Simonov's diary different days of the war. Konstantin Simonov - Different days of the war (Diary of a writer)
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Simonov Konstantin
Different days of the war (Writer's Diary)
Simonov Konstantin Mikhailovich
Different days of the war. Writer's Diary
Publisher's abstract: This volume consists of the war diaries of K. M. Simonov, at that time a correspondent for Red Star, covering the events of 1941. Since the journal publication of K.M. Simonov received many letters from people whom he met on the roads of the war and who are present on the pages of his diaries. He was very attentive to his correspondents. With their help, the author's commentary on the diaries was replenished, forgotten things were recalled, events were restored, and inaccuracies were corrected. However, many comments remained unrealized, although the author considered them important and intended to take them into account when publishing the diaries in the Collected Works. Following the writer's death, the literary heritage commission examined many letters with the author's note "To the Collected Works." In cases where the comments turned out to be indisputable and did not entail a deep invasion of the author’s text, the will of K.M. Simonov was executed and corrections were made.
Forty-first
Chapter first
Chapter two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter fourteen
Chapter fifteen
Chapter sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter twenty one
Forty second
Chapter first
Chapter two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Forty third
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter fourteen
Chapter fifteen
Forty-fourth
Chapter sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter twenty one
Chapter twenty two
Chapter twenty three
Forty-fifth
Chapter twenty-four
Chapter twenty-five
Chapter twenty-six
Chapter twenty seven
Chapter twenty-eight
Chapter twenty nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter thirty one
Chapter thirty two
The subtitle of this book, now published in two volumes, defines its character. It is not the memoirs of a professional military man or the work of a historian, but rather the diary of a writer who saw with his own eyes some part of the events of the Great Patriotic War. These events were immensely enormous, and the circle of my personal observations is very limited, and I understand this well enough not to pretend to be complete.
It should be added that my work in those years went beyond the scope of my duties as a war correspondent for Red Star, and the book will talk not only about front-line trips, but also about writing.
My most detailed notes are related to the beginning and end of the war, from the forty-first and forty-fifth years. The records for the years forty-two, forty-three, and forty-four are sometimes quite detailed, and sometimes sketchy. Traces of some trips to the front remained only in correspondence published in Krasnaya Zvezda and Pravda, in copies of reports that I sent through the Information Bureau to America, and in the cursive writing of front-line notebooks. I understood well how important it is for a writer to conduct military
Simonov Konstantin
Different days of the war (Writer's Diary)
Simonov Konstantin Mikhailovich
Different days of the war. Writer's Diary
Publisher's abstract: This volume consists of the war diaries of K. M. Simonov, at that time a correspondent for Red Star, covering the events of 1941. Since the journal publication of K.M. Simonov received many letters from people whom he met on the roads of the war and who are present on the pages of his diaries. He was very attentive to his correspondents. With their help, the author's commentary on the diaries was replenished, forgotten things were recalled, events were restored, and inaccuracies were corrected. However, many comments remained unrealized, although the author considered them important and intended to take them into account when publishing the diaries in the Collected Works. Following the writer's death, the literary heritage commission examined many letters with the author's note "To the Collected Works." In cases where the comments turned out to be indisputable and did not entail a deep invasion of the author’s text, the will of K.M. Simonov was executed and corrections were made.
Forty-first
Chapter first
Chapter two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter fourteen
Chapter fifteen
Chapter sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter twenty one
Forty second
Chapter first
Chapter two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Forty third
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter fourteen
Chapter fifteen
Forty-fourth
Chapter sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter twenty one
Chapter twenty two
Chapter twenty three
Forty-fifth
Chapter twenty-four
Chapter twenty-five
Chapter twenty-six
Chapter twenty seven
Chapter twenty-eight
Chapter twenty nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter thirty one
Chapter thirty two
The subtitle of this book, now published in two volumes, defines its character. It is not the memoirs of a professional military man or the work of a historian, but rather the diary of a writer who saw with his own eyes some part of the events of the Great Patriotic War. These events were immensely enormous, and the circle of my personal observations is very limited, and I understand this well enough not to pretend to be complete.
It should be added that my work in those years went beyond the scope of my duties as a war correspondent for Red Star, and the book will talk not only about front-line trips, but also about writing.
My most detailed notes are related to the beginning and end of the war, from the forty-first and forty-fifth years. The records for the years forty-two, forty-three, and forty-four are sometimes quite detailed, and sometimes sketchy. Traces of some trips to the front remained only in correspondence published in Krasnaya Zvezda and Pravda, in copies of reports that I sent through the Information Bureau to America, and in the cursive writing of front-line notebooks. I well understood how important it is for a writer to keep war records, and, perhaps, even exaggerated their importance when, answering questions from the American Telegraph Agency during the war, I wrote: “As for writers, then, in my opinion, immediately as soon as the war ends, they will need to put their diaries in order. No matter what they wrote during the war and no matter how much readers praised them for it, still on the very first day after the end of the war the most significant thing they did during the war for the war , it will be their diaries."
However, these words were at odds with deeds. I understood the importance of diary entries, but sometimes I didn’t have enough time to keep them systematically. In the intervals between front-line trips and correspondent work, I wrote two books of poetry, three plays and the story “Days and Nights” during those years. Having succeeded in one thing, he did not have time for another. And it was not just a lack of time, but a lack of mental strength.
In the book "Different Days of War" the reader will meet:
Firstly, with those pages of my war notes that were dictated between trips to the front or - which is much less common - were written from memory shortly after the war; I have shortened their text mainly due to unimportant details of the correspondent’s life and some places that were of a personal nature.
Secondly, with pages I took from front-line notebooks, from wartime and sometimes post-war correspondence, and in several cases from my military correspondence.
And finally, thirdly, with my current memories and reflections, based largely on acquaintance with archival materials. Perhaps some of the readers will think that I devoted too much space in the book to clarifying the biographical details and further fates of people I even briefly met at the front. But I would like to remind you that the disruption of human destinies is one of the most tragic features of the war. And now my feeling of non-payment of debt is becoming more and more urgent, the duty is becoming more and more urgent: wherever you can, name the names of the people who fought that you have found, trace the threads of their destinies in the complex interweaving of the war, sometimes irretrievably broken, and sometimes simply not fully known to us, in including those who remained alive, but who happened to be recorded as dead by an error of memory or document.
When preparing the book for publication, I tried to make it clear to the reader in each case what he was dealing with: what I wrote in those years, or what I remember now.
The book is a documentary, there are no fictional characters in it, and wherever I considered myself entitled to do so, I preserved the original names and surnames. There may be memory errors in a book such as this, and I would appreciate anyone pointing them out.
Simonov Konstantin
Different days of the war (Writer's Diary)
Simonov Konstantin Mikhailovich
Different days of the war. Writer's Diary
Publisher's abstract: This volume consists of the war diaries of K. M. Simonov, at that time a correspondent for Red Star, covering the events of 1941. Since the journal publication of K.M. Simonov received many letters from people whom he met on the roads of the war and who are present on the pages of his diaries. He was very attentive to his correspondents. With their help, the author's commentary on the diaries was replenished, forgotten things were recalled, events were restored, and inaccuracies were corrected. However, many comments remained unrealized, although the author considered them important and intended to take them into account when publishing the diaries in the Collected Works. Following the writer's death, the literary heritage commission examined many letters with the author's note "To the Collected Works." In cases where the comments turned out to be indisputable and did not entail a deep invasion of the author’s text, the will of K.M. Simonov was executed and corrections were made.
Forty-first
Chapter first
Chapter two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter fourteen
Chapter fifteen
Chapter sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter twenty one
Forty second
Chapter first
Chapter two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Forty third
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter fourteen
Chapter fifteen
Forty-fourth
Chapter sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter twenty one
Chapter twenty two
Chapter twenty three
Forty-fifth
Chapter twenty-four
Chapter twenty-five
Chapter twenty-six
Chapter twenty seven
Chapter twenty-eight
Chapter twenty nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter thirty one
Chapter thirty two
The subtitle of this book, now published in two volumes, defines its character. It is not the memoirs of a professional military man or the work of a historian, but rather the diary of a writer who saw with his own eyes some part of the events of the Great Patriotic War. These events were immensely enormous, and the circle of my personal observations is very limited, and I understand this well enough not to pretend to be complete.
It should be added that my work in those years went beyond the scope of my duties as a war correspondent for Red Star, and the book will talk not only about front-line trips, but also about writing.
My most detailed notes are related to the beginning and end of the war, from the forty-first and forty-fifth years. The records for the years forty-two, forty-three, and forty-four are sometimes quite detailed, and sometimes sketchy. Traces of some trips to the front remained only in correspondence published in Krasnaya Zvezda and Pravda, in copies of reports that I sent through the Information Bureau to America, and in the cursive writing of front-line notebooks. I well understood how important it is for a writer to keep war records, and, perhaps, even exaggerated their importance when, answering questions from the American Telegraph Agency during the war, I wrote: “As for writers, then, in my opinion, immediately as soon as the war ends, they will need to put their diaries in order. No matter what they wrote during the war and no matter how much readers praised them for it, still on the very first day after the end of the war the most significant thing they did during the war for the war , it will be their diaries."
However, these words were at odds with deeds. I understood the importance of diary entries, but sometimes I didn’t have enough time to keep them systematically. In the intervals between front-line trips and correspondent work, I wrote two books of poetry, three plays and the story “Days and Nights” during those years. Having succeeded in one thing, he did not have time for another. And it was not just a lack of time, but a lack of mental strength.
In the book "Different Days of War" the reader will meet:
Firstly, with those pages of my war notes that were dictated between trips to the front or - which is much less common - were written from memory shortly after the war; I have shortened their text mainly due to unimportant details of the correspondent’s life and some places that were of a personal nature.
Secondly, with pages I took from front-line notebooks, from wartime and sometimes post-war correspondence, and in several cases from my military correspondence.
And finally, thirdly, with my current memories and reflections, based largely on acquaintance with archival materials. Perhaps some of the readers will think that I devoted too much space in the book to clarifying the biographical details and further fates of people I even briefly met at the front. But I would like to remind you that the disruption of human destinies is one of the most tragic features of the war. And now my feeling of non-payment of debt is becoming more and more urgent, the duty is becoming more and more urgent: wherever you can, name the names of the people who fought that you have found, trace the threads of their destinies in the complex interweaving of the war, sometimes irretrievably broken, and sometimes simply not fully known to us, in including those who remained alive, but who happened to be recorded as dead by an error of memory or document.
When preparing the book for publication, I tried to make it clear to the reader in each case what he was dealing with: what I wrote in those years, or what I remember now.
The book is a documentary, there are no fictional characters in it, and wherever I considered myself entitled to do so, I preserved the original names and surnames. There may be memory errors in a book such as this, and I would appreciate anyone pointing them out.
It remains for me to honestly warn those readers who know the novel “The Living and the Dead” and the stories adjacent to this novel “From Lopatin’s Notes” that here, in the diary, they will encounter faces that are already partly familiar to them and with many similar situations and details.
This is explained by the fact that when you write a story or a novel about such a difficult matter as war, you somehow don’t want to fantasize and pull facts out of thin air. On the contrary, wherever your own life experience allows, you try to stay close to what you saw with your own eyes in the war.
Despite all the differences in literary genres, “The Living and the Dead” were written, in general, about the same thing as the diary. It was the starting point for the novel and preceded it in time, although now for many readers, when they encounter in the diary what they have already read in the novel, everything will look just the opposite.
In the future, throughout the book, I will only remind you of this connection between one and the other in the most necessary cases, but here, in the introduction, I want to admit without reservation that for me, as a writer, this connection is fundamentally important.
Forty-first
Chapter first
On June 21, I was called to the radio committee and asked to write two anti-fascist songs. So I felt that the war, which we, in essence, all expected, was very close.
I learned that the war had already begun only at two o’clock in the afternoon. All morning on June 22, he wrote poetry and did not answer the phone. And when I approached, the first thing I heard was war.
I immediately called the political department. They told me to call again at five.
Walked around the city. People were in a hurry, but, in general, everything was outwardly calm.
There was a rally at the Writers' Union. There were a lot of people crowded in the courtyard. Among others were many who, like me, just a few days ago returned from camp training after completing a war correspondent course. Now here, in the courtyard, they agreed among themselves to go to the front together and not be separated. Subsequently, of course, all those conversations turned out to be naive, and we parted in the wrong place and not in the way we thought.
The next day, the first batch of us, about thirty of us, were called to the political department and assigned to newspapers. In the front line - two, in the army - but one. I had to go to the army newspaper. This upcoming loneliness was a little unexpected. Writing, of course.
Then, together with Dolmatovsky, he was in the district party committee. Before leaving for the front, I became a party candidate - the secretary of the district committee gave me a candidate card, and Dolmatovsky a party card. After that, we were again at the People's Commissariat of Defense until the evening. There they wrote out documents: for me, for the army newspaper of the 3rd Army in Grodno. We received documents and uniforms. They didn’t give me any weapons, they said: you’ll get them at the front. There, in the clothing workshop, I saw for the last time many of those with whom we were leaving.
Konstantin Mikhailovich Simonov
Different days of the war. Writer's Diary. 1941
© K.M. Simonov, heirs, 2016
© Design. AST Publishing House LLC, 2016
The subtitle of this book, now published in two volumes, defines its character. It is not the memoirs of a professional military man or the work of a historian, but rather the diary of a writer who saw with his own eyes some part of the events of the Great Patriotic War. These events were immensely enormous, and the circle of my personal observations is very limited, and I understand this well enough not to pretend to be complete.
It should be added that my work in those years went beyond the scope of my duties as a war correspondent for Red Star, and the book will talk not only about front-line trips, but also about writing.
My most detailed notes are related to the beginning and end of the war, from the forty-first and forty-fifth years. The records for the years forty-two, forty-three, and forty-four are sometimes quite detailed, and sometimes sketchy. Traces of some trips to the front remained only in correspondence published in Krasnaya Zvezda and Pravda, in copies of reports that I sent through the Information Bureau to America, and in the cursive writing of front-line notebooks. I well understood how important it is for a writer to keep war records, and, perhaps, even exaggerated their importance when, answering questions from the American Telegraph Agency during the war, I wrote: “As for writers, then, in my opinion, as soon as When the war ends, they will need to put their diaries in order. No matter what they wrote during the war and no matter how much the readers praised them for it, still on the very first day after the end of the war, the most significant thing they did during the war for the war will be their diaries.”
However, these words were at odds with deeds. I understood the importance of diary entries, but sometimes I didn’t have enough time to keep them systematically. In the intervals between front-line trips and correspondent work, I wrote two books of poetry, three plays and the story “Days and Nights” during those years. Having succeeded in one thing, he did not have time for another. And it was not just a lack of time, but a lack of mental strength.
In the book “Different Days of War” the reader will meet:
Firstly, with those pages of my war notes that were dictated between trips to the front or - which is much less common - were written from memory shortly after the war; I have shortened their text mainly due to unimportant details of the correspondent’s life and some places that were of a personal nature.
Secondly, with pages I took from front-line notebooks, from wartime and sometimes post-war correspondence, and in several cases from my military correspondence.
And finally, thirdly, with my current memories and reflections, based largely on acquaintance with archival materials. Perhaps some of the readers will think that I devoted too much space in the book to clarifying the biographical details and further fates of people I even briefly met at the front. But I would like to remind you that the disruption of human destinies is one of the most tragic features of the war. And now my feeling of non-payment of debt is becoming more and more urgent, the duty is becoming more and more urgent: wherever you can, name the names of the people who fought that you have found, trace the threads of their destinies in the complex interweaving of the war, sometimes irretrievably broken, and sometimes simply not fully known to us, in including those who remained alive, but who happened to be recorded as dead by an error of memory or document.
When preparing the book for publication, I tried to make it clear to the reader in each case what he was dealing with: what I wrote in those years, or what I remember now.
The book is documentary, there are no fictional characters in it, and wherever I considered myself entitled to do so, I preserved the true names and surnames. There may be memory errors in a book such as this, and I would appreciate anyone pointing them out.
It remains for me to honestly warn those readers who know the novel “The Living and the Dead” and the stories adjacent to this novel “From Lopatin’s Notes” that here, in the diary, they will encounter faces that are already partly familiar to them and with many similar situations and details.
This is explained by the fact that when you write a story or a novel about such a difficult matter as war, you somehow don’t want to fantasize and pull facts out of thin air. On the contrary, wherever your own life experience allows, you try to stay close to what you saw with your own eyes in the war.
Despite all the differences in literary genres, “The Living and the Dead” were written, in general, about the same thing as the diary. It was the starting point for the novel and preceded it in time, although now for many readers, when they encounter in the diary what they have already read in the novel, everything will look just the opposite.
In the future, throughout the book, I will only remind you of this connection between one and the other in the most necessary cases, but here, in the introduction, I want to admit without reservation that for me, as a writer, this connection is fundamentally important.
Chapter first
On June 21, I was called to the radio committee and asked to write two anti-fascist songs. So I felt that the war, which we, in essence, all expected, was very close.
I learned that the war had already begun only at two o’clock in the afternoon. All morning on June 22, he wrote poetry and did not answer the phone. And when I approached, the first thing I heard was war.
I immediately called the political department. They told me to call again at five.
Walked around the city. People were in a hurry, but, in general, everything was outwardly calm.
There was a rally at the Writers' Union. There were a lot of people crowded in the courtyard. Among others were many who, like me, just a few days ago returned from camp training after completing a war correspondent course. Now here, in the courtyard, they agreed among themselves to go to the front together and not be separated. Subsequently, of course, all those conversations turned out to be naive, and we parted in the wrong place and not in the way we thought.
The next day, the first batch of us, about thirty of us, were called to the political department and distributed among the newspapers. To the front - two, to the army - one. I had to go to the army newspaper. This upcoming loneliness was a little unexpected. Writing, of course.
Then, together with Dolmatovsky, he was in the district party committee. Before leaving for the front, I became a party candidate - the secretary of the district committee gave me a candidate card, and Dolmatovsky a party card. After that, we were again at the People's Commissariat of Defense until the evening. There they wrote out documents: for me, for the army newspaper of the 3rd Army in Grodno. We received documents and uniforms. They didn’t give me any weapons, they said: you’ll get them at the front. There, in the clothing workshop, I saw for the last time many of those with whom we were leaving.
They made noise while trying on military uniforms. They were very animated, maybe even too nervous.
In a hurry, he chose an overcoat that was not his height, and had to be changed at the military trade store the next morning, the 24th. Dolmatovsky bought sleepers for his buttonholes there. So we said goodbye to him in the middle of the store.
On the night of the 23rd to the 24th there was the first air raid alert, which, as it turned out later, was a training alert. All these, of course, were toys, but I was dragging children from the fifth floor down to the shelter, and it all seemed extremely serious to me.
On the twenty-fourth, while it was still dark, I went to the station to get my military letter for Minsk. I never got to the place, I just found out when the train would leave. We decided that I would sit down somehow. I was in the mood to say goodbye to Moscow today and not put off leaving for another day.
In the evening it was completely dark in Moscow. The car in which I was going to the station was detained: the driver was not driving with the safety nets that it was supposed to have. Fortunately, another car drove up, and at the last minute I finally got to the train leaving for Minsk. Or rather, I thought it was at the last minute, because the train left only two hours later.
Here and there at the station blue lights were on. A black station, a crowd of people, it is unclear when, where and what kind of train is going, some bars through which you are not allowed. He threw the suitcase over, then climbed over himself.
The overcoat fit well, the belts creaked, and it seemed to me that this was how I would always be. I don’t know about others, but despite Khalkhin Gol, in these first two days of the real war I was as naive as a boy.
The train started moving. The carriages, for some unknown reason, were country cars, without upper bunks, although the train went to Minsk.
I had to report to the political department of the front in Minsk, and from there to the army newspaper of the 3rd Army. The carriage carried mainly commanders returning from vacation. It was hard and strange. Judging by our carriage, it seemed that half of the Western Military District was on vacation. I didn't understand how it happened.
We drove overnight on the 25th and all day on the 25th. In the evening there was a bombing in Orsha, not far from the train. On the 26th, or rather, on the night of the 26th, the train approached Borisov. The news became more and more alarming every hour. And I must say, we quickly got used to them, although it was difficult to believe them.
