The diploma of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the U.S.S.R. conferring the title of Hero of the Soviet Union on Zoya Kosmodemyanskaya
"Dear Lyubov Timofeyevna,
"My name is Klava. I was in the same partisan group with Zoya. I know that when we met at Petrishchevo it was hard for you to listen to me. But I also know that you would want to know about every minute which Zoya spent away from you. And it will probably be easier to read than to listen. Therefore I will tell you in this letter every thing I know and remember.
"In the middle of October, together with some other Komsomol members, I was waiting in a corridor of the Moscow Committee of the Komsomol for the Secretary to receive me. Like the others, I had come there hoping to be sent into the rear of the enemy. Among the crowd I noticed a dark, grey-eyed girl. She was wearing a brown overcoat with a collar and trimming made of the same fur. She was not talking to anybody and apparently did not know anyone there. She came out of the Secretary's office. with shining joyful eyes, smiled at those who were standing by the door, and walked quickly towards the entrance. I watched her go enviously: it was clear she had been accepted.
"That same day I too was interviewed. And on October 31—I shall never forget that day—I came to the Colosseum cinema. From there a large group of Komsomol members were to be sent off to their unit. There was a slight drizzle falling, and it was cold and damp.
"At the entrance to the Colosseum I again notice the grey-eyed girl. 'Are you going to the cinema?' I asked. She said yes, with a twinkle in her eyes. More and more boys and girls began to arrive. 'Going to the cinema?' we asked the others, and they all answered, 'Yes.' But when the ticket window opened no one bought any tickets. We looked at one another and laughed. Then I went up to the grey-eyed girl and asked, 'What's your name?' And she answered, 'Zoya.'
"Then Zoya and another girl, Katya, bought some almonds in a shop and began to share them with everybody. 'To go with the film,' said Zoya smiling. Soon we all got to know each other. And afterwards a lorry arrived. We climbed into it and drove straight through Moscow to the Mozhaisk highway. And on the way we sang a Komsomol song of the Civil War.
"We passed the last of Moscow's houses and drove out onto the Mozhaisk highway. There, women and teen-agers were building fortifications. And we all must have been thinking the same thing: no one shall take our capital, every Moscovite, old and young, is ready to defend Moscow!
"About six o'clock in the evening we reached our unit. It was stationed near Kuntsevo. Training began as soon as supper was over. We learnt the small arms: the Nagant revolver, the Mauser, the parabellum. We took them apart and assembled them, then tested each other. Zoya was quick to learn all that was explained to us. 'This would be just the job for my brother,' she said to me. 'He has good hands, he can take any mechanism to pieces and put it together again in a flash, without any explanation either.'
"There were ten of us girls in the room. We hardly knew one another by name, but when it came to choosing a senior, several voices at once named Zoya. And I realized that others, as well as I, had found her to their liking.
"The next morning reveille was at six o'clock. Training was to begin at seven. Zoya came up to my bed and said,' Up you get, or I'll give you a cold shower!' And to another girl who was rather slow she said, 'What kind of soldier are you? Once reveille's sounded you must he up at once!' During the meal she also hurried us, and someone said to her, 'What's the idea of ordering us about?' I thought: now she will say something sharp. But Zoya just looked straight at that girl and said, 'You chose me yourselves, and now you've chosen me you'll have to take orders from me.'
"After that I often heard them say of Zoya, 'She never gets angry, but she's got such a way of looking at you…"We did not study in class, at desks. We did our studying in the forest. We learnt to march on a compass bearing, orientate ourselves on the ground, practised shooting. We took boxes of explosives with us and learnt how to blow things up. 'Tree-blowing,' our instructor called it. We studied every day and all through the day with hardly a rest.
"Then the time came when we were called up one by one before Major Sprogis, who said again, 'Are you frightened? You won't lose your nerve now, will you? You still have the chance of leaving, giving it up. But this is your last chance. Afterwards it will be too late.' Zoya was one of the first to go into the Major's room and she came out almost immediately—her answer must have been short and firm.
"Then they gave out revolvers to us and divided us up into groups. "On November 4 we drove out to Volokolamsk, where we were to cross the front line and penetrate into the rear of the enemy. Our task was to mine the Volokolamsk highway. There were two groups making for Volokolamk —ours and that of Konstantin P—. We went out in different directions. In Konstantin's group there were two girls—Shura and Zhenya. Bidding us good-bye they said, 'Well, girls, we mean to carry out our task like heroes, and if we die we'll die like heroes, too.' And Zoya said, 'How else.'
"We crossed the front line at the dead of night, very quietly, without a single shot being fired. Then Zoya and were sent out on reconnaissance. We started off joyfully, for we were very anxious to get on with the job as soon as possible. But we had not gone more than a few paces when two motorcycles, which seemed to appear from nowhere, flashed past within arm's length of us. That made us realize that we must not forget caution. Then we crawled on. The autumn leaves had grown heavy and rustled, and every sound seemed so loud. Nevertheless Zoya crawled quickly and almost soundlessly and somehow very easily, as if it cost her no effort at all.
"Thus we crawled for about three kilometres along the highway. Then we turned back towards the forest to tell our group that the coast was clear. The boys went off in pairs and began to lay mines—road mines always have to be laid by two people. We four girls kept watch. Almost before the boys had time to finish we heard the roar of motors, at first scarcely audible, then growing louder and louder. We warned the boys, and all of us ran, crouching, for the wood. We had hardly regained our breath when there was an explosion. Everything around flared up for a moment. And then there was such a silence that everything around seemed to be dead. Even the forest stopped rustling. And then a second explosion, a third, and shots, and shouts…
"We made off into the thick of the forest. When it was quite light we stopped and camped. We congratulated one another because it was November 7. At midday Zoya and I went to a main road which was used by lorry columns, and scattered sharp spikes everywhere—they would pierce the enemy's tyres. And I noticed something of which I became more and more convinced every day: you were not afraid when you were with Zoya. She would do everything very neatly, coolly and confidently. Perhaps that was why we all liked to go out scouting with her.
"That evening we returned 'home,' to our unit. We reported on the way we had carried our mission, and washed in the bathhouse. I remember how after that Zoya and I had our first personal talk. We were sitting on the bed. Zoya put her arms round her knees. Short-haired and rosy-cheeked after the bath, she seemed to me very, very young. And suddenly she asked, 'Tell me, what were you before you joined the unit?' 'A schoolteacher.' 'That means I should address you formally!' exclaimed Zoya.
"I forgot to tell you that Zoya used the familiar form of address to all the girls and kept the formal one for the boys. And they, too, began addressing her formally. But now she came out with this so funnily that I could not help laughing: I saw at once that Zoya really was a young girl, that she was barely eighteen and had come here straight from school.
"'Why should you suddenly start using the formal address?' I said. 'I am only three years older than you.'
"Zoya looked thoughtful, then asked, 'Are you in the Komsomol?'
'' "'Well, I'll use the familiar form then. Have you any parents?'
'I have. And a sister.'
"'I have a mother and a brother. My father died when I was ten. Mama brought us up by herself. When we fulfill our mission I'll take the whole group to Moscow to meet Mama. You'll see what she is like. And Mama will simply love you all. I've got used to you and everybody, and I'll stay with you till the end of the war.'
"This was our first heart to heart talk.
"The next day we were given a new assignment. The composition of the group changed, but all the girls were the same as before: Zoya, Lida Bulgina, Vera Voloshina and I. We had all grown very chummy. Our new group commander's name was Boris Krainov. He was very calm and coolheaded, a little rough in speech, but he never swore and never allowed others to do so. Zoya liked to repeat his words, 'You can swear your head off, but you're none the wiser for it, and neither is anybody else.'
"With bottles of benzine and grenades hanging at our belts, we went into the enemy's rear. This time we had to fight our way through, but no one was hurt. And the next day we had our first real battle. We were caught in cross fire from three sides.
"'Lie down, all!' shouted Vera. We dropped down, pressing close to the ground. When the firing ceased we crawled away from the danger zone for about eight hundred metres, and only then realized that three of our comrades were missing.
"'Let me go back and see if there are any wounded,' said Zoya to the commander.
"'Whom will you take with you?' asked Boris.
"'I'll go alone.'
"'Wait. Let the Germans quiet down a bit.'
"'No, it will be too late then.'
"'All right, you may go.'
"Zoya crawled away. We waited and waited, but she did not return. An hour passed, then another and a third…The horrible conviction began to grow inside me that Zoya had been killed.
"At last, just as dawn was breaking, she returned. She was loaded with weapons, her hands were covered with blood, her face was grey with fatigue.
"Our three comrades were dead. Zoya had crawled up to each of them and taken their weapons. From Vera's pocket she had taken a photograph of her mother and a little notebook with poetry; from Kolya—some letters.
"We made our first campfire deep in the forest, out of branches of dry fir—it makes no smoke. You could have put the campfire on a plate. We were afraid to light a big one. We warmed our hands and heated tinned food. Winter was beginning with no snow at all, there was no water to be had anywhere, and we suffered badly from thirst.
"I was sent out on preliminary reconnaissance. No sooner had I laid myself down in a young fir wood than several Hitlerites sauntered up, stopped quite close by and began talking. They talked and guffawed. About an hour dragged by. My legs were quite numb, my lips parched. They went away at last, and I returned empty- handed from my unsuccessful reconnaissance. Zoya was the first to meet me. She asked no questions, just wrapped her scarf round my neck and sat me down y the campfire. Then she went off somewhere and came back with a can in her hands, and said, 'I have saved a few icicles here for you,. They've melted into some water. Drink.'
'I will never forget that,' I said.
"'Drink it up,' said Zoya.
"Then our group moved off again. Zoya and I went on about a hundred metres ahead in the scouting detail, behind us came the rest in single file, about a metre and a half between them. And suddenly Zoya stopped and raised her hand as a signal for the group to stop. It turned out that there was a dead Red Army man lying on the ground in front of Zoya. We examined him. He had been shot in the legs and through the temple. In his pocket we found a note with the words: 'From Lieutenant of the Antitank Battalion Rodionov. I request to be considered a Communist.' Zoya folded this sheet and pushed it into the inside pocket of her padded jacket. Her face was grim, her brows knitted, and at that moment I thought that she no longer looked like a girl but like a soldier who would take merciless vengeance on the enemy.
"We moved on to Petrishchevo, where large enemy forces were concentrated. We cut communication wires as we went. At night we reached Petrishchevo. The village is surrounded by dense forest. We went deep into it and lit a real fire. The commander detailed one of the boys for sentry duty. The others sat down round the campfire. The moon rose, round and yellow. Snow had been falling for several days. Huge, thick snow-covered fir trees stood all round.
"'We could do with a fir tree like that in Moscow, on Manezhnaya Square!' said Lida.
"'Dressed up like that too!' added Zoya.
"Then Boris began sharing out our last rations. Each of us received half a rusk, a lump of sugar and a small piece of dried fish. The boys swallowed everything in one go, but we nibbled slowly, trying to make the most of it. Zoya looked at her neighbour and said, 'I've had enough. Here, take this.'
"And she offered him the rusk and the sugar.
"He refused at first, then took them.
"We were silent. Lida Bulgina said, 'How I want to live!'
"I will not forget the sound of those words! In them there was great faith that a long and good life lay ahead of us. And then Zoya began to recite Mayakovsky. I had never heard her read poetry before. It was wonderful: the night, the forest all in snow, the fire burning, and Zoya saying in a quiet clear voice, and with such expression:
Across the sky
the storm clouds fly,
The rains pour
in the gloom.
Beneath an ancient
wagon
The workers huddled lie.
And hears
a proud whisper
The water,
above and around,
'Here in four years' time
from now
There'll be a garden-town.'
"I also love Mayakovsky and I knew these lines well, but then I seemed to be hearing them for the first time.
The ground
is dank and wet,
The comfort
isn't great,
The workers sitting
in the dusk
Munch their
sodden
bread.
But the whisper
drowns their hunger,
It trickles
slowly down,
'Here in four years' time
from now
There'll be a
garden-town!'
'I looked round and saw that everybody was still, all eyes were on Zoya. And her face was flushed, and her voice rang out firmer arid firmer:
I know
there'll be a town,
I know
its garden will be grand
While there are
such people
In the
Soviet Land!
"'More!' we all said in one voice, when she finished.
"And Zoya began to recite everything she knew by heart from Mayakovsky. And she knew a lot. I remember with what feeling she recited a part of the poem At the Top of My Voice:
…I raise
like a Bolshevik party ticket,
The full hundred volumes
of my
party books.
"And that is how I remember that night: the campfire, Zoya, Mayakovsky's poetry…
"'You must like him very much,' said Boris. "'Rather!' replied Zoya. 'There are many poets "good and various," but Mayakovsky is one of my great favourites.'
"After the locality had been reconnoitered I heard a short conversation between Boris and Zoya, 'You'll stay here on duty.'
"'Please send me out on a mission.'
"'Only boys will be sent out on missions.'
'"Difficulties ought to be shared equally. Please!'
"That 'please' sounded like a demand. And Boris agreed. I went out on reconnaissance, Zoya—on a mission to Petrishchevo. Before she left she said to me, 'Let's change revolvers. Mine is better than yours. But I can use yours and mine equally well.'
"She took my simple Nagant revolver and gave me her semiautomatic. I still have it—No. 12719, Tula Armoury, 1935. I shall not part with it until the very end of the war.
"Zoya returned from her mission transfigured—there's no other way of saying it. She had set fire to a stable and a house, and hoped that some Germans had been burnt there.
"'You feel quite different when you're doing a real job!' she said.
"'Have you been doing nothing up till now? You go on reconnaissance and cut communications…'
"'That's not the same!' Zoya interrupted me. 'That's not enough!'
"With the commander's permission she went to Petrishchevo a second time. We waited three days. But she did not return. The rest you know.
"Zoya used to tell me that you and your family were very happy together and had hardly ever been apart. And I have decided that even the little I have to tell will be dear to you. And although I only knew Zoya for a month, I look upon her, as do all the other members of our group, as one of the finest, one of the purest people we have ever known.
"When you came to Petrishchevo I saw your son too. He was standing beside you at Zoya's grave. Zoya said to me once, 'My brother and I are not at all alike, we have quite different characters.' But I looked at Shura and realized that this was not so. I can see him standing there, dry-eyed, looking down at Zoya and biting his lip.
"I have no words to console you with. I realize that the words do not exist that could console you in your grief. But I want to tell you this: the memory of Zoya will never die, it cannot die. She lives among us. She will arouse others to the struggle. Her feat will light the road for many. And our love, the love of your daughters and sons throughout our land, shall always be with you, dear Lyubov Timofeyevna.
Klava Miloradova."
A few days after my journey to Petrishchevo the radio brought the news that Zoya had been posthumously awarded the title of Hero of the Soviet Union.
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The diploma of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the U.S.S.R. conferring the title of Hero of the Soviet Union on Zoya Kosmodemyanskaya |
Early one morning in the beginning of March I went to the Kremlin to receive Zoya's diploma. A warm spring wind fanned my face. I was thinking of something which had become for Shura and me a sad habit, which accompanied our every thought and deed, "Zoya will never see this. She loved the spring. And now she is dead. And she will never walk across the Red Square again."
I did not have to wait long. I was ushered into a big, high room. I did not realize at first where I was, and suddenly I saw a man getting up from his chair.
"Mikhail Ivanovich Kalinin!" I realized all of a sudden.
Yes, it was Mikhail Ivanovich coming towards me. His face was so familiar from his portraits. I had often seen him on the plinth of the Mausoleum. Then his kind wrinkled eyes had always been smiling. But now they were stern and sad. His hair had turned quite white, and his face seemed to me so tired…With both hands he shook my hand, and quietly and very tenderly Wished me good health and strength. Then he handed me the diploma.
"In memory of your daughter's great feat," I —heard him say.
A month later Zoya's body was brought to Moscow and buried in the Novodevichy Cemetery. A monument has been placed on her grave, and on its black marble are carved the words of Nikolai Ostrovsky, the words which Zoya once wrote as a motto, as a behest in her notebook, and which she justified by her short life and by her death: "Man's dearest possession is life, and it is given to him to live but once…So he must live that, dying, he can say: all my life, all my strength were given to the finest cause in all the world—the fight for the Liberation of Mankind."
Next: Shura
