In this harsh winter, Shan Read produced a special edition, The Besieged Man, which returned to a cold winter of 80 years ago, the Siege of Leningrad. Today, when I read the writings of the besieged people at that time, I hardly feel the age in the middle, but often have a relationship. Not only because the epidemic has brought us a similar sense of siege, but also because of the recent tense international situation, war is already on the string.
The Man Under Siege contains the diary of a student named Yula Lyabingin. From September 8, 1941, when Leningrad was first bombed, he began writing a diary. Through his account, we see how despair grew during sieges, shootings and bombings made people fearful, and hunger and cold made people mentally broken. Struggling with animal sexuality every day, but the frail young life is still trying to "become human," his diary stopped on January 6 of the following year.
Did Yura Lyabingin survive until the end of the Great Siege? The information currently available goes like this: "Yura Lyabingin, born in Leningrad in 1925. Yura's later fate is unknown. Two days after the diary's last date, his sister and mother left Leningrad with the evacuation procession, while Yura stayed at home because he could not walk freely. No sooner had my mother arrived in Vologda, the evacuation site, she died of starvation. Sister Irina stayed at the orphanage until 1945, when she was picked up by her aunt. ”
Special Issue "The Besieged Man"
The Great Siege Diary (excerpt)
Author: Yura Lyabingin
Translator: Zhang Meng
September 8, 1941
Today is a day full of panic, uneasiness and anxiety. I'm going to write down everything that happens before and after.
In the morning Mom ran back from her work and said she had been sent to work on a state farm, in Oranienbaum. She had to leave me and (sister) Ira.
She went to the district council— where she had a certificate of extension until tomorrow. Then we discussed the special school thing... By the time I got home, my mother had returned. She told me I might be taken in. But I'm very, very skeptical about that. Then Mom went to some places again.
The most thrilling thing began at that moment.
The siren sounded. I didn't notice at all. But then I heard a loud noise in the yard. I looked outward, from the left down, then upwards, and then I saw... Twelve "non-commissioned officer students". There was an explosion. The sound of shattering was deafening, but the glass was not shattered. Apparently, the bomb landed in the distance, but it was very powerful. Ira and I ran downstairs. The sound of cracking did not stop. I ran into the house again. In the corridor stood Zagskin's wife. She also panicked before she ran down. I said a few words to her. Then Mom ran back from nowhere and sped down the street. Soon the alarm was dismissed. Fascist bombs make people cry. Half the sky was filled with smoke. The harbor, the Kirov factory, and the surrounding area were bombed. Night has come. There was a sea of fire on the side of the Kirov factory. Gradually, the fire became smaller. Smoke, smoke is everywhere, even we can smell the smell of choking smoke here. His throat was a little itchy from the smoke.
Yes, this was the first bomb attack on the city of Leningrad.
Night is coming soon. The night begins at eight o'clock and goes to nine o'clock tomorrow. What will this night bring?
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September 25, 1941
Today I finally decided what to do next. I'm not going to special schools. Get my ID and I'll stay on the school. I begged my mother to join the evacuation so that I could have the opportunity to study. Go dig trenches for now. In another year, I will be able to join the army. Killed in battle, or survived. After the war, I was going to the Shipbuilding College, or the History Department. During this period, try to earn as much money as possible by manual work. That's it, eliminate swinging thoughts! Today I went to school at eight o'clock. If Mom comes back early, I'll tell her my decision. I have considered all other ways out and given up.
In addition, I decided to spend 2 rubles or 1.5 rubles a day on meals starting tomorrow.
This decision of mine — it was a serious blow to me, but it could have avoided other bigger, more serious blows. And if you're dead, disabled — it doesn't matter. But this may be inevitable for me. If I were crippled—I would kill myself, and if I died—I wouldn't be able to die twice. Fortunately, fortunately, Mom still has Ira.
As the saying goes, I gambled my life for fear of gambling on my honor. This sentence is too pompous, but it is true.
October 1-2, 1941
I'm sixteen, and my health is like a sixty-year-old man. Alas, death will come sooner. Only in this way can the burden on the mother be less heavy.
The ghost knows why I have these thoughts in my head. Sometime in the future, when I, or another person reads this diary, I will laugh contemptuously at the sight of these words (which is also good, if not worse), and I now just feel that it doesn't matter.
When I was very young, I had a dream: to be a navy. Now that dream has turned into a bubble. So what am I alive for? If I can't go to the Marine Military College, then I will join the militia or other organizations, so that I will not die in vain. To die, to die is to defend the motherland.
On August 20, 1942, the Amerkin family's house was in ruins under fire.
October 14, 1941
Today the house is a mess. Ira was insane, and she said that I was eating and drinking in the canteen trust, and she had not finished a bowl of soup in the canteen—her mother told her to be quiet. At the same time, she told me that the people in the canteen gave Ira pork beans, and Ira said that she wanted to throw up when she saw that, so she didn't eat it. She ate only half a slice of chocolate left, and that was all. If you don't eat it yourself, you'll get angry at me!
She said, "I'm walking hungry right now!" "Then who is getting in her way of lunch?" My mother told me that I should get used to the idea that if you can drink a bowl of soup during the day, you should feel satisfied. But what if I can't get used to this view? ...... I'm less than half of what I've eaten, less than a quarter, compared to feeding myself... Alas, war, war...
It was overcast outside now. It was cold and it was snowing lightly.
October 25, 1941
Queuing will only freeze both feet into ice cubes. Nothing else. I'm curious, is the lemonade sold in the beer store mixed with saccharin, or is it real lemon juice?
Alas, I really want to sleep, sleep, eat, eat, eat... Sleep, eat, sleep, eat... What else do people need? When a person is full and healthy – he begins to think of something else, and so there is no end in sight. A month ago I wanted, to be precise, a loaf of bread smeared with butter and sausages, and now all I want is a loaf of bread...
……
My mother told me that now is not the time to write a diary. But I'll write it. Not necessarily I read it, other people will read it and will understand that there was once such a person who lived in the world - Yura Liabinkin, he would laugh at this person, yes...
October 29, 1941
I'm too weak now to lift my legs, and it's a lot of work for me to climb stairs. Mom said my face was starting to swell. And it's all because of malnutrition. Anfisa Nikolaevna said an interesting sentence this evening: "Now everyone is selfish, everyone does not think about tomorrow, so today I eat as much as possible." "She's right, this little kitten.
I wrote another letter to Tina today. Ask her to send some food such as potato cakes and fried pancakes. Is this package — all these things can't be done? I need to adjust to hunger, but I can't. What can I do?
I don't know how I'm going to learn. I want to learn algebra these days, but there are no formulas in my head, only big bread.
Now I should really re-read Jack London's Love of Life. It's a great piece, and for my mood today, there's nothing better than this. It is said that on the November card, all the standards are the same as before. Not even bread increases. My mother told me that even if the Germans were repelled, the standard would still be the same...
Now I pay very little attention to myself. Go to bed with clothes on, get up in the morning to wipe your face, wash your hands without soap, and don't change your clothes. Our home was cold and dark, and at night we lived by the light of candles.
The near-sinking of ships in the Neva River shows the bad weather during the Great Siege. In the winter of 1941, due to a sharp drop in temperature, many citizens froze to death in houses with no heating.
November 6-7, 1941
Classes are still going on in school, but I'm not interested in them anymore. We sat at our desks in fur coats, and many of the students didn't listen at all. One of the interesting things in the literature class was that everyone copied the text in the textbook and described the image in "Dead Souls". Some people don't even read Dead Souls at all...
We didn't have much rice left. That is to say – I will sit hungry for three days. If I could survive, I would reluctantly drag myself down on two legs. I went to fetch the water again. The whole body is puffy, but what can be done... Mom was sick. It was no joke, and this time she admitted that she was sick. Colds, cough, vomiting, fever, headache ...
Presumably, I was sick too. There are also symptoms of fever, headache, and cold. Probably because, while on duty at school, I didn't wear a coat or hat and walked through three yards. It's the middle of the night again, when the wind is cold...
I don't know why, learning this thing can't get into my heart now. I don't want to learn at all. My mind was filled with food, bombing, and shells. Yesterday, I carried the garbage basket to the yard to take out the garbage, and when I came back, it took a lot of effort to climb up to the second floor where our house was located. This exhaustion is like walking for half an hour carrying a weight of 2 puts (the old Russian weight unit, 1 put is about 16.38 kg), and when you sit down, you slowly have some energy. Now outside is the siren sound. Anti-aircraft guns exploded wildly. Several bombs were also dropped. The time is displayed on the clock – 4:55 p.m. Mom didn't get home until after six o'clock.
November 9-10, 1941
Every day, as soon as I fall asleep, I dream of bread, butter, pies, and potatoes. In fact, before going to bed, I began to think that in twelve hours, after staying up the night, I would be able to eat a small piece of bread... Mom stressed to me every day that she and Ira each drank two cups of hot boiled water with sugar and half a bowl of soup during the day. That's all. And there's a bowl of soup in the evening... Ira, for example, would even refuse the extra soup at night. The two of them told me that I was eating the workers' share, as evidenced by the fact that I drank two bowls of soup in the canteen and ate more bread than they did. My whole disposition has somehow changed a lot. I became soft and weak—my hands were shaking as I wrote, my knees were sore as I walked: it seemed as if I couldn't hold on to any more step and was going to fall down.
During the siege, Soviet fighters starved to death with citizens on the road
November 28, 1941
Went to the tuberculosis control center. The doctor took an X-ray of me and analyzed it. What happens next – I don't know.
I'm going to get down on my knees today and beg my mother to give me Irina's bread coupon. If she doesn't give, I'll roll on the ground... Then I won't have to drag my legs. Today the daytime sirens sounded again, about three o'clock. Shops are closed, where do I go to get potato flour and fruit purees? When the sirens were over, I went to look for them. I have lost hope in evacuations. It's still just hearsay... I don't go to school anymore – I've forgotten about learning. And how to learn? The house was hungry and cold, scolding and crying, and ivanov's family next door was well fed. Each day was surprisingly similar to the day before, the same monotony, thoughts, hunger, bombing, shooting. Now that the electricity supply was cut off, I could hear planes buzzing somewhere, anti-aircraft guns firing, and the house shaken to the side by the blast wave of a bomb falling not far away... It was dark and gray, the clouds were low, the yard was covered with snow, and my mind was full of ugly, gray thoughts. Thinking about food, warmth, comfort... Not only is there not a single slice of bread in the house (everyone now receives 125 grams of bread a day), not even a crumb that can be eaten. The cold is making your hands cold and your legs stiff...
Mom is back today and will take Irina's bread coupon from me – forget it, I gave it up for Ira, let her get out of the whole hell (blurred handwriting), live, and I've been... It is better to be liberated from this world... It is better to be liberated... I'm so selfish! I became cold and heartless, I... What a look I have become! Am I still the same as I was three months ago? ...... The day before yesterday I probed the spoon into Ampesa Nikolaevna's little pot and secretly took some butter and cabbage from her ten days of food, and I watched greedily as my mother divided a small piece of sugar (with vague handwriting) and Ira, and I cursed at every small piece of food, every piece of food that could be eaten... What have I become? I feel that in order to stay the same, you need hope, confidence, and confidence that I and my whole family will be evacuated tomorrow or the day after tomorrow, as long as there is enough of this, but there will be no such thing. There will be no evacuation, but there is always some hidden hope in my heart. Without it, I would steal it, and I don't know where I'd end up. The only thing I won't fall into is to stay the same. I'm pretty sure of that. Other situations are possible... Can't write any more—hands are already frozen numb.
December 2, 1941
Why did Mom and Ira torture me like this every night? ...... Ira deliberately ate at the table for a long time, not only to have fun from the food, but also to get that feeling: she was still eating while the others had finished eating, sitting there looking at her with hungry eyes. Mom was always the first to finish eating and then took a little bit from each of us. When I divided the bread, if my bread weighed half a gram more than Ira's, her tears would immediately pour out. Ira stayed with her mom and I only saw her in the evening and morning. That's probably why Ira was always right... I, by all accounts, was a selfish ghost, as my mother had told me. But I still remember that I used to have a good relationship with Wolfka Shmaylov, and at that time I couldn't tell what was his, and I remembered my mother's appearance at that time, when she was a selfish ghost. She didn't give The Wolfka books, and I had two copies in my hand, and so on. Why did she start guiding me like that ever since? Now it's too late to correct it...
I used to eat lunch two or three times a day in the cafeteria, plus enough breakfast and dinner, and that's it, and I had to eat a little more to be full on this day. And now I'm content to have 100 grams of cookies in the morning, in fact, there's nothing more to it than a bowl of soup or porridge during the day and night. Beyond that, it's water. Water is now called tea, coffee, soup, it's just water. That's my menu.
And the gossip about evacuation gradually disappeared. Almost no one says this anymore. Mom was already afraid of bumps. "Still going," she said, "a strange place." "And so on and so forth.
December 7, 1941
These ten days will determine my destiny... The most important tasks that need to be solved are what car to take, and who to go by. Alas, even if I could have two full meals! Otherwise, where will I go to accumulate energy to deal with these difficulties in front of me... Mom was sick again. Today she slept for no more than three hours in total, from three to six in the morning. I must now go to Turanosov Street to pick up the warm clothes I promised. But the streets were so cold, and I was so tired, I was scared at the thought of going out.
I started keeping a journal in early summer, and it's winter now. Could it be that I expected these contents to appear in my diary in the future?
And I've started to quietly save a little money. Now I have 56 rubles in cash, and this is something that only I know. The stove went out, and the kitchen was swallowed up little by little by the cold air. It's time to put on a coat so you don't get frozen. But I still want to go to Siberia! But I felt that as long as I was given some more food – all the sadness, all the frustration would leave me, the fatigue would dissipate immediately, the tongue would no longer be knotted, and I would become a human being, not a human-like animal...
Today I've lost about 10 to 15 kilograms, no more than that. Maybe a little less, but that includes excessive water intake. In the past, I only had to drink one and a half glasses of water in the morning, but now six cups are not enough.
December 10, 1941
Ten days are over. And our evacuation... The problem has not been solved. torture! Can you understand that when your strength dries up day by day, and the whole person becomes more and more exhausted because he does not have enough to eat every day, the road to death, the road to death because of hunger, is moving in the form of a parabola in the direction in which it began, and the longer the time goes on, the faster this process of slow death goes on... Yesterday in the queue at the entrance of the canteen, a female citizen said that five people had starved to death in our house... Several planes are flying to Vologda (a city in northwestern Russia)... Everyone there can get a full 800 grams of bread, and other things, at the commercial price. Butter, vegetable soup, porridge, meals are also served there... The meal there is not a thin soup and water, but a real solid food, porridge, bread, potatoes, vegetables... Compared with Leningrad, the gap is really big! If only we could get rid of this deadly hungry devilish embrace, if we could get out of this eternal fear of life, so that we could usher in a new, peaceful day in a small village close to nature... Forget all the torments of the past... That's it, that's what I dream of today.
Misfortune did not forge me, it only made me weak, and my character became selfish. But I feel that now I am powerless to change my personality. Once it starts, it can't be contained! Tomorrow, if everything were the same as this morning, I should have brought home all the honey cookies, but I would have been tempted to eat at least a quarter of the cookies. That's where my selfishness manifests itself. But I will try to bring all the cookies home. all! all! all!! all!!! Well, if I wave toward the hungry Grim Reaper, the puffiness, and the stagnant water, I have the voice in my head: I do things sincerely, and I still have the willpower. Tomorrow it's time to show yourself that willpower. I don't take a single bit out of what I buy! Won't take it at all! If I don't evacuate—and I still have hope of evacuation—I should learn to take care of my mother and Ira. There is only one way out - to go to a military hospital as a paramedic. In fact, I already had a mature plan in mind. Mom went to work as a librarian at a military hospital that was being formed, while I went to work as her assistant or as a cultural worker. Ira will be in charge of our lives.
My mood was terrible, it was yesterday, and it's like that today. Today I was a little bit unable to keep my promise – I took half a piece of sugar from the food I bought and about 40 grams from 200 grams of dried almonds. But dried almonds, I didn't promise not to take them. But that half a piece of sugar... When I finished eating, my heart surged with intense pain, and I wanted to spit out the sugar cube I ate immediately, but I couldn't spit it out... I also ate a very small little bit of chocolate... Am I still a person! One of Mom's legs was so swollen yesterday, the issue of evacuation was still pending, Trust No. 16 canteen couldn't put Mom on the list, and now the canteen on the Smolny Palace was the only hope.
Bodies sent to the cemetery
December 24, 1941
I haven't kept a diary in many days: 16th, 17th, 18th, 19th, 20th, 21st, 22nd, 23rd. I haven't had a pen in my hand for eight days.
Silent sorrow, permeated with sorrow. Heavy and painful. Grief and oppressive, unspeakable sadness. Perhaps, there is something else. As I walked from the cafeteria back to our house, my mind came to mind the days and nights I spent here. In the cafeteria, there are also some shadows of the past, before the war, in the mind. The political map of Europe on the wall, the furniture, the books that are sometimes opened on the table and are being read, the wall clock on the wall, the warmth that emanates from the stove when it is on fire... However, I want to revisit the whole house. You wear a cotton vest, a hat, a corseted waist, put your hand in your gloves, and open the door to the hallway. It's freezing here. From the mouth comes a clump of steam, and the cold wind burrows under the collar, and you will involuntarily shiver. The corridor was very empty.
What is it? This is the original canteen, and for us, it is a place to laugh, a place to learn, a place to rest. There used to be (it felt like a long, long time ago) there was a couch, and a sideboard, a chair, and on the table were unfinished lunches, and there were some books on the shelves, and I was lying on the couch, reading The Three Musketeers, eating bread with butter and cheese, or chewing chocolate. The room was hot, and I was "always comfortable, happy with the meals and...", the latter I did not have, but I used to have a lot of toys, books, magazines, chess, movies... At that time, I was often anxious about not being able to go to the theater, or for some other activity, often until the evening before lunch, at that time I liked volleyball, liked to play with my classmates... Eventually, I remembered the Children's Palace in Leningrad, the evenings, the reading room, the games room, the history club, the chess club, the desserts in the canteen of the Children's Palace, concerts, balls... It's a kind of happiness, a happiness that I haven't even doubted—happiness is living in the Soviet Union, living in peacetime, happiness is having a mother, an aunt who cares for you, knowing that no one can take away your future. This is happiness. The next room was a dark, gloomy storage room with little sun in sight, where everything we had left was stored. A chest of drawers, several beds that had been disassembled, two writing desks stacked together, sofas, everything covered in ash, beaten and covered, as if it had been here for a thousand years...
The bitter cold, the bitter cold, also drove us out of this room. But there was a time when there was a small stove here, and we used to fry eggs, roast sausages, cook soup on it, and my mother sat next to the table, using the light of the table lamp on the table, toiling all night...
There used to be a phonograph, the record turned, the laughter came out, a huge fir that went all the way up to the ceiling was erected there, the candles were lit, Tina came, Mishka came, and the piles of sandwiches were placed on the table (which contained everything!). There are dozens of candies and honey cookies hanging from the fir tree (no one will eat them), and the things hanging on the tree are so rich! And now it was empty (I guess it must be), cold and dark, and I didn't have to open the door again to take a look.
A soldier buying tickets for Shostakovich's Seventh Symphony shows that both conductors and soldiers are emaciated by malnutrition, and that artistic life keeps people at the same pace as in peacetime.
January 6, 1942
I couldn't walk or work at all. Almost all strength was lost. Mom had a hard time walking—I couldn't even imagine how she walked. Now she often beat me, scolded me, yelled at me, her nerves were extremely manic, and she couldn't stand my useless appearance at all—she couldn't stand my breathless, hungry and sad face because of lack of strength, and in her eyes, it took me half a day to move from one place to another, and it seemed to be in the way everywhere, and I had to "pretend" to be sick and weak. But my weakness is not pretend. No! It's not pretend, the force... Leaving from me, leaving, flying away... And time is stretching, stretching, time has become very long, very long! ...... God, what's wrong with me?
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