They were already far from the blockade. Hundreds of Leningrad children died in the fire at Tikhvin station
On October 14, 1941, a terrible tragedy took place at the Tikhvin railway station, which claimed the lives of several hundred Leningrad children fleeing the city besieged by the Nazis.
According to the recollections of the people of Tikhvin, the morning of that fateful day was especially warm and sunny. On the tracks at the Tikhvin station, there were convoys with wounded and evacuated women and children from Leningrad, wagons with ammunition and fuel tanks. These children, it seemed, were already far from the war, hunger and the horrors of the blockade: there were only a few kilometers left, and they were safe in Vologda, on the mainland. It will no longer be necessary to sit for days in a bomb shelter, starve, freeze, freeze from fear at the sound of a siren ...
But around 9 a.m. enemy planes appeared in the sky: about 100 bombers were approaching the railway station. The enemy, without a threat to himself, dropped high-explosive and incendiary bombs on the heads of defenseless people: at that time the station did not have air defense means capable of stopping the raid.
A huge fire started, trains caught fire, fuel tanks and wagons with ammunition exploded. Station workers, ordinary residents, firefighters and Red Army soldiers showed real heroism, rescuing those in trouble, carrying children and wounded out of the burning trains. It was impossible to approach the station for several hours: flames raged there, shells exploded, pieces of wood and metal were scattered for several kilometers.
"The children were badly burned, they crawled and waddled, dying of pain, from the station to the city, and there were not enough people and carts to help them ..."
“Alive, remember! Here are the children of Leningraders who were mercilessly killed by the war, ”reads the inscription on one of the slabs of the old cemetery in Tikhvin, where the bodies of little Leningraders, whose childhoods were interrupted by the war, rest in a mass grave.
How many of them died that day in a terrible, bloody meat grinder perpetrated at the station by German pilots is still unknown.
On that day, Tikhvin also lost all his firefighters.
They were already far from the blockade -
Leningrad children taken to the rear.
Somewhere there, behind the shelling, there are rumbles,
Sirens howling, antiaircraft guns in the spotlight
Bored bomb shelters cellars
Unliving masses of darkened houses,
Whispers of mothers on the alarming platform of the station:
"Everything will be fine, and there is no need to be afraid! ..."
And then the path along Ladoga, enveloped in a storm,
Waves, like a battering ram, hit the barges from acceleration.
Finally, the solid shore is already beyond the blockade!
And again, transfer, and again in the cars.
They were already far from the blockade,
The rescued children breathed more and more calmly,
And the wheels knocked: "Don't be afraid!
Don't be afraid! We go! We go!"
The train stopped, panting, at the Tikhvin station.
The locomotive unhooked, went to drink water.
Everything around, as in a dream, was peaceful and quiet ...
Only suddenly a long-drawn out cry outside the windows: "Air!"
"What happened?" - "Raid. Get out faster! .." -
"How's the raid? But we are far from the front ..." -
"Get the children out of the carriages soon! .."
And the fascist had already thrown the load from the turn.
And again the whistle and howl of children's souls tore,
As if at home, in a dreadful whirlwind of anxiety.
But now the children were not in a solid basement,
And completely defenseless, open to death.
The explosions formed a wall to the side, behind the houses.
Joy timidly broke through the fear: "Past! Past!"
And the soul again fell to hope, as to a mother -
After all, she is somewhere nearby, inaudibly, invisibly ...
And over the station again whistles, howls, presses,
Bombs are getting closer to children, knowing no mercy.
They are already torn right in the children's composition.
"Mom! .. You said: don't be afraid! .."
There is in the Tikhvin cemetery, old, green,
Place of memory of the fallen heroes of the battles.
Here, in the days of military glory, banners are bowed,
A minute of silence breaks with an arms fireworks.
And on the other side in a modest mass grave
The Leningrad children who died here are sleeping.
And the flowers say that they have not been forgotten,
That we cry for them even in the new century.
Let us be silent next to them, gritting our teeth stubbornly,
Let us read over and over again the mournful text of the obelisk,
And suddenly voices will appear: "Mom! Mom!
Come take us out of here! We're close! .. "
(A. Molchanov)
| Return to date October 14 |
Comments:
To the question I really need a poem about the war. given by the author Asya evil the best answer is Robert Rozhdestvensky
(an excerpt from the poem "210 steps")
There was a school ... Form for growth,
Shooting in the morning, drill in vain ...
Semi-Annual Expedited Release -
And there are two cubes on the buttonholes ...
There was a train along the long Russia,
I went to war through the flickering of birches.
"We will smash them! We will master them !!
We will prove it to them !!! "- the locomotive hummed.
In the vestibule, toil not ringing arrows,
All blown through by the draft
He grew up on the way, this boy -
Thin neck, ears upright.
Only in a dream, having occupied a regiment,
In the maddened tobacco smoke
He forgot about everything for a while
And he smiled. He dreamed
Something wide open and blue -
The sky, or maybe the sea wave ...
Tanks. And immediately heart-rending: "To battle!"
So they met - he and the war.
The air was filled with a hum, a hum
The world has been broken, has been distorted
It seemed like a mistake, a vision
A terrible, monstrous mirage
Only the vision did not pass ...
Following the tanks, by the bridge,
Dusty guys in gray uniforms
They walked and shot from the stomach.
The sleepers were dug, the embankment swayed.
Except for the fire, not a single thing is visible.
As if this planet ends
Where the enemies were advancing now
As if it were getting smaller ...
Shivering from close explosions of grenades,
Timid, lost and numb
The lieutenant lay in a dirty ditch ...
The boy was lying in the middle of Russia,
All her arable lands, roads and aspens ...
What are you, platoon commander? Let's prove it? Will we master?
Here he is - a fascist. Prove and master!
Here he is - a fascist. Frenzied and powerful
His famous steel howls.
I know it's almost impossible
I know it's scary, and yet, get up!
Stand up, lieutenant! Do you hear, they ask for it,
Emerging from nothingness again
Your house, permeated with sunlight,
City, Fatherland, your Mom!
"Stand up, lieutenant!"
Mountains and rivers, snow and flowers
Tender asks the girl with whom
So you could not meet!
Asks for a distant high school
It has become a hospital since September.
Stand up! Courtyard soccer champions
They ask you, their goalkeeper!
They ask for villages that smell of burning
The sun is ringing like a bell in the sky
Gagarin asks from the future!
You will not rise - it will not take off!
Your unborn children are asking
History asks ... And then
The lieutenant got up and walked across the planet,
Shouting not according to the charter: "Ayda!"
He got up and went to the enemy as if blindly.
Immediately my back became wet.
The lieutenant stood up ... and ran into a bullet
Big and hard as a wall ...
He shuddered, as if from a winter wind ...
He fell slowly, as if in a chant ...
He fell for a long time. He fell instantly.
He didn't even have time to shoot.
And for him came a continuous
And endless silence ...
How this fight ended - I don't know.
I know how this war ended.
He is waiting for me beyond the inevitable line.
He seems to me night and day:
A thin boy who only managed to
Stand under fire
and step under fire ...
Answer from 22 answers[guru]
Hello! Here is a selection of topics with answers to your question: I really need a poem about the war.
Answer from Alone[guru]
Barbarism Moussa Jalil.
They drove the Mothers with their children
And they forced to dig holes,
And themselves, they stood, a bunch of savages,
And they laughed in hoarse voices.
Lined up at the edge of the abyss
Powerless women, skinny guys.
The drunken major came
And with gloomy eyes he looked at the doomed ...
Muddy rain rustled
In the foliage of neighboring groves,
And in the fields, dressed in darkness,
And the clouds fell over the ground
Driving each other furiously,
NO! I will not forget this day.
I will never forget forever.
I saw the rivers crying like children.
Mother earth sobbed in rage
I saw with my eyes
Like a mournful sun washed with tears,
Through the clouds fell into the fields,
The last time the children were kissed
Last time...
The neighboring forest was rustling.
It seemed that now he was mad,
Its foliage raged in anger.
The darkness thickened around,
I saw a powerful oak fell suddenly.
He fell, breathing a heavy sigh,
The children were suddenly seized with fear
Clung to the Mothers, clinging to the hem,
And the shot rang out a sharp sound.
Breaking the curse
That escaped from the woman alone.
Sick boy child
I hid the head in the folds of the dress
Not an old woman yet-
She looked full of horror,
How not to lose her mind?
Understood everything, understood everything baby.
"Mommy hide me, you don't have to die"
He cries and like a leaf
Can't hold back trembling.
The child that is dear to her.
Bending down, mother raised the child
I pressed it to my heart, straight against the muzzle.
"I, Mom; I want to live, I don’t need to, Mom.
Let me go, let me go, what are you waiting for? "
And the child wants to break free
And crying is terrible, and the voice is thin
And it stabs into the heart like a knife.
-Do not be afraid, my boy,
Now you will breathe freely.
Close your eyes, but don't hide your head
So that the executioner doesn't bury you alive.
Be patient son, be patient.
It won't hurt now ...
And he closed his eyes and the blood turned red on his neck
A thin ribbon writhing
Two lives fall to the ground, merging,
Two lives and one love.
Thunder struck, the wind whistled through the clouds,
The land wept in deaf melancholy.
And how many tears are hot and flammable
My land - tell me what's wrong with you?
You have often seen human grief
But have you experienced at least once
Such a shame and such barbarity.
My land, enemies are crushing you,
But raise the banner of great truth higher
Wash his land with bloody tears
And let the rays pierce him,
Let them destroy mercilessly
Those barbarians, those savages
That the blood of children is swallowed greedily
The blood of our Mothers.
Answer from Simple[newbie]
It seemed that the flowers were cold
and they faded slightly from the dew.
I dawn that walked through the grasses and bushes,
searched the German binoculars.
The flower, covered in dewdrops, nestled to the flower,
and the border guard held out his hands to them.
And the Germans, having finished drinking coffee, at that moment
climbed into tanks, closed hatches.
Everything breathed such silence,
that the whole earth was still asleep, it seemed.
Who knew that between peace and war
only five minutes left!
I wouldn't sing about anything else,
but I would praise my way all my life,
when would an army humble trumpeter
i sounded the alarm for these five minutes.
Answer from Aiza Galbatsova[newbie]
N. Nekrasov
Listening to the horrors of war
With every new victim of the battle
I'm not sorry for my friend, not for my wife,
I'm not sorry for the hero himself ...
Alas! the wife will be comforted,
And the best friend will forget the friend;
But somewhere there is one soul
She will remember to the grave!
Among the hypocritical of our days
And all the vulgarity and prose
I spied some in the world
Holy, sincere tears-
Those are the tears of poor mothers!
They will not forget their children
Those killed in the bloody field
How not to lift a weeping willow
Of your drooping branches ...
Answer from Eurovision[guru]
Anatoly Molchanov. Tikhvin, October 14, 1941
They were already far from the blockade -
Leningrad children taken to the rear.
Somewhere there, behind the shelling, there are rumbles,
Sirens howling, antiaircraft guns in the spotlight
Bored bomb shelters cellars
Unliving masses of darkened houses,
Whispers of mothers on the alarming platform of the station:
"Everything will be fine, and there is no need to be afraid! ..."
And then the path along Ladoga, enveloped in a storm,
Waves, like a battering ram, hit the barges from acceleration.
Finally, the solid shore is already beyond the blockade!
And again, transfer, and again in the cars.
They were already far from the blockade,
The rescued children breathed more and more calmly,
And the wheels knocked: "Don't be afraid!
Don't be afraid! We go! We go! "
The train stopped, panting, at the Tikhvin station.
The locomotive unhooked, went to drink water.
Everything around, as in a dream, was peaceful and quiet ...
Only suddenly a long-drawn out cry outside the windows: "Air!"
"What happened?" - "Raid. Get out faster! .." -
"How's the raid? But we are far from the front ..." -
"Get the children out of the carriages soon! .."
And the fascist had already thrown the load from the turn.
And again the whistle and howl of children's souls tore,
As if at home, in a dreadful whirlwind of anxiety.
But now the children were not in a solid basement,
And completely defenseless, open to death.
The explosions formed a wall to the side, behind the houses.
Joy timidly broke through fear: "Past! Past!"
And the soul again fell to hope, as to a mother -
After all, she is somewhere nearby, inaudibly, invisibly ...
And over the station again whistles, howls, presses,
Bombs are getting closer to children, knowing no mercy.
They are already torn right in the children's composition.
"Mom! .. You said: there is no need to be afraid! .."
There is in the Tikhvin cemetery, old, green,
Place of memory of the fallen heroes of the battles.
Here, in the days of military glory, banners are bowed,
A minute of silence breaks with an arms fireworks.
And on the other side in a modest mass grave
The Leningrad children who died here are sleeping.
And the flowers say that they have not been forgotten,
That we cry for them even in the new century.
Let us be silent next to them, gritting our teeth stubbornly,
Let us read over and over again the mournful text of the obelisk,
And suddenly voices will appear: "Mom! Mom!
Come take us out of here! We're close! .. "
Answer from Maria Sholokhova[guru]
DEATH OF A FIGHTER.
I hear the whistle of a bullet, my chest is on fire
I see a ray of sun through my eyelashes
No, I don't believe I'm killed ...
After all, my life is now dreaming of me.
I smell earthly
The battlefield is softer than fluff
I shout to the guys: "I'm alive!
And I see the blue sky.
Don't close my eyelids
After all, I can feel, hear, see,
Not very clear, like in a dream
And the sky seemed to be closer.
And the body is lighter. I'm floating!
Battle, battle is a forgotten mirage.
I see the night, dawn, dawn
But I’m still alive, I’m not killed.
CALL OF THE ANCESTORS, 41st.
Blockade, 41st year,
Winter, the frost is fierce
Someone dies today
Will fall on the pavement ...
In thin hands 120 grams
Or cake or bread ...
The candle burns in the evenings
Under the Leningrad sky.
But the strength of the spirit cannot be broken
By those weakened bodies
They only had to live
While the war was raging.
And now in our blood
That pain and memory of ancestors
The fire of their hearts has not died out,
But, it flares up rarely.
The shadows of great-grandfathers live in us,
We don't need any more ...
And our comfort is a little disturbing
That old blockade
As if a call from the silence
Calls for posterity:
"Wake up from the turmoil, tradesman,
Hear my call softly. "
Concert script,
dedicated to the 70th anniversary of the Great Victory
Music teacher MBOU NOSH №11 Gurova I.Yu.
Novorossiysk 2015
The song "Sacred War" is played.
1 Apprentice :
Warm, carefree summer 1941 promised children, you can swim, relax. The guys passed exams, graduated from school, and were going to enter institutes. But none of this was destined to come true, the war began
At dawn on June 22, 1941, one of the longest days of the year, Germany began a war against the Soviet Union.
Song "Four days before the war" (girls' ensemble)
2 Pupil:
People shed blood in battles:How many thousand will die in a day!Smelling the smell of prey, closeWolves prowl all night long.
Song "I flew like an angel and saw the smoke of battles"
1 Apprentice :
Men went to the front to fight, women continued to work,
day and night in factories and plants: they sewed overcoats, knitted warm
mittens, socks, baked bread ... And they also wrote letters to soldiers in
who were told about their home, how they await victory and
returning home their sons, brothers, husbands ...
2. Student: .
And our soldiers, in between battles, recalled their home,
someone wrote a letter. Many families still have soldiers
letter triangles. Like these ones.
3. Student:
Hello dear Maxim!
Hello my beloved son!
I write from the front line
Tomorrow morning - fight again!
We will drive the fascists,
Take care, son, mother,
Forget sorrow and sadness.
I will return with victory!
Finally I will hug you.
Goodbye. Your father.
3. The song "The movie goes, the platoon is at war."
1.Pupil:
Any war is a huge spiritual wound in human hearts, especially in children. They are hundreds of times harder to endure different battles. During the war years it is very difficult, but especially for children. After all, childhood is a time of carefree fun, blue skies overhead. And what is it like for the guys when at any moment they can die. It's very scary.
The poem "Tikhvin, October 14, 1941", by A.V. Molchanov
They were already far from the blockade -
Leningrad children taken to the rear.
Somewhere there, behind the shelling, there are rumbles,
Sirens howling, antiaircraft guns in the spotlight
Bored bomb shelters cellars
Unliving masses of darkened houses,
Whispers of mothers on the alarming platform of the station:
"Everything will be fine, and there is no need to be afraid! ..."
And then the path along Ladoga, enveloped in a storm,
Waves, like a battering ram, hit the barges from acceleration.
Finally, the solid shore is already beyond the blockade!
And again, transfer, and again in the cars.
They were already far from the blockade,
The rescued children breathed more and more calmly,
And the wheels knocked: "Don't be afraid!
Don't be afraid! We go! We go!"
The train stopped, panting, at the Tikhvin station.
The locomotive unhooked, went to drink water.
Everything around, as in a dream, was peaceful and quiet ...
Only suddenly a long-drawn out cry outside the windows: "Air!"
"What happened?" - "Raid. Get out faster! .." -
"How's the raid? But we are far from the front ..." -
"Get the children out of the carriages soon! .."
And the fascist had already thrown the load from the turn.
And again the whistle and howl of children's souls tore,
As if at home, in a dreadful whirlwind of anxiety.
But now the children were not in a solid basement,
And completely defenseless, open to death.
The explosions formed a wall to the side, behind the houses.
Joy timidly broke through the fear: "Past! Past!"
And the soul again fell to hope, as to a mother -
After all, she is somewhere nearby, inaudibly, invisibly ...
And over the station again whistles, howls, presses,
Bombs are getting closer to children, knowing no mercy.
They are already torn right in the children's composition.
"Mom! .. You said: don't be afraid! .."
There is in the Tikhvin cemetery, old, green,
Place of memory of the fallen heroes of the battles.
Here, in the days of military glory, banners are bowed,
A minute of silence breaks with an arms fireworks.
And on the other side in a modest mass grave
The Leningrad children who died here are sleeping.
And the flowers say that they have not been forgotten,
That we cry for them even in the new century.
Let us be silent next to them, gritting our teeth stubbornly,
Let us read over and over again the mournful text of the obelisk,
Come take us out of here! We're close! .. "
2.Pupil:
War veterans are our conscience and honor,
Our pride and glory that we have!
And I believe the country will never die
While at least one patriot is alive on earth!
At the granite slab, the grandson puts carnations,
He will not yet understand my quiet grief!
How I want him never to know the war,
I just remembered that my great-grandfather defended the country!
The song "Tell me, father, how the sky cries about those who died in that war."
3. Disciple:
Children and war are two incompatible concepts... No one can tell how a seven-year-old girl felt, in whose eyes her sister and brother were torn apart by a bomb. What was the thought of a hungry ten-year-old boy in besieged Leningrad, who boiled a leather boot in water, looking at his dead relatives.
The poem of a girl from besieged Leningrad N.V. Spiridonova
Night. Air raid.
How terrible the Messerschmitt's howl.
Our anti-aircraft guns hit, but there are many planes -
We won't sleep. An unequal battle is going on.
We go to one bed
And mom sits down at our feet,
"They'll kill, so together, - he says, - let's wait"
But the alarm was cleared on the radio.
Suddenly the brother says: "I want to eat,
Mom, give me at least a tiny bit of tomorrow's share "
"That bread for tomorrow, I can't touch it"
And he asks for everything, without ceasing:
"And if a German kills us with a bomb,
And the bread will remain in the buffet? "
And mom: "Well, if he doesn't kill,
Where will I get your bread for tomorrow, children?
That bread for tomorrow. I can not. I'm not giving it".
She pressed her brother tightly to her chest,
And tears rolled down my cheeks.
As if it is our fault.
1.Pupil:
Do you know, father,
How you are honored here!
Do you know, father,
How the fireworks rejoice!
Do you hear, father,
How do you sing the glory,
How victorious "Victory Day" sounds in the ranks!
Song "May, spring and happy faces".
1. Pupil:
The sun is shining on Victory Day
And it will always shine for us.
In the fierce battles our grandfathers
They managed to defeat the enemy.
We will be brave like grandfathers
We will protect our native land
And the sun is bright Victory
We will not give it to anyone.
2Pupil:
To protect the Fatherland,
You need to become strong, dexterous,
And always be only the first -
I want to become a soldier!
The song "My Army"
3 Student:
Difficult to learn - easy to fight.
We will fight any enemy.
We will show you our courage,
And we are not afraid of difficulties.
Dance "Yablochko"
The poem about Novorossiysk "Nord-Ost whirled the breakers, Nord-Ost scattered the sands" by Yuri Drunina.
Dance "Novorossiysk"
1.Head:
How beautiful Russia is
On this bright May morning!
Birds are pouring outside the window
The foliage shines with mother-of-pearl.
We give carnations to veterans,
Remembering the brave fighters.
We will not forget the great feat,
The feat of grandfathers and our fathers.
The song "Victory Spring of the forty-fifth"
My daughter reads poetry better than anyone in the class. She performs at all lines and holidays. And now the teacher asked me to pick up some verse about children for editing on Victory Day. I pick it up. I practically cry. Here is one of many:
Tikhvin, October 14, 1941
They were already far from the blockade -
Leningrad children taken to the rear.
Somewhere there, behind the shelling, there are rumbles,
Sirens howling, antiaircraft guns in the spotlight
Bored bomb shelters cellars
Unliving masses of darkened houses,
Whispers of mothers on the alarming platform of the station:
"Everything will be fine, and there is no need to be afraid! ..."
And then the path along Ladoga, enveloped in a storm,
Waves, like a battering ram, hit the barges from acceleration.
Finally, the solid shore is already beyond the blockade!
And again, transfer, and again in the cars.
They were already far from the blockade,
The rescued children breathed more and more calmly,
And the wheels knocked: "Don't be afraid!
Don't be afraid! We go! We go!"
The train stopped, panting, at the Tikhvin station.
The locomotive unhooked, went to drink water.
Everything around, as in a dream, was peaceful and quiet ...
Only suddenly a long-drawn out cry outside the windows: "Air!"
"What happened?" - "Raid. Get out faster! .." -
"How's the raid? But we are far from the front ..." -
"Get the children out of the carriages soon! .."
And the fascist had already thrown the load from the turn.
And again the whistle and howl of children's souls tore,
As if at home, in a dreadful whirlwind of anxiety.
But now the children were not in a solid basement,
And completely defenseless, open to death.
The explosions formed a wall to the side, behind the houses.
Joy timidly broke through the fear: "Past! Past!"
And the soul again fell to hope, as to a mother -
After all, she is somewhere nearby, inaudibly, invisibly ...
And over the station again whistles, howls, presses,
Bombs are getting closer to children, knowing no mercy.
They are already torn right in the children's composition.
"Mom! .. You said: don't be afraid! .."
There is in the Tikhvin cemetery, old, green,
Place of memory of the fallen heroes of the battles.
Here, in the days of military glory, banners are bowed,
A minute of silence breaks with an arms fireworks.
And on the other side in a modest mass grave
The Leningrad children who died here are sleeping.
And the flowers say that they have not been forgotten,
That we cry for them even in the new century.
Let us be silent next to them, gritting our teeth stubbornly,
Let us read over and over again the mournful text of the obelisk,
And suddenly voices will appear: "Mom! Mom!
Come take us out of here! We're close! .. "
(A. Molchanov)
