1. History of the country in the works of M. Sholokhov.
1. The fate of three soldiers.
1. Heroism of the Russian people.
Mikhail Alexandrovich Sholokhov reflected in his work the main epoch-making events in our country. His works about civil war, collectivization and the Great Patriotic War are as true as history itself, they accurately recreate life and the spirit of the times. The main task For himself, the writer considered the depiction of the true state of affairs, without embellishing the war and the life of the people of that time. Sholokhov studies history from documents, collecting facts bit by bit. The struggle against old orders and the forced introduction of new ones does not end happily in his stories and novels. The first works on this topic are “Don Stories”. Following this, Sholokhov created the epic novel “ Quiet Don", Where special attention devoted to the history of the Upper Don uprising of Cossack counter-revolutionaries. Sholokhov also has a novel about collectivization - “Virgin Soil Upturned”. With the beginning of the Great Patriotic War he writes essays and in 1943 begins working on the novel “They Fought for the Motherland.” Back in 1942, Stalin advised Sholokhov to write a novel in which “truthfully and vividly... both heroic soldiers and brilliant commanders, participants in the current terrible war would be depicted...”. The novel was conceived as a trilogy, written in separate chapters in 1943-1944, 1949, 1954, 1969, but was never completed. It consists of soldiers' stories and conversations; in the 1960s, Sholokhov added “pre-war” chapters about the repressions of 1937, but censorship suppressed them, which deprived the writer of the desire to continue the novel. After the end of the war, he published the story “The Fate of a Man,” where the hero’s life reflects the life of the entire country.
Talking in the novel “They Fought for the Motherland” about Battle of Stalingrad, which was the turning point of the war, M. Sholokhov shows the cruelty of the war and the heroism of the Russian people. He believes that a feat is not only someone’s brave deed, but also the entire hard life at the front. At first glance, there is nothing heroic in this everyday thing for soldiers. But Sholokhov describes everyday life at the front as a feat, and the feat itself lacks a glossy shine.
At the center of the story are the fates of three ordinary soldiers. IN peacetime Pyotr Lopakhin was a miner, Ivan Zvyagintsev was a combine operator, Nikolai Streltsov was an agronomist. At the front, a strong friendship develops between them. People of various professions, with different characters, they are similar in one thing - they are united by boundless devotion to the Motherland. Streltsov is having a hard time with the regiment's retreat. Having become deaf from a shell shock and ending up in the hospital, he runs away from there as soon as the bleeding from his ears stops and returns to the front. “I just couldn't stay there. The regiment was in a very difficult situation, there were only a few of you left... How could I not come? Even a deaf person can fight alongside his comrades, right Petya?” - he says to Lopakhin.
Nikolai had three children and an old mother left at home; his wife left him before the war. Sympathizing with his front-line comrade, the simple-minded and kind Ivan Zvyagintsev comes up with and tells him a story about his own unsuccessful family life. Combine operator Zvyagintsev yearns for his peaceful profession, his heart cannot remain indifferent at the sight of a burning field, he speaks to a ripe ear of grain as to a person: “My dear, how smoked have you become! You stink of smoke - like a gypsy... That’s what the damned German, his ossified soul, did to you.” The burned field and the killed young machine gunner in the blooming sunflowers emphasize the cruelty and horror of war.
Pyotr Lopakhin is grieving the death of his fellow soldiers - Lieutenant Goloshchekov, Kochetygov, who set fire to the tank: “The tank had already crushed him, covered him halfway, crushed his entire chest. Blood was gushing from his mouth, I saw it myself, and he stood up in the trench, dead, stood up, taking his last breath! And he threw the bottle... And lit it!” Lopakhin himself knocked out a tank and shot down a heavy bomber. Nikolai Streltsov admires Lopakhin in battle. The silent Nikolai and the “mocking, angry-tongued, womanizer and merry fellow” Lopakhin became friends, as if complementing each other. Lopakhin understands not only the plight of a soldier, but also a general, who can be let down by both soldiers and circumstances.
When the regiment receives the order to hold the height, Nikolai thinks: “Here it is, the romance of war! All that was left of the regiment were horns and legs, only the banner, several machine guns and anti-tank rifles and the kitchen were preserved, and now we are going to become a barrier... No artillery, no mortars, no communications... And such devilry always happens during a retreat!” But he is not afraid of the thought that reinforcements may not arrive in time, convinced that the regiment will survive on hatred of the Nazis alone. Before the fight, he sees a boy who looks like his son, tears well up in his eyes, but he does not allow himself to become limp.
Heroes such as Streltsov’s brother, the general, whose prototype was the repressed General Lukin, the commander of the Marchenko division, who was repressed and sent to the front, think: “Let the enemy temporarily triumph, but victory will be ours.” The preserved battle flag is carried by one hundred and seventeen people, “the remnants of a regiment brutally battered in the last battles.” The colonel thanks them for saving the banner: “You will bring your banner to Germany! And woe will be the damned country that gave birth to hordes of robbers, rapists, murderers, when in the last battles on German soil the scarlet banners of our... our great Liberator Army are unfurled!... Thank you, soldiers!” And these words bring tears even to stern, reserved fighters.
Your task and main topic The writer outlined the novel as follows: “In it I want to show our people, our people, the sources of their heroism... I believe that my duty, the duty of a Russian writer, is to follow hot on the trail of my people in their gigantic struggle against foreign rule and create a work of art of the same historical significance, like the struggle itself.” Based on Sholokhov's novel, director S. Bondarchuk created a film, and the writer approved it. Both the novel and the film, without embellishment, show us the harsh truth of war, the enormous cost and greatness of the people's feat.
Mikhail Aleksandrovich Sholokhov, the author of the work “They Fought for the Motherland,” said the following about his creation: “Here I want to depict our people, our citizens, the origins of their heroism... I am sure that it is my duty as Soviet writer it is a journey to follow the burning footsteps of one’s compatriots in their opposition to foreign domination and to create a work of art of the same level of historical significance as this opposition.”
The book reveals in detail the life fate of three ordinary citizens Soviet Union- combine operator Ivan Zvyagintsev, miner Pyotr Lopakhin and agronomist Nikolai Streltsov. Extremely different from each other in character, their lives were connected during the war by friendship and boundless devotion to the Fatherland. Nikolai is depressed by the retreat of his battalion and his own family tragedy: before the start of the war, Streltsov’s wife left him and he had to leave the children with his elderly mother. However, this does not stop him from desperately fighting the enemy. In a tough fight he was shell-shocked and stunned. Once in the hospital, he runs away from it back to the regiment, in which only twenty-seven people remained after the battles.
Having met old comrades, he bright colors described that his condition had improved and his place was here, next to them. On the one hand, this act can be explained by his courage and desperate disposition. But what if the time spent in the infirmary made Nikolai remember the separation from his wife? What if, only in the heat of battle, he can forget the bitterness of betrayal and loneliness, which will become a faithful companion to a lonely person who is left alone with the harsh post-war reality, which at the time of the book was infinitely gloomy. The reader can read all this between the lines of Sholokhov’s work and think about the true depth of the book.
Pyotr Lopakhin wanted to hug Streltsov, having seen and heard his story, but from the sudden surge of feelings he could not squeeze out a word. Ivan Zvyagintsev, who worked as a combine operator before the war, tried to calm Streltsov down by talking about his own supposedly unsuccessful family life. The author describes this story with humor and a huge amount of good nature.
The novel They Fought for their Motherland Sholokhov's acquaintance with Lukin, an old general, created a completely new character in the book - Streltsov, Nikolai's brother, a general in the Red Army. In 1936 he was persecuted and repressed, but in 1941 the country needed experienced officers and commanders. After the outbreak of hostilities, Lukin’s rank was returned, he himself was released and sent to join the armed forces. The 19th Army of General Lukin took the attack from the 3rd Panzer Group of Hermann Hoth and the divisions of the 9th Army of Colonel General Adolf Strauss west of Vyazma. For a whole week, the soldiers held back the onslaught of the Nazis. The general himself was seriously wounded and captured during the battle. Soviet officer courageously and selflessly went through all the hardships of German captivity.
Lopakhin is experiencing the heroic death of Lieutenant Goloshchekov very hard. All the details of his death are described by Sergeant Major Poprishchenko, standing at the grave of his comrade in arms. From his words one can understand how courageous he considers his act, marveling at the lieutenant’s endurance. Chef Lisichenko certainly evokes warm feelings in the reader, using every opportunity to get to the front line. When Lopakhin asks him about the upcoming dinner, Lisichenko says that he has already filled the cauldron with cabbage soup and left two wounded soldiers to look after the cooking. Frontline friendship - important aspect, which the author plays.
Nikolai is very worried during the retreat, remembering with what eyes they were seen off local residents. But at the same time, realizing that the defeats of the Red Army occur through the fault of the soldiers and commanders, they are the force that must resist the enemy and which is sorely lacking in experience.
Zvyagintsev observes for the first time how flames devour ripe bread in the collective farm space. He talks to the ear of corn: “My dear, you are the one who smoked! You smell like a gypsy of smoke... That’s what the damned fascist, his ossified soul, does to you.”
In the blue, dazzlingly blue sky - the July sun blazing with fire and rare clouds of incredible whiteness scattered by the wind. On the road there are wide tracks of tank tracks, clearly imprinted in the gray dust and crossed out by car tracks. And on the sides - like a steppe that has died out from the heat: tiredly laying grass, dull, lifeless shining salt marshes, a blue and tremulous haze over the distant mounds, and such silence around that from afar you can hear the whistling of a gopher and the dry rustle of the red wings of a flying grasshopper trembles for a long time in the hot air .
Nikolai walked in the front row. At the crest of the height, he looked back and in one glance took in all the survivors of the battle for the Sukhoi Ilmen farm. One hundred and seventeen soldiers and commanders - the remnants of a regiment brutally battered in the last battles - walked in a closed column, wearily moving their legs, swallowing the bitter steppe dust swirling over the road. Also, slightly limping, the shell-shocked commander of the second battalion, Captain Sumskov, who took over command of the regiment after the death of the major, walked along the side of the road, and also swayed on the broad shoulder of Sergeant Lyubchenko, the pole of the regimental banner, wrapped in a faded cover, which had only been obtained and brought to the regiment before the retreat from somewhere in the bowels of the second echelon, and still, not lagging behind, lightly wounded soldiers in bandages dirty from dust walked in the ranks.
There was something majestic and touching in the slow movement of the defeated regiment, in the measured tread of people, exhausted by battles, heat, sleepless nights and long marches, but ready again, at any moment, to turn around and take up the fight again.
Nikolai quickly looked around at the familiar, haggard and blackened faces. How much the regiment lost in these damned five days! Feeling his lips, cracked from the heat, tremble, Nikolai hastily turned away. A sudden, short sob constricted his throat like a spasm, and he bowed his head and pulled the red-hot helmet over his eyes so that his comrades would not see his tears... “I’ve become unscrewed, completely limp... And all this is done by the heat and fatigue,” he thought , with difficulty moving his tired, lead-filled legs, trying with all his might not to shorten his stride.
Now he walked without looking back, stupidly looking at his feet, but before his eyes again, as in an obsessive dream, there arose scattered and surprisingly vividly imprinted in his memory pictures of the recent battle that marked the beginning of this great retreat. Again he saw a roaring avalanche of German tanks rapidly creeping along the mountainside, and submachine gunners running across covered in dust, and black bursts of explosions, and the retreating soldiers of the neighboring battalion scattered across the field, across the unmown wheat, in disarray... And then - a battle with motorized infantry enemy, exit from the semi-encirclement, destructive fire from the flanks, sunflowers cut off by shrapnel, a machine gun buried with its ribbed nose in a shallow crater, and a killed machine gunner, thrown back by the explosion, lying on his back and all dotted with golden sunflower petals, bizarrely and terribly sprinkled with blood...
Four times German bombers bombed the front line of the regiment's sector that day. Four enemy tank attacks were repulsed. “We fought well, but we couldn’t resist...” Nikolai thought bitterly, remembering.
For a minute he closed his eyes and again saw the blooming sunflowers, between their strict rows a ruler creeping on the loose earth, a killed machine gunner... He began to think incoherently that the sunflowers had not been weeded, probably because there were not enough workers on the collective farm; that in many collective farms there is now a sunflower, never weeded since spring, overgrown with weeds; and that the machine gunner was, apparently, a real guy - otherwise why did the soldier’s death have mercy, did not disfigure him, and he lay with his arms outstretched, all intact and, like a star flag, covered with golden sunflower petals? And then Nikolai thought that all this was nonsense, that he had seen a lot of real guys, torn to shreds by shrapnel...
GENIUS IN THE BLACKS OF THE HOMELANDWas it really not Sholokhov who wrote “They Fought for the Motherland”? TO when in the article “They wrote for Sholokhov”(“Novaya Gazeta”, No. 44, June 23, 2003) I reproduced the version of literary critic Zeev Bar-Sella that the real author of the novel “They Fought for the Motherland” was Andrey Platonov, then, in addition to abstract indignation, I was constantly asked two questions.
First: how could Platonov be a black man? Second: how can you hide Platonov’s unique style?
Why couldn’t Platonov be a black man? From 1929 to 1942 it was completely banned. But you have to live, eat, pay for the room, support your family. What could he do? Just write. And there were plenty of people who wanted to become “writers,” but who were not able to put two words together, but who had money and connections.
For our specific case, it is enough to quote from the memoirs of Fedot Suchkov, dating back to approximately 1940:
“In the same company (me and my classmates Uliev and Frolov) sat at Platonov’s, peacefully talking at a table bare as the steppe. And suddenly the bell rang in the hallway. I opened the leatherette door. About thirty to thirty-five years old, a man in an air force uniform stood at the threshold. I took him to the room...
We were surprised that the courteous owner of the apartment did not invite the officer standing at the door to the table. And he, hesitating, asked how, they say, Andrey Platonovich, this is the case. Platonov replied that he was very busy, but in a few days we could talk.
When the visitor left, Andrei Platonovich swore in proletarian language. He said that we had difficulty getting the half-liter bottle that had already been emptied, and that the dandy who had just retired had a cupboard stocked with Georgian cognac, and that for shoveling a novel that belonged in the trash can, he would pay him, Platonov, a thousand karbovanets... So I came across the use of a writer as a black man. And then I realized how simple everything on earth is, couldn’t be simpler.”
It remains to prove not that Platonov was a black man, but that he was one specifically in the case of Sholokhov. And at the same time show how the problem of style was solved. Evidence has been publicly available since May 1943. There was only one thing necessary: when reading Sholokhov, remember Platonov; and when reading Platonov, remember Sholokhov.
And also remember that both writers had a long and close relationship. Both, each in their own way, appreciated each other, both loved to drink (and Sholokhov, unlike Platonov and his friend Suchkov, had no problem getting a bottle). It is still difficult to paint an exact picture of their relationship. In one chapter of his book, Bar-Sella summarizes all available references to them. And we must admit that they are very contradictory. Some recall the reverence with which Platonov treated Sholokhov and valued his “peasant mind,” while others cite statements of the exact opposite nature. Some write about Sholokhov’s role in the release of Platonov’s repressed son, others quote Platonov’s statements that Sholokhov only promises, but does nothing.
But be that as it may, the fact of a fairly close (and possibly trusting) relationship is beyond doubt. That is, such a relationship in which you can ask for help after the imperative wish of the Supreme Commander-in-Chief of the forces of art to support the spirit of his order No. 227 “Not a step back!” Moreover, at the height of the war, it was not about a one-time “thousand karbovanets”, but about a direct return to literature, about getting a job. After all, it was in the second half of 1942 that Platonov received the rank of captain, the position of war correspondent (and this was a stable and good salary), and he was published again. The name of Platonov, his prose, his texts again appear in thick central magazines.
So let’s compare them with the “chapters from the novel” that appeared six months later. To begin with, two extremely compressed fragments:
“...Captain Sumskov crawled out of a trench broken by a shell... Relying on left hand, the captain crawled down from a height, following his soldiers; his right hand, torn off by shrapnel near the forearm, dragged heavily and terribly behind him, supported by a piece of his tunic wet with blood; sometimes the captain lay down on his left shoulder, and then crawled again. There was not a speck of blood in his lime-white face, but he still moved forward and, throwing back his head, shouted in a childishly thin, broken voice:
- Oreliki! My relatives, go ahead!.. Give them life!”
This is a novel. And here's the second one:
“... the commissioner saw his left arm, cut off by a mine fragment almost up to the shoulder. This free hand now lay separately near his body. Dark blood was coming from his forearm, oozing through a piece of his jacket sleeve. A little blood was still flowing from the cut off arm. We had to hurry, because there was not much life left.
Commissar Polikarpov took his left hand by the wrist and stood up, amid the roar and whistle of the fire. He raised his broken hand, dripping with the last blood of life, above his head like a banner, and exclaimed in a furious outburst of his heart, dying for the people who gave birth to him:
- Forward! For the Motherland, for you!”
This is Andrei Platonov, “Spiritualized People (A Story about a Small Battle of Sevastopol).” Znamya magazine, November 1942, six months before the “chapters from the novel.”
One fact is not a fact. And here's the second one.
Publication of the next “chapter from the novel” on November 17, 1943. Soldier Lopakhin talks to cook Lisichenko:
“I would hit you with something heavy so that all the millet would fall out of you, but I don’t want to waste my strength on such a dirty trick. Tell me first - and without any of your tricks - what are we going to eat today?
- Cabbage soup.
- How?
- Cabbage soup with fresh lamb and young cabbage.
- Lisichenko, I’m very nervous now before the fight, and I’m tired of your jokes, speak plainly: do you want to leave the people without anything hot?
Lisichenko said slowly:
“You see what it’s like: near the bridge, a bomb killed some sheep, well, of course, I killed one of the sheep and didn’t let him die a bad death from a shrapnel.”
And like a continuation, but with changed names:
“The ship’s cook, Rubtsov, was running along the embankment. He carried with effort in his right hand a large vessel, painted in the dull color of war; it was an English field thermos.
- And I delivered food! - the cook said meekly and tactfully. - Where would you like to set the table for a hot, fiery barbecue? The meat is yours!
- When did you have time to cook shish kebab? - Filchenko was surprised.
- And I with a skillful hand acted, comrade political instructor, - he had time, the cook explained. “You keep up with the sheep harvesting here” (“Spiritualized People”).
Here we should recall the previous “chapter from the novel” (dated November 4, 1943):
“On the road to the crossing, the last parts of the cover were walking, refugee carts loaded with household goods stretched along the sides of the country road, tanks clanging with caterpillars, raising ash dust, and flocks of collective farm sheep, hastily driven to the Don, seeing the tanks, rushed into the steppe in horror, disappeared into the night. And for a long time in the darkness the rhythmic clatter of small sheep’s hooves could be heard, and, dying down, the crying voices of women and teenage racers were heard for a long time, trying to stop and calm the sheep, stunned with fear.”
There is, however, one more text:
“From somewhere far away came an even, barely audible rustling sound, as if thousands of children were walking on the sand with small feet.<…>On the slopes of the enemy heights, approximately half the distance to the top, dust rose to the right and left. Something was moving here from the back of the hill, from behind the shoulders of the height.<…>
Parshin laughed:
- These are sheep! - he said. - This flock of sheep is coming to us from encirclement...<…>
The sheep flowed around the height in two streams and began to descend from it, uniting in the wormwood field into one stream. Frightened sheep voices could already be heard; something was bothering them, and they were in a hurry, mincing with their thin legs.” (Again, “Spiritualized People”).
Few? Then again:
“Zvyagintsev picked an ear of corn that had survived the fire at the edge of the field and brought it to his eyes. It was an ear of melanopus wheat, faceted and dense, bursting from the inside with heavy grain. His black mustache was burned, his grain shirt burst under the hot breath of the flame, and his entire body - disfigured and pathetic - was thoroughly saturated with the pungent smell of smoke.
Zvyagintsev sniffed the ear of corn and whispered indistinctly:
“My dear, how smoked have you become!.. you stink of smoke, like a gypsy... That’s what the damned German, his ossified soul, did to you!”
This is signed by Sholokhov, and this:
“They saw a small field with unharvested bread. The branches of the previously dense millet were now empty, emaciated, some moved lightly and silently in the wind, and their grain fell back into the ground, and there it would dry out fruitlessly or cool to death, having been born into the world in vain. Bespalov stopped by this dead bread, carefully touched one empty ear, leaned towards it and whispered something to it, as if it were little man or comrade,” Platonov’s story “The Peasant Yagafar” (“October”, 1942, No. 10).
And a few more short quotes:
“the rim of an irrigation wheel, broken into splinters, with the help of which trees were once irrigated, lived, grew and bore fruit”;
“Only one water wheel was now working non-stop in vain,” the tank that broke the watering wheel into splinters, before that “ran straight into the wattle fence coated with clay of the collective farm forge”;
“a barn made of wicker, coated with clay, and covered with a dilapidated thatched roof”;
“The tanks lifted the fence with their caterpillars, and the Ferdinand covered the well in the estate.”
And if you remove the links, as I did, then it is no longer possible to determine with certainty which fence is in the Crimea and which is on the Don; which wheel is in Karelia, which is again on the Don; where there is one adobe forge, where another; which text is Platonov’s, which is Sholokhov’s.
And finally, something, I’m not afraid to say, stunning:
1. “I,<…>I like to read a good book, one that talks about technology and engines. I had various interesting books: tractor care, and a book about the engine internal combustion, and installing a diesel engine on a stationary basis, not to mention the literature on combine harvesters. How many times did I ask: “Take it,<…>read about the tractor. A very attractive book, with pictures, with drawings...”
2. "In the beginning"<…>I studied poorly. Her heart was not attracted to Pupin coils, relay harnesses or calculating the resistance of iron wire. But her husband's lips once uttered these words, and moreover, with the sincerity of imagination, embodied even in dark, uninteresting machines, he presented to her the animated work of mysterious objects, dead to her, and the secret quality of their sensitive calculation, thanks to which the machines live.<…>Since then, coils, Whitson bridges, contactors, aperture units have become<…>sacred things<…>».
What is whose? Did you guess it?..
1 are “chapters from the novel”, and 2 are, naturally, Platonov’s story “Fro”, written in 1936.
Therefore, Bar-Sella’s conclusion is completely natural: “From what has been said, it follows that the author ... was given unprecedented freedom of orientation in art world Platonov. Only one person had such absolute freedom - Andrei Platonov. And therefore the passage we examined is not the fruit of the efforts of a plagiarist, but Platonov’s original text.”
What happened next is quite strange, but it fits into Sholokhov’s lifestyle: quickly make the beginning, then spend decades and very secretly finishing the rest. But in the case of the war novel, no continuation followed.
In 1944, cooperation with Platonov clearly ceased; there was even a not very pleasant scene at the writer’s funeral in 1951. And since then, for 40 years, nothing has appeared! There is a strange story though. Moreover, it is confirmed not only by outside witnesses, but also by Sholokhov’s letters to Brezhnev, in which he demands a speedy consideration of the sent fragment and either complains or threatens that rumors may spread that Sholokhov is no longer being published and that they will put him on the same level as Solzhenitsyn .
And the strange thing is that this fragment “walked” through the offices of the CPSU Central Committee and Pravda, but then, without leaving a trace or a copy, it returned to Veshenskaya and was sent to the oven by the author.
Former employee Central Committee A. Belyaev later recalled (and this is the only retelling of the fragment) its content. And it doesn’t fit in with everything we know about Sholokhov, but it explains why Sholokhov was afraid of being in the same company with Solzhenitsyn, whom he had just accused of being “fixated on ’37.”
Belyaev in his own words retells the episode about how General Streltsov was arrested in 1937 and kept in a prison whose windows faced the street. And so, on May Day, a demonstration walking by sang “The Internationale,” and the “faithful Leninists” sitting in their cells rushed to the bars and also began to sing the proletarian anthem. The prison guards opened fire on the windows...
A strong episode, to say the least. But where did it suddenly come from, how does it relate to everything that Sholokhov said and wrote in those 70s? Why is there no trace or copy left? What and why did Sholokhov burn in his fireplace?
There will most likely never be an answer to this.
But the fact of Platonov’s “participation” in the creation of real-life “chapters from the novel” can be considered practically proven and even partly recognized. What, in addition to Bar-Sella’s book, is also discussed in N. Kornienko’s monograph “It’s Said” Russian language...”, dedicated to the collaboration of these two writers.
Nikolay ZHURAVLEV
Mikhail Aleksandrovich Sholokhov, the author of the work “They Fought for the Motherland,” said the following about his creation: “Here I want to depict our people, our citizens, the origins of their heroism... I am sure that my duty as a Soviet writer is to follow the scorching footsteps of my compatriots in their opposition to foreign domination and to create a work of art of the same level of historical significance as this opposition.”
The book reveals in detail the life fate of three ordinary citizens of the Soviet Union - combine operator Ivan Zvyagintsev, miner Pyotr Lopakhin and agronomist Nikolai Streltsov. Extremely different from each other in character, their lives were connected during the war by friendship and boundless devotion to the Fatherland. Nikolai is depressed by the retreat of his battalion and his own family tragedy: before the start of the war, Streltsov’s wife left him and he had to leave the children with his elderly mother. However, this does not stop him from desperately fighting the enemy. In a tough fight he was shell-shocked and stunned. Once in the hospital, he runs away from it back to the regiment, in which only twenty-seven people remained after the battles.
Having met old comrades, he described in vivid colors that his condition had improved and his place was here, next to them. On the one hand, this act can be explained by his courage and desperate disposition. But what if the time spent in the infirmary made Nikolai remember the separation from his wife? What if, only in the heat of battle, he can forget the bitterness of betrayal and loneliness, which will become a faithful companion to a lonely person who is left alone with the harsh post-war reality, which at the time of the book was infinitely gloomy. The reader can read all this between the lines of Sholokhov’s work and think about the true depth of the book.
Pyotr Lopakhin wanted to hug Streltsov, having seen and heard his story, but from the sudden surge of feelings he could not squeeze out a word. Ivan Zvyagintsev, who worked as a combine operator before the war, tried to calm Streltsov down by talking about his own supposedly unsuccessful family life. The author describes this story with humor and a huge amount of good nature.
Sholokhov's acquaintance with Lukin, an old general, created a completely new character in the book - Streltsov, Nikolai's brother, a general in the Red Army. In 1936 he was persecuted and repressed, but in 1941 the country needed experienced officers and commanders. After the outbreak of hostilities, Lukin’s rank was returned, he himself was released and sent to join the armed forces. The 19th Army of General Lukin took the attack from the 3rd Panzer Group of Hermann Hoth and the divisions of the 9th Army of Colonel General Adolf Strauss west of Vyazma. For a whole week, the soldiers held back the onslaught of the Nazis. The general himself was seriously wounded and captured during the battle. The Soviet officer bravely and selflessly went through all the hardships of German captivity.
Lopakhin is experiencing the heroic death of Lieutenant Goloshchekov very hard. All the details of his death are described by Sergeant Major Poprishchenko, standing at the grave of his comrade in arms. From his words one can understand how courageous he considers his act, marveling at the lieutenant’s endurance. Chef Lisichenko certainly evokes warm feelings in the reader, using every opportunity to get to the front line. When Lopakhin asks him about the upcoming dinner, Lisichenko says that he has already filled the cauldron with cabbage soup and left two wounded soldiers to look after the cooking. Front-line friendship is an important aspect that the author plays on.
Nikolai is very worried about the retreat, remembering with what eyes the local residents saw them off. But at the same time, realizing that the defeats of the Red Army occur through the fault of the soldiers and commanders, they are the force that must resist the enemy and which is sorely lacking in experience.
Zvyagintsev observes for the first time how flames devour ripe bread in the collective farm space. He talks to the ear of corn: “My dear, you are the one who smoked! You smell like a gypsy of smoke... That’s what the damned fascist, his ossified soul, does to you.”
The speech of Divisional Commander Marchenko - “let the enemy triumph for now, but victory will still be ours” - reflects the optimistic and encouraging idea of the work. In particular, its parts presented to the public in 1949. In one of the scenes, the reader watches how a hundred soldiers and commanders move in a single column, and then the author directs attention to how carefully the soldiers guarded the regimental banner, carrying it throughout the entire narrative. These lines are bound to reveal the most important part of the character. Soviet people- this is duty and loyalty. After all, it was these traits that led our people to victory.
It is necessary to recall the meeting of Mikhail Sholokhov with Stalin, which took place on May 21, 1942, when the writer returned from the front line to celebrate his birthday. The Generalissimo called Sholokhov to his place and during the conversation insisted on writing a novel that would “truthfully and vividly depict the heroism of the soldiers and the ingenuity of the commanders.”
In 1951, Mikhail Alexandrovich admitted that most of all he was able to describe experiences ordinary people who were touched by the war, rather than describe “genius” Soviet commanders that period. And there are reasons for this.
Scale of the war
The tragedy that unfolded on all fronts of the conflict in 1941 could not help but affect Sholokhov himself. Mismanagement and plain stupidity cost millions of fighters their lives.
And yet, this novel is primarily about people. Destined by nature itself for another, higher mission, tender and weak, able to love and pity, they picked up rifles to take revenge and kill. World War changed the established way of life, reforged even the souls of people, making the weak strong and the timid brave. Even the most modest contribution to victory is great. Feats Soviet people immortal as long as the memory of them lives in our hearts.
Analysis of the work
The landscapes in the work are closely linked with military paraphernalia. All the battle episodes of the novel are described unsurpassedly. Thanks to the rich and lively pictures that the author playfully draws in the minds of his readers, the book is etched in the memory for a long time. Few people are able to pass by this work and remain indifferent. Unfortunately, the main part of the work was lost and only individual chapters were published, but only from these parts can one understand how spiritual and strong book was written by Sholokhov.
Too vivid in memory Russian people the memory of that terrible war has been preserved. Based on the book “They Fought for the Motherland,” Sergei Bondarchuk, a true master of military cinema, directed a film of the same name, which also won many awards. More than 40 million Soviet citizens watched it.
The author's talent was clearly demonstrated in this work, which still finds its readers, including among young patriots who will soon have to defend their country and fulfill their duty to their homeland.
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