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,