree roots were sucked , roots of herbs, and again clouds floated across the sky. Now the rain was washing over him. Drops ran down from the dark eye sockets, leaving traces of black earth; water flowed along the exposed collarbones, along the wet ribs, washing sand and earth from where the lungs used to breathe, where the heart was beating. And, washed by the rain, young teeth filled with a lively shine.

Cover your raincoat with a tent, the director said. He came here with a film expedition to shoot a film about the last war, and dug trenches in the place of the former long-swollen and overgrown trenches.

Grasping the corners, the workers stretched out the raincoat-tent, and the rain pounded on top of it, as if it was pouring harder. The rain was summer, with the sun, steam rose from the ground. After such a rain, all living things grow.

Stars shone brightly across the sky at night. As more than thirty years ago, he sat that night in a blurred trench, and the August stars fell over him and fell, leaving a bright trail across the sky. And in the morning the sun rose behind him. It arose because of the cities, which did not exist then, because of the steppes, which were then forests, rose, as always, warming the living.

In Kupyansk, steam locomotives shouted on the tracks, and the sun shone over the brick pump station chipped by shells through the soot and smoke. The front rolled so far away from these places that it no longer rattled. Our bombers only passed westward, shaking everything on the ground, crushed by the roar. And the steam from the locomotive whistle burst soundlessly, the trains rolled silently on the rails. And then, no matter how much Tretyakov listened, even the roar of the bombing did not come from there.

The days that he rode from school to home, and then from home across the country, merged, like the endlessly flowing steel strands of rails merge. And so, laying on the rusty rubble a soldier's greatcoat with the lieutenant's shoulder straps, he sat on the rail in a dead end and dined dry. The sun was shining in the autumn, the wind stirred the growing hair on his head. As his curly forelock rolled out from under the car in December forty-first and, together with other curly, dark, resinous, red, linen, soft, coarse hair, was swept away by a broom on the floor in one ball of wool, so it has not grown back since then not once. Only on a small passport photo, now kept by the mother, did he survive in all its pre-war glory.

The colliding iron buffers of the carriages clanged, a suffocating smell of burnt coal was applied, steam hissed, people suddenly rushed somewhere, ran, jumping over the rails; it seems that he alone was in no hurry throughout the station. Twice today he stood in line at the food station. Once I went to the window, pushed my certificate, and then it turned out that I still had to pay something. And during the war he had completely forgotten how to buy, and he had no money with him. At the front, everything that was supposed to you was given out like that, or it was lying around, abandoned during the offensive, during the retreat: take as much as you can carry. But at this time a soldier and his harness is heavy. And then, in a long defense, and even sharper - in the school, where they were fed according to the cadet's logistical norm, I remembered more than once how they walked through the broken dairy and scooped condensed milk with pots, and it followed with honey threads. But then they walked in the heat, with parched lips, black with dust - this sweet milk stuck in a dry throat. Or recalled roaring herds driven away, how they were milked right into the dust of the roads ...

It was necessary for Tretyakov, going behind the pumping station, to get out of the duffel bag a waffle towel with a stamp issued at the school. He did not have time to unfold it, as several people flew into the rag at once. And all these were men of draft age, but who had escaped the war, they were kind of twitchy, fast: they tore from their hands, and looked around, ready to disappear in an instant. Without bargaining, he gave in disgust for half the price, the second time he stood in line. She slowly moved to the window, lieutenants, captains, senior lieutenants. On some, everything was new, unkempt, on others, returning from hospitals, someone's cotton bootie was in use. The one who first received it from the warehouse, still smelling of kerosene, may already be buried in the ground, and the uniform, washed and darned, where it was spoiled by a bullet or a shrapnel, carried a second service life.

All this long line on the way to the front passed in front of the window of the food station, everyone bowed his head here: some gloomily, others with an inexplicable, searching smile.

Following! - was heard from there.

Obeying a vague curiosity, Tretyakov also peered through the low-cut window. Among the sacks, opened boxes, sacks, among all this power, two pairs of chrome boots were stamping on the bending boards. The dusty bootlegs, tightly pulled over the calves, shone, the soles under the boots were thin, leather; such is not to knead the dirt, to walk on the boards.

The gripping hands of a rear soldier - their golden hair was sprinkled with flour - pulled the food certificate from their fingers, put everything out of the window at once: a can of canned fish, sugar, bread, bacon, half a pack of light tobacco:

Following!

And the next one was in a hurry, thrusting his certificate over his head.

Having now chosen a place with less people, Tretyakov untied his duffel bag and, sitting in front of him on the rail, as if in front of a table, dined dry and looked from afar at the station bustle. Peace and quiet were in his soul, as if everything in front of his eyes - this red-haired day with soot, and locomotives screaming on the tracks, and the sun over the water pump - all this was granted to him for the last time to see like that.