23 Αυγούστου 1942: Η μάχη του Στάλινγκραντ-Τα παιδιά του Στάλινγκραντ

Στις 23 Αυγούστου 1942 μπαίνει στην αποφασιστική φάση της η μάχη του Στάλινγκραντ, «η μεγαλύτερη στην ιστορία των πολέμων», όπως τη χαρακτήρισε ο σοβιετικός ηγέτης, Ι.Β. Στάλιν, στην ομιλία του για την 25η επέτειο από την ίδρυση του Κόκκινου Στρατού. Μια μάχη αποφασιστικής σημασίας για την έκβαση του Β΄Παγκοσμίου Πολέμου και τη νίκη των Λαών κατά του φασισμού.
Η μάχη του Στάλινγκραντ τελείωσε το Φεβρουάριο του 1943 με την πλήρη επικράτηση του Κόκκινου Στρατού και τη συντριβή των ναζιστικών στρατευμάτων. Διαβάστε εδώ ένα μικρό ιστορικό της μάχης, ένα άρθρο του ΝΙΚΟΥ ΜΠΟΓΙΟΠΟΥΛΟΥ για τη μάχη του Στάλινγκραντ, δημοσιευμένο στο «Ριζοσπάστη» της 2/2/2013. Δείτε επίσης το επεισόδιο για τη μάχη του Στάλινγκραντ από την ανεπανάληπτη τηλεοπτική ιστορική σειρά «Επιχείρηση Μπαρμπαρόσα».http://www.imerodromos.gr/stalingrad/

August 23, 1942

At 4:18 pm on Sunday, 23 August 1942, hundreds of Luftwaffer airplanes swarmed over the Stalingrad and began a massive bombardment. Over the next two days, the city was reduced to rubble and tens of thousands of people died.

Many Stalingraders remember that Sunday as a warm and sunny day. The downtown market was open, and people were going about their usual activities. After an air raid warning, a German scout plane appeared over the city, dropped a large amount of leaflets and turned back.

Then the nightmare began. As the sky grew dark with airplanes, people tried to find cover wherever they could. Many were trying to make it to the other side of the Volga River but soon realized that it was impossible. The Volga was on fire . What ferries were making their way across were getting bombed. People died tried to get on board and unable to escape sinking ships. Officially, there was no evacuation as “no one would defend an empty city.”

Below are some memoir excerpts of how witnesses remembered that day.

Kirill Borisovich Zvorikin (1925)

“August 23, 1942 I remember as if it were yesterday. It was a warm, sunny day. After work I decided go to the movies: “A Farm Girl and a Shepherd” (a music comedy) was playing at the “Udarnik” movie theater. An air-raid warning sounded at 5 pm and soon a German air raid began. It caught me by the movie theater and I managed to hide in a trench at the market. It seemed like thousands of airplanes were in the sky. The city got peppered with high-explosive and incendiary bombs, and in minutes Stalingrad turned into burning ruins. All my thoughts were about mom. The streets were littered with bodies, wounded were crawling out of the ruins of hospitals, screaming for help.

Our house didn’t get damaged and mom wasn’t injured. Together we ran towards the Volga and hid in a ditch near the canning plant. We spent several days there and then decided to try to make our way to the Krasnooktjabrskii District. There was talk that the Germans didn’t bomb the plants as much. Our friends took us in – their house was by the plant, near the city garden. We hid in their basement from daily raids. It was dangerous to leave the basement during the day because the front line was very close, along the tram line, and the German snipers would take down anyone. There was nothing to eat so at night I’d crawl out of our hiding place to get some water and food, which consisted mostly of meat I managed to cut off dead horses.” Full story.

Nina Prokofievna Mazurova (1934)

Once mom, my older brother and I tried to get onto a barge heading to the other side of the Volga. The crowd pushed forward, crushing people, and the planks of the dock collapsed. I remember instinctively grabbing onto a pant leg of a man standing in front of me with a baby in his arms. The man managed to hang on and then somehow, with a pocket knife, he cut off the part of the pant leg that I was holding on to. Petrified and with this piece of cloth in my hands, I started to sink. It wasn’t that deep, and probably wouldn’t have been a problem for someone who knew how to swim. But when you’re losing consciousness from fear…

I woke up on the shore among other “drowned.” We had been pulled out by the divers. My brother Vitja was one of them. After a short rest we went home. As we climbed the steep river bank, we heard the hum of the enemy airplanes and took cover in a ditch. The plane made a circle, dropping its bombs, and left. We climbed back out and saw that the barge that we’d worked so hard to get on was on fire in the middle of the Volga. People were jumping overboard, floundering in the burning oil. We came back to our dugout and decided that nothing in the world would make us move – we’d die at home. Full story.

Jurii Ivanovich Jushkov

“August 23, 1942 was a nice day. I was helping mom clean the glass in the second window panes taken out for the summer. We were peacefully preparing our home for winter. Suddenly mom looked to the west and pointed towards the horizon. “Germans!” she screamed with horror. A black cloud of enemy airplanes was coming from the west. They were dropping bombs. Stunned by horror and child’s curiosity, I was watching the sultans of explosions, tearing up first the outskirts and then moving to downtown. Everything was covered in smoke and fire. It lasted all evening and night without a break. Our house was on the right side of the Tzaritza River, by the Dar-Gora Mountain. From here we could see then entire burning city. After massive bombings the Nazi were moving towards our side of town. Our army was shelling them with artillery and bombing from the air. We found ourselves literally between the two fires. Bombing the Germans, they were also killing civilians and destroying houses. With first signs of air attack parents pushed the kids and followed them into pre-dug trenches. I can still hear mothers pleading with God for salvation as the bombs were going off all around.” Full story.

Vladimir Fedorovich Krjuchkov (1930)

“We were living with our grandma by the railroad station. About 15 minutes before the bombing, a German pilot dropped fliers, saying, “Citizens of Stalingrad! We ask you to leave the city. There will be a bombing.” We hid in a former Jewish synagogue that had been turned into a primary care facility after the revolution. Its basement was filled with kids. There also many babies without parents. We spent the entire night there. When it’s scary and difficult for everyone, at some point you adapt. And when finally, a woman appeared with her face black from silt, everyone laughed. We realized we were alive.”

Rostislav Yakovlevich Kapranov (1928)

“Stalin prohibited the evacuation of children from Stalingrad. The only thing that was allowed to be evacuated as the party archive. We became prisoners. A bloody porridge was being cooked out of innocent civilians. There was nowhere to go – the Volga was burning, the railroad had been blown up. Five sisters used to live in our house. After one bombing they were all gone. They all had a cruel governess the war.” Full story.

Vera Mikhailovna Kaidash (1926)

“I was born in Sestroretzk and moved to Stalingrad with my parents in 1931. In April – May of 1942, I was a freshman at the tractor-building college. Every day we’d get sent to building defense lines. Our group worked by the airdrome: From dawn to dusk we dug shelters and trenches.

On August 23, 1924, our work was supposed to be inspected by the military. We came over early to put the finishing touches on the camouflage of the shelters.  The air-raid warning sounded, and the city got incinerated. German airplanes were flying low over our heads, shooting machine guns.

All day we couldn’t leave the shelter and late at night, when things quieted down, some people from our group began to crawl out of the fortifications that we’d built. That’s when we found out that we were surrounded by the Germans.” Full story.

Nikolai Petrovich Schelkov (1931)

“I remember the nightmare of August 23 very well. We were hiding in a dug-out by the house. I was wounded and in shock, jumped from a steep cliff, ran under a bridge and begged a strange woman not to leave me and to take me with her. I didn’t even understand that I was wounded.

But my parents, thank God, were alive. They found me and brought me back to the dugout. The entrance was overlooking the Volga, and we could see how the ships were burning, people were dying and the Volga itself was burning. There was no food and water, and the nerves were flailing. The adults prayed that a shell would land on us and end our suffering.

But our destiny turned out differently. We walked to a village, about 20 km away, where my grandparents lived. I remember how we walked across the desolate steppe, and German airplanes would chase us. Mom would cover us with herself and a giant kettle that for some reason were carrying along.” Full story.

Vladislav Sigizmundovich Galetzki

“The next day it was quiet. There was a strong smell of burning. We went outside. In a house facing ours, all the beams had collapsed but on one of the balconies, a samovar was still standing on a table. It was such a straight site: the house was gone but a samovar and a tablecloth were still there.” Full story.

http://www.childrenofstalingrad.org/august-23-1942/