Red Road from Stalingrad by Mansur Abdulin

Author:Mansur Abdulin
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781473817524
Publisher: Pen & Sword Military

CHAPTER NINE

The Drunkards’ Cemetery

Our regiment crossed the border between the Belgorod Region and Ukraine. Vladimir Yegorov, our commissar, explained that from now on we were liberating Ukraine from the German invaders.

After the death of Nikolai Dolinny, Guards Captain Nikolai Kartoshenko became our new battalion commander. I was appointed komsorg of the battalion, and Aleksei Yanson took over my post as the company partorg. Guards Captain Vladimir Yegorov, our battalion commissar, recommended me for this new appointment. He told me frankly that on average, a battalion komsorg survived no more than two or three attacks, because his duty demanded that he be the first to rise upon hearing the order to advance. ‘If you think you can, Mansur, take the post. If not, I won’t blame you.’

I was puzzled by the commissar’s words, and at first I did not know what to do. Yegorov watched me keenly, waiting for my answer. There has always been a komsorg in our battalion, and I was aware that others had willingly accepted the post before me. I did not want to be taken for a coward, so what should I do? A man can die but once! I felt for my lucky mascot – it was there. ‘All right!’ Yegorov gave me a grateful look. He knew he could count on me.

The average number of Komsomol members in our battalion ranged from 240–280. There was a high turnover. I had lots of work to do with all the fierce fighting and heavy casualties, there was never enough time. Every three or four days we received reinforcements. Each Komsomol member had to be registered. As to political instructions, they were the same for everyone: to do as much as possible, since at war one’s life may end any minute. To kill one Nazi, at least! Perhaps two if you’re lucky: one for yourself and one for a friend who did not have the opportunity to finish off a single bastard! As the komsorg I spread my philosophy ‘to kill at least one Nazi’ among all the Komsomol members of our battalion. This combat philosophy was universally accepted and no one thought otherwise. How else will we get our victory? There was no other way.

By nature I am a tender and sensitive person. I was never a hooligan or a brawler. But when I went to war I wanted to destroy the Fritzes: ‘Kill or be killed.’ This was my message to the newcomers. I was consumed by the idea that while alive, I would have my revenge on the Germans in advance: for I never expected to survive that slaughter. Once, on my initiative, we shot no less than 200 wounded Nazis in some vegetable store. I must note with some regret, however, that the majority of our soldiers were passive, and either perished or were wounded without trying to destroy even a single German (sometimes without even seeing the enemy). I felt great despair and anguish when I witnessed the death of our soldiers, who had just arrived from the rear.

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